Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dumbledore sat contently in his eccentric office. Everything had gone as predicted. Tragic it was to lose so many young lives along the way, most recently the young Lily and James Potter. However, everyone has a role to play in this life; how unfortunate it was that such a dynamic couple would hold such a short life. They had played their role well, and Tom Riddle was provisionally handled.

Just a few short weeks ago, he had left the small infant child of the Potters on the doorstep of his Muggle family, for his protection, and it partially was. Dumbledore couldn’t be ignorant to how it benefited himself though, and by default all of wizarding kind. The Muggles he’d left young Mister Potter with were horrendous. It would create an impulsive, rough around the edges, malleable child. Exactly what the wizard would need to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. Everything was falling into place.

That was until the owl landed on his desk. He wasn’t unaccustomed to a late night owl in his position. Truly, they were more frequent than not. He fed the owl a biscuit as he untied the letter. The smaller neat handwriting wasn’t particularly alarming as he scratched the owl's chin for good measure. He lazily unfolded the flap and pulled out the parchment. His small eyes darted across the words. He read it twice. Even he, the greatest wizard of his time, could not have predicted this.

The Dursleys had perished in a car accident just that day. Arabella Figg had written him to inform that she had possession of Harry, watching over him for her neighbors while they went on a day trip to see Mr. Dursley’s sister. They had hit a patch of bad weather on the way back and instead of waiting it out, continued onward until they slid into an electrical pole. What a Muggle way to die. Dumbledore sat the letter down slowly. He stared blankly into the void of objects surrounding him.

He prided himself on being an intellectual man, one of great esteem. He’d never let anyone know he’d never planned for this, easily the most obvious flaw. Harry’s parents were dead, his mother’s final act his best protection, fortified by being with those of his family. His father’s family all died out. The Potter line was one of many destroyed in this war. The closest thing to family left, Dumbledore had made certain was sitting lost on the hardened, cold floors far away from society in the prison of Azkaban. Harry’s godfather would have made a too self aware and confident young man. He was a Black and suspicious and determined by his very nature. The Wizarding population was all too ready to throw a Black behind bars. Though, even he was shocked at the betrayal, Sirius Black betraying Lily and James Potter, sounded suspicious at best. Yet it had worked in his favor either way, Sirius would have demanded to raise Harry.

Now, he broke himself from his haze. Shaking his head slightly as he raked through his thoughts for a solution. He needed a new home for the boy. Arabella was only a temporary solution, she was unfit to raise him. Mr. Lupin sat torn to shreds, unable to be removed from his family cottage from the events of the last few weeks. He’d likely raise the boy with too much care and lose energy to be molded. Nor was he close enough for the familial protection, no matter the relations between him and Mister Black.

The Potters were as stated gone, as were now the remaining Evans family. Miss McKinnon had been his godmother, bless her and her family’s souls. Mister Black was indisposed. Did this poor boy truly have no family left to offer him safety? Just then there was a knock on his office door. He cleared his throat as he called for the person to enter. A pale sullen face with long shiny hair and bedraggled robes shuffled into his office. Severus was hardly ever in such a state, but he had truly cared for Miss Evans. Her death weighed heavy on his youngest professor and truest ally.

“Yes, Severus, how can I be of assistance?” Dumbledore asked in a softer tone.

“Headmaster, I believe you asked for me to come with any more information on other Death Eaters should I come across it.” Severus replied in a rough dry voice.

“Please call me Albus, Severus. I believe we have known one another well enough. As well most have been rounded up, though many are pleading out with the Imperius Curse. Nasty thing, will get more off then I had hoped.” Dumbledore grumbled. It was a frustrating tactic; however, it was not the focus of his energy once Tom was disabled. He’d let the Ministry take the reins on the trials, though they were handling them quite unprofessionally.

“Yes Headmaster. I understand and it is truly a disappointment to see so many turncoats so falsely. Only falling in line with what benefits them at the time.” Severus snapped at the statement. “However, I believe these particular rumors will be of interest to you.”

“I only hold so much light to rumors, but go on.” Dumbledore encouraged, if Severus found the information reliable enough to convey it must hold some truth to the matter.

“Of course. I was visiting the Malfoys this past week. Last minute damage control is painted on the walls of the Manor. However, they had particular guests of interest. Mister Black and Mistress Black were visiting, hiding away many of the most incriminating evidence at one of the family homes. Now, Mistress Black was raving on how her son, her true heir had made them all proud in the end. He’d seen the light and done his best to help The Dark Lord. I’m certain if Sirius could hear her, he’d kneel over in disgust, nonetheless, it was her comments on her other son that piqued my interest. She was cursing him for being a disappointment and for wasting so much time on him.” Severus paused for a moment to glance out one of the back windows. The early morning light was beginning to rise.

“Well yes, I believe everyone heard of young Mister Regulus running away from his commitment. She nearly screamed in the streets at the death of the Black Line.” Dumbledore answered, a bit pesky at the length of this story.

“Yes, Headmaster. The truth is no one truly knows what happened to Regulus. He simply disappeared one day, no one, not even The Dark Lord could find him. It was a bit frustrating to him, not being able to find a child who’d gone missing. Eventually he was labeled a deserter and we went with the rumor he had died, but it was never confirmed.” Severus explained. Dumbledore nodded. He knew as much, but he truly never saw a use in the younger Black son, and honestly he was better off dead anyways in Dumbledore’s head. One less thought for him.

“Anyways, all this to say, that Walburga made a strange comment. You see she is staying at the manor in the country with her brother and her father, given that nearly all the other Blacks are either dead or blasted. She was complaining how her youngest had kicked her from the home, which caught Narcissa’s interest. However, when she questioned her aunt how that was possible when Walburga was staying at the home after his death; I believe we all can recall her falling in streets out front at the announcement of his death, she just got this strange look on her face and moved her mouth as if she couldn’t answer. Granted everyone else shook it off as she was mad, her age is catching up to her and she’s never been the most stable character. I, for one, wanted to do more digging.” Severus sneered slightly.

“As it turns out Headmaster, none of the remaining Blacks can even recall where their beloved city home is located. I went searching for it, couldn’t place it for the life of me, then not a mention in any book or map I scoured. I believe Headmaster, that in fact someone had put the Black family home under a Fidelius Charm. If I am correct in my assumption, I believe it would be one Regulus Black who has done so.” Severus finished his face twisted in what may have been an attempt at a smile. Dumbledore paused, softening his face slightly.

“Severus, how exactly would Mister Black be able to avoid the Dark Lord? Surely whoever his Secret Keeper is would have given him up at his betrayal? He only had friends within your own organization.” Dumbledore emphasized as he saw a slight twitch in Severus’ face at the mention of his inclusion in the group.

“Not everyone was as loyal as they seemed.” Severus grumbled, his facade breaking down slightly before he composed himself to a nonchalant look.

“Who would you suppose is his secret keeper then?” Dumbledore inquired, truly curious.

“He was close to Crouch for a time. Of course they did have a falling out. Rosier and Mulicber were always over his shoulder, though they did constantly try to hex him to death. Truly, if I were to think it was anyone it would be who we suspect least, yet is still the most obvious choice.” Severus answered a bit of gloat in his tone. Dumbledore found the youth so entertaining with their squabbles for glory. It reminded him vaguely of his youth, granted many of them were eons from reaching his acclaim.

“I believe his Secret Keeper is none other than his brother, Sirius Black.” Severus replied with a hint of a smirk on his thin lips. Dumbledore was amused.

“His brother? The Black Brothers working together once again? The same boys who landed one or the other in the hospital wing at least once a month from their duels. The boys who openly spewed their hatred of one another from the last years of their schooling onward. I have my doubts about that Severus.” Dumbledore bemused. He knew that Sirius Black had secrets, clearly if he’d gone as far as to betray the Potters, a feat even Dumbledore had not anticipated. Though the prophecy had worked out one way or another for the time being, the first half was fulfilled. They were in a waiting game now, until Tom reappeared and Harry would have to fulfill his end of the prophecy. He’d be the savior of their world, pity it would be at such cost.

“Well Headmaster, we’ve seen that Sirius was not truthful about many things now. In fact, his entire existence seems to have been a farce. He led his Lord directly to his best friend and his wife and their small child, without it seems a single regret. He was found laughing after murdering so many Muggles and his other friend. Didn’t even resist the arrest! Clearly, we all underestimated him. Even I, who was so privy to the inner workings, was ablaze with shock. Granted such a betrayal would need to be the utmost confidence, I figure only The Dark Lord was privy to Black’s true motives.” Severus continued on.

Dumbledore was listening with one ear, as he allowed his mind to wander to the predicament at hand. He needed to find someone to raise Harry still. Someone who wouldn’t care for him too well. He needed the boy pliable and ready to prove himself. He needn’t be raised with confidence and care, only his basic needs needed to be met and his magic world vaguely explained to him without the ego he’d likely get being raised in Wizarding Britain. They also still had to be at least reasonably related to the boy. The Dursleys had fit the bill perfectly. Suddenly, as Severus continued to drown out in the background an idea dawned on the older wizard.

“Yes Severus.” Dumbledore interrupted. Severus paused as he closed his mouth slowly.

“So you agree, we should use an owl to try and track down Black?” Severus stated slowly as if he was in a state of disbelief.

“Not quite.” Dumbledore replied, he truly hadn’t heard the suggestion. “I do believe I should write a letter to Mister Black and try and convince him we mean him no harm, see if he is willing to speak to me.” Dumbledore answered.

“Why would you say that? Won’t we just turn him into the Ministry of Magic? He’ll rot in Azkaban beside his brother and cousin.” Severus said, raising a bushy eyebrow.

“Truthfully, Severus. I am unsure if I will turn him in at this time. I believe I may need him for a particular mission.” Dumbledore stated as he slowly rose to stare out the back windows.

“What mission? The Dark Lord has fallen.” Severus answered. Dumbledore almost chuckled at the statement.

“You can’t truly believe he has vanished, Severus. Not when no body was found and he had gained so much power. No Severus, he will return, not today, not tomorrow, but one day and we must prepare for such. As for the mission, it is one even I dare not share with you. You must be understanding.” Dumbledore answered. Severus nodded, not entirely convinced, the wonderful part about Severus was he knew when to be silent.

They said their partings and Severus returned to his dungeons. Dumbledore could see Fawkes flying across the horizon, returning from his nightly fly over. Dumbledore opened one of the windows to allow the phoenix inside. He flapped his large wings in and landed on his rest post with a squawk. Dumbledore smiled at the creature, always so fascinated by him even after all this time.

Then he quickly pulled out a quill and parchment. He had a problem he had to fix in front of him, and in fact Severus had given him a wonderful idea. If Regulus Black was in fact alive, which it very much sounded as if someone was hiding out in the old city home of the Blacks, then he was the nearly perfect candidate. Dumbledore recalled many years ago when he was, but a simple Transfigurations teacher, a young Dorea Black being engaged to one Charlus Potter. So tragic that the whole family died out; however, it allowed for a relation between Mister Black and young Harry. Just strong enough to hold with the magical prowess of the two young wizards. Harry having survived Tom, and Regulus having alluded him. Then one with an upbringing as young Mister Black he’d hardly be of decent character to be a father figure. It could work, if only Dumbledore could coax him out of hiding. So with that motivation, he put quill to parchment and began his next scheme to control.

-

Regulus Black was perfectly fine. Fine is relative after all and he was just that. At least, it is what he tried to convince himself as he was sprawled against the wall of the drawing room. He tilted a bottle of firewhiskey he had found to his lips. He’d just accomplish cleaning out the cabinets. The first task he’d completed in weeks. He had split the unicorn blood from the crystal ball on the carpet and it was currently laid rolled into the corner. He nearly destroyed his wand trying to control the music box. He’d been falling asleep when it accidentally fell open, he wasn’t quite sure if Kreacher would be able to wake him with elf magic.

He’d been trying to study the lengths of elf magic for a few years now. Ever since that very magic had saved his life. If not for Kreacher, he’d likely be floating at the bottom of a dark sea of water with only an army of Inferi surrounding him. The elf had defined Regulus’ command to save himself and grabbed his wrist pulling him back and apparating them out of there. The locket was still clutched in hand.

The locket had been tricky. It took Regulus almost six months to figure out what could destroy it. Much of which he spent hidden away in his family’s old beach house, no one bothered to visit for years now. His parents disdained the beach, too common and Muggle for their enjoyment. He couldn’t return home when he’d already been branded a traitor. His mother would gladly turn him into The Dark Lord, damn the Black line and all. She was probably deluded enough to believe her and her only remaining brother could produce an heir. No, he wouldn’t return there.

That was until he remembered a precious heirloom in the very cabinets he’d just cleaned. An old Basilisk fang, one his great uncle Regulus had brought back from one of his travels. It apparently had been one of his greatest treasures. Basilisk venom was known to kill nearly anything it touched when injected, even inanimate objects. He had known the one at home had been preserved to perfection, if only he could get to it. A dutifully disguised letter to his mother later, and she was off to see her aunt Cassiopeia in Switzerland. Her aunt would excuse it as her madness and it would take his mother several days to come back.

He had hidden in the Muggle park, disguised in Polyjuice Potion of a basic Muggle. He’d known it would wear off the moment he walked through the doorway anyways. It was one of the first and oldest enchantments on the home. Once he noticed his mother leaving the home, walking unbothered in her ridiculously lavish robes down the street, likely to the portkey location, he waited until she disappeared. Scoffing loudly, as a young mother threw a nasty glance at him hunched in a bench, before taking her child by the hand and leaving.

He walked up slowly to the old steps, half afraid they would not appear for him. They did in fact, as he cracked his way up the stone, tapping his wand in a pattern on the door to unlock it. Once through the loud doors, he could feel his hair fall down his neck as he took his own appearance again. He had stood there in the Entrance Hall for several moments taking in the old house. He had not wanted to return, but he shook his head as he leaned against the wall and pulled his wand. He had needed his focus for this next part. His father had taught him the spell just two years prior a few months before his coming of age birthday. It was incredibly powerful and complex, if he messed up he’d likely wish he’d died in that cave.

With a steady hand, he cast the spell. A heavy golden glow encompassed him and hit him in his chest, causing a strange feeling to surround his very soul. He hadn’t been sure he still had one after all this time. Yet there he was the New Secret Keeper of Twelve Grimmauld Place, overriding his father’s Fidelius Charm. His mother had walked out of the home for the last time, when she’d try to return, her and every other Black would have forgotten the very place they had grown up. It was a strange feeling of loneliness.

A crash against the window beside him stirred him from his daydream of memories. Regulus lolled his head to the side, the firewhiskey warm in his stomach. His eyes felt heavy as he blinked them unsure if he could rely on his sight any longer. There was an owl pecking in the window, Regulus slowly stood steadying himself on the wall as he rose. The firewhiskey was abandoned on the ground. He stumbled a few steps forward, moving around a desk as he peered closer towards the fogged pane of glass.

It was an owl indeed. One with a letter attached to his scrawny leg, pecking repeatedly as he looked up with a hint of annoyance in his dark eyes. Regulus leered down at the street, not a soul was out there in the early morning light. He took a risk as he pulled open the window, careful to keep himself as obscured as possible. The owl hooted as it landed on the desk hopping slightly on the leg free of the letter. Regulus sighed as he quickly untied the paper. He glanced down to see it was in fact addressed to him, though there was no address listed. Simply his name, Regulus Arcturus Black, the full name causing a chill down his spine, only his family used his full name.

The owl pecked at his hand a few times bringing him down from his panic. He conjured a bowl and used his wand to splash some water, typically the bird would fly away after a few gulps, but this one made himself cozy on the edge of the desk. Regulus narrowed his eyes at the bird that he swore tilted his head in a demanding way back at him. He was much too drunk for a stare off with an owl.

He sunk into a cushioned loveseat as he turned the paper over. Had his head not been swimming with fiery liquid, maybe he would have been more worried at the fact that he, a dead man for all intents and purposes, was receiving mail. However, the thought slipped his mind for the time being as he turned over the envelope. He was even more curious to see a familiar seal on the back. Regulus was most certain he had no friends or allies left at Hogwarts, especially not in light of recent events. The seal cracked open.

He pulled the letter out slowly, as if he was concerned it would explode. Unfolding it with gentle, albeit slightly shaking hands, his eyes scanning the words before him. He had to shake his head and read it twice. It simply could not be true, he was obviously in a drunken state, or maybe a dream perhaps he had never destroyed the music box and he was now trapped in a nightmarish state of slumber. How else could he be holding a letter from Albus Dumbledore, his old Headmaster?

He bolted upright when the owl hooted again. Regulus narrowed his eyes at the animal. He’d always had a knack for Magical Creatures, it had been one of his best subjects at school. Not that anyone had ever cared how he did in school, but he had gotten ten O.W.L.s. He could tell from the owls demeanor that it had been demanded to stay until a reply was written and given back. Regulus glanced at the letter again. It was asking for a meeting with Dumbledore at a prearranged location and time. His letter swore that there would be no one else present and he would not be informing the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic.

He scoffed aloud at the promises. He didn’t believe them for a moment. The second his feet touched the ground near the place he was certain he’d be surrounded and thrown into Azkaban where his cousin and his… oh he couldn’t think of it yet. Where his family was. No one trusted the Blacks, people only feared them. Rightfully so.

He had spent the last two years in complete isolation though. He hadn’t seen another wizard or witch since then and he only got glances of Muggles when he finally was comfortable enough to curl up in the windows and watch them from a distance. Strange creatures they were, but wholeheartedly not subservient and lesser then as he had been raised to believe. Many seemed perfectly average for their kind, and ruling them seemed such a waste when they looked rather agreeable in their lives. He shook his head of his thoughts once again as the parchment crumbled in his grasp slightly.

He blinked at it once more before sitting at the desk, the owl still perched at the edge with an early morning chill coming into the room. Regulus had always enjoyed the cold, Grimmauld Place always had a draft and then at the school the dungeons were rather cool with the stone and the water of the lake surrounding it. He found the cold rather tranquil, he thought as he pulled the quill out of the drawer with a torn piece of parchment. His hand hovering over the corner.

What was he to write exactly? How did Dumbledore even know he was alive? Was this all an elusive trap to throw him away in Azkaban? His hand hovered a moment longer before he touched it to the parchment. A large blot forming, his old tutor would be horrified at the untidiness and he would have gotten a good few whacks to his knuckles, but as far he knew, the old witch was likely long dead. Something that people should think of Regulus, yet here the greatest wizard of his time had not been duped.

He needed a plan, he could fold the letter back up and send it back, pretending it never met its target. Seemed too juvenile after a moment of thought, he’d be seen right through. He could simply refuse, but Dumbledore would likely not give up so easily. Or, he thought, he could turn the tables to his favor. Yes, indeed that seemed to be the best plan. His tongue sticking out slightly as he wrote, an old habit he’d fallen back into now that there was no one to burn it with the end of a wand when he did it.

He scribbled a quick message. He’d simply reply that he would meet Dumbledore, but on his own terms and at his own place of choosing. If the wizard agrees, then he need only send a reply of the same and Regulus would provide him with the information. He signed the letter hastily, initials only as he always did. Sealed it with the black ink of the Black family seal and tied it neatly on the owl’s foot as he conjured a bit more water for his travels back. The owl lapped it quickly, gave Regulus a quick nudge of thanks, and then flew off into the morning sky, lost among the clouds.

As the wings fluttered away, Regulus had a moment to think. He’d always get too much in his own head. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think he’d been a Ravenclaw in another life. He’d need a place and time, one advantageous to himself. Granted, he figured he didn’t stand a chance against Dumbledore in a true fight. At least, he could try to give himself the best chance to escape. Apparate out of there and back to his hideaway. Kreacher was still able to supply food and potion ingredients, and Regulus had cleared out a large enough sum of the Black fortune to last a while. Kreacher was able to sell some of the less nefarious heirlooms for additional funds.

He could exist here for many years by himself, but that was it. He’d be existing. Granted after everything he’d been through, existing didn’t sound so awful. He’d lived enough life for a while. He didn’t enjoy this house of memories, but he was doing his best to purge it as he looked around. The drawing room had been one of his last tackles. He’d already gone though the whole ground floor. He’d finished the second and third floor, nearly burning everything in his mother’s old room. His father’s old room on the second floor had been nearly cleared from his mother. No love lost between the cousins turned lovers. His own room had been the first project. It disgusted him to look at the old version of himself. Has he always been so conceited and troublesome? Possibly.

Now the first floor was all that remained, and he no longer had the motivation to touch the room across from his, not after the newest information. When he first heard, he nearly drank himself to death. Kreacher yelled at him as he laid in the hallway between the two rooms bemoaning the only person he felt he could lose. The only person he’d probably ever cared for. He couldn’t believe it, he still didn’t. He was helpless to do anything from his perspective though. It hadn’t been a good few weeks to say the least.

Now he sat wondering what his fate entailed responding to that letter. He’d already gotten more years than he expected, granted he did not prefer to rot in a prison full of soul sucking guards. He’d much rather stay in this house of torment, at least it had creature comforts. He was racing through ideas of where to hold said meeting. Hogwarts was out immediately, one could not apparate in or out of there. Hogsmeade felt too close. Dumbledore had an advantage there. Diagon Alley was too public for a supposed dead man. There was Knockturn Alley, people asked few questions there and he could apparate out at a moments notice.

It seemed his best location. Granted he was taking a risk being in public, but he’d believed the inhabitants and customers of Knockturn Alley weren’t out celebrating with most of the Wizarding kind. The defeat of The Dark Lord had been widely celebrated. Regulus was certain he’d seen wizards wandering even out by him in full robes not bothering to cover for the Muggles for days after. He’d read every Daily Prophet front to back afterwards. He couldn’t believe it himself. It had truly worked. He didn’t want to believe it. He almost didn’t.

He laid down on the loveseat, a headache slowly ebbing in from his all nighter drowned in firewhiskey. He had a sober up potion in the potion cabinet, might even allow himself some of the dreamless sleep. Tell Kreacher to wake him if any owls came. It took all of a few seconds to decide on that plan. He threw himself off his place and flung open the cabinet to down the cool liquid before scooping up a darker one.

He called for Kreacher, the elf hopping a few times as he asked how he could assist. He relayed the information, Kreacher insisting on a cup of tea before bed as he popped away. Regulus sighed, but he’d appease the elf who was the only one he had anymore. As he made his way up the creaking stairs, thankful for the potions that could block out his thoughts for a few hours as he tumbled into his room. A steaming cup of tea already beside his bed, he chugged it down in two gulps, the tip of his tongue nearly burnt off from past abuse, so he could easily handle the hot liquid. Before he downed the potion, his thoughts raced for only a few more seconds while he fell face forward in his sheets.

Chapter Text

In the end, Regulus had conceded slightly on his wants. Dumbledore had agreed to meet initially in Knockturn Alley, but the older wizard had insisted on traveling elsewhere. His letter read that the travel was of the utmost importance. Regulus had snorted, he was certain Dumbledore thought all of his endeavors of the utmost importance. He was egotistical as so, anyone could read it if they looked past the awe that was him.

Regulus agreed. However, a single whiff of Aurors or other trouble and he’d be back at Twelve Grimmauld Place before one could say hippogriff. He wasn’t going to take any chances at Azkaban, he didn’t want to think which of his horrific memories would be brought up. Maybe dementors were easily bored and would cycle through them all. He’d prefer not to find out, from the inbreeding to the general instability of his family’s genetics, he’d figure it would only take a few weeks for him to lose his sanity. It was already December, he thought, did that mean… had he already lost his sanity?

He shook his head, he couldn’t be bogged down by issues he had no control over. He needed a clear head to stay two steps ahead of Dumbledore. He threw a cloak over his robes, he noted that it seemed everything was just slightly too large. Which was concerning considering most of the clothes were from when he was seventeen, he was twenty now, he’d like to think he was a bit larger. He’d always been on the slimmer side though, his Head of House Professor Slughorn, able to point out it made him a decent Seeker. He’d thought he was better than decent, after he joined third year Slytherin won three out of the five Quidditch Cups, many thanks to him catching the Snitch at the opportune time.

He rested his hand on the brass doorknob, hesitating for a moment. He had not so much as opened this door since he entered it two years ago. He could feel his blood running cold to his toes, he took a steadying breath before opening to the cold winter air. The breeze felt refreshing as he quickly made his way to the last step, hovering for just a moment before standing on the cracked concrete of the Muggle street. There was the distinct rushing sound of the house disappearing behind him. He didn’t look back as he crossed the road into the park across the way. He stood for a moment taking in his surroundings. It was so early in the morning that no one was around expect for a jogger, just barely in his eye line. He took another breath, before he felt the familiar swirling sensation at his center.

When he opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by darkness and shadows. He knew Knockturn Alley too well. His parents had been frequent patrons. His mother had a poisonous candle collection to envy, if one could envy those types of objects. He sunk into the shadows and pulled the hood of his cloak right over his head, holding it tight to his neck. There were only a few noises at this hour, mainly the inhabitants and the shopkeepers getting ready for the day. He’d chosen this early hour for a reason.

He looked down at his watch, it was five minutes to the hour. If Dumbledore didn’t show within ten, he’d be gone. He owed his old Headmaster no favors. As far as Regulus could recall, he’d never done him a favor in his entire time at Hogwarts. Though that could not be said for other Black family members, that much was certain. He chewed down on his lip slightly as he hunched his shoulder, a figure passed not too far from his spot. They didn’t even look up as they passed, just mumbled, walking quickly to the other end of the Alley.

Another glance at his watch, three minutes till. His foot tapped silently against the uneven brick, as he risked a glance around him. No tall grey haired wizard yet. He chewed harder. It was strangely warm in Knockturn Alley, almost as if there were already multiple fires leaking into the streets. He took in a smoke filled breath confirming his suspicions just as a noise jolted to his side. He heard a screech as he watched a cat tumble out of a trash can causing a loud clattering to ring across the closely knit shops. He instinctively took several steps back into the darkness.

“I’ve never known you to stray from a creature before young Mister Regulus.” A cool voice called from behind him. Regulus whipped around so quickly, tripping over a brick as he barely caught himself before falling to the hard ground. There were a pair of twinkling blue eyes looking down at him. Dumbledore’s face showed little else.

“I’ve been distant from most creatures for a time now.” Regulus grumbled as he readjusted the cloak around him, at least the area he tucked away in left little room for Aurors to be hiding behind the older wizard.

“Ah yes, you do look quite well for a man two years dead.” Dumbledore stated, at a different time, it may have been meant as a joke. Regulus had never truly been allowed to enjoy anything funny though.

“Death is but another journey.” Regulus mumbled, he was certain he’d heard something along those lines before. “Now why have you taken a sudden interest in my state of being?”

“Right to business then.” Dumbledore replied as he pulled his arms out of his robes.

“I’d rather keep my state of aliveness quiet as possible, I have found a solace in being dead.” He replied risking a glance over his shoulder.

“We’re quite alone Mister Black, I did promise as such.” The Headmaster stated as he held out his arm. Regulus looked at him warily, he couldn’t expect Regulus to want to apparate out of here with him.

“Do you not trust me?” Dumbledore asked.

“I have a habit of not trusting anyone.” Regulus answered as he looked down at the raised crooked arm again.

“Surely you must trust someone, or else how would you have hidden your family home so well.” Dumbledore answered still with little emotion on his face.

“Only barely trust them.” Regulus replied truthfully.

“Come along Mister Black, I mean you no harm. I just believe this conversation will be of some length and I would like to do it in a more private location. Besides, there is something I would like you to see.” The grey haired wizard stated, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. It reminds Regulus of all the times he’d been dragged to the Headmasters office for dueling, or hexing. Often with Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn to his side, his usual favorite opponent for his duels stewing in the seat next to him. The two are careful not to look at one another.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him, curiosity maybe, or possibly simple boredom of the same routine. Yet he grabbed the Headmaster’s arm in his own and quickly felt the world disappear from his feet. As fast as it disappeared, it reappeared as he felt his feet crunch on the ground. He blinked a few times as his vision focused. He couldn’t quite place where he was. It appeared to be a small town, he was facing a small church with a lopsided steeple.

“I grew up here, you know? A quaint little town it is, has grown some since I was a boy.” Dumbledore murmured. “Come along, just this way.”

The robes he wore dragged slightly along the cobblestone path. There was a post office not yet open to the side, but it appeared they were heading towards the row of near identical cottages behind them. It didn’t seem like the place for an ambush, but that could be the very reason it was chosen. Regulus tugged his cloak closer, picking up his robes so they wouldn’t drag along and darting his eyes constantly for any bit of movement. They walked in silence for a few moments, until they were nearly at the end of the street before Dumbledore stopped suddenly.

Regulus steadied himself a step behind, his hairs on his arms standing on end. He could feel magic all around them, like static popping every few seconds. He was just another second or two away from disapparating when he shuffled to the side and caught a glimpse of the final house. It was in ruin, with half the top of it blown away. The shrubs around it still holding a few of the wayward pieces, the gate to the front blown off its hinges. His blood went frozen, he knew where they were.

“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here.” Dumbledore stated quietly. Regulus wouldn’t dignify it with an answer, but in fact he was terribly confused as to why he was here.

“This is where your prior master met his match. A young baby, just over a year old. His parents paid the ultimate sacrifice to allow him to survive.” Dumbledore continued as Regulus shuddered at the mention of his former master, he hated the sound of it now. Yet once it had brought him pride, not of himself but of those around him.

“Here a friend was exposed as a foe, as he led the very man who would cause so much destruction to this very house.” Dumbledore continued. Regulus could feel his throat tightening.

“Sirius would never.” He choked out. The older wizard turned to face him.

“Oh, but he did. Your brother betrayed Lily and James Potter, they are dead because of him.” Dumbledore replied with a seriousness in his voice.

“Sirius loved James, he would never hurt him.” Regulus croaked, his voice wavering. “James was his only brother, he’d rather die than betray him.”

“Seems a false statement Mister Black, or is Sirius no longer your blood?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose as he asked.

“I lost Sirius a long time ago.” Regulus grumbled trying to compose himself.

“So it would seem.” Dumbledore nearly whispered. “Either way, your brother serves his time for his crimes and neither of us are in a position to help him.”

Regulus saw a flash of red in his vision as he grounded his feet into his spot.

“Neither of us? You are the High Warlock, you are the greatest wizard of our age, you defeated Grindelwald. You are in a better position to do something than many who came before you and many who will come after you. He didn’t even have a trial! They threw him away like he was garbage. They didn’t even make a statement before he was in Azkaban. Where were you, wizard of such fame, you could have demanded a trial. You could have done so much more for him, after all he’s given to you, but you leave him to rot. Is that how you treat your prize Gryffindors? Use them until they have nothing left and move onto the next? You speak so plainly of someone who gave so much for you.” Regulus growled out, a heat rising to his chest. He hadn’t meant to be so passionate, but he needed someone, anyone to blame for what happened to his brother. He’d spent years blaming himself, he needed an external outlet for at least once. He hadn’t been there for Sirius. He thought Sirius was safe, after everything that had happened in their lives, at least his brother got his happy ending. Maybe they were doomed from the start, maybe no Black got a happy ending.

“I didn’t know you still held such regard for your brother, Mister Black.” Dumbledore said with a tone of surprise.

“He spent sixteen years in a prison. He doesn’t deserve to die in one.” Regulus explained as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He’d been taught to reign his emotions from nearly the moment of his birth. He wouldn’t let this wizard get the better of him.

“I’d be privy to agree with you, but alas what has been done, has been done and it would be hard pressed to change it. Nonetheless, your brother is not why we’re here.” Dumbledore explained as he turned to face the opposite direction of the Potter Cottage. Regulus slowly turns himself, half expecting an army behind him after his fit of passion. There was nothing, but an empty street.

“Is it not? Did you not bring me here to show me where my brother fell from grace? I half expect Aurors to show any moment, cart me off without a trial. Reckon I could be in a cell between my brother and cousin. Or would they think that too dangerous, too many Blacks together, they may just help one another escape?” Regulus muttered bitterly. Dumbledore’s lips twitched.

“No one has ever escaped Azkaban, Mister Black.” He stated plainly.

“And the Dark Lord said he’d never fall. I tend to not hold much light to absolutes.” Regulus explained.

“A wise thing to do.” Dumbledore uttered. His eyes were squinting down the street now. Regulus forced his vision to stare as well, it took a moment, but soon he could make out the shadow of a small figure coming towards them. Regulus stiffened, though there was nothing threatening in the way the figure approached. In fact, they took rather short quick steps, as if they were worried themselves. Within a moment he could discern he was facing an older witch, likely in her forties. She had dark brown hair tied back into a tight bun and her robes were a bit frumpy and worn. She carried a bundle in her arms, something that was wrapped several times in differently patterned blankets. Regulus wrinkled his nose as he looked between the two.

“Nearly missed the portkey, took awhile to calm this one down, was crying up a storm.” The woman stated, slightly out of breath as she bounced the bundle.

“A nip of firewhiskey tends to do it, or so Bathilda always said.” Dumbledore mused as he moved closer to the woman moving aside some of the blankets. It was clearly a child wrapped in there, though Regulus was confused why he’d been called all the way out here for a child.

“Come Mister Black, take a look.” Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand not bothering to look up. The woman reacted differently, her face screwing in horror at his name as she took a slight step backwards. As was common when the Black family name was mentioned, it never provoked a positive response, less so now than before.

“Albus.” The woman gasped.

“He will be fine, Arabella. I doubt Mister Regulus would dare try anything in my presence.” Dumbledore soothed. The woman seemed to ease at the statement moving forward a hair. Regulus sighed as he took two large steps to her other side, not ignorant to the way she tensed. He peered down as Dumbledore moved aside the blankets once again. He revealed a tanned skin child with wildly displaced dark hair. He looked just like James fucking Potter, Regulus groaned internally. Except for the freshly scarred skin, just above one of his eyes. Regulus leaned in closer to look at it as he audibly took a breath in.

“Wondrous isn’t it?” Dumbledore mumbled. “A baby, to survive such a curse.”

“That scar? It will last won’t it, there’s dark magic behind it. I can feel it.” Regulus muttered as he lifted a hand. Arabella jerked Harry away before he could touch the mark.

“Now, now Arabella. I believe Mister Regulus is just curious. Here let me hold him, I believe the return portkey leaves shortly doesn’t it? Oh don’t huff Arabella I promise you, he will be just fine with me.” Dumbledore soothed the older woman as she shuffled Harry into his arms, sniffling all the while.

“Goodbye sweet boy, I hope to meet you again one day.” She nuzzled his face with her hand slightly before she tightened her robes to her side, glancing only briefly at Regulus before she made her way down the path again. Regulus followed her with his eyes until she disappeared from sight.

“You must be wondering why I’ve brought you here?” Dumbledore posed again.

“Truthfully, I more so wonder why you’ve brought him all the way out here. Isn’t it a bit cruel to bring him back to where he lost his family?” Regulus sighed as he craned his neck to take another look at the sleeping child. Then Dumbledore truly surprised him as he held out Harry, beckoning for Regulus to take him. Regulus shook his head as he took a step back, he was not fit to be around children.

“Come here, Mister Black. You won’t hurt him. Come, come, cradle your arms, yes just like that, then make sure his neck is in your hand. Oh yes, look you’ve gotten it.” Dumbledore instructed as he passed young Harry into his arms. The boy stirred slightly in his sleep before sighing into Regulus’ arms. Regulus felt terribly out of place. He’d never held a child before. He was the baby of his family, and none of his cousins had children while he was still alive, at least none that he was permitted to see.

“Now to answer your question, I must ask one myself. How would you figure a child, the very one who you hold, would be able to survive a killing curse directly aimed as this one was?” Dumbledore questioned as he took a step back. Regulus felt nervous at the absences of the Headmaster’s steadier arms.

“I’d wager it was something to do with Lily or James rather than to believe a baby to possess such great power.” Regulus replied as he shuffled slightly under the weight in his arms.

“Always so bright Mister Black. You’d be correct. Young Lily Potter made a sacrifice so great that her magic outweighed the Dark Lord’s and because of her sacrifice her child lives on.” Dumbledore explained. “However, magic that great can only hold for so long without assistance. For now, young Harry is safe, but the same may not be the same in a year, or five, or even ten and after this wears, one must help to uphold the magic. Now this is an ancient magic, a magic that is usually used for evil more so than good. Would you know of any such magic?”

“Blood magic.” Regulus whispered as he looked down at the peaceful form once again, he was quite nice to look at. He’d never seen the appeal in children, only known them as a means to keep the family name going, but Harry seemed more than that.

“Yes, I figured you’d be familiar. Then did you ever learn what upholds blood magic?” Dumbledore continued as if this were one of his old school exams.

“A bond.” Regulus answered shortly, looking up at the Headmaster again.

“Yes, and this particular spell requires a familial bond and strong magic. No ceremony needed to be performed except that young Harry stayed with family.” Dumbledore explained.

“I thought the Potters had all died out.” Regulus questioned him, confused. James had been the last of a long line.

“Indeed, and James’ mother was a Shafiq she was one of the last of that line.” Dumbledore replied.

“The Muggles, Lily’s family then? They must want him, no?” Regulus asked as he started to bounce Harry, who was stirring more and more.

“Lily’s parents died just after she graduated. Her sister’s family died just a week ago. There is no one left there either.” Dumbledore answered. Regulus was growing more perplexed.

“How well do you know your family heritage, Mister Black?” Dumbledore queried. Regulus could feel his eyes roll.

“Forced to memorize it seven generations back lest I wanted to write with broken fingers.” He scoffed.

“Ah yes the Blacks, always a bit archaic.” Dumbledore mused. Regulus let out a dry sarcastic laugh. Archaic would have been kind compared to Regulus’ childhood.

“Well, I happen to recall a great aunt on your mother’s side to have been Dorea Black who would become Dorea Potter.” Dumbledore explained. Regulus felt his stomach drop. This couldn’t be where Dumbledore had been going with this conversation.

“Yes a bright young witch she was, more privy to Divinations then Transfiguration when I taught her, but she exceeded either way. Her marriage to Mister Potter was a bit of a surprise, I believe he was little Harry’s great uncle here. Pity they hadn’t survived either. Fleamont did have James later though. Now I believe you’ve pieced together where I am going with this?” Dumbledore explained a twinkle returning to his eye.

“Absolutely not.” Regulus answered firmly. He was in no way fit to raise a child, nor did he have the slightest clue how to. He had enough experience in what not to do, but that did not amount to what he should do. What did one feed someone so small even?

“There must be somebody else, anybody else.” Regulus frantically tries to think of any knowledge of the Potter family tree.

“I’m afraid you are the best there is.” Dumbledore answered calmly.

“I cannot. I wouldn’t know how. If you must give him to a Black let it be someone else. My aunt, Lucretia, still lives. Ignatius was in Gryffindor, they’ve always wanted children. Andromeda, she had a child, she’s on your side. Or my aunt Cassiopeia, she never liked this war or The Dark Lord, she’d raise him well. It cannot be me.” Regulus pleaded, Harry starting to blink his eyes open.

“Well you see, you still are better fit then all listed. Lucretia is a Prewett and I do believe the family has been deemed traitorous after her other nephews perished, they may be sought out by the remaining Death Eaters. The same can be said for Andromeda. I hadn’t considered Cassiopeia, but truly between her age and the fact that I have not known her in many years leaves me wary.” Dumbledore replied.

“And you trust me?” Regulus narrowed his eyes. He didn’t trust this for a moment.

“Let me put it this way, Mister Black. I trust that you’d like to avoid Azkaban, unless that cell between your brother and cousin is truly your calling. I trust that your self preservation will override any other instinct, and you’d be privy to do as requested.” Dumbledore stated firmly his eyes burning into Regulus. So that was it, he could blackmail Regulus the easiest. Regulus gulped air as he bounced Harry more, needing to get his energy out someway.

“So either raise Harry, or rot in Azkaban?” Regulus asked sourly.

“It’s not so cruel is it? To raise a simple child.” Dumbledore replied.

“I’d assume there are conditions.” Regulus muttered.

“A wise decision, Mister Black. Yes, but only a few. You must only tell Harry that he is a wizard, and give him only so much information on his parents. I don’t believe it will do him any good being raised to believe he is a god among men. Leave the War out of it, as best you can. His last stand with Voldemort not needing to be told until he’s old enough. Then of course, I will need to know where he is living, to check in on him and all.” Dumbledore stated a small smile forming on the corner of his lips. Regulus gritted his teeth, if he told Dumbledore, he’d no longer be isolated. He’d no longer be safe.

“Mister Black, I believe I have stated I want Harry safe. Exposing a rather strong protection charm would not benefit anyone here.” Dumbledore replied. Regulus was defeated. He had to give a little.

“The Black Family home is located at Twelve Grimmauld Place, Islington, London.” He answered through his teeth.

“Wonderful, and who happens to be the Secret Keeper? Best to know everyone that has this knowledge.” Dumbledore queried, Regulus was tired of the questions and Harry was starting to moan.

“I am.” Regulus spat back, not able to contain all his emotions once again. Dumbledore seemed most curious by that information.

“You are full of surprises, Mister Black. The day is still rising, and I think Harry will wake up soon. Best leave the rest of the questions for later. I will be seeing you Mister Black.” Dumbledore offered before he gave one last stern look, like he was a child still. Then with a loud pop, he was gone.

Regulus could hear the town stirring around him. Curtains being thrown open, dogs starting to bark, and people rising. He needed to be gone, and soon. He took a few steps into the nearest shadows, clutching Harry tight to his chest before he felt the world move around him. Until he was facing the steps of his home once again, he climbed them quickly as Harry started to cry. Struggling he pulled his wand to tap the code, stumbling through the doorway.

When the large door shut loudly behind him and he was engulfed with nothing but the cries of a baby, he fell to his knees. Carefully, he laid Harry down in his bundle. He unfolded each blanket slowly with shaking hands as Harry screamed. Finally, four limbs were free as Harry started to flail them in all directions with all his might. Kreacher popped into the Hall looking bewildered. Regulus just shook his head at the elf as he grabbed Harry and pulled him under his chin patting his back lightly as he shushed. Regulus leaning back against the nearest wall, clutching onto Harry as if he was the only thing holding him to the ground.

Eventually, the crying stopped and Regulus pulled him back leaning the baby against his knees. He took him in for all he was in his little form. He truly was James Potter’s son, through and through. That was until he opened his eyes. Regulus felt his throat catch as he stared into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, only seeing that color once before. Harry had Lily’s eyes.

Chapter Text

They were two weeks into the endeavor of guardianship, because he refused on principle to call it fatherhood, Harry had a father. Harry had James, and Regulus had learned the hard way a long time ago, he could never be James. So he had taken the title guardian, and even that felt wrong. Sirius had been appointed guardian, he and Marlene should be taking care of Harry. Regulus didn’t fit into this picture, he should have been a memory. An old photo Sirius would point at one day and say “my idiot brother”, but he wasn’t a memory, he was still a person. One who Harry now relied on.

A fact that was ever present even only two weeks from that fateful morning when he stumbled into his family’s home, a small child in tow. It had taken Regulus a few days to remember exactly how old Harry was, a sad fact, though technically Harry had been born when he was dead. He was able to piece together his birthday was the thirty-first of July which meant he was dealing with a seventeen month old baby. One that could walk, and cry, and try to talk, and kept Regulus up all hours of the night.

Regulus leaned over a steaming cup of tea as he stared into nothing. He was exhausted. He had moved Harry into his room, dragging an old crib out of the attic. He was an energetic child, who liked to bounce and call from the bars at different hours. They had started getting him into a routine, and he was finally starting to sleep through the night again. Regulus would never forget the second night, the first day saw Harry mostly with large bright eyes stare curiously at everything quietly. Then the second night rolled around, and he would not stop crying and wailing. The sound bouncing off the thin walls of Grimmauld Place. The crying continued every night from then. Tea abandoned, Regulus was pacing the length of his room once again, shushing and trying to make sense of the garbled noise coming out of his mouth.

It was when Harry cried for his mother first that Regulus froze. A baby to his hip crying for his dead mother. He could feel his lips quivering, what could he do to reassure a child wanting the most natural of comforts? No matter what he did he couldn’t bring her back, no matter how much penance he paid or heroics he attempted would ever undo the damage already done. It was only natural for a child to want their mother.

Regulus had been the same when he was little, when he was young and naive. One only needed to go crying to Walburga Black once to learn it was an act never to be repeated. Every pain, sadness, and illness from then on was suffered in silence. The need didn’t go away though, even now Regulus craved a mother. Someone to help him, and comfort him through this mess he’d made of his life. He’d had mother figures through his life, each less consistent then the next.

There was his Aunt Lucretia, she’d always been helpful. Once when he was young, he hid himself in a closet to cry. Bellatrix had enjoyed using him as hex practice, and his fingers were all twisted the wrong way. He’d been five and even he knew better then to try and get his parents to fix them. They’d yell at him for not being able to protect himself and probably make them twist more for good measure. He was hoping the magic would wear off on its own as he sobbed in the dusty old closet.

He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when the door opened. Fearful it was Bellatrix come to get him worse, or his parents to yell at him for crying. Instead, his aunt had crouched down to his height. Her hair was wildly curly as was many of the women in his family, and dark as night. She’d had it pulled high on top of her head as she leaned forward taking Regulus’ hand. He was still sniffling, but Aunt Lucretia had never once hurt him. She was different from his mother and his other aunt. She was kind.

She shushed him as she pulled her wand, touching each finger gently and putting them back into shape, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his hand as she finished. It was the most caring touch he’d gotten in weeks. She helped him up and wiped his tears as she turned him around to pull his hair up, so no one would be the wiser. Black men always had longer hair, tied to the top of their head, not to be truly cut until they wed. Then again when they had a child, a son especially. Or so he’d been taught, that’s why his father and his uncles had long hair often tied back with leather straps.

“Now Regulus, when Bellatrix does it again. I want you to think real strong and real hard. And push all the power you can out of yourself, understand? Your magic will help protect you.” Lucretia had whispered as she crouched down once again.

“You are a Black, Regulus, you can handle anything.” She’d mused with a smile before taking his hand and bringing him back downstairs.

Harry’s next cry brought him back to the moment at hand. His cheeks were wet without him realizing it as he used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe them away.

“Sh, Harry. Sh, I’m here. I won’t let anything get you I promise. I promise.” Regulus cried out. He hadn’t slept and he barely ate, he wasn’t sure when the last time he showered was. He’d made sure Harry ate three times a day, he bathed him every night, and he laid down for an hour to two every afternoon. That’s all that mattered, that’s what got him through his day, Harry’s routine.

Kreacher popped in the room with a fresh cup of tea just then. Regulus was more than thankful for the elf, who was trying his best to help. Kreacher hadn’t been the birth elf, but he had been around when they were all younger. His mother had rid of the birth elf when Regulus was seven, and it showed that no one else was having children. A fact his mother scoffed at often to Uncle Alphard and Aunt Lucretia. She had made all the children watch as she beheaded the elf, saying it was a good lesson for them all. Regulus had cried himself to sleep that night, he had loved Sthing. She had been a good elf, she was the one to bring him toys when he was lonely, and bring him juice even when his mother had denied it. To watch her tremble and cry, never begging for her own life, likely having been told not to, before his own mother cut her head off to put on the wall with the others. Regulus shuddered at the memory.

“Master, if I may.” Kreacher said quietly. He was always still polite even though Regulus had never done anything purposely towards the elf. His biggest regret was sending Kreacher with the Dark Lord, he was hesitant then, already starting to doubt. Then when Kreacher came back, screaming and writhing in pain, Regulus was done. He couldn’t believe in a single word or action the Dark Lord had ever uttered. Now, it was just him and his elf and a baby.

“He may be teething, Master.” Kreacher offered as he set the tea down. “I remembers when you and Master Sirius teethed, you both screamed your throats dry. Mistress threatens to throw you both down the landing. Until Sthing caught her, had to remind her Master Orion would be upsets with his heirs dying.”

Regulus almost rolled his eyes, but he was more distracted. He turned Harry to himself as he opened his mouth again to scream, Regulus taking a small peak in. Indeed, there were small white caps breaching through his gums. Regulus rubbed his back through the next crying fit. It made sense, Harry was in pain.

“How do I help him?” Regulus asked, hoping Kreacher would be of any help.

“Well Sthing use to dip cloths in juice or tea and have the babies chew on them.” Kreacher offered. Regulus was willing to try anything. He placed Harry back into his crib, rubbing his eyes once his hands were free. He truly needed rest. He pulled out his wand as he called for a spare piece of cloth from the sewing room, it flew up the stairs and into his hand swiftly enough. Kreacher popped back into the room with a small saucer of apple juice. Regulus soaked the cloth gently, wringing it out gently before handing it to Harry. Harry’s eyes showed up at him looking confused. Well if babies could look confused.

“Um, you chew on it.” Regulus said. “Er you probably can’t understand me.”

That had been a recurring issue. Regulus forgot Harry only knew so many words.

“Will you teach him other languages Master?” Kreacher pipped in, as he leaned in to look at Harry. Harry laughed and reached for Kreacher‘s ear as the elf bounded backwards out of his grasp.

“Sorry Kreacher, I think he gets bored. He doesn’t have many toys.” Regulus apologized as he looked dejectedly around his room. Truthfully, Harry didn’t have a single true toy. Blacks didn’t believe in frivolous indulgences. For now, Regulus had kept him occupied with a pair of silver spoons he clattered against an old metal pot and he had wrapped a small pillow in a sheet and drawn a loopside face over it to create a makeshift teddy.

“I guess I could teach him French, and maybe some Italian. Latin and Greek can wait till he’s a bit older though.” Regulus sighed as he looked at Harry again, who was wringing the rag in his hand. Regulus took it gently and held it to Harry’s mouth. Green eyes just flashed up at him again.

“Like this.” Regulus sighed as he put the cloth in his own mouth, trying to hide his grimace at the strange feeling. He held the cloth down again and Harry opened his mouth encouragingly as his little gums chomped down excitedly. His little hand clasped just above Regulus’ as he continued to chew, making small noises. Regulus contently drew away, Harry thoroughly occupied for the time.

He fell back on his bed, letting out a heavy breath. He hadn’t given it much thought on how he’d raise Harry. He was going day by day for now. Forgetting that he’d be responsible for the child for a while, possibly his whole life, if Dumbledore didn’t intervene and take Harry away. He certainly didn’t want him to have the same childhood he had, but maybe teaching Harry some of the languages he had learned growing up would be good for him. The Latin and Greek would certainly be useful when he got to Hogwarts.

Hogwarts, would he be there for that he thought, as he propped himself on his elbows watching Harry chew contently on the cloth. It seemed so strange the little baby in front of him now would one day walk into The Great Hall just as he had. Would he plead with the sorting hat to be in the House he hadn’t even wanted? Would he be silent and let the hat decide? Would he beg to go where he felt he belonged? Was all this thinking so normal now, all he seemed to do in his spare time was worry about Harry.

“I can watch him for a bit, Master, I know I wasn’t trained on babies, but he seems entertained.” Kreacher offered, flicking his ears side to side. Regulus nodded as he smiled at Harry who started clapping his hands at Regulus with the cloth hanging out his mouth. Regulus laughed as he stopped to shuffle his hair before heading downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, he noted Kreacher had left a hefty sandwich and another cup of tea on the side. Regulus smiled quietly to himself as he sat to eat. Kreacher might not be great with babies, but he did know how to force Regulus to take care of himself. Otherwise, he’d likely run himself into the ground. He was chewing slowly to himself, even the small movement exhausting when he heard a clattering upstairs. It wasn’t far enough to be coming from his room.

He downed the rest of his tea and carried his plate upstairs to figure it. The noise seemed to be coming from the drawing room, he heaved open the door and found the cause of the ruckus. A pair of owls was pounding against the window. For an unplottable location, plenty of people seem to be finding it just fine. He sighed, sitting down his food and opening the window. The pair of owls made more sense once they came in, between the two of them was a medium sized box. Regulus poured water for the two as he inspected the box closer.

In scrawny small writing, it was simply addressed to the guardians of Harry Potter. A letter was stuck to the top. He pulled it off, noting as he opened there was no identifying seal. He unfolded the letter carefully reading each word. His mouth slowly falling open, as he got to the end.

A sadness washed over him and he saw the loopy signature of one R. J. Lupin at the bottom. The letter simply addressed that he knew Harry had been given to his nearest relatives for safety and they may not even know who he was, but he went on to explain that he was a close friend of Lily and James Potter and that the box contained a few toys and clothes and other objects that he had in his possession. A tear stained sentencing stating that they were left behind from when Harry would stay with himself and his godfather.

He went on to say that he knew Harry was hidden for his protection and he wouldn’t bother them anymore, but he had hoped this could bring some comfort to the boy. He’d even gone as far as to include some photos and notes of his parents so that he could know them better. Finishing off, he wished them the best and informed them they had gotten a wonderful child to raise. Regulus set down the letter and slowly opened the box as the owls hooted before heading into the dark night.

Inside, there were a few pairs of clothes, sleepwear and a child’s blanket folded neatly, and obviously recently washed. There were a few children’s books, both Muggle and wizard and a set of colorful crayons. On top was a stuffed black dog toy and a set of plastic knights, each had clearly been well loved by a child. Regulus took out each one gently as he set them on the desk. His heart felt full and empty at the same time. At the least, he could give Harry some of his own creature comforts.

Oh, but what about Remus? In the chaos of the past two months, how could Regulus have forgotten Remus? The last Marauder standing, two of his friends dead and both because of his other friend. Though had Remus and Sirius ever just been friends, Regulus was much too observant to believe that for a moment. He wasn’t sure when it happened, sometime between fifth year and sixth. His brother had fallen properly smitten with the fellow Gryffindor. Regulus remembered silently cheering when he started to notice the stolen glances and the blushing smiles. His brother deserved to be happy, he deserved love.

Remus, how he must be feeling. He had to have been shell shocked. It sounded like he and Sirius had been living together, probably in Uncle Alphard’s old flat in central London. Heavens, he better stay there, he thought. He hoped Remus didn’t think he needed to vacate now, but knowing him he’d probably boxed this up with his own things. Regulus couldn’t let that stand, he knew Remus was at a disadvantage. He knew he’d been surviving on James’ and Sirius’ funds. The Wizarding World would never let him hold down a stable job. Not with his condition, werewolves were terribly stereotyped.

Regulus yanked open a drawer and pulled the parchment and letter supplies. He was going to make certain Remus knew he could keep the apartment and any of Sirius’ remaining funds. Regulus had no need for either, and the least he could do was take care of the man that had taken care of his brother. He scrawled out a quick letter informing Remus that he was to take full advantage of anything left in Sirius’ name, funds and flat and all. He hesitated as he got to sign, he couldn’t quite sign it as himself. As far as Remus knew, Regulus and Sirius hated one another, and Regulus was long dead. He hesitated a moment later before looping his signature into Cassiopeia’s, if anyone was to not ask questions it was her.

He sealed the letter closed with the Black Family stamp and left it on the desk. He’d ask Kreacher to take it to the owlery in the morning. He stared out at the sky, noting the moon was still rather large. The full moon must have just passed. He wondered how Remus had done, it would have been his second one since Halloween. His uncle Ignatius studied monsters, or so called monsters as he had said. He once said emotions played a much larger role in a werewolf’s transformation than anyone reckoned. He’d done his best to be friendly with the pack in Wales and had written extensively on werewolves, and banshees, and hags, even gotten information on some Veela. No one cared to publish it though, but that didn’t stop Ignatius.

It had taken all of six months for little first year Regulus to piece together that the scrawny brunette was a werewolf, he’d likely put it together faster then any of his own friends. Honestly, he was surprised more people hadn’t pieced it together, with the scars and random disappearances every month. Granted most people probably didn’t have an uncle who spent so much time in close proximity with such kind. Still, he watched from a distance as his friends slowly found out, and then did everything in their power to help him. Even going as far as to break sacred Wizarding law. Sirius had been more a Black than he ever wanted to admit, Regulus chuckled a bit to himself.

It was getting easier, as time went on to think about his brother. It seemed strange to mourn him when he wasn’t dead; yet wasn’t he? Regulus couldn’t figure anyway he’d ever see him again, and even if he did, that man likely wouldn’t be his brother anymore. Not that they had been on good terms the last time they spoke, he tried not to think of that day. The evil in his brother’s silver eyes is one of the last memories he had of him.

He shook his head, the house was quiet for once. He didn’t need to make it loud with his thoughts, he finished his sandwich and made his way upstairs, slowly undressing as he went. He reached the shower on the top floor nearly naked, he indulged in turning the water warm against the cold house. Leaning against the sink as he let the water warm up, he took a decent hard look at himself. His hair was longer than usual, past his shoulders now.

That’s how Sirius had worn it. He remembered when his mother cut his hair off after his first year and Sirius had nearly cried at the crooked crew cut. He shook his brother out of his mind again, as he stepped into the warm water. Letting it wash away the aches in his muscles, his thoughts, his memories, his regrets, willing everything to temporarily recede down the drain. He pushed his hair back as the steam curled around him, breathing it in. He could only dream of himself being cleansed of his sins, he was far too gone to truly be redeemed.

Once back in his room, he let Kreacher to his bed. Regulus and the elf had argued extensively about the elf’s sleeping arrangements. Finally, Kreacher conceded to move into a closet on the first floor away from the boiler, Regulus painting the room a dark blue like Kreacher’s favorite sheet. Then lying down as many plush pillows and blankets as he could. He even removed the shelving, instead installing a more size appropriate one, placing some of Kreacher’s favorite items on it, his grandfather’s Order of the Merlin, his father’s old watch, a vase his great aunt had made. The elf had nearly cried when he saw it. Regulus overjoyed at being able to allow someone happiness.

Kreacher went off to sleep and Regulus sat tucked at the end of his bed, legs crossed as he watched Harry sleep. A small arm crossed over the makeshift teddy. He couldn’t wait to see his face when he woke up and could be presented with all his old toys. Regulus could stop feeling so insufficient about the lack of child friendly accommodations. He ran a hand through his damp hair as he glanced at his watch, he’d been up nearly the whole night, it was the very early hours of the morning.

He sighed heavily as he changed into different clothes, laying his watch to the bedside table. He was careful to open his chest quietly, he’d painted over the old silver color of his furniture with a black and then coated the old green walls with a purple color. There was an uneven scorch mark from where he had burned the news articles off the wall, his mother had stuck them up there his third year with a permanent sticking charm to counter his brother's rebellious pictures in his room. He had done his best to rid the room of any remnants of his old life. Especially now, Harry didn’t need to see any of it.

His hand faltered a little as he looked down his arm. He could never rid himself of it all though, his throat choked up. It had faded when he died, it was still fading, looking like a deformed scar. He wanted to burn it from his skin, but he had tried that. He’d burned it, cut it, grated it, he’d done every painful maneuver under the sun short of cutting off his own arm. Nothing removed the brand, he had spent more nights than he’d admit, bleeding and bruised sobbing his eyes out into his father’s firewhiskey supply. It felt folly and childish, but in the end he decided he deserved to see it. A daily reminder of his crimes, his permanent penances.

Light happy babbling hit his ears the next morning, Harry was standing in his crib pointing at Regulus. Regulus smiled with half his face still shoved into his silken pillowcase. He could get used to waking up to such a happy face. He pushed himself off the bed and bounded over to grab Harry up in his arms. The babbling never ceasing as Regulus brought him to the bathroom with him. Harry fidgeted to get down, throwing his legs all around. Regulus laughed as he set him on the tile floor. Harry putting his hands against the cabinet as he bounced up and down.

He kept up the movements as Regulus readied himself, brushing his teeth, pulling his hair back and then letting Harry wobble himself back to their room. Only being able to pick a few words here and there, ‘look’ seemed to be a favorite of Harry’s, he’d point at anything and just shout look excitedly. Even if it was just the doorknob to their bedroom again, for the third day in a row.

Regulus sat him on his bed as he pulled out the box from its corner, smiling all the while. Harry giggled as he tried to pull open the box.

“Do you wanna see what it is? It’s all for you Harry.” Regulus called as Harry looked at him with big round eyes and pulled harder on the cardboard corner. Regulus grabbed his little hand and showed him how to pull the corners apart. Once the box was open, Harry started to wiggle with joy.

“Toys!” He shouted as he dove his little hands to the plastic figures. He grabbed one and started waving it in his hand at Regulus. Regulus picked up his own figure and made his dance back for a moment. Harry giggled, before his attention was drawn back into the box.

“Pads!” He cried as he dropped the little knight and pulled out the stuffed dog squeezing it with all his baby might.

“Pads?” Regulus whispered. That was Sirius’ nickname.

“Pads, Pads, woof!” Harry cried as he shoved the dog into Regulus’ face. He’d never seen Sirius’ Animagus form close up, but he had snuck away to a high tower one night and watched his brother frolic in the fields of the Forbidden Forest. He assumed the black dog was a gift from him then.

“Yes Harry, Padfoot.” Regulus forced out behind a stiff smile.

“Where Pads?” Harry asked, looking up with his big eyes. “Where Pads ‘n Moons?” He asked again a moment later when Regulus didn’t answer. He was frantically trying to find an age appropriate answer. He couldn’t possibly tell the child standing at the end of his sheets that his godfather had betrayed his mum and dad, leaving him an orphan and in the hands of him, a distantly related cousin.

“They can’t be here, Harry. They had to go away.” Regulus settled on as he pulled the boy into his lap, still clutching the dog in his arms.

“Pads?” Harry asked as he yanked on a curl of Regulus hair.

“I’m not Pads.” Regulus sighed. “I’m his brother, that’s why the hair looks the same.”

Harry clutched the dog even tighter to his chest. Regulus reaches into the box to pull out something to distract Harry. There was a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard at the bottom. Regulus had always enjoyed The Warlock’s Hairy Heart as a child. He went to open the story when a piece of paper fell out. It was a small photo, looked to be from when Harry had just been born. Lily was holding him with James proudly over her shoulder. Sirius and Remus were holding each other as they looked at baby Harry. Peter was on the opposite side making a funny face that Harry was laughing at.

“Pads, Moons.” Harry clapped as he pointed to the two.

“Yes, good job Harry.” Regulus tried to encourage.

“Worms!” Harry screamed next as he pointed to Peter.

“Mumma, Baba.” He pressed his fingers down on the moving motions of his parents.

“Baba, your dad, oh yes the Potter’s they were er, Indian yes. So baba, you call him baba. Good.” Regulus rambled more to himself. He wanted James to be as authentic as possible to Harry. If he was called baba, he would stay baba. Harry looked up at Regulus and pointed to him.

“Pads?” He asked tugging on a curl again. Regulus blanked, Harry didn’t know what to call him. For the past few weeks, he just cried or made noise whenever he needed Regulus.

“No, not Pads Harry. I’m Regulus, though that’s probably a mouthful for you.” He said as he detangled Harry’s grip on his hair. The green eyes staring into him.

“Uh, Reggie? Sirius used to call me Reggie. It annoyed me then, because it’s not even the right sound, the g is pronounced differently in my name. Anyways, try Reggie, Rej-e.” He said slowly, sounding it out.

“Eggy.” Harry cried, clapping his hands. Regulus defeatedly blew his hair away from his face as he hooked Harry on his hip to take him downstairs for breakfast.

“I guess eggy is close enough.” Regulus sighed and Harry started chanting the word over and over again, the sound bouncing off the hallways.

Chapter Text

Christmas had been a quiet affair. Regulus’ parents had hardly celebrated it. The holiday brought up memories of pain rather then joy. His family’s Eve dinner had been the affair of the year and one toe out of line for any of the Black’s children meant swift punishment. He didn’t enjoy being reminded.

He wasn’t even sure of the proper way to celebrate the holiday. Wizards weren’t traditionally religious. He certainly wasn’t raised that way. Other families had been different, twisting Magic into their religion. He remembers Lily and Remus talking about a different holiday for their religion. They had candles to light and different traditional gifts.

Regulus would need to look into it more. He wished he could write Remus to ask him about it. It only seemed right for Harry to have something of Lily’s traditions too. He’d have to try again next year. For now, he put together the plain large tree his family always had for the party. It only bore the silver tinsel and looked quite pathetic. He missed the Hogwarts decorations, those had been fantastic.

He owl ordered a child’s broom for Harry and had it sent to the beach home. They had minimal room behind the house, but it was protected under the wards and they could play out there without being seen. Regulus was already starting to wonder how being raised here would impact Harry. There wasn’t anyone else around. He was sure children needed a certain level of socialization. Harry only had Regulus, and Dumbledore if he ever showed up again.

Regulus had not heard a word through the whole holiday season from his former Headmaster. He’d simply dumped Regulus with Harry and had them fend for themselves. It seemed irresponsible at best, how could Dumbledore know the child was being well taken care of, if he never bothered to check. For all he knew, Regulus could be the same arrogant arsehole he was as a child, or worse he could be like his parents. Surely he didn’t want Harry to be raised as such?

Currently, Harry was stumbling around the sewing room, babbling about nonsense. Regulus chimed in every now and then, encouraging Harry to use his words. He’d started to reply in French to some of Harry’s inquiries. He got a few strange looks at first, but now he was starting to reply back to them. It seemed a natural way to teach someone. Unlike his mother, who one day switched to French and would not speak to you unless you spoke it back and if she heard any English, they would find the back of their hands burning, or their knees bruised. He did learn French quickly, much better than Sirius had ever been, but likely Sirius messed it up on purpose.

“En haut!” Harry came up to his side and yelled. He had learned how to cry to be carried and now was insisting on it constantly. Regulus sighed as he put his wand through the knot on the top of his hand. Not as if he didn’t have plenty of free time to re-do the wallpaper on the first landing’s sewing room a different day.

“Hein, tu seras trop grand un jour.” Regulus chuckled as he bounced Harry on his hip. It seemed he really did get bigger everyday. Harry giggled as he patted a hand on Regulus’ cheek.

“Merci, Egg.” Harry giggled some more. He found Regulus’s nickname corresponding with his new favorite breakfast food absolutely hilarious. Regulus would just let out a defeated sigh, but his face still cracked into a smile. Harry made him smile more than he had in many years.

“Vroom?” Harry questioned as Regulus carried him downstairs.

“Broom again? We just did broom.” Regulus huffed. Harry had wanted to be on the broom constantly since he’d gotten it. He was not quite sure how doing continually circles in the backyard was so entertaining, but considering the options available to him at Grimmauld Place, it made sense.

“Snack first, then broom, oui?” Regulus replied.

“Oui, oui, oui.” Harry replied. Yes was his favorite French word.

Regulus chuckled as he brushed his hair back. He did have James’ infamously wild hair. It stuck up in patches all around, particularly after a ride around on the broomstick. Regulus would need to show Harry how to treat it when he got older. His hair would take more than a simple wash and brush, quite like his longer hair did.

Regulus was dicing fruit with his wand as Harry stared excitedly when there was an almost foreign noise hitting his ears. There was a whistling and rushing sound coming from the Entrance Hall just up the wooden steps. He felt a shudder fall down his back, no one had used the Floo in years. Regulus shushed Harry as he creaked up the steps quietly, wand tight to his side. He didn’t know who could possibly have made it in, but he didn’t want to wait and find out too late.

He craned his neck around the corner, trying to see without being seen. Once he caught the eyes of the wizard in his Entrance Hall, his shoulder slumped forward and he huffed loudly. Out of the shadows he emerged, walking towards where Dumbledore stood in the middle of the hall glancing around the house with curious eyes.

“There were portraits all around at one time, and I believe house elves’ heads to the stairs there.” Dumbledore stated as his robes brushed against the stone floors.

“I did some redecorating.” Regulus grumbled. The Floo roared again and another figure emerged. Regulus could feel his eyebrows shoot to the top of his head as he could discern the person dusting soot off her plain robes.

“Albus, where exactly have you taken me?” Minerva McGonagall gasped out as she arranged her pointed hat back on her head. She scanned the room through her spectacles, until they landed on Regulus’ stiffen form. He felt all of fifteen again and at the end of her nose being scolded for hexing his brother unconscious for the first time. McGongall commanded respect in any room she entered with her strong demeanor and tall figure.

“Well, well and I was under the impression you had passed from a rather untimely death, Mister Black.” McGongall tutted as she scoured her eyes up and down. Regulus could feel a flush coming to his face. Just as he parted his lips to respond, the pattering of feet caught his attention.

“Egg, eggy. Snack.” Harry came tumbling up the stairs unsteadily. He latched onto Regulus’ leg with forceful hands. He hushed as his eyes fell on the other people in the room. Dumbledore smiled slightly as he waved the finest wave towards Harry. Harry looked up at Regulus for what to do. Regulus offered a small nod as he put his hand behind Harry’s head. His small hand waved back and forth excitedly.

McGonagall's face showed obvious surprise, an emotion she wasn’t accustomed to clearly. She’d taken Regulus being alive better then she had seen Harry coming stumbling out of the kitchen.

“Albus…” McGongall started as she tilted her head towards him, the shock still written in her eyes.

“The Muggles passed away Minerva. I had to provide Harry a safe home, one with family. The Potter’s and Black’s are related if you remember.” Dumbledore explained as he clasped his hands in front of his robe looking between Harry and Regulus with an odd expression.

“Eggy.” Harry said tugging on the robes Regulus was wearing, his eyes staring up at him.

“J'ai faim.” He mumbled a bit over the unfamiliar words.

“Sorry, I was getting him a snack when you came in.” Regulus explained as he picked up Harry and placed him on his hip.

“I could make tea.” Regulus offered as he turned back towards the kitchen. Harry hummed a tune to himself happily as he waved at the two visitors from over Regulus’ shoulders. They followed a few steps behind. Regulus sat Harry back into his seat as he finished cutting an apple into pieces and setting it with crackers on a plate for Harry.

“Merci!” Harry cried as he grasped his little fingers into the apple gnawing with his small incoming corner teeth. Regulus smiled as he started a kettle behind him with his wand. Dumbledore was making his way around the kitchen inspecting every little corner as if looking for a flaw. Regulus had thoroughly child proof the kitchen. All knives were locked away, all corners had softening charms, if he was looking for a reason to take Harry it wouldn’t be here.

“Harry looks well fed.” Dumbledore muttered as he stopped at the other end of the table, staring down the child. His eyes kept narrowing almost as if it wasn’t what he had expected.

“He’s learning French.” McGonagall added. She stayed just a step out of the doorway watching the scene from afar.

“It’s a good language.” Regulus retorted as he used his hand to fling open the cabinets and float three cups and saucers to the table.

Dumbledore hummed a few times as he started pacing the last of the room before finally settling in one of the old wooden chairs. He motioned for McGonagall to join him to his side.

“Quite handy with wandless magic, Mister Black.” Dumbledore mused as Regulus used the very magic to push the cups towards them.

“Always did well at Charms.” Regulus muttered as Harry’s eyes went back and forth between the adults at the table.

“Better than well to my knowledge, in most of your pursuits Mister Black.” Dumbledore added as he pulled his tea up to his lips. McGonagall’s tea was untouched as she pursued her lips, clearly listening intently.

“Has Harry been a hassle? He seems like a sweet child.” Dumbledore inquired after a moment’s silence.

“He’s just fine.” Regulus quipped back as Harry waved a cracker in Regulus’ direction, he’d taken to wanting to share his food lately. Knowing that if he didn’t take the offering, Harry would usually get upset. Regulus held out his hand as Harry placed the snack in his hand. Regulus chewed on it nonchalantly, not noticing the slight twitch in Dumbledore’s lips.

“Vroom?” Harry asked as he stuffed the last cracker into his mouth.

“Chew Harry.” Regulus reminded him. They were still working on table manners. Harry closed his mouth and chewed slower cheerfully shaking his head side to side, his hair following the motion.

“Smart boy.” Dumbledore mused.

“He had smart parents.” Regulus mumbled back as he made Harry’s plate fly gently into the sink. Kreacher would have a fit if Regulus did the dishes, the elf already complained that he didn’t have enough work. Though Regulus insisted that Kreacher deserved breaks and time to rest. He had taken to enjoying a daily nap around Harry’s snack time and Regulus had enjoyed preparing it anyway. At the least, he had that one success.

“Indeed he did. I believe parents you didn’t have a wonderful relationship with.” Dumbledore continued as he smiled at Harry who was waving again. The older wizard winked at the young boy.

“They were Sirius’ friends, not mine, but I can see talent when I know it.” Regulus continued the conversation was going stiffly at best. He couldn’t put his finger on what the Headmaster wanted, but from his actions and the glint in his eye it seemed he was hunting for a particular piece of information.

“Vroom, Eggy!” Harry cried as he clapped his hands happily. Regulus sighed as he knew he had promised Harry to fly, but it seemed inappropriate to ask Dumbledore and McGonagall to step outside so Harry could fly.

“Just a minute Harry.” Regulus nodded as he smiled, hoping to appease the boy.

“I’m not quite sure what he’s saying?” Dumbledore slightly questioned.

“He wants to go fly, I got him one of the child safe brooms for Christmas.” Regulus replied. Harry nodded enthusiastically as he started pointing towards the way to exit.

“You bought him a Christmas present?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows perked on his forehead as he leaned forward. His tone shifted between surprised and disappointed.

“Was I not supposed to? He’s only a child.” Regulus accused back, he couldn’t see any harm in a toy broom.

“No, rather unexpected of you though. I wouldn’t think it would be in your personality.” Dumbledore huffed as he leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Regulus only tilted his head slightly, as Harry rustled next to him. The boy was getting anxious and so was Regulus. He could sense there was a matter with Dumbledore; however, he couldn’t place it. He didn’t see any issues with how he was raising Harry. He was well fed, he slept enough, and Regulus was doing his best guesswork at hitting childhood milestones.

“Well, then let us see this wonderful broom. What do you say Harry?” Dumbledore stated as he clapped his hands once. Harry jumped up from his seat excitedly, and started to clap his hands as his eyes watched Regulus. Regulus decided it was better to follow along, sometimes it was better to observe then to comment.

The strange quartet made their way up the stairs and out the rear door. Regulus grabbed the broom from where it hung beside as Harry teetered along jumping down each step in excitement. Dumbledore seemed to scan the small garden, at one time it had been well maintained with many different plants and shrubs especially those used in potion ingredients. However, his mother had never been one for maintaining after she took over as mistress of the house. It had been her mother-in-law's project, and they had never gotten along.

Regulus had to dig up many dead plants and shrubs to make it inhabitable when he first arrived. Then with Harry’s arrival he’d made sure to remove anything toxic or dangerous and cut down much of the mess of vines and roots. Again, Dumbledore would find little danger here for Harry. Regulus had made sure of that.

Harry waved his hands for Regulus to meet him just at the center of the garden. He smiled at the young child as he set the broom on the ground. Harry laughed as he yelled ‘up’ at the top of his lungs causing the broom to fly into his toddler sized fist. He had already learned how to mount it like a professional as Regulus stayed nearby before taking a step back. Harry flashed him a quick smile before he leaned forward and the broom was off buzzing around less than a meter off the ground.

Regulus took several steps back so Harry could make his full circle, careful to keep an eye on him. He made his way back to where his two former professors stood. They were silently exchanging glances between one another until Regulus stood by to the side. The group stood in silence as the sounds of a child’s glee and excitement bounded off the brick walls of Grimmauld Place.

“He is quick on that broom.” McGongall muttered almost to herself. “Would be a good chaser, like his father.”

“I almost think he has a bit of a Seeker in him.” Regulus stated as he picked up one of the small round sacks to the ground. He whistled slowly as Harry’s mess of hair turned towards him. Harry turned his broom towards him as Regulus tossed the sack at him. Harry’s small arm stretched out as he sped up, swooping next to the flying sack as his little hand scooped it up. He screamed with laughter as he clutched his victory to his chest. McGongall cracked her first smile as she watched.

“Maybe Gryffindor could have a better chance at the cup when he arrives at Hogwarts.” Regulus tutted with a cocky grin.

“Who's to say he will be in Gryffindor? One does not know until they wear the Sorting Hat.”Dumbledore posed.

“He’ll be in Gryffindor.” Regulus replied firmly. Dumbledore sucked in his breath at the strong reply. As if he hadn’t expected Regulus to be so open to Harry being in Gryffindor, his old rival house. He had been around many of the Slytherin’s that hexed and taunted the Gryffindor’s and he’d been an aggressive player on the Quidditch Pitch, but his brother was one of them and from afar, other then the obvious rivalry, Regulus couldn’t see a reason to hate someone for where they had been sorted. Not when the hat had almost placed him elsewhere, he’d always wondered if he had gone with the Hat’s instinct where he’d be? Gryffindor hadn’t saved his brother after all. Strange what a bit of perspective afforded him.

There was silence again, aside from the sounds of Harry and his occasional pleas for Regulus to throw more sacks, each one his small hands grasping onto. He was impressive for his age, and Regulus would be betraying himself if he didn’t say he was a bit proud. Maybe he could see a bit of himself in Harry, at least when it came to Quidditch. It had been one of his only sanctuaries.

Eventually, they made their way back inside as Harry landed and started asking for a drink. Regulus helped him inside as he took him to the kitchen to clean up, McGongall and Dumbledore stayed behind. Kreacher was in the kitchen doing the dishes, Regulus saw a chance. He politely asked Kreacher to get Harry cleaned up a bit and then to give him some juice. The elf was happy to help as he brought Harry up on his stool to wash his hands.

Regulus ducked back towards the Entrance Hall with his ears straining. He had a suspicion. One that was soon confirmed as he could hear the quiet talk, silencing charms didn’t work in Grimmauld Place. A lesson hard learned from his past, but advantageous now. He creeped close as he could without being seen, he hid in one of the shadows of a large wardrobe.

“Albus, you must take my heart into consideration in these situations. I am not as spring as I once was.” McGongall scolded. Regulus was certain she was one of the only people to get away with scolding the most powerful wizard of the age.

“I am a few years older then you Minerva and my heart seems to be pumping just fine.” Dumbledore mused. Regulus could hear the quiet patter of feet, as if the Headmaster was pacing the hall.

“Yes, but you said you needed help checking something and then disappeared into the Floo. Little did I suspect you’d take me to The Black Family home, and even less did I expect to see Regulus Black alive and well, when I distinctly remember the Daily Prophet with his face plastered across it as it announced his death. Then for you to bring Harry Potter here, The-Boy-Who-Live. Honestly Albus what are you thinking?” McGongall scoffed loudly as her foot tapped pointedly against the ground.

“I’ve explained the situation, Minerva. He must be with family to be protected by Lily’s sacrifice.” Dumbledore replied.

“Mister Black isn’t even related to Miss Evans, it couldn’t possibly be as good. Not to say I’m not pleased to see the poor boy away from those Muggles, they had locked him in a closet, he screamed his head off most days while they simply ignored him!” McGongall gasped. Regulus was intrigued by this bit of information, why would they leave their savior child in such mistreated hands.

“I told you not to go back, Minerva.” Dumbledore clicked his tongue as his pacing stopped.

“It couldn’t be helped, I knew they were no good from the moment I laid eyes on them. Do you want Harry beaten and broken? First those Muggles and now a Black!” She exclaimed. Regulus flinched slightly at the accusation, but she wasn’t far off, most Black’s had been horrific to children.

“Now Minerva, it seems Harry is very well taken care of. Surprising as that may be, given Mister Black’s history.” Dumbledore responded with a hint of astonishment to his tone.

“It is clearly an act, Albus. He's was a Slytherin, he is a Black, they are masters at showing one what one wants and then turning around and using what they’ve gotten from the facade and twisting it to their advantage.” McGongall cried out in a hushed voice. Regulus felt a sting in his chest, he couldn’t hurt Harry. He’d never treat him as he’d been treated and he certainly wasn’t using him to his advantage.

“That is a thought, Minerva. Either way I have my reasons for leaving Harry in Mister Black’s care. He certainly will be raised humbly and be more than willing to prove himself again.” Dumbledore replied. Regulus leaned in.

“You can not still go on about that prophecy. The Dark Lord has fallen, Harry has fulfilled it, and paid a great price for it too. He should be allowed to be a child. He doesn’t need to be raised almighty.” McGongall sighed as he could hear her hands hit against her sides.

“Alas, I don’t believe we’ve seen the last of The Dark Lord. I fear young Harry’s journey has only begun. Now Minerva let’s say our goodbyes. Then we can discuss this at length later.” Dumbledore responded as Regulus could hear the tapping of quick feet moving towards him.

He quickly jetted down the stairs and into the kitchen, Kreacher startling slightly as he did so. He quickly came to the side of Harry and he patted his hair and made sure his breath was even. The two professors entered only a second later. They smiled politely as they said their farewells before Regulus saw them back to the Floo, they both simply stepped into it without another word said to him.

Harry was getting restless as Regulus held his hand while they walked up to their room. He changed him into fresh clothes as he laid him down in his crib making sure he had his dragon that he’d gotten as Christmas present to cling to as Harry only made a few more sounds before drifting into slumber. His light snoring quickly filled the room.

Regulus laid back on his own bed, not to rest, instead to think. McGongall had mentioned a prophecy. That Harry was the center of said prophecy, and she seemed to think his part was played and done. Dumbledore thought otherwise, and no matter what personal opinions he had on the wizard, he was still wise beyond any of them. He seemed to think Harry still had more to fulfill. What prophecy centered around a child though?

It seemed implied that it was between Harry and The Dark Lord and his imminent downfall. Lord Voldermort had been insistent he couldn’t die, that magic beyond them all protected him. Regulus knew there wasn’t a pinch of Magic that his family hadn’t studied. He’d searched every book he could looking for means of immortality. The Philosopher’s Stone seemed unlikely, The Dark Lord had never shown such interest in Alchemy, nor after much research, had it been offered during what would have been his school years at Hogwarts.

A horcrux was the next viable option, much more in line with the values of The Dark Lord. A horrific deed of splitting one’s soul so it could not leave this life and onto the next if one’s body was destroyed. It seemed Dumbledore had come to the same conclusion, the only difference was Regulus knew the horcrux was destroyed. It didn’t seem possible that The Dark Lord could return for he had been destroyed by whatever magic Lily Potter had produced that night in Godric’s Hallow. Yet why did Dumbledore sound so certain?

Regulus groaned out loud as he looked over to Harry’s sleeping form. He’d be asleep for at least an hour or two after two rounds of flying. So he swung his feet to the ground as he quietly closed the door when exiting the room. He made his way to the drawing room. It had at times been a stand-in study for his father, though it was a rarity if Orion Black was present enough to do his duty as Head of House. Often he was either drunk or tucked in his room, not leaving for weeks at a time sometimes. After he produced heirs, it seemed he’d figured his duty was done. His uncle Cygnus had handled the functions of The Black Family.

Now, it stood mostly abandoned he thought as the door creaked open. It was mostly baron, the prized objects shoved out of sight. The cabinets are hidden in shadows. The piano, the only remaining centerpiece, Regulus had always enjoyed the piano. It was one of the few lessons he’d enjoyed growing up. He placed one foot in front of the other as if in a dream. He came to the end of the room, sitting in the worn chair. Many generations of Black’s had sat in prior, he could almost feel the ghost of their hands as he leaned back.

He pulled a chain from his neck. A simple key at the end. He loosened the chain from his neck as he leaned forward to unlock the last drawer to the right. It opened with a pop as he slowly revealed the object hidden inside. Inside was a small box, nondescript and plain. He had to pull his wand to whisper the incantations for it to unlock. He held his breath as he lifted the top, always wary of the contents.

There it was though, the destroyed locket of Salazar Slytherin. Broken and shattered beyond recognition to anyone beside himself. His hands had the slightest shake as if he could hear the voices again. He was frozen for a moment before he reacted. His hand slammed down tightly on the lid before in one swift motion, he bound it shut and shoved it into the drawer again. Yanking the chain tightly around his neck once again when it was secured.

He let out a thready breath. He’d spent his life surrounded by dark objects, yet none had the effect the horcrux had. He’d taken it to the cliffs of the sea to destroy it, unsure exactly what would happen. He’d knelt down on the edge in the grass, a basilisk fang in one hand, his wand in another as the breeze hit his face. He couldn’t recall how long it had been that he’d sat there, but it had been awhile, running through each possible idea for what would happen once it was destroyed, if this would even work, he was not certain about anything.

Until finally, he gathered the courage to strike it, the fang raised in his hand as he used it to strike the glass. Air struck his face with force as he was surrounded by a fog, he could hear voices. The sounds of his parents disowning him and burning him off the tapestry, the voice of his brother spitting at him, his entire family mocking him, The Dark Lord catching his act of betrayal and killing everyone he held dear. It was almost as awful as when he had drink the potion to get it. It took every bit of wobbly strength in his arm to destroy the second shard of glass and once he did it was silent.

He shuddered in reality. The memories surrounding the horcrux were awful. It was destroyed though, and The Dark Lord must be dead. It sounded fake in his head. Even coated in misery, it had seemed too simple. He’d been in his presence, and he’d taken his Mark. He knew The Dark Lord would do anything in his power to survive. Maybe Dumbledore was right, maybe he would return, and then what would that mean for Regulus? More so, what would it mean for Harry? He couldn’t fathom.

Chapter Text

Warmth was surrounding the room, Regulus could feel sweat on his brow. His hands are too busy to swipe it away at the moment. One hand was balancing a bowl while another was whipping quickly. Or at least he believed he was. He was trying to put together a cake the Muggle way. Today was Harry’s second birthday, and he wanted to make the cake from scratch. He’d woken up early to slip into the kitchen and had Kreacher purchase all the supplies a few days ago.

Now they all laid out in front of him, slightly overwhelmed as he read through the Muggle cookbook. He’d never cooked anything the Muggle way. It had plenty of steps and a myriad of different ingredients. As he saw it, plenty of ways to mess up. It was just sugar, flour, and eggs though, he couldn’t make it taste that awful, right?

His arm was growing tired of whisking as he blew a piece of hair off his forehead. It only ended up right where it had been before. He rolled his eyes as he focused on whisking still, the consistency didn’t seem quite right yet. Maybe he needed another egg, or maybe more milk. He sat it down slightly defeated. He decide to add a little of both and see what happened.

Eventually, he had enough batter to fill the pan as he placed the wobbling mix into the oven. The oven was nearly ancient, and leftover from the old Muggle owners. Kreacher had spent two days cleaning it and even then it still had a haggard worn appearance, but it turned on and that was all he needed for now. He stared at the icing ingredients with disdain as he pulled himself up from the heat blasting his face out of the oven.

Just as he was about to begin he could hear pattering coming down the stairs. The joyful licks of laughter bouncing through the halls. Harry was awake. Regulus turned sideways just in time to see Harry tottering his feet in an unsteady run as Regulus bent down with his arms wide. Harry jumped into them without a care in the world.

“Reggie!” Harry yelled in triumph as he grasped tightly to his neck.

“Happy Birthday Harry!” Regulus smiled as he buried his face in Harry’s wild bed ridden hair.

“My ‘irhday.” Harry giggled as he pulled back, his nose wrinkling. Regulus placed a gentle little kiss just there as he’d gotten used to doing lately. Affection was not his strong suit, still he was working on it for Harry.

“Cake?” Harry asked, pointing his stubby finger towards the oven.

“Soon, first breakfast.” Regulus replied as he carried Harry over to the table. Setting him down at his favorite seat, the one where he could see the whole kitchen.

“Eggs!” Harry cried as he bounced in his seat. Regulus smiled as he turned to the kitchen. Just then Kreacher popped into his way.

“No, Master Regulus. Kreacher be making Little Master his Birthday Breakfast.” Kreacher stated as he wagged a crooked finger at him. He could hear Harry laughing in the background. Regulus threw his hands up in defeat as he slowly backed up to his icing ingredients. Soften butter, vanilla bean paste, sugar and milk stared back at him as he tightened his hair behind his head determined to get it right. In the background, he could hear the mixture of Kreacher humming beside him and Harry laughing and clapping excitedly behind.

Kreacher joined them at Harry’s request as they all sat around the table. Harry was happy as could be to dive into the breakfast. Kreacher had arranged the two eggs and slice of bacon into a smiling face. Regulus had even smiled at it as he ate his own bacon. It was a happy day, Harry was two. It was over a half a year since they’d been together and every day was something new lately. It gave Regulus something to look forward to every morning when he was woke.

“Reggie?” Harry turned to look up at him with wide eyes.

“Yes Harry?” He replied, setting down his fork.

“When your ‘irthday?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side. Regulus froze a bit at the question, they had very purposely skipped his birthday. It was a dark day, he’d given himself only a few days of being eighteen before he decided he was prepared to die.

Besides there were no birthday celebrations growing up, only Sirius sneaking him a piece of cake when they were little. Even though that had ended the year before Sirius left, he’d spent his fourteenth birthday playing chess with Kreacher while Sirius steamed about an argument they had been in. Regulus had pleaded for Sirius to be calmer that summer and Sirius had yelled that Regulus was no better than their parents. In retrospect, that’s when their relationship really started to fall apart. It had been strained for years until the final break when Sirius ran off from home.

“It doesn’t matter Harry, my birthday isn’t important.” He replied weakly. Harry turned his head to the other side.

“No cake?” Harry asked. Regulus laughed, quietly.

“No cake for me. All the cake for you!” Regulus replied excitedly as he started to clean up the dishes. The prospect of cake took Harry’s mind of the pressing issue at hand as he started to bounce again and clap his hands. Regulus had promised him he could have cake after every meal today, and Harry was going to make him good on that promise.

He pulled the pan from the oven as he sat it on the counter. Harry bounced down to peer as close as he could to the cake, Regulus careful to keep him to the other side away from the still hot oven. Harry reached out his little finger to touch as he had to pat it back.

“Still hot Harry. Why don’t we go on your broom? Then afterwards you can help me ice the cake.” Regulus suggested knowing little would distract Harry from the sweet at hand.

“Vroom!” Harry yelled as he started running towards the stairs.

“Careful Harry!” Regulus called after him as he sat the cake back letting it cool before following the clattering footsteps to the back door. Harry was jumping trying to reach his broom with little success given it was still a good few head lengths above him. He let out a small chuckle as he reached forward and handed the broom to his outstretched arms.

They played a long hard game of Chase Harry on his broom until Regulus sat on the steps to watch Harry. Kreacher was trimming the bushes down and Harry had sat on the ground to watch the elf. He’d curiously point and ask Kreacher occasionally what, while looking at one of the few remaining plants. Kreacher would kindly reply telling his Little Master what each plant was and describing how he took care of it. Harry may not understand everything, but he hung onto every word as he leaned forward staring intently.

Regulus was glad the two got along. Kreacher had a rough life serving the Blacks. Time away from his Mistress and some correcting on Regulus’ part and he seemed to be shedding the pureblood mania he’d been indoctrinated with. Regulus could only hope it was enough. Unlearning your childhood wasn’t easy, and he was definitely making mistakes along the way. Sometimes he felt lost as to what to do. He should have listened to Sirius more when he would debate his parents instead of defending them.

He shook his head. There was only moving forward and learning the best he could for now. He wanted Harry to be more open minded then he had. He wanted him to understand that others were not beneath him. He wanted to try so hard to instill different values in him then he’d been raised. He wanted him to be the son Lily and James would have raised.

A cry interrupted his circle of thoughts as he caught the end of what was happening. It seemed Harry was trying to pull at the bushes, and Kreacher has tried to stop him by putting his hand out. Regulus looked up just to see Harry’s hand pulling away from where he had smacked Kreacher’s hand. The elf shrinking into himself, Kreacher hadn’t been hit since Regulus had taken over Grimmauld Place. Regulus darted to his feet as he closed the space between him and Harry.

“Harry!” Regulus called just a bit louder than normal as he came eye level with Harry, who had crossed his arms in front of him and was twisting his face.

“We don’t hit Harry. We don’t hurt people.” Regulus said as he gently placed a hand on Harry’s arms, the toddler twisted away from him.

“Harry, look at me.” Regulus stated more firmly. Harry distinctly turned his head further away. He wasn’t sure what to do. Normally, hitting a house elf was encouraged. He’d never seen it as right though. Then if Harry didn’t listen he needed to be corrected, but he didn’t know many methods other then the corporeal one’s he’d grown up with. When he was little, it was hard smacking across hands and cheeks. When he got older it was curses, and cuts, and even on occasion being Curioed. He’d never gotten it as badly as Sirius, but his mother still used the curse on him more than a handful of times.

“Harry.” He said more firmly, once more setting his hand on Harry’s crossed arms. Harry’s head turned the slightest bit.

“Tell me what happened Harry?” He asked as he leaned closer to the boy.

“Play, ‘Reacher says no.” Harry exasperatedly pointed to the bush. His lips had started quivering, Harry hadn’t cried much since arriving, and Regulus was hoping to keep it that way.

“Master, the bush has thorns. I was only trying to keep him safe.” Kreacher explained.

“You did perfect Kreacher. Harry shouldn’t have hit you; he's just upset and doesn’t know how to react properly.” Regulus appeased the elf who was still shaking slightly.

“Why don’t you go inside and get yourself some tea Kreacher. I will handle Harry, thank you for keeping him safe.” Regulus nodded as Kreacher seemed to ease slightly before heading inside the house.

He turned back to Harry, who was now sitting and pouting on the grass. Regulus sighed, this was the first tantrum Harry had thrown since getting here. He was trying to be as delicate and firm as possible. It was as if he was trying to balance a hundred plates and not break them. Raising a child was no small task.

“Harry.” Regulus stated as he too sat on the ground, the grass flattening beneath his robes. Harry stayed pouting with his face downwards,

“I know you wanted to play with Kreacher and usually that’s fine. Kreacher enjoys playing with you, but he was doing something dangerous. The bush has sharp thorns that would have hurt your hands.” Regulus explained as he sat still, Harry not moving at all.

“Kreacher was protecting you, and I know you didn’t understand and you got upset then acted out, but we can not hit Harry. It’s not nice and it can hurt.” Regulus felt slightly contradictory saying such, he’d hit people. Several times in fact. He’d made many more hurt, hurt worse than what Harry had done.

He took a deep breath. What he had done was done, he couldn’t take back the pain he had caused others. He could only teach Harry that it was the wrong thing to do, and he knew that from experience. Granted he couldn’t explain to Harry yet what exactly his crimes were, he didn’t even know how’d he’d begin to breach that conversation. It was a matter for another time, for now he needs to focus on Harry.

“Harry, do you understand? You hurt Kreacher, it's not nice.” Regulus asked as he leaned forward again trying to get a better look. Just as he got close, he was near enough to see Harry burst. His lips parted and he was wailing and threw himself onto the ground in a fit. Regulus sighed, this is what he had been trying to avoid. He scooped up the crying child in his arms, carrying him inside. Harry’s second birthday was going well.

He took him crying up the stairs to the drawing room, setting him down in one of the large arm chairs. Finally taking a step back when he was certain Harry wouldn’t throw himself off the chair. He went to sit at the piano, the music always soothed him. He only knew classics, but after a few plays, the cries died down. He continued playing, allowing Harry to sort himself out on his own for a moment. Eventually he felt a tug to his robes, he stopped playing and looked down. Harry was holding his hands up to be pulled onto the piano bench. Regulus offered his hand as he helped him onto the bench.

“Sorry, Reggie.” Harry murmured as he buried himself into the robes. Regulus pulled him together as he patted his head.

“It’s ok to cry, Harry.” Regulus offered as he pulled Harry back.

“Sorry ‘bout ‘reacher.” Harry sniffled as he ran his hand under his nose. Regulus called for the tissues from across the room using one to wipe Harry’s nose and then another to clean his hand.

“If I called Kreacher would you apologize?” Regulus asked quietly as he discarded the tissues. Harry nodded.

“Kreacher.” Regulus called. A moment later a pop rang against the glass cabinets as Kreacher stood just to the side of them. Harry jumped to the ground as he ran towards Kreacher, his arms outstretched as he wrapped his small body into his toddler arms. Kreacher looked bewildered for a moment before he relaxed into the touch, even rubbing small circles on Harry’s back.

“Sorry ‘reacher.” Harry apologized as he squeezed tightly.

“Is ok Little Master, you is only learning.” Kreacher crooned back as he knelt his head into Harry’s shoulder before the two pulled apart.

“Cake?” Harry asked as he let go of the hug, looking back excitedly to Regulus. He chuckled, but nodded as he grabbed Harry’s hand to take him down the stairs to the kitchen. All three spent the afternoon eating cake and playing with Harry’s new toys Regulus had gotten him. Until Harry wore out and fell asleep in Regulus’ lap in the drawing room just before dinner, Regulus petted his head as he watched him sleep peacefully.

Kreacher went to clean up the kitchen and dishes from the day, leaving the two alone in peaceful silence. He had one hand on Harry and the other holding his tea. The sun was just beginning to set from the open curtains across the room, casting a gleaming light onto the rug. Regulus let himself enjoy the moment quietly leaning his own head back.

He must have nodded off for a bit, when he woke with a start the sun was nearly gone. He twisted his head around trying to find the source of the noise. His wand was on the desk, he thought as he whipped to try and call it. As his eyes landed on the wood rod, he also found the source of the noise. An owl was politely perched outside the window, he hooted once Regulus made eye contact with it. It took a bit of will, but he was able to wandless cast the unlocking charm as the window swung open.

The owl landed just next to him on the table, a letter and small package attached to his leg. He nuzzled Regulus' neck as he untied the string, before giving a quiet hoot and flying off back into the sky. Clearly, he had not been instructed to wait. Regulus watched the long grey wings flap through the wind for a moment before turning his attention to the items in his hand.

The letter was addressed to Harry. It seemed odd to address a letter to a toddler, as he turned it over. His eyes glanced over the words quickly. It was a short letter wishing Harry a happy birthday and then went on to explain the package was a small gift to celebrate. Regulus pulled open the package slowly, not wanting to break Harry’s rest. When the last piece came up, he could see a small golden sphere at the bottom. It was a proper practice Snitch. Regulus cracked a half smile, not everything Dumbledore did was worth questioning.

-

Summer passed in a heated haze. Regulus made Harry’s broom time mostly in the cooler evenings. He finally finished every room in the home except for Sirius’, he figured his room wasn’t for him to bother. Every wall had been painted or had new wallpaper laid, Harry had enjoyed splattering paint everywhere he could or wrapping himself up in the wallpaper. They had a productive summer, and then autumn started to nip at the air. The nights were cooling down and the first of the trees turned the faintest bit yellow.

Regulus was tucked into the window seat of his room. He held a cup of tea outstretched as he watched the Muggles below. It was the weekend and it was the first nice weathered day. The streets were bustling with noise and passing figures, and the park was full with different visitors. He was watching as mother’s pushed babies in prams, as siblings chased after one another, as young couples walked hand in hand, he felt the strange feeling of longing creep up his chest into his windpipe. He and Harry were stuck inside, not able to leave without endangering themselves.

Any of the people down there could be wizards or witches, and while Regulus could usually sense the magic around him, he didn’t want to risk them being seen. Harry was famous, and nearly everyone knew James Potter, they’d be able to see his near twin from a distance away. He sighed heavily as he brought the tea to his lips, it having already chilled during his people watching.

He stood and walked to where Harry was taking an afternoon nap in his crib. He leaned against the wooden railing, contently gazing at the sleeping form, his hair sideways and his cheek smushed into the bedding. He looked perfect. Regulus wasn’t sure when it happened, but it had. He was in love with the little bugger, and he’d do anything in the world for him. He had never wanted children, but Harry had changed his mind.

He kept sipping his tea as he took in the sleeping boy. He was growing even more, it felt like every few weeks he had outgrown another shirt or pair of shoes. He’d out grow the crib soon, Regulus wasn’t sure where to move him next. There were more then enough rooms, but they were all downstairs. He didn’t like him being that far away from him. He couldn’t put anyone else in Sirius’ room, not yet. The best idea seemed to move them both elsewhere in the house.

He shuddered slightly at the thought. At one point in his youth, every room had been occupied, by one or another member of his family. The first floor landing holding his father, and his father’s father. Arcturus and Orion Black had been dark stoic men, who when they disagreed, did so loudly and violently. The second floor held Cyngus’ and his family, his wife Druella and their daughters until their marriages. The third floor had his mother’s suite, her mother and father sharing the floor with her. There were two spare bedrooms that housed visiting relatives, like Uncle Alphard, or Aunt Cassiopeia, and one had been Aunt Lucretia’s before she married, that was before Regulus’ time though.

The least amount of memories would be in the guest bedrooms, he determined after some thought. For now, Harry looks comfy with his crib. They could finish the year together in his room and figure out where they’d go next at a later time. Harry was starting to stir, and when he woke, he’d be full of energy again. Regulus stood and waited for the green eyes to pop open and call for him. It was one of his favorite moments.

-

“Harry!” Regulus screamed as he ran down the stairs as fast as he could, completely forgetting in the moment that he could just apparate to the bottom. His mind was in overdrive, he couldn’t think straight except to get to Harry.

There was screaming coming from downstairs, they had been on the way to get a snack when Harry started jumping in front of Regulus. He’d gotten just out of sight, Regulus laughing along when there had been a crashing noise. Harry started screaming almost immediately. His mind had compelled him forward as fast as he could.

Kreacher was already at the end of the stairs. Trying to calm Harry, as Regulus dropped down to his knees trying to see what had happened. He put his hands on top of Harry’s head as he scanned for any immediate damages. There was no blood and no bone sticking out, a good start. Harry was sunken in sobs as he slowly lifted his wrist. Regulus held out a hand. His small wrist was twisted unnaturally to one side and the swelling was already puffing it up to double it’s normal size.

“Shush, Harry it’ll be ok.” Regulus comforted as he pulled his wand from his side. Kreacher took over petting Harry’s head gently threading his bony hands through dark waves. Regulus knew how to fix broken bones, his brother had more than a few over the years. It was easier to heal broken bones on someone else. He missed his brother’s healing when he left, no matter how bad of terms they were on. They’d always help each other after a round of pain with one family member or another. He’ll never forget the first time after Sirius left, his grandfather took his cane to his knee when he muttered under his breath. It took over thirty minutes to put it back into place himself.

He held his wand steady as he cast the spell. There was a quick snap and the bone reconnected, Harry letting out a loud cry before dissolving into smaller sobs as he looked perplexed at his hand, the swelling starting to recede. Harry turned his eyes up to Regulus, the green coated in tears.

“Magic, it’s wonderful isn’t it Harry.” Regulus smiled through the need to squeeze Harry as closely as possible and never let go. He knew that would only worry him more.

“Let’s get up nice and easy. You’ll need to not use the hand for the rest of the day, then you should be on tip top shape come tomorrow morning.” He told the slowly receding cries as he helped him to his feet. He was a bit wobbly, but could stand.

“We’ve got to be careful on the stairs, Harry.” Regulus reminded him, his heart rate finally returning to normal. He hadn’t realized how out of breath he was. Harry nodded slowly as he tried to lift the healing arm to wipe his eyes, only to wince in pain.

“Here, to help you not use it.” Regulus explained as he transfigured a small sling out of a napkin as they entered the kitchen. He tied it onto Harry’s shoulder as he gently placed the hand in the sling.

“Look, all better, now how about some yogurt?” Regulus offered with as much excitement as he could.

“Wif berries?” Harry asked, wiping the last of the tears.

“With all the berries!” Regulus replied as he clapped his hands before turning to gather the snack.

He was slicing berries when he heard the Floo roar to life. He sat down the knife, preparing to grab his wand when he heard Kreacher greet the unexpected guest.

“Hello Mister Dumbledore.” Kreacher crooned from the Entrance Hall.

Regulus resumed his chopping, the sound of metal against wood should be enough to guide the Headmaster to him. Dumbledore could make his unexpected visits, it didn’t mean Regulus needed to stand by the Floo waiting for him. Truly, the Headmaster couldn’t even bother to write. Wasn’t it still considered poor fashion to show up unannounced to a home?

“Good afternoon, Mister Black.” Dumbledore hummed as he took each short step purposely into the kitchen. Regulus nodded blankly back as he scooped the berries into a bowl of yogurt for Harry. He hardly acknowledged the Headmaster as he turned and smiled at Harry handing him the bowl and spoon. Harry excitedly dug his spoon in with his working arm.

“What happened there?” Dumbledore asked, a pitch to his voice.

“We had an accident this morning. Harry lost his balance on the stairs and hurt his wrist. It’ll be fine in the morning though.” Regulus explained as he sat down next to Harry, not bothering to offer anything to Dumbledore. The older wizard visibly raised his eyebrows. Regulus blinked a few times at him, slightly confused. Until it clicked in his mind, Dumbledore thought he’d done it to Harry. He thought Regulus had purposely hurt Harry.

“It was an accident.” Regulus reiterated, unsure if that made him look more innocent or guilty. A true Black would not waste time on giving any more explanation than necessary, how many times had his own parents scoffed at healers' concerns, the few times they’d hurt Sirius or Regulus beyond their own repair. More than once for certain.

“Yes, Mister Black, accidents do occur. I happen to remember you being prone to them.” Dumbledore mumbled as he sat down next to Harry. He took the boy’s face in his wrinkled hand, turning him side to side as if inspecting for any other signs of injury. Regulus just let out a deep breath. If he tried to say anything at this point, it would come out sharp and that would not look any better for him.

“He looks in good health otherwise. Typically, he’d be going for his final infant healer check, but I believe we can excuse the last one. He did already get all his necessary potions and we had one do a check on him after everything that had happened. There was no lasting impact besides the scar.” Dumbledore explained.

“There’s still magic behind it. Shouldn’t we be concerned? It’s been nearly a year, the magic would have faded away by now.” Regulus pipped up. Harry’s scar and the magic he could feel in it had always been a point of concern, but he didn’t risk taking a look himself. He was hoping Dumbledore would be more concerned.

“Everything checked out before, they say the magic may linger much longer because of the power behind it. I believe over the next few years, you should see it fade, Mister Black.” Dumbledore explained. Regulus restrained the cough in his throat. Dumbledore seemed to barely be worried about Harry’s well-being. It felt terribly out of character as a response.

“Unfortunately, I must take my leave. The school year has only just started and I was able to sneak away just for a moment to check on the two of you. Since everything seems to be in order, I will let young Harry here finish his snack.” Dumbledore smiled at Harry as he pinched his cheek lightly to Harry’s quiet giggle.

“I figure you know the way out.” Regulus grumbled as he turned his shoulders towards Harry.

“Indeed. I will see you again, Mister Black.” Dumbledore replied as he stood straight with the pointed hat onhis head.

“Looking forward to it.” Regulus mumbled as he reached out to clean a bit of yogurt off Harry’s chin. Dumbledore only nodded before taking the steps ever so slowly, until finally Regulus heard the Floo roar only to die out a moment later.

Regulus let his shoulders drop back as he fell into the chair. He’d been so stiff the entire time Dumbledore had visited, almost instinctively so. He got an uneasiness in his stomach whenever these visits occurred, one he couldn’t quite place. His gut hadn’t lied to him before though, there was something behind the Headmaster’s crinkled eyes he didn’t like, and he was determined to find out exactly what Dumbledore was up to. He even had an idea on how to do so, he thought as he smiled more sly, before ruffling Harry’s hair. A gummy smile turned up to him full of berry stained teeth. He’d do anything to protect that smile.

Chapter Text

Regulus laid Harry down for his nap. He was starting to get resistant to them. Constantly, wanting a story read, or a glass of water, or to plead he wasn’t tired. Yet once he got into bed, and Regulus would curl up next to him in his bed; because Harry been had insistent on being able to sleep in the big bed for nap time, and Regulus started reading a story, his eyelids would get droopy and his little lips would try to stifle a yawn until he finally fell into one of the silk pillows. This time there was a small line of drool trailing out the corner of his mouth, that Regulus used his finger to wipe up without thinking.

He looked down at his hand for a second, almost wondering when this had become his life as he wiped his finger off on his robes. One glance at Harry and he felt better. He was sleeping peacefully, as he tucked the quilt under his chin and slipped out of the room as quietly as possible. He knew the work around the silencing charms, so he cast one in front of his room. He didn’t want to be distributed.

He took a deep breath, knowing he’d likely have an hour, maybe two tops to complete this task. It should be enough, if they weren’t too resistant. He walked to the end of the hall that hosted his and Sirius’ room, he opened the final door, which led up to the attic. He held out his wand and sent a Lumos to the top. He could already hear the noise starting as the brightness started to coast around the room.

He forced himself up the first step, and then the second, until he reached the landing. Surprisingly, the attic was rather low, likely because all the rest of the house had unnaturally high ceilings. He had to duck and crane his neck sideways to slide under some of the beams. There was already a thick layer of dust over everything, even though he had been up here again when Harry moved in to store more of the house’s dangerous and questionable artifacts.

In retrospect, he wished he had organized it a bit better. He had done so with the artifacts, keeping deadly ones in the far corner, and mortal peril ones just in front of those and they got less dangerous as one went along but not with the portraits. No, he wasn't thinking about the portraits then. He had taken down the generations of Blacks and stuffed them under sheets in haphazard order as they yelled and cursed at him. He hadn’t even thought he’d need them again, and was happy to leave them upstairs to rot. Now, he regretted that decision as he needed to hunt for a particular one.

He took a steadying breath that caused him to go into a coughing fit, cursing his allergies he’d had since birth. His coughing fit woke the rest of the portraits as they started yelling and crying to be taken out of darkness. He waved his hand in front of his face to try and get rid of the dust as he used his wand to clear a large circle around him. He might as well get on with it.

He took the first sheet off the closest portrait. A very elderly woman started scoffing at him for his unkempt state as he quickly closed it. He hadn’t gotten a good look, but he thought that may be his great-great-great aunt Elladora. She had penance for violence, she had started the tradition of beheading the house-elves. He shuddered, shutting out the memory of having to remove the various heads from the wall. He had always found it a disgusting practice, and even at his height of indoctrination, it was one tradition he had been adamant on discontinuing.

He moved over to the next portrait, it was still. He narrowed his eyes in the shadows closely before covering it again. It was his grandfather, Pollux, he hadn’t activated the magic in his portrait yet. The Black portraits were set to only animate once the person painted had passed. He had assumed both his grandfathers were still alive, he had Kreacher getting most of The Daily Prophets. He figured the two eldest Black Family patriarch’s deaths would be big enough news to make the front page. His death had been.

He sighed again as he pushed back his hair. There were generations dating back to the family’s time in France, which extended well into the Middle Ages. He wished he could just summon the right one, but he knew that could potentially end destructive. Each Black put a myriad of protective charms on their portrait, not wanting to have theirs messed with. He had been hexed by more than one when he was removing them, and then ended up having to physically carry half of them to the attic. It had been a project that lasted weeks.

He huffed loudly as the portraits kept yelling and cursing only barely muffled by the sheets over them. He started forward to the next row, he was pretty certain these portraits were one of the last removed. He bent down and slowly lifted the next one that was particularly quiet. It was a dark portrait, not as faded as the rest.

“Regulus?” The portrait asked as it bent down to the corner to get a better look.

“Uncle Alphard?” Regulus asked disquietly. He was looking in the silver eyes of his uncle, the one who had passed not too long ago. His death had been an extraordinary ordeal. After his mother found out that he had left his entire inheritance to Sirius, she lost her mind even more than he thought she could. She’d destroyed half the house, knocking over vases and ornaments, cursing his name as loudly as she could. She’d burned his name from the tapestry before anyone had even caught up to her. It took Orion, Pollux, and Cygnus together to drag her away and sedate her. He paused for a moment. It was the first time he had referred to his father by his first name and not as father.

“Ickle Reggie!” The portrait of Alphard called, waving one of his hands gently. Regulus had always hated being called that, not that he’d told anyone. He was the baby after all.

“Uncle Alphard.” Regulus said again a bit deadpanned.

“Yes, Nephew Regulus.” Alphard laughed. He had always had a sense of humor, one that fell on many deaf ears.

“I’m looking for someone.” Regulus said shaking his head. He hadn’t seen his uncle for a few years, it was distributing to see someone he had known in the flesh in portrait form. Most were older relatives or only distantly related, but he remembers being on Uncle Alphard’s shoulders and him taking all the children to Muggle London for sweets much to the distaste of his family. He had been kind, although the last few years he’d holed up in his flat more and more.

“Well, there are plenty of us here. Who in particular are you looking for?” Uncle Alphard asked. Regulus lifted the whole sheet off so he could stop bending so far over. He had taken to tuning out the other portraits in the background.

“Great-great grandfather Phineas.” Regulus replied quickly. Hopefully, Uncle Alphard knew where he was.

“Ah, that old bastard. Why do you need him?” Uncle Alphard asked, leaning into the frame of his portrait.

“A lot has… it’s a long story, much has changed. I need great-great grandfather Phineas’ assistance.” Regulus explained.

“Well good for you to find me, I happen to know where he is. He may be a bore, but he does have a chess set in his portrait. It’s awfully boring here, I mean most of these fools were dead living, but me? I lived a life, even the portrait of me needs some stimulation.” Alphard scoffed as he started to rub at fingernails.

“Wonderful, where is he?” Regulus asked excitedly, turning his head to look around the room.

“Well now, Icke Reggie. I could be kind Uncle Alphard and just tell you. However, I happen to need something. So I reckon we will strike a deal.” Uncle Alphard stated as he kicked his feet forward standing straight up again. Regulus blew out hot air.

“You’re a portrait, what could you need?” Regulus asked, slight irritation creeping into his voice.

“Well as I stated, I need some stimulation. I’ll take it as a mistake that you put your favorite uncle up here with the rest of our brutish family. I figured you were going through a lot considering last I heard you were dead.” Uncle Alphard explained. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Tsk, tsk, didn’t your mother stick your eyes like that when you did that to her.” Uncle Alphard ticked. Regulus groaned slightly at the memory, it had given him the worst headache and he couldn’t walk around for days. Not until his grandfather smacked him so hard across the face that his eyes came loose again.

“For the record, Uncle Ignatius is my favorite.” Regulus clicked back as he knelt down in front of the portrait.

“That monster hunting bastard. Always had the cooler job. No one wanted to hear about my work, not with that red-headed Welsh around.” Uncle Alphard shook his head.

“You were a philosopher, Uncle Alphard. Uncle Ignatius brought creatures. Tends to draw children’s attention more.” Regulus explained.

“Yes, yes, I see what Lucretia saw in him. Tall, handsome, successful, she married well. One of the lucky ones.” Uncle Alphard continued as he looked almost wistfully into the darkness of his portrait.

“So your deal?” Regulus asked slowly, not wishing to dive into the plight of his uncle’s look.

“Ah yes, dear nephew. As stated, I need some stimulation, and honestly I can not be bothered to hear these bastards moan about the loss of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. I had to help your father run off somewhere they were cursing him something awful, and you know I hold little sympathy for Orion. Certainly, he had it rough, but he did not do anything to help himself. Just self medicated with a firewhiskey.” Uncle Alphard rambled. Regulus blinked heavily at him as he openly sighed.

“Nephew! Where has my dear sister’s training gone?” Uncle Alphard dramatically clutched his heart.

“Well uncle, I am already annoyed by the cries around me calling me a disappointment of astronomical proportions so if we could get on?” Regulus asked, cocking his head very purposefully.

“I enjoy this version of Regulus. Much better than the pompous child, who entered every room as if he owned it only to slink into the first dark corner he could. This is a good evolution.” Uncle Alphard nodded as he said it.

“For my deal, it is quite simple. I want out of here. Hang me back up on a wall, particularly one where I could see the streets. I did enjoy Muggle watching, and if I could be a part of the home again it would give me some purpose to waste my days away.” Uncle Alphard stated. He crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes at Regulus.

“Won’t the rest of them be able to hop into your portrait?” Regulus asked wearily.

“Not if I don’t let them.” Uncle Alphard said forcefully, glancing just for a second into the side of his portrait. Regulus wondered what it was like in a portrait. Could you see into others, or were the sides just empty nothingness? He could ask Uncle Alphard, but this did not seem the appropriate time.

“If you can promise to keep everyone else out, I can move you.” Regulus agreed. Uncle Alphard wouldn’t be the worst to have around. He had wisdom even if he was only a fraction of him saved in the portrait.

“I always knew you’d be my favorite nephew!” Uncle Alphard cried a bit happily. He had straightened up and was dusting off his old robes.

“Don’t lie, Sirius was always your favorite.” Regulus huffed as he pulled the sheet away from the portrait dusting the top slightly.

“Ah well, won’t be seeing him anytime soon unless he manages to escape Azkaban.” Uncle Alphard replied, sadness hitching in his tone.

“No one has escaped Azkaban, Uncle Alphard.” Regulus sighed, sadness edging his voice as well.

“No, they rather haven’t.” Uncle Alphard just barely whispered.

“No point to dwell. We are Blacks, we endure. Now old Phineas is near the back, I always have to go through several portraits to find him. He is just across from one of the support beams, a lopsided one, you may want to look into fixing that. There is also a bit of green mold growing on it.” Uncle Alphard informed. Regulus nodded as he stretched upward to scan the back of the attic. He squinted his eyes as he looked for a lopsided moldy beam, in an ancient damp attic.

Thankfully, he saw one that was more displaced then the others, with a distinct line of green wrapping around it, directly across was a smaller portrait frame. Regulus twisted his face triumphantly, as he stepped sideways and slithered in between the portraits, careful to not strike any of them. As he approached the sheet that covered the frame, he could hear a muttering underneath it. It sounded like how his father used to mutter under his breath.

He lifted the sheet slowly, ready to drop it close if he was incorrect. He was not. As the sheet pulled back, he could see the sleeping form of his great-great grandfather. The pointed beard and grey streaked black hair were notably his as were the deep green robes. Regulus smirked slightly as he covered the portrait once again and tucked it under one of his arms. It fit a bit awkwardly as he continued forward, stopping to tuck Uncle Alphard’s portrait under his other arm.

He stumbled slightly as he tried to balance the bulky objects down the stairs, happy to close the door tightly to the disgruntled cries of his other ancestors. One was barely able to hear them once at the landing. He paused and listened quietly, hopeful that Harry was still sleeping. When no noise came he continued downward. He makes his way down to the second floor, he would rather keeps grandfather Phineas away from him as best as possible.

He entered Narcissa's old room. She had always been the one he was closest to of his three cousin’s. Her room was a bit small, but it had the high ceilings of the household. Once she moved out, her large ornate bed had been replaced with two simple twin beds. Though her towering wardrobe remained. It was a good enough room for Phineas to inhabit.

He uncovered his great-great grandfather, who was lightly snoring, though Regulus knew he had a habit for pretending to sleep. It made it easier for him to gather all the information without having to put any of his input in. Regulus leaned him against the wall as he threw the sheet on the ground. He had to handle this conversation tactfully.

“Phineas.” Regulus prodded as he shook the frame slightly. There was only a grunt in response.

“Grandfather Phineas.” Regulus tried again, shaking harder.

“Hmph, which of my useless descendants wants me now?” Phineas croaked back in a scratchy voice without even opening his eyes.

“Regulus, Phineas.” He replied. He had to keep his patience intact, this would be difficult without getting upset.

“Which one? Have had a few Regulus’.” Phineas questioned, his eyes still closed.

“The only one still alive, Regulus Arcturus Black.” He answered, he was also certain there was only one other Regulus. His great uncle, the one he had been named for, and as far as he knew he died in the fifties.

“Ah, yes I heard you had not died as we thought.” Phineas replied after a moment’s silence, finally opening his eyes.

“Indeed.” Regulus replied perhaps a little short.

“Well, why have you woken me from my nap?” Phineas inquired, settling his hands on his lap.

“I need your assistance.” Regulus replied.

“And why would I help you? Last I heard you’d gone and sold yourself off to that Dark Lord, like a lowly commoner. Black’s don’t serve.” Phineas scolded.

“I know now, Grandfather. I left him, and for now, he is gone. This has not got to do with him. This involves Dumbledore.” Regulus explained.

“Dumbledore eh? What do you need with that loony old bastard?” Phineas asked, leaning forward. He had never liked Dumbledore, finding him too eccentric and much too caring to Muggle-kind. He did respect him though, for his flair and power.

“I believe he is trying to delude me. You see, he’s left me a child to care for, and threatened me with Azkaban if I do not comply. Now this is the child that defeated the Dark Lord, you would think Dumbledore would want him coddled and sought after, but he’s left him with me and he seems to encourage any mistreatment. I need to know his motives, but he isn’t going to openly convey them to me.” Regulus explained. Phineas paused for a moment, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“I have heard of this child, and he’s left him with you? Curious, you would not be my first choice.” Phineas replied.

“I wasn’t his either. He was with his Muggle family, but they passed away. Then he turned him over to me. Said he had to be with family, and we are related to the Potter’s vaguely. Dorea married Charlus.” Regulus clarified.

“Peculiar, you’ve piqued my interest. Anything to dupe the old bastard. I’ll head to my other portrait and see if I can’t get more information. I’ll return at noon in three days' time. I suggest you not be late for my return. I don’t tolerate tardiness.” Phineas stated as he stood to his full height, he had a slight hunch in his later years that caused him to stoop. He disappeared out of the frame.

Regulus silently cheered as he stuck Phineas onto the wall in the bedroom. He figured that his grandfather’s reputation of seeing Dumbledore as a rival would help him gain the knowledge he needed. A Black always got the information they needed one way or another so he trusted he would return with worthwhile details. He only needed to return in three days’ time and then to begin his next move once he figured out Dumbledore's motives.

He went outside and picked up Uncle Alphard’s portrait. He had started whistling in his boredom as they travelled downstairs. The Floo was just to the right side of the Entrance Hall. From across one could see the front door, the Floo, and one of the large windows to the Muggle street. He hung Uncle Alphard there, it seemed stimulating enough if he kept the window’s curtains tied back.

“Most definitely an improvement, nephew. I see you did some redecorating, I did always hate those dead elves’. I swear their eyes just stared into your soul.” Uncle Alphard replied as he stretched himself in his portrait. His had been painted in the garden, when the bushes had been in pristine condition. The flowers were in full bloom and the few fruit trees were full, as Uncle Alphard reached for one of the apples and laid himself out on the grass.

“Can you even taste anything?” Regulus asked, wrinkling his nose as the distinct crunch rang around the hall.

“Not really, it’s more the act that is somewhat satisfying. Let me tell you nephew, there’s a lot more magic that you should put into your portrait.” Uncle Alphard replied as he sighed.

“I haven’t cast the magic for mine to activate.” Regulus grumbled, a part of him being trapped in a portrait had made his skin crawl.

“Probably for the best.” Uncle Alphard agreed.

“Now you are being placed here for a twofold reason. If anyone comes through the Floo, or the door. You need to notify me instantly, the only people who know where this is located are Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.” Regulus said as he crossed his arms.

“Always a Black, there must be something in it for you. I will take my assignment in heed though. Not much else for me to do, besides occasionally causing havoc on family.” Uncle Alphard shrugged as he went back to his apple.

Regulus nodded as he heard noise coming down the stairs. A moment later Harry’s messy head of hair was standing at the bottom of the staircase. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes and clutching his toy dragon.

“Firsty, Reggie.” Harry yawned. Regulus smiled as he summoned a cup and filled it before kneeling down to help Harry tilt it to his lips. Only a small amount dribbled down his chin that Harry wiped with the back of his hand before his bare feet patted across the cold floors. He stopped right in front of Uncle Alphard’s portrait looking at it curiously.

“Who?” Harry asked as he pointed to the painting.

“He’s my uncle Harry. Say hello.” Regulus prodded as he came to stand behind him.

“‘Ello.” Harry waved slightly before clutching onto Regulus’ leg when Alphard waved back.

“So this is what you’ve been up to, nephew.” Uncle Alphard stated as he cocked an eyebrow.

“If I were a betting man, I’d say that was James Potter’s son.” Alphard continued.

“Yes, James is gone, so is Lily, his wife. Dumbledore has left Harry for me to raise, his safety is our utmost importance.” Regulus explained as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Most curious.” Alphard said as he waved at Harry again. Harry waved back before pulling on Regulus’ robes.

“Yes?” Regulus smiled at Harry.

“Snack!” Harry cried as he lifted his hands up jumping slightly. Regulus laughed as he heaved him up on his hip. He nodded at Alphard as he and Harry made their way down to the kitchen. He sat Harry in his seat as Harry sat his dragon in the seat next to him, petting his head as Regulus turned towards the counters. He pulled out two pieces of bread, toasting them lightly and spreading a thin layer of butter on them. He cut his in half and Harry’s into four before setting it in front of him. Harry clapped as he brought a piece of toast to his dragon, pretending to have him have a bite before he took his own large chunk.

Regulus enjoyed the child play. He had hardly gotten any himself. He remembers Sirius reading him fairy tales about princes and princesses and dragons and far off lands. He remembers daydreaming a lot as a child of running away to the far away lands. Living in a castle, over happy townspeople, and having a pet dragon. He had known from a young age it was folly, but he still dreamed of it often. Dreamed of an escape from the life he was in. He wasn’t going to deny Harry the privilege to dream, and with a bit of work maybe he could live his dreams.

Harry’s laughter filled the whole kitchen as he told Regulus he named the stuffed dragon Vega, after the stars Regulus had shown him one night. He had taken Harry to the roof and showed him all the different stars and constellations he knew, he was surprised Harry remembered. The boy had just seemed excited at the prospect to stay up past his bedtime that he had grown to detest.

“It’s a wonderful name, Harry.” Regulus encouraged.

“He’s a star. He’s a star like Reggie!” Harry replied. Regulus clapped, Harry was speaking in more and more sentences slowly.

“Great job Harry. Really good sentence.” Regulus smiled.

“Love my stars.” Harry said a bit bashfully. Regulus could feel his heart beat in his chest as he realized what Harry was trying to say. He felt slightly choked up by it.

“I love you too, Harry.” Regulus smiled as he bit down on his lips to steady the quivering. He couldn’t recall the last time he had said those words. Maybe to Aunt Lucretia, maybe to Narcissa, or had it been to Sirius. It wasn’t a word Black’s used. He could count on one hand how many people he had said he had loved, but each was true at the time. His heart warmed as Harry smiled, hugging his dragon to his chest. He did love Harry, and he was going to do whatever necessary to protect him.

Chapter Text

“I must state my disagreement once again, Albus.” McGonagall began. Dumbledore and McGonagall were walking together up the stairs to his office. He had invited her to his office for biscuits and tea, as she had been most adamant on having a discussion with him about Harry once again. He should have kept the details of Harry’s injury to himself in retrospect.

“His arm was in a sling? As if it had been broken? Albus we must remove the boy at once.” McGonagall continued as they entered his office, it was a weekday and the castle was quiet late at night. The students silently asleep in their beds for class tomorrow, or being so quiet as to not be caught out of bed. Either one was possible.

“Certainly, there is more family. If you can state that Black family as Harry’s so loosely, we could relate him to nearly half the wizarding population!” McGonagall continued as she sat in the worn armchair tucked into the corner of the office. It is where they often had tea. He nodded along letting her air her grievances.

“Even if he is to be with a Black there must be a better choice then Mister Black. He is inexperienced, and much too easily swayed as we’ve seen. I mean truly Albus, he joins the Dark Lord only to fake his death to get out of it? He is too young to know what he wants and to leave him with a child, he is only going to repeat what is known to him.” She continued as she took a cup of tea, sipping it slowly. He sat the biscuits on the low round table he had gotten from a wonderful estate sale.

“We don’t even know if the injury was purposeful, Minerva. Children get hurt.” Dumbledore pointed out as he took his place in the pink high back he was fond of.

“You said you had your suspicions, Albus.” She narrowed her eyes at him. He did in fact have his suspicions. Yet, Mister Regulus was still his first choice of the options left to raise Harry. Though Harry seemed to be adjusting well strangely enough. The slung arm had confirmed his suspicions. Mister Black was following in his family’s footsteps as he always had. Granted he did not enjoy seeing young Mister Potter hurt, but it made things a bit easier later on.

A knock interrupted their tea. He was surprised that anyone else was up at such a late hour. He waved his hand to open the door, and out of the shadows came a stooped figure. Severus had slowly looked better over time. His robes are tactful and clean and his hair slicked back. Grief does tend to fade as time goes on.

“I didn’t know you’d have any guests. I could come back at a later time.” Severus mumbled as he started to take a step back.

“Nonsense, I’ll pour you a cup, come, Minerva and I were just having a bit of a late night debate. It’s our typical routine.” Dumbledore replied as he waved to the seat across from him. Severus debated for a moment as he hovered before taking small steps towards the chair. Dumbledore fixed him a cup of tea that remained untouched.

“Did you have something on your mind, Severus?” Dumbledore asked as he leaned back with his own cup. Severus’ dark eyes flashed at McGonagall for a moment as he licked his lower lip.

“I promise you, anything you could say to me, you can say to Minerva.” Dumbledore assured. Severus still looked hesitant.

“I was just wondering if you had any time to look into the matter I brought up last November, about a particular person?” He asked almost under his breath.

“About Regulus Black?” Dumbledore responded frankly. Severus looked taken aback as he glanced at McGonagall who only sipped her tea quietly, no emotion shown on her face.

“Yes.” Severus responded as he slouched back into his chair.

“How ironic you ask, we were just discussing him.” Dumbledore smiled. He had always enjoyed moments of irony.

“Hardly a discussion Albus, you won’t listen to a word I offer, too hardheaded.” She scoffed.

“So is it true? Has he been alive all this time?” Severus perked up at the mention.

“Indeed, your thoughts were good, Severus. I was able to locate and coax Mister Black out of hiding.” He replied. McGonagall did not try to hide her eye roll.

“Well where is he? Are we turning him in soon?” Severus asked, confusion clouding his eyes slightly.

“Oh no Severus. Mister Black has proved himself most useful, you see we had a slight hiccup in our plans and he happened to fit in perfectly.” Dumbledore answered. Severus looked conflicted.

“What plan?” He dared ask. He was being particularly bold this night searching for information.

“Ah, that is still the utmost secret. Just know that as long as he continues to act within his guidelines, he shall be afforded his solace.” Dumbledore answered. There was no need to excite Severus with the information of Harry’s new whereabouts. He had already been so passionate about not leaving him with the Muggles, insisting that Lily’s sister was unfit to raise him. He had been so desperate at the moment he had offered to raise Harry himself. A fit of passion that soon passed, he would not be able to look at a child that looked so much like James everyday.

They finished their tea in relative silence. Until both his companions took their leave to their chambers. Dumbledore sat at his desk intending to finish one more letter before he too sought his rest. He was nearly finished with it when he heard a disturbance in the portraits. There were groans and hisses from several while others barked at them to be silent.

“Good of you to rejoin us Phineas. I was starting to worry you’d gotten trapped in your other portrait.” Dumbledore called over his shoulder. Only one portrait could cause such a divided ruckus.

“Better than being here that’s for certain. If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t come back. Granted that mess of a child you left my nephew with does have a set of lungs on him.” Phineas spat back as Dumbledore heard him settle in his place.

“Oh you’ve met Harry then? How is that faring?” Dumbledore asked.

“About as expected, don’t know what you’re playing at leaving your golden child with my nephew.” Phineas returned.

“I have my reasons.” Dumbledore replied.

“To leave him tormented? Seems unlike you Dumbledore. A child of your precious Mudbloods and a Gryffindor to boot. You leave him in the hands of a pure-blooded Slytherin.” Phineas huffed. The old Headmaster had always been one of his opponents.

“Let me wager you this, Phineas.” Dumbledore replied as he signed his name and laid down his quill. He paused for a moment as he stretched out of his chair and sauntered over to the portrait.

“If one was the Chosen One, meant to defeat the Greatest Dark Wizard to ever live, would an ego do you any good?” Dumbledore posed. Phineas did not respond as his eyes darted over Dumbledore’s face.

“It would not. It would only make one cocky, and that gets one killed before they can fulfill his duty. From what I can recall, Blacks are well known to destroy even the toughest of egos. Look at your dear nephew Sirius, even he wasn’t able to escape his fate.” Dumbledore continued. Phineas scoffed at his nephew Sirius’ name, he had not been fond of how his life had played out.

“The Dark Lord is dead.” Phineas replied shortly when Dumbledore said no more.

“So we would all like to believe.” Dumbledore mused as he started to pace his office, a naughty habit of his.

“You know something don’t you, Albus?” The portrait was questioning him.

“Always a perceptive one, Phineas.” Dumbledore flashed a smirk at the portrait.

“So you want the boy beaten down. You need him for something.” Phineas murmured. Dumbledore only hummed in response.

“And you’ve left him with my nephew in hopes he gets a traditional Black raising, so what he can be your sacrificial lamb?” Phineas accused.

“We all have a role to play Phineas. Young Harry’s role just happens to be so unfortunate.” Dumbledore sighed as he removed his spectacles to rub his eyes. It was a difficult decision, but when faced with the many versus the few, someone had to make the decision on who to sacrifice. Dumbledore knew this all too well.

“I think I will try and get some rest. What an enlightening conversation this has been, we should converse more often, Phineas.” Dumbledore called as he made his way up to his chamber above his office. Phineas loudly cursed at his back. Dumbledore only chuckled on his way up.

-
Regulus was fifteen minutes early. He had left Harry with Kreacher, the elf happy to assist in getting Harry fed lunch. Now, he sat at the end of one of the two beds tapping his foot impatiently. He had hoped Grandfather Phineas had gotten the information needed. He licked his lips as he checked his watch again, five minutes to go.

He looked out the window where the curtains were pulled to the side. It was a view of the small yard in the back. The single rose bush had started to wilt, a sign of the coming season. It would be nearly a year with Harry in a few months. Time was going so quickly, it felt so recent that he had clutched Harry so uncertainty. Now the baby he had brought home was a full toddler, walking and talking and learning. And questioning, he was starting to question everything, and Regulus was not prepared for the day he asked questions he did not know how to answer.

A huffing noise called his attention as Grandfather Phineas clamored into his portrait with effort. He made himself comfortable at the chair he had been painted in, the chess set Uncle Alphard was fond of on a small table to the side. He gave him a few moments to settle, knowing he was expected to wait until he was spoken to. His foot didn’t stop tapping.

“You're losing all decorum. Your mother would have had your knee twisted backwards by now.” Phineas grunted at Regulus. Regulus slowed his knee keeping his face in check to not get another scolding.

“How was your conversation?” Regulus asked.

“Right into it then.” Phineas scoffed.

“Blacks have never been good at pleasantries.” Regulus replied, narrowing his eyes.

“Hmph, well I was able to gather the information you asked for.” Phineas said, settling his arms in his laps. Regulus sat quietly waiting for Phineas to continue on his own.

“It appears Dumbledore wants the boy raised with a firm hand. He needs him a bit broken to train him a hero. He is hoping you will do that. In his own words, Blacks are well known to destroy even the toughest of egos. Apparently, that is your job.” Phineas continued.

“Did he say why?” Regulus asked, raising his eyebrows.

“He is on the assumption that The Dark Lord is not dead, and that he will need Harry to defeat him.” Phineas replied. Regulus was furrowing his brows now, thinking.

“I say raise him as a Black, not for Dumbledore’s sake, but because it’ll do him good. Maybe his beloved hero will end up in a better house than the one of lions.” Phineas added. Regulus nodded, not to agree but to keep Phineas occupied with himself.

“Well, I must go. Dumbledore will be returning from lunch shortly. Don’t want him noticing my absence.” Phineas added as he stood up and exited out of the frame.

Regulus sat for a few more minutes in the silence. His mind ticking through different thoughts. He went over what he knew. Dumbledore did not want Harry well taken care of, it seemed he only wanted him to be alive. He wanted him to have a crushed ego, why? His parents believed a depleted ego led to a complacent child. He was evidence enough of that. Sirius had been different. He fought every bit of the way. He had been hungry and ready to prove himself. He had been reckless.

Is that what Dumbledore wanted? Someone to be reckless of their own safety? They made good soldiers for his cause. That much was certain from who he had chosen to fight for him, Gryffindors mostly. Harry had already proven himself, why did he need to do it again? Dumbledore seemed certain The Dark Lord was not dead. Did he need Harry to defeat him again? Regulus was certain it was more Lily than Harry who had caused the Dark Lord’s downfall.

Then this matter about a prophecy. He had never taken Divinations, he thought it was a subject beneath him. He had studied Ancient Runes and Arithmancy instead, now he was kicking himself for it. He hardly knew anything about prophecies other than there was a room full of them at the Ministry. His father had taken him on a full tour the summer he turned sixteen, since he was to take over the family and all the deeds that entailed so. He didn’t have a Cyngus to help him like his father did. He had always grown up hoping he and Sirius would run the family together.

This prophecy must be important for Dumbledore to put so much stake in it. The contents obviously dealt with Voldemort, but how did Harry factor in? Could one's destiny really be so predetermined? It seemed unlikely, even more unlikely was Regulus ever finding out the contents of the prophecy. Dumbledore liked control, he probably had it heavily guarded. Dwelling on the specifics did him very little. Instead, he was determined to do what he could with the information he had.

His mind still spinning he headed down to lunch. Harry had already finished his meal as he babbled next to Kreacher, the elf smiling and nodding at Harry. Only half of his sentences made sense. There was a large sandwich and fresh cup of tea waiting for him as he sat down, careful not to intrude on the conversation at hand. Harry needed to work on his verbal skills. He was smart enough to work out himself when his words didn’t click with his audience.

Regulus watched the interaction with glee, as Harry jumped down and offered to help Kreacher with the dishes. The elf smiled as he handed Harry a rag to dry the dishes. Harry giggled excitedly as he circled the rag around only getting most of the dish dry. Regulus couldn’t help, but smile. Harry was a good child, he didn’t deserve to have his life planned out by an absent old wizard locked away in his castle.

Regulus handed his dish to Kreacher, who washed it off with a bit of soap and magic and then handed it to Harry. He watched as his small hands went round and round in circles. His arm reached up to set it on the counter, but he just missed. The plate toppled a bit as Harry’s eyes grew wide. Regulus froze slightly as it began to tumble, his arms too slow to reach out and grab it.

The crashing of ceramics against the hardened floor never came though. The plate stayed floating just a few centimeters off the ground. Regulus looked at his own hands, but he knew he wasn’t the one who had done that. He glanced at Kreacher, yet he looked just as perplexed. Harry laughed as he bent down and grabbed the plate. He stood on his toes this time as he slid the plate onto the counter. Then turned to look at Regulus with his big green eyes.

“Got it.” Harry giggled as he rubbed his hands together. It clicked in Regulus’ head then.

“Magic. You just used magic.” Regulus whispered almost in disbelief, like if he said it out loud it would ruin it all.

“Harry!” Regulus cried excitedly. Harry looked at him a bit confused as Regulus scooped him up into his arms.

“You did magic, Harry!” Regulus called happily as he threw Harry up in the air a bit before catching him and swinging him onto his hip. Harry howled with laughter.

“Magic!” Harry cried, clapping his hands. Even Kreacher clapped along politely.

“Yes, magic Harry, oh we can start teaching you so much!” Regulus smiled.

“He’ll also be destroying plenty Master. Remember the wardrobe yous caught on fire when yous was only three.” Kreacher nodded knowingly.

The elf had likely been made to clean it up. He hardly remembered the wardrobe, what he did remember was his mother’s punishment. He had thrown a fit at his toy being taken from him by Bella, his anger caused the wardrobe behind him to burst into flames. It had been his first sign of magic. Typically an occasion to be celebrated, but it had been his aunt’s wardrobe she had given her daughter. It was an old family heirloom. His mother thought it appropriate that his first use of magic was also his first time feeling the Crucio under her wand. He hadn’t understood what it was then, only that he had been in excruciating pain for several seconds before his father yelled at her that he was too young for such punishments.

He wanted Harry’s memories of magic to be a celebration. One he’d look back on fondly. He was kept twirling around with Harry on his hip, the boy clapping happily about his magic. Regulus encouraged all of it as he carried him upstairs. His wand was still in the drawing room from earlier. He pulled it into his free hand as the other grasped tighter onto Harry.

“Watch Harry.” Regulus smiled as he caused blue sparks to come from his wand. Harry giggled and then reached for the wand, Regulus held it back just a hair.

“A wand is not a toy, Harry. You must be very careful, understand?” Regulus warned. Harry nodded enthusiastically as he reached for the wand again. Regulus placed it gently in his palm, wrapping his little fingers around the holly wood. His wand had a Phoenix Feather core, it was known to be temperamental in anyone else’s hands.

Harry flicked it in his hands almost naturally. Blue sparks popped out and down in a shower onto the floor. Harry giggled as he did it again, an even larger flurry of sparks emerging. Regulus watched wide eyed, Harry slowly turning the colors of the sparks, first to green, then yellow, and finally a light purple. He looked at Regulus with joy in his eyes as he waved the wand at him.

“Magic, Reggie.” Harry smiled. Regulus nuzzled his nose against Harry’s as they laughed together.

“Here, let me show you something.” Regulus said as he held out his hand. Harry gently placed the wand there.

“Watch closely, and listen.” Regulus smiled as he squeezed Harry closer. He pointed the wand at a vase sitting on the side table. His aunt Druella had always been fond of the ugly pink color.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” Regulus called as the vase slowly rose, floating just above the table. Harry screamed in his ear as he tried to jump up from where Regulus held him.

“More Reggie, more!” Harry cried as he held tightly onto his middle.

“Watch this.” Regulus smirked.

“Reducto!” He cried out as the vase shattered into hundreds of little pieces. Harry cried even louder as he clapped his hands against Regulus’ chest.

“More Reggie, magic!” He cried right into his ear, excitement in every word. Regulus pointed at one of the pillows.

“Lapifors!” He called out. The next second the pillow jumped down as a white bunny. Harry squirmed so much that Regulus had to let him down. He ran towards the bunny, holding his hand out to pet it. After he petted it a few times, Regulus released the spell and Harry was petting a pillow. Harry looked at him as he held up the pillow in amazement.

“Magic, Harry. It’s so special, but very powerful. We have to be very careful using it.” Regulus explained as he lifted Harry and the pillow onto the loveseat. Harry looked like he was trying his best to understand every word.

“We’re magic. You and I, we are wizards, but not everyone is. So we have to be careful with our magic, we don’t want to hurt or scare anyone.” Regulus continued as he started to play with Harry’s hair.

“Wiz end.” Harry tried.

“Very close, wiz-uhd.” Regulus replied.

“Wizard!” Harry called.

“Yes! You’re a wizard, Harry.” Regulus smiled as he started to tickle Harry. The young boy was engulfed in laughter so loudly that if Muggles could hear Twelve Grimmauld Place, they too would be engulfed in it. Regulus let Harry play with his wand for hours on end, practicing the limits of his magic. He tried to chant in Latin, but it often came out soft and garbled. As Regulus did his best to correct, when Harry grew bored he’d pass back the wand. He’d ask Regulus to cast spell after spell as he watched fascinated and absorbed, until dinner rolled around and Regulus conceded to eating in the drawing room floor to a fidgeting Harry. In all the excitement, Regulus had forgotten to lay him down for a nap, so the poor boy was yawning over his roast.

Harry insisted he was not tired though, so Regulus, not wanting to end a good day in an argument, thought of an idea. He sat him on the loveseat with his dragon toy. Harry trying to hide a yawn behind the toy, Regulus smiled to himself as he sat at the piano. He knew with a little music, Harry would be out in a moment. He played the introduction to Swan Lake. He had memorized the whole play book. His Aunt Lucretia had given him the music sheets one year for Christmas. He’d lied to his parents saying it was an obscure classical artist, not wanting them to know it was from a Muggle dance. He never grew tired of playing it. Harry tried to nod along, but before he’d even started the second song, his head fell to the pillow.

Regulus chuckled as he continued playing for himself, the sounds of music shaking off the walls. He’d never been able to play so freely when his parents were here. It had only been during his lessons, and occasionally, he would escape to the drawing room during one of the many arguments that would ensue in the house to play, hoping to drown out the screams below. Often Sirius would join him, his sketch journal in tow. Sirius never had an apt for musical instruments, but he had taken the violin when his parents demanded music lessons. He preferred sketching, never properly, more so just line drawings of what was around him.

Regulus paused his playing as he wandered to the desk. He opened the first drawer to his right. Inside were myriads of sketches. The ones he had saved from over the years, some of the only memories remaining of when he and his brother had been on speaking terms. He pulled out one in particular, it was a profile of a younger version of himself, around ten. It was just before Sirius was to go to Hogwarts. He had been playing Swan Lake then too. The boys locked themselves in the drawing room as Arcturus and Orion quarreled below them. It had been an attempted intervention for Orion’s less then becoming drinking habit. It had ended with fire whiskey and glass scattered on the floors and walls of the Entrance Hall.

Regulus sighed as he ran a finger over the lines. His brother had talent with the pencil. For himself, painting had been his solace. He enjoyed how the paints would blur together and create something out of their mess, Sirius had said pencil work was more straightforward, hence why he liked it more. Neither brother had needed to worry about competing in one art form or the other, each excelling in their own ways. Their cousins had been different, their mother forcing them all into the same mediums to make the girls compete and vie for the title of best. He had to steady his breath at the memories, his family had been awful, but the nostalgia still caught in his throat. He looked up at Harry, who was snoring lightly as he closed the sketch in the drawer again. That was his family now and he was intent on making new memories with him.

Chapter Text

“Reggie.” Someone called in his dream. He wasn’t sure who, in his dream he was slyly trying to track a unicorn to get a glimpse of a real one in the flesh. The forest was suspiciously like the forbidden forest, the ground had the same damp moss feel under his feet and the air was crisp in his nose.

“Reggie!” The voice cried louder, if they didn’t quiet down he’d never find the unicorn. Didn’t they know they were easily startled? He huffed as he went to whip around to chastise whomever was yelling. Just then, his feet felt like they fell from under him and his heart swirled into his stomach. It felt like the world was swallowing him whole, as he frantically jumped upward.

When he did, he realized he was not in the forest. It took a few seconds for him to realize he had jumped to a sitting position in his bed. He had to blink the blurry edges of sleep from his eyes, and shake his head loose of the last sounds of wind rustling through brush. He felt a small hand grab his arm as he looked over at swollen green eyes and trembling lips. It was Harry that had woken him.

“Oh Harry, I’m sorry. I was really asleep, what happened?” Regulus started as he picked Harry and sat him in front of him. There were dried tear stains down his cheeks and his eyes were welling still, as if he would cry again. Regulus ran his thumbs under Harry’s eyes gently to catch the forming tears, as the small toddler shook in his arms as a silent sob ripped through his body. Then a crashing boom collided through the house, shaking the old window panes in their frames and making even Regulus jump slightly.

“Reggie!” Harry cried as he dived towards Regulus’ middle wrapping his small arms tightly around his waist. Shivering and sobbing into the silken button down shirt he slept in. Regulus laid his hand on Harry’s back, just as the sharp rapt sounds of large raindrops hit the window to their side. A thunderstorm had emerged over the darkness of Grimmauld place. It rained often in Britain, but storms that shook down to the base of the home had been rare the last few months. There had been a particularly wet June, but the worst of the storms were on the coast. It seemed now, in a very windy and precipitation autumn, one of those storms had found it’s way over London.

“Oh Harry, it’s alright. I know it sounds scary, but it’s just a storm.” Regulus explained as he lifted Harry’s head up by his cheeks. He used his thumbs to brush off the cascade of tears as best he could.

“Scary Reggie.” He croaked out in a gruff little voice.

Regulus pushed himself up against the headboard and pulled Harry into his lap, placing his hand on his back so he could rub small circles to calm him down. It had worked when he was a child, his Aunt Cassiopeia had been the first one to do it. She never cared for Walburga and when she was visiting corporal punishments were kept to a minimum, but his mother could never contain herself for very long. So when Regulus had tripped going down the stairs and pulled one of the house elf’s heads off scoffing the paint, she was all too quick to take an umbrella from the stand at the bottom floor and beat the bottom of his feet bloodied with it. Aunt Cassiopeia had gotten into a screaming match and ended up smacking Walburga across the head with the same umbrella, everyone knew not to cross Aunt Cassiopeia after that. She then took Regulus up to her room and rubbed his back while she did her best to heal his feet, he remembered how comforted he had felt. One of his only moments of solace as a child.

Another loud boom shook the home, Harry scurrying to bury his head into Regulus’ chest and cover his ears with his little hands. Regulus kept rubbing his back slowly as he reached for his watch on the bedside table. It was two in the morning, as he sighed before reaching for his wand. He couldn’t make the storm go away, but at the very least he could make the sounds less. He cast the modified muffling charm towards the windows, then he called The Tales of Beedle the Bard over. He and Harry had been working on stories together.

“Sh, Harry listen, it quieter now.” Regulus offered as he gently pulled Harry’s hand from his ear, the next round of booming, while shaking the window panes still, could hardly be heard. Harry sniffled as he tried to wipe his nose, Regulus called for a handkerchief as he held it over Harry’s nose.

“Remember blow through your nose, Harry.” Regulus reminded. When he was handed a child almost a year ago he hadn’t realized exactly how much had to be taught to small humans. Including mundane things, like blowing’s one nose until he had ended up with slobber all down one of his robes. He was grateful the potty training was done, it had been a horrible mess over summer, but Harry finally got it after many attempts by both Regulus and Kreacher. Though apparently they wore diapers at night for much longer to his shock, that was a challenge for later on down the road. Harry blew his nose very loudly into the handkerchief before Regulus made it disappear to the laundry.

“Want to read a story? You could help me with the words.” Regulus encouraged as he handed Harry the book.

“Fountain ‘airy!” He cried.

“The Fountain of Fair Fortune.” Regulus corrected gently. The story was his favorite, and at this point Regulus could quote it without the book so he propped Harry in his lap and opened the pages, helping Harry to balance and grip it in his small hands. They read the story twice before the shaking ended and Harry started to yawn, Regulus lifting him up to lay him back in his crib.

“Stay?” Harry looked up at him with big warm eyes, and how could Regulus ever say no to those eyes.

“Alright, but just for tonight.” Regulus sighed as he laid Harry down beside him. He pushed a pillow up behind him, sticking it in place with his wand so Harry couldn’t roll off. Harry giggled as he made himself comfortable on the bed. Regulus smiled at him as he pulled the comforter over them both, the rain had made his room cooler than usual. He laid down under it as Harry scooted closer to him, wrapping his little arm over Regulus’ side. He froze at the touch, until he eased down the rest of the way, putting an arm around Harry too. He hadn’t curled up with anyone in nearly ten years. Yet Harry nuzzled his face into his chest and gripped his fingers into his side.

“Loves you Reggie.” Harry yawned. Regulus melted into his touch in that as he cuddled Harry even closer to him.

“I love you too Harry.” He whispered before Harry’s eyes dropped close and his breathing began to even out. Regulus fell back asleep with a smile on his face.

-

There was another dark cloud over London, it had been a particularly wet season. Regulus was tucked into a chair in the drawing room as he watched drops of rain lazily slide down the windows. It was past five in the morning as he glanced at his watch when he brought his tea to his lips. He hadn’t been able to sleep well last night. Not with the approaching holiday, if it could even appropriately be called such.

Today was Halloween of nineteen eighty-two. A year ago, the whole of the Wizarding World was changed. There were likely to be celebrations and chaos all across the country. It had been a year without Voldemort, a year without Death Eaters, a year that was worth celebrating for them. Yet, Regulus didn’t get to join in these celebrations, today was the day Harry lost everything. His parents, his uncles, nearly his whole identity, and he had been only a baby. His hand was shaking against the now cold tea cup. Harry was too young to understand the significance, it had been a few months since he had even called for his mother and father.

Regulus felt a pang of guilt, he was worried Harry was forgetting his family. He was determined to spend the day looking over the small collection of photos they had, and he’d search his brain for every memory he could conjure up. He didn’t have many personal memories of Lily or James, he had plenty with Sirius, and only a few quiet moments with Remus. He wasn’t even sure if he and Peter had ever exchanged words. Then with Lily’s friends he had even less interactions, the girl’s of Gryffindor Tower had always given any boy of House Slytherin a wide range of space, hardly ever even passing by them alone. Understandably so, most of the boys in his house were very crude and sometimes downright disrespectful to them. He’d been lumped in with the crowd, even if he hardly looked in the girl’s direction.

He sighed as he sipped the cold tea, not bothering to warm it. He’d get lost in his thoughts and it would grow cold again. Harry would wake in a few hours, and they’d have breakfast and they’d spend a quiet day together. Peacefully, trying to keep Harry aware of who he was while Regulus tried to swallow his guilt surrounding the whole situation. He’d never make penance enough to offset his deeds and involvement in the whole affair.

His plans for a quiet day were quickly distributed. He had eventually finished his cold tea and decided he’d make breakfast for the day. He’d thought he’d try his hand at crepés, he was French after all, he should naturally be halfway decent. Although after one unfolded on him and he burnt another, he was starting to think differently. He tied his hair back that was slowly starting to pass his shoulder blades when he heard the Floo roar to life.

“Oh good morning Albus!” Alphard called from his portrait. Regulus openly huffed as he froze the ingredients flying around him. He had everything pause as he made his way to the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore was smirking at Uncle Alphard as the portrait seemed to be recalling something about his time at Hogwarts. Dumbledore would have been the transfiguration Professor then.

“Yes Alphard, I believe you did end up costing Slytherin an unfortunate number of points back then.” Dumbledore laughed quietly.

“Oh, but what I lost in my fun, I certainly made up for in Quidditch now didn’t I?” Uncle Alphard winked as he said it.

“Undoubtedly, one of the best Beaters to ever play for Slytherin, even I can admit that.” Dumbledore smiled as he turned towards Regulus. In his sleep deprived state, he hadn’t thought to clean himself up. He was still wearing the silk pyjamas now covered in a thin layer of flour. His hair was messily tied to the back of his neck, and his hands were stained red from the strawberries. Granted, he didn’t much care what Dumbledore thought of him.

“I see you’ve begun bringing the portraits out.” Dumbledore stated as he looked down his nose at Regulus. Regulus scoffed slightly as he tried to brush a bit of flour off his front.

“Only Uncle Alphard, I needed someone to watch the Floo since people have made a habit of dropping by unannounced.” Regulus grumbled, not trying to hide the slight drop of disdain in his words.

“Ah, well I see. I believe I have interrupted something. Has something befallen your house elf?” Dumbledore asked, distinctly ignoring the prior comment.

“I am capable of my own tasks.” Regulus rolled his eyes as he turned on his heels back into the kitchen. He wasn’t going to stop his day for Dumbledore’s untimely visits. The older wizard followed with quick steps behind him until he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, Regulus calling Kreacher to finish the crepés so he could see what Dumbledore wanted and hopefully send him on his way.

“Tea?” Regulus asked as he poured himself a fresh cup.

“Oh yes, four sugars please.” Dumbledore added as he slowly sat at the table. Regulus found it strange to put so much sugar since he often took it plain, but nonetheless he added it and carried the cups to the table as the room began to fill with the sweet scents of sugar and fruit. Dumbledore thanked him as he took a heavy sip of the still hot liquid, Regulus shrugged it off as he sat in silence besides the sounds of cooking.

“I would believe you know what today is?” Dumbledore started slowly as he only stared at the movement of the house elf in front of him. Regulus almost scoffed again, Dumbledore couldn’t think him so daft.

“I am aware.” He gritted out, focusing on the different lines in the wooden table to keep himself grounded.

“I would think, young Harry doesn’t quite grasp the concept yet?” Dumbledore continued.

“He knows who his parents are if that is what you are asking.” Regulus allowed his eyes to flick over the Headmaster, but the older man’s well set eyes never moved.

“Hm, told him all about the terrors of the Marauders yet?” Dumbledore asked with a hint of a grin to his lip. Regulus had always suspected the old Headmaster had been fond of the rambunctious group of teenagers. The grin seemed to confirm it.

“I don’t think two is a good age to inform a child of destructive behaviors.” Regulus huffed. Harry wouldn’t be able to understand half the antics at his age, he could still only make sparks fly from the end of the wand.

“I do recall you not being particularly fond of the tricks played by your brother and his friends.” Dumbledore mused as he finished his tea. Truthfully, Regulus had found many of them only slightly irritating, but there were a rare few that made him laugh to himself. He specifically remembers the time they hexed all the Slytherin’s robes to turn the color of the house they disdained the most. The table had nearly all turned red, though there were a few spots of yellow and blue. He had been the only green one remaining, a fact that his housemates contributed to his brother specifically not hexing his robes, but Regulus had known the truth.

“Have you come to see Harry?” Regulus asked, trying to steer the conversation to its meaning. Dumbledore finally took the time to turn his head slightly towards Regulus. Regulus only stared back.

“I was thinking I could take him for a quick visit to Godric’s Hollow.” Dumbledore said after a time. Regulus felt his jaw slacken, but he quickly shut his mouth. He didn’t want to grant Dumbledore his shock.

“You want to take him back to where his parents were murdered?” Regulus asked, disgruntled.

“There will be a ceremony tonight, I think it would be good for Harry to see.” Dumbledore responded. Regulus thought for a moment.

“Well we couldn’t be seen.” Regulus replied.

“We?” Dumbledore asked, a bit taken aback.

“Yes, Harry and I, we can’t be seen.” Regulus continued.

“I wasn’t under the impression you’d want to attend.” Dumbledore stated, as he regained his composure. Honestly, Regulus didn’t want to attend. Standing surrounded by the remains of the Order and their sympathizers seemed awkward at best. More so, it would only bring to the surface all the guilt he had been trying to smother under the surface.

“Well I don’t want Harry out of my sight.” Regulus finally conceded. He seemed it an appropriate response for Dumbledore, his mother had used the excuse when he was younger when his aunts or uncles had wanted to take him away on some adventure or trip. It seemed inline with the Black Family raising the older wizard was looking for.

“Very well. I can procure some Polyjuice Potion, if you stay to the back I am certain people won’t bother you.” Dumbledore continued.

“I can gather the hair needed for it, if you provide a nearly complete potion.” Regulus hurriedly added. Maybe it was a bit of his vanity, but he’d rather not allow Dumbledore to choose. He’d prefer not to be some old spotted wizard if possible.

“Very well, I will leave Harry with you then. He is too young for Polyjuice Potion just yet, but your Transfiguration scores were well. I assume you can take care of the scar, and maybe a well placed Crinus Muto to make him less recognizable.” Dumbledore stated with his eyebrows raised, clearly only barely trusting Regulus. He nodded back at the Headmaster.

“Wonderful, let Mister Harry know I will be back tonight. As the sun sets.” Dumbledore stated as he stood to his towering height. Regulus nodded again as he had the tea cups float to the sink. The Headmaster gave one curt nod before picking up his robes and exiting the room. There was a call of farewells between Alphard and Dumbledore before the Floo came to life for a moment. Regulus finally let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Kreacher went to wake Harry for breakfast. Allowing Regulus a moment to himself, he’d only been out of this home the rarest few times since he’d trapped himself in here two years ago. The most significant time he’d left, he’d come back as a stand-in father of a barely one year old child. That had been to meet Dumbledore, now he was willingly going to go to a large gathering of witches and wizards that if they knew who he really was would turn on him in an instant. He couldn’t think of not going for even an instant though, he would be too worried about Harry.

The small boy came running in then with his arm widely stretched as Regulus knelt down to scoop him up. His laughter filled the room as Regulus spun him around. Then he clapped happily at the sweet breakfast in front of him. Harry loved fruits, always begging for more fruits in his yogurts, or his cereal, and even on his toast. Regulus figured it was a good thing, fruits were good for him, it would be better when Regulus didn’t have to bend down every night and brush the stains off his teeth though. Harry didn’t not like the taste of any of the toothpastes and usually ended up spitting up on him at least once. He was trying to get Kreacher to find a less minty flavored one, he’d been unsuccessful as of yet.

“Come along, Harry. I want to show you some things.” Regulus smiled as he held out his hand which Harry gladly took. He led him up the stairs into the drawing room. He had the curtains drawn back, but there was little light as he lifted his wand, lighting the many distinctly non-poisonous candles. He had already laid everything out for them on the floor during his lack of sleep. Kreacher popped in leaving a tea for Regulus and a juice for Harry on the table beside the cushioned loveseat before quietly popping out. The floor had the few photos and letters laid out.

“You know these photos right?” Regulus posed. Harry scanned them quickly as he pointed his fingers at one.

“Baba and Uncle Pads.” Harry smiled, it was an old Quidditch photo James had his arm around Sirius and it looked like Sirius had been laughing when the photo was taken. From their hair and the captain pin on James’ robes, he figured it was their sixth year.

“Baba and Mama.” Harry pointed to another photo. It was a photo of Lily and James dancing and smiling in front of the camera, the background was obviously autumn from the fallen leaves and bundled clothes. It was probably taken after they had left Hogwarts.

“Uncle Moons and Uncle Pads.” Harry moved his hand to the next one. It was a photo of Remus, in one of his oversized sweaters with a book in hand, Sirius was laying in his lap looking like he was trying to feed a piece of chocolate to Remus while laughing and smiling, his arm only making it half way to Remus’ mouth before the movement started over again.

“Uncle Wormy.” Harry’s hand passed over a photo of Peter and James together, they were leaning on a kitchen counter drinking tea together. It had to be one of the more recent photos. They both looked a few years older then Regulus had remembered them. Now both of them were gone, and Regulus still stoutly refused to believe it had been Sirius. Maybe that was naive, but he could never imagine his brother betraying the only family he knew.

“Auntie Mars and Auntie Dorc.” Harry picked up the photo of two young girls. Marlene was holding a newborn Harry in her arms as she smiled over her shoulder at Dorcas. Regulus hadn’t paid much attention to the two girls when he had been at Hogwarts, but they looked rather cozy in the photo.

“Mary!” Harry cried as he dropped one photo for another. He was holding a photo of Lily and Mary McDonald. She was pursuing her lips together at Lily, while Lily made a weird hand motion behind Mary’s head with only two fingers visible. It seemed strange, but then again Mary and Lily had been the two Muggleborns in Gryffindor that year, maybe it was something to do with Muggles. The last photo was the same one he’d shown Harry when they had arrived, it was usually framed and kept on the bedside table.

“Good job Harry.” Regulus smiled as he let Harry keep shuffling through the photos.

“Do you know what these are?” Regulus asked as he picked up the few letters that had been sent.

“Letters?” Harry asked, a bit unsure.

“Perfect Harry, they are letters. Letters your parents wrote. Do you want me to read them to you?” Regulus asked as Harry laid down the photo in his hand. Harry nodded enthusiastically. Regulus pulled him up into his lap from where he sat on the floor and held the letters in front of him so Harry could see them.

“Dear Remus,

Happy Chanukah! I can’t believe it’s Harry’s first one. I’m pretty certain James is having more fun with the dreidels then Harry, he’s been on the floor for hours making Harry laughs as he spins them all different ways. I’m lying on the seat watching them as I write this, I believe I have eaten too many sufganiyot again. I hope Sirius is being helpful this year and doesn’t accidentally light the rugs on fire trying to light your Menorah. I wish we could all be together, but with the War and baby, I know it’s harder. I hope we can all see each other soon, write when you can, we haven’t heard much from you since you came back.

With all my love,

Lily.”

Regulus paused after reading the letter.

“What’s Chanukah?” Regulus posed to Harry, who looked as confused as him. Harry reached for the letter as Regulus handed it over, Harry running his hand over his mother’s name a few times.

“I’ll find out what Chanukah is Harry, and I’ll teach you all about it.” Regulus promised as he snuggled closer to Harry. He hoped that would be enough for Lily. Maybe Harry could hold a bit of his mother closer to him. He read the other letters to him several times over. One was from James to Sirius, telling him all about Harry’s first ride on a toy broom and how he had been a natural. Another was addressed to Remus and Sirius, telling them about a small get together before James and Lily had to leave. It must have been before they went into hiding. He had never understood exactly why they had done so when he found out about it afterwards, but the mess of Voldemort and the prophecy seemed the likely cause.

They ate a small lunch, and the sky cleared slightly in the afternoon so Harry begged to play on his broom. Regulus agreed, grabbing the Snitch as they went downstairs. Harry was getting even better at controlling his little broom and flying circles around Regulus. His little hand slipped on the Snitch a few times, but he was more than decent at catching it, especially given his age. They spent several hours out there until the sun began to lower, and Regulus knew it was time to get Harry ready.

Regulus showered quickly while Harry flipped through a book with Kreacher in his room, the house elf had been dusting in there when Regulus asked him to watch him for a moment so he could clean himself up. He tacked on plain black robes, and a thick black cloak over them. He wanted to be as nondescript as possible. Then, he reached into the drawer at the bottom of the sink, inside was a brush with several hairs sticking out still. Years ago, when still trying to figure himself out and when he had a bit of a rebellious streak, he’d stolen the brush from one of their Muggle neighbors. He’d used his identity several times before in Polyjuice Potion so he felt most comfortable in his body, as comfortable as someone could be in another person’s body. He tucked a hair into his robes for later.

Then he grabbed Harry and let him splash around in the bath and bubbles for a while before he made him sit on the toilet with his hair quickly dried with his wand. He gave him his stuffed dog, Pads to hold as he pushed back the hair over his forehead. The scar was in the exact formation of a Killing Curse spell, almost like lightning bolts spread over an entire corner of his head. It only needed to be changed for a few hours.

“Does it hurt, Harry?” Regulus asked as he ran his thumb over it. Harry shook his head as he went back to patting the dog’s paws together.

Regulus touched it again, he could still feel the magic behind it. It had faded over time, but he could still sense it. He didn’t like how it felt, it reminded him of things he’d rather forget, though he couldn’t quite place it. He shook the thoughts out of his head as he pulled his wand out.

“Tell me if it hurts alright?” Regulus nodded at Harry, who smiled at him. He whispered under his breath as he cast a simple transfiguration spell for scars, he wasn’t sure if it would work since they didn’t always work on Magic’s wounds and even if they did, usually they’d turn back in only a few hours. Nothing happened for a moment, then slowly the ends of the scar seemed to shrivel up and the parts that remained faded to an even lighter color. It now looked like slash marks as opposed to the signature lightning bolt. It would work well enough.

“Alright Harry, that worked. Now what should we do to your hair?” Regulus asked as he ran his hand through the unmanageable frizz on top of his head.

“Curls?” Harry asked as he reached for one of Regulus curled ends.

“We can do curls.” Regulus mumbled. It was probably best if he and Harry looked a bit alike to have less questions asked. The Muggle he would impersonate was only twenty and he was shorter than Regulus with cropped brown hair. A light dawn brown hair, he could manage that. He smiled at Harry as he tapped his head three times. The hair falling a bit longer and curlier and most distinctly a very light brown.

“There, curls!” Regulus exclaimed as he lifted Harry to the mirror. Harry giggled as he grabbed onto his small tight ringlets. He looked distinctly different, though his eyes still shone brightly enough that Regulus could never mistake him. He carried him downstairs, as Harry kept smiling at his new curls. Kreacher had made a small stew and sliced some fresh bread on the side that Regulus set Harry in front of. The small boy dug in happily. Regulus was starting to get nauseous at the prospect of leaving so he only ate a few spoonfuls and nibbled on the end of his bread.

Harry ate rather quickly which was preferred because as he was on his last bite the Floo roared to life. Dumbledore called a greeting to Alphard before he made his way into the kitchen. He smiled fondly at Harry as Kreacher handed him a cup of tea.

“Looking rather handsome tonight Harry.” Dumbledore mused as he sipped his tea. Regulus tucked a curl behind Harry’s ear as he smiled back at Dumbledore.

“Wish we could stay longer, but I do need to speak at the memorial, so it is best we get moving.” Dumbledore stated as he took one more large sip of tea. Regulus nodded as Kreacher started clearing the table. He notched Harry onto his hip as they made their way to the door.

“Outside?” Harry asked, shocked. He had never been out the front door, and anytime he asked Regulus had to explain that they couldn’t.

“Yes Harry, outside. We’re going for a quick visit somewhere, but you must be very quiet and stay right by me the whole time. Can you do that?” Regulus asked a bit stiffer then he wanted too, but Dumbledore’s eyes were burrowing into him. Harry nodded as clung to Regulus a little tighter. He pulled his cloak over his head as they took a step outside, he barely waited for the signature sound of the house disappearing behind him before grabbing onto Dumbledore’s arm. There was a tight pull and a heavy impact, but they landed safely on dirt ground.

“Reggie?” Harry questioned as he put his hand on his tummy, looking a bit green.

“Ah, I know apparition is tough the first few times. You’ll be better in a minute.” Regulus whispered in a quick second, hoping Dumbledore wouldn’t notice. Thankfully, the Headmaster was fiddling with his dark grey robes, much less ornate than his usual wardrobe.

“Here, you have the hair I assume.” Dumbledore handed a small vial to Regulus. How convenient he waited until they had already left before asking. Regulus suspected he was not welcome on this trip. Either way, he took the hair out of his pocket as he placed Harry on the ground. He dropped it into the murky potion, wrinkling his nose at the idea. He downed it in one go trying to keep his face straight, but his head still shook from the taste. He could feel himself shrinking as his bones ached and his hair disappeared from his shoulders. He gagged slightly as the transformation finished, it hardly gotten any easier with time. Dumbledore was watching with a blank look in his face. Harry looked a bit in horror.

“It’s me Harry, I can’t look like me right now. It’s still Reggie.” Regulus said as he crouched down putting a gentle hand on Harry’s arm. Harry touched his cheek gently as if he was apprehensive.

“Other hair is better.” Harry finally giggled as he poked at the short hair. Regulus gritted his teeth trying not to laugh.

“I think so too. Now, hold my hand and don’t let go and don’t say anything, understand?” Regulus straightened up as he took a plain look on his face. Harry nodded as he gripped his hand into Regulus’.

“I’d suggest staying near the back. I’ll find you afterwards.” Dumbledore said as he did a sort of bow before walking around the shed they had apparated behind. It was shoddy and leaning more to one side when Regulus took a good look at it while they rounded it a minute later. Harry right in his hand as they walked down the darkening street. Regulus was not sure what he had been expecting, but he had grossly underestimated it.

There were people halfway down the street standing in a large semi-circle around the house. It looked to be as many people as Hogwarts held students, maybe a bit more than that. Wizards and witches from all over Great Britain come to honor the sacrifice of the Potter’s and the end of the Wizarding war. Regulus felt his breath catch, he’d never liked crowds. They made him queasy, and if he was around them too long he would get dizzy and had even been known to faint. It wasn’t becoming of him, but nothing he’d done had ever helped. Even at Hogwarts, he tried to stay at the end of the tables to eat, and rush off once he was done.

He stopped at the edge of the crowd as he focused on his breathing, counting backwards in his mind. Harry looked up at him with curious eyes, and Regulus did his best to smile back. He swallowed the small amount of bile in his throat and edged to the side of the crowd, he stood in between two houses where a slight breeze would come between and helped to cool his burning skin. They could still see a bit of the Potter’s cottage from here. Harry moaned a bit and Regulus shushed him slightly. Thankfully, there were a few other children around.

He could see two sitting on the ground not far from them clapping their hands against one another’s. Another was sitting on what looked to be his grandmother’s hip, sucking his thumb nearer the front, probably only a month younger than Harry from his size, maybe less. Most notably, there was a large group of red-headed children closest to the front that Regulus could barely make out. He only noticed them when their mother very loudly chastised them and her voice carried over the crowd.

“Charles, you were supposed to be watching Fred and George. Look at their robes, a complete mess, you’ll need to help me clean that when we get home.” The mother ticked. The older boy she was talking to turned to roll his eyes at the two children, who hid a giggle behind their hands as he leaned down to grab the two children smashing mud onto each other’s robes. Clearly, they were all brother’s, there was another boy who was hanging to the mother’s skirt as she bounced the smallest child on her hip. A child distinctly dressed in very frilly, lacy girl clothes. The oldest tried his best to wipe the mud off, getting his own robes slightly dirty in the process. Regulus creeped a bit closer as he was curious, the family seemed so familiar, but he couldn’t place them.

“Come along, Charlie. Let me have a go.” A familiar, rough voice stated as Regulus froze. He knew that voice. He’d heard it several times booming around Grimmauld Place, always louder and crasser than anyone of the Black Family. He watched frozen in his step as his Uncle Ignatius bent down with his wand drawn. He cleaned off all the boy’s robes. As the eldest thanked him, before latching his two little brothers in his hands.

“Ig, darling, do you have Ron’s teddy? He’s getting a bit fussy.” A perfectly posh voice asked, her accent sticking out in the crowd of the rural town. Regulus could almost feel tears at what he could see. His Aunt Lucretia was standing there with a baby on her hip. Regulus’ every fiber wanted to run up to her, it had been so long since he had seen a friendly face. She looked well, maybe a bit tired, but her long hair was braided down her back still as black as night. She had on simple, but well made robes. She was bouncing and smiling at a child around the age of Harry on her hip, though the child looked less than pleased at the moment.

“Lancelot had it last I checked, love. I think he went to get Muriel away from Bathilda. He may have given it to Tessie though.” Ignatius sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, it had gone more sandy colored then last he’d seen him. The red seems to be replaced by small threads of grey. Lucretia nodded as she disappeared into the crowd. It made sense now, the red-headed children. They had to be Weasleys, Ignatius was Molly’s uncle as well. Though Molly and her brothers had been several years ahead of Regulus, and he’d only met his red-headed cousins occasionally. When their father and mother died, Ignatius took over as their guardian.

Regulus has to swallow the lump in his throat as he backs him and Harry to the edge of the crowd again. He wanted nothing more than to be a child, and throw himself into his aunt and uncle’s arms. It had been years since he had seen them even before he’d died. His father and sister had an avid falling out when he was in fifth year. He’d never seen her again after that. Not that it mattered, she probably would not have wanted to see him after what he’d done.

Harry was following along politely and quietly, but he seemed to look longingly at the other children. He didn’t say a word though clutched to Regulus’ hand. As they made their way back, Dumbledore stepped in front of the crowd. A hush fell over everyone, as they all looked forward at him. Regulus picked up Harry so he could see. Dumbledore scanned the crowd for a moment before putting his wand to his throat.

“What a wonderful turn out. I’m glad everyone made it safely.” Dumbledore announced as a murmur rose from the crowd.

“We’ve come today, not in mourning, but in celebration. While we’ve had to say farewell to many over the past few years, we can finally say their sacrifice was not in vain.” Dumbledore continued. There were already people dapping their eyes throughout the crowd.

“Here, the last enemy of death was defeated.” Dumbledore stated as he paused letting the words take effect. There were nods and more than a few murmurs in support.

“Here Lily and James Potter paid the ultimate price to free the Wizarding World of it’s greatest threat. After so many lives and houses lost, The Bones, The McKinnons, The Prewetts, as well as so many more, the Potters took their final stand, not for themselves, but for us all.” Dumbledore stated. There were a few quiet cheers.

“Today, we honor them.” Dumbledore stated as he waved his hand towards the center, there stood a tall obelisk, and with a wave of his hand the object grew a bit blurry, before shuddering harshly and changing before their very eyes. Regulus had to crane his neck, as whatever it had changed into was much shorter. He took two steps to the side to stand behind a short curvy witch who was sniffing loudly. His eyes narrowed to see better, before they widened in realization. It was a memorial of the Potter’s, James with his messy hair sat as a statue with glasses halfway down his nose, and Lily, ever beautiful with a smile on her face. Then sat in her lap was a small bundle, and a happy laughing face. It was Harry.

Harry blinked as he looked at Regulus, clearly confused. Regulus rubbed his arms as he kissed his forehead, trying to keep him quiet. Harry nuzzled his forehead into Regulus neck as he turned to face the statue again. His little hand reaching out slightly, before dropping it to his side.

“Mama, Baba.” Harry sniffled. Regulus turned his head inward as he felt small soft tears hit his shoulder. He was bouncing Harry softly, trying to comfort him without much noise being made.

“This statue will stand, as long as time allows for any Witch or Wizard to come and honor the Potters and all else who were lost in this terrible dark time. May it be a reminder to us all, that light can be found even in the darkest of places.” Dumbledore finished as he waved his hands allowing people to slowly move forward towards the statue. It seemed there were wreaths, teddies, and flowers in many people's hand as a few families at a time would step forward kneeling down for a moment to pay their respect before allowing the next ones to come up.

Regulus hung back, bouncing Harry, using his crying as an excuse why he could not pay his respects. He was thinking of dodging back to behind the shed as more people started to eye them, concerned they might start asking questions, and forever conscious that Polyjuice Potion did not last forever. He was about to move his feet when he heard shuffling over his shoulder and another voice from his past that sent shivers down his spine.

“You didn’t have to come Mary, I know you don’t much like to be out and about.” The voice sniffled slightly.

“Nonsense, Remus. I would never think of missing this. I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” A thick accent answered back.

Regulus felt his blood run cold. Remus and Mary were right behind him. He couldn’t get back to the shed without passing them and he wasn’t confident that he wouldn’t trip on his way back. So there he stood, in a body that wasn’t his, holding a crying child, while hearing the two remaining voices of his brother’s friends converse behind him unable to move or tune out his surroundings.

“I’d rather stay back here until most everyone is gone, if you don’t mind. I haven’t been able to face anyone since everything went down.” Remus muttered lowly.

“Won’t hear any arguments from me, I can’t stand to look at half of them, either want to scream or cry if I do.” Mary replied, a crack to her tone.

“Thank you, Mary. For being there for me, no one else has, I know most everyone doesn’t trust me even more so now.” Remus sighed. Regulus could feel the defeat in his voice, it made his toes numb as he scrunched them tightly in his boots.

“I know a bit about being an outcast, granted I understand it’s very different from you, but neither of us got the luck of a draw. I mean me, a black poor woman from a one bedroom flat, who happens to be a Muggleborn Wizard at the height of a war. Neither Muggle or wizard wants me.” Mary sighed with such sadness, and Regulus suddenly felt every urge to turn to her and apologize for every awful curse any Slytherin had ever cast at her.

“And me, a queer Welsh werewolf with only half wizard blood, no one wants me either.” Remus muttered, anger and regret mixing into his words.

“We’ll have one another, you're still staying at your flat?” Mary asked quietly.

“For now, I was going to move out the second I could pack my things, but one of… his relatives wrote to me, an aunt, I know he said he had one or two good ones in the mix. Told me to keep everything, to spend all the money in spite if I wanted, but that no one from her family would come for his things.” Remus replied. Regulus felt at least satisfied that something had worked out for him.

“Good, I’ll come around for dinner when I can.” Mary said a bit more cheerful than a moment ago.

“I’ve been working nights at a school, doing some cleaning work, but dinner sounds nice.” Remus answered, a bit more pep in his voice as well.

“Well I took a spot at a pub near my home, so we could stop by there, food is rubbish, but it’s cheap.” Mary suggested. As the two behind him spoke, Harry slowly started to calm himself down. Then a horrific realization dawned on Regulus. Remus was right behind them, if Harry saw him, or even heard him now that he wasn’t crying, Regulus didn’t know what he’d do. He quickly tucked his hand over Harry’s head keeping it buried into his neck. He cast a silent muffling charm around Harry, so it'd be hard to understand the voices around him. Then he made his heavy feet turn to the side and begin to move. Only one issue, Mary and Remus had decided to move at the exact same time, so Regulus’ large step put him directly in their path.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Regulus muttered under his breath, trying to accent his voice as best he could. Harry was fidgeting under his touch, trying to turn free. He held his arm steady against the boy’s hair.

“Oh no you’re fine. The little one looks restless, is he yours?” Mary asked as Regulus was forced to look into her dark brown eyes. They were a bit bloodshot and swollen, like she’d been crying herself to sleep instead of resting.

“Er, no he was my cousin’s, but they passed away. I take care of him now, I think this was all too much for him.” Regulus sighed as he took a strange roundabout way to get out of their way. He risked a glance at Remus, his green eyes were looking him suspiciously up and down. Regulus wasn’t sure if it was the War that had made him suspicious, or Regulus himself.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was it the War that took them?” Marry asked as she slowly allowed him to pass.

“It was.” Regulus gritted out, hoping her line of questions would end soon.

“You look familiar, did you attend Hogwarts?” Remus spoke up, his lips twitching as he asked. Regulus noted a new scar going across his lips that hadn’t been there before.

“No, I studied abroad. Moved back here to take care of the little one.” Regulus lied through his teeth, a bit upset how easily he could still do it. Remus only nodded, but eyes narrowed in a way that made Regulus uncomfortable.

“Remus, Mary!” A voice called. Regulus saw a witch with short cropped dark hair waving over Mary and Remus. His mind reminded him she was Emmeline Vance, she’d been a seventh year Ravenclaw, and Head Girl when Regulus was only a first year. She’d fought with the Order and was an Auror, people believed her to be a powerful witch and Regulus was inclined to agree.

“Just Emmeline, Remus. We can say hello and go, she’s probably been alone. You know how badly she felt after Gideon died, it was always hard for her to be around his family, no matter how kind they were.” Mary nearly whispered at Remus, who had stiffened distinctly when his name had been called. He relaxed only a bit when Mary touched his arm.

“Well best be getting the little one to bed, it was nice to meet you...” Mary trailed off and Regulus blanked for a second.

“Julien.” He smiled as he nodded.

“Have a good night, Julien, and be safe.” Mary smiled as she patted Remus’ arm, before they headed to where Emmeline waited for them. Her eyes looked suspiciously at Regulus for only half a second before she focused on her approaching associates.

Regulus let them get a few steps away, before he quickly turned heel, walking much faster than usual behind the houses, until he reached the lopsided shed. He pushed his back against it as he let himself and Harry gently slide to the ground. He undid the muffling charm as he pushed Harry’s hair out of his face. His eyes were red and swollen and his lips trembled, and most distinctly, his scar marred his forehead once again. Regulus placed a gentle kiss to the side of it as Harry hiccuped loudly. They sat quietly on the cold ground for several moments, the voices of retreating groups wafting above the shed.

Eventually, it fell silent, as Regulus could feel the ache in his whole body that told him his Polyjuice had run out. He couldn’t feel any more Magic around him, but he pulled the cloak over his head and wrapped his arms around Harry. It was getting colder as night progressed and if Dumbledore didn’t show up soon Regulus would leave without him. Harry was shivering, and neither of them were obscure any longer.

As he stood to apparate away, a shadowy flow of robes appeared. The Headmaster stood there with his grey hair moved by the wind. His jaw was set tightly and he was looking far into the distance. Almost as if he hadn’t seen Regulus and Harry at all. Whatever was on the Headmaster’s mind was interrupted by another hiccup from Harry. Dumbledore turned to look at them, a softened look returning to his face.

“Well, I believe it was good for Harry to see that. He should know his parents were heroes, besides the fresh air will do him good.” Dumbledore answered as he held out his hand. Regulus gritted his teeth, Harry was anything less than good currently. He couldn’t point that out though, without seeming too concerned. He pathetically grabbed the Headmaster’s arm, even though they both knew he could apparate perfectly fine on his own. There was a twist, and hard pull before they landed on Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore wished them both a good night from the bottom of the stairs, Harry waved and Regulus only grunted. The Headmaster was gone before Regulus even closed the door behind him.

Harry was so exhausted, he’d fallen asleep before they got up the last stair case. Regulus would have to comfort and try to explain to him tomorrow. For now, Harry needed rest, as he tucked him into his crib, pulling his two stuffed toys close next to him. He ran his hand over his hair as he watched him sleep for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall unconscious to the world as well, but tonight something twisted in his chest. A feeling he couldn’t shake, and then the words of Dumbledore rang in his ear. Regulus had an idea, a stupid, reckless idea, but Dumbledore had said fresh air was good for Harry. So he wandered his way to the drawing room pulling quill and parchment, and putting ink to the paper as he quickly drafted a letter. He wouldn’t stay two steps behind Dumbledore forever, and he might have just found a way to break free.

Chapter Text

His knees felt weak under his robes. The air was frigid this early in the morning, his cloak hardly able to keep out the freezing air. The smoke hadn’t started to fill the alley to warm around him. It was pitch black except for the few torches hung sporadically throughout. He’d distinctly stayed as far from one as possible. His hands shuffled anxiously against his side.

He checked his watch once more. One minute till time, she wouldn’t be late. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t. He’d gone back and forth between sending the letter at least twenty times. Before he finally handed it to Kreacher from a clenched fist. The elf looked at the addressee and then flopped his ears curiously, but asked no questions. The reply had come a week later, it was short and nondescript. It hadn’t made him feel more confident about the decision. He had only slept an hour or two before he went down to the drawing room to pace and drink more tea than was likely healthy.

He almost didn’t leave this morning. Anxiously, he spent the entire time going around every possible scenario before finally throwing open the front door and forcing himself to the bottom of the stairs. Now, he stood tucked into the darkness of Knockturn Alley, waiting apprehensively. He looked down at his watch, it was exactly the time he had asked to meet. Restless, he hoped he’d been correct when he assumed she would not be late. As if his mind had been read, he heard a crack ring against the tight narrow walls. His head shot up, he could see a dark cloaked figure at the end of the alley.

The clicks of heels against the old cobblestone filled his ears. Her skirt was pulled tightly to her sides to avoid the dirt and trash littering the streets. He waited. He wanted confirmation of her identity before he revealed himself. The person paused just a moment as he narrowed in on the face that was scanning the alley. She had the face of aristocratic painting. Perfect and angular all around, her hair pinned and curled tight to her neck, and she wore a long black dress underneath her robes. Yes, Cassiopeia Black looked as perfect as she had been raised to be.

Regulus gulped as he took a step into the torchlight. The hood was still over his head as he flashed his eyes upward. Her neck snapped and her eyes narrowed into him, he felt like a child under scrutiny as her silver eyes burned into him. She clicked her heels as she made her way slowly over to him, her hand still tight to her skirt, he knew she kept her wand tucked into her waist band. Hopefully, he could get out a few sentences before she thought to brandish it against him.

“Well, if it isn’t the last of the Black name? How can I be certain though?” She asked in her high voice. She had lowered it some to keep their presence a secret.

“When I was five my mother nearly beat my feet to the stumps and you took an umbrella and knocked her unconscious when you found me.” He whispered. He figured Cassiopeia would be cautious at best.

“Walburga and I never got along, tried to warn Arcturus to not marry his only son to her, but he couldn’t be talked out of it. Look at where he is now, heirless and locked away in a manor in France not wanting to face the sins of his family. At least, Pollux stayed in Britain, trying to help his only son and daughter still alive.” Cassiopeia scoffed. Her relations with her family were tense at best, she had never conformed as well as they had hoped to their ideals. Her rebellion was silent though and she stayed in their good graces.

“You’re taking me being alive much better than one would figure.” Regulus muttered as he stepped back into the darkness. The alleyway still felt too exposed even at the earlier hour, he could almost feel the eyes from the grimy windows above them.

“Well my name was being thrown around so loosely, I was suspicious. First, my least favorite niece shows up unannounced, then I can’t seem to recall the very home I grew up in, finally some very nice man by the name of R. J. Lupin writes to thank me for allowing him to stay in Alphard’s old flat. Clearly, someone did not want to be found. Yours is the only body we did not have.” She continued as she stuck her chin out and stepped into the narrow darkness. She wrinkled her nose as she did, it was neither clean nor pleasant smelling here.

“Now are you going to tell me where I spent most of my childhood, or do you wish to converse near rubbish?” She asked, peeking up her eyebrow.

Regulus sighed as he whispered their address under his breath. She nodded once before they both disappeared with a snap. They dropped in front of the steps of Twelve Grimmauld Place just as the sun began to peek up from the horizon, it made the bricks look almost golden in its light, hiding the years of age and mold. Cassiopeia took the steps quickly as Regulus tapped open the door, it creaked loudly over the emptiness, him hoping Harry would sleep through it. He wanted a few minutes alone with his aunt before dropping such a surprise on her.

“Done some redecorating I see, those elves were always so medieval, and the portraits could never keep their comments to themselves.” She said as her skirt fell from her hands swishing across the floor. Regulus nodded as he removed his cloak and vanished it away. His robes not reaching the ground as he walked, he’d need to invest in some new ones soon. His clothes were high fashion and lasted a while, but they were all approaching three years old now. A matter for another time he thought, shaking his head. He was only distracting himself from the present.

“Tea?” Regulus asked quietly. She nodded at him and they made their way into the kitchen. He readied the kettle and cups as she sat poised at the end of the table. He busied himself with the tea for as long as he could before taking it over and sitting just across from her. There was a quiet murmur of thanks before they slipped into a momentary silence.

“I always wondered what this House would look like under you.” She said, quietly. Her eyes were soft as she spoke and they were scanning the kitchen slowly before they settled on him. There was a searching look in the way she looked at him as he held the stare as steady as he could.

“We all knew what it would have been like under your brother. Wild, abrasive, all tradition thrown to the wind, not a word of others taken into consideration.” She paused to sip her tea, looking thoughtful.

“Then he was gone, and there was you. The spare, the quiet one, the one no one had truly paid attention to, and we all had to look to you.” She paused again. There was a heavy silence.

“Then you died.” She stared into his eyes, dark and brooding.

“Or so we all thought.” She finished as she brought the black cup to her thin lips and sipped heavily as she gave him a look that made him want to shrivel up into himself. Alas, he did not. He gulped a heavy swish of tea, vaguely wishing there was a nip of firewhiskey in it for strength before he spoke.

“Aunt Cassiopeia, I can explain.” He started.

“I certainly hope so.” She quipped, but her eyes were softer now. She was a strong woman, but not a terrifying one.

“I wanted out. I had sworn myself to something I know longer believed in, and I found a way that I could redeem myself. I thought I was going to die and I was prepared for it, but then I didn’t. However, you don’t leave the Dark Lord that much is certain. So I hid, pretending I was dead. It worked. Then I made my way back here, I overthrew my father’s Fidelius Charm, and I have been home ever since.” Regulus explained. She was still in her place, eyeing him carefully as she thought about her next move. One could hear a pin drop in the kitchen as he patiently waited.

“You’ve forsaken everything you’ve been taught then? Saw a new light, and decided bravery in death was better than facing what you had done?” Her sharp tongue lashed out at him. He had known this wouldn’t be easy.

“I was a child.” He started.

“You were capable of your own decision.” She cut him off before sinking back into her seat. Her shoulders were tense, but her eyes didn’t betray him yet.

“I was capable of my own decisions, and I made my decision. Then I regretted it, and I wanted to correct it. I did what I could.” He replied. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to keep his composure and not fall into the childish behavior of sulking away from all hard conversations.

“What exactly have you done?” She questioned. He took a deep breath.

“I tried to make him mortal once more. So he could be defeated.” Regulus answered, before sucking in air through his teeth. This would be the difficult part, making her understand and believe his story to be true.

“How so? Did your Dark Lord have a Philosopher’s Stone? He does not seem the type.” She narrowly looked at him. Her finger was circling the edge of the cup, the pitch black nail polish reflective in its darkness.

“It was so much worse.” He whispered. He hung his head, remorsefully.

“He made a horcrux.” He barely said above a whisper, the word sending a shiver down his spine. Her finger stopped moving, he didn’t have to see it. He could feel her freeze in her spot.

“I can prove it.” Regulus stated as he turned his head up. Shaking, he put his hand into his pocket as he pulled out a long chain. The end is still smashed to pieces. He set it in between them pushing it towards her slowly. At first, she didn’t move, only stared at the object from her seat. Finally, her hand reached out, pulling it closer as she raised up to her face. She inspected it with her eyes heavily, the wrinkles around them becoming more prominent. She looked hard for several minutes.

“This is dark magic, even darker than ours.” She whispered as she set the locket down.

“How did you destroy it?” She questioned, not looking away from the chain.

“Uncle Regulus’ basilisk fang, it still had enough venom preserved in it.” He answered quietly, gripping his tea cup. She was silent for a long time, her brows furrowing together as she thought. Her finger aimlessly circled the edge of her cup again, a golden ring occasionally catching the light of the kitchen.

“If I believed this, why would you contact me now? Why not run away? Live out your days in some foreign country, waste the riches of this family. The Dark Lord is dead and no one would be the wiser.” She asked after she broke her silence. He opened his mouth to speak, having already prepared an answer. However, a noise came from the Entrance Hall interrupting him. The distinct sound of pattering feet jumping down the stairs. Aunt Cassiopeia’s eyebrows shot up, as Regulus stood from his seat.

“Reggie!” Harry cried as he stumbled into the kitchen running with his arms wide towards him. Regulus smiled as he bent down to pick him up, popping him onto his hip. Harry giggled and nuzzled into his side, looking bed ridden and still in his pyjamas.

“Breakfast!” Harry cried again as he leaned forward laughing, putting his hand on Regulus’ cheek. Aunt Cassiopeia cleared her throat. Harry turned to look at her before turning back to Regulus, his face twisted in confusion. Regulus tried to look convincing and reassuring to the toddler.

“This is my Aunt Cassiopeia, Harry. Can you say hello?” Regulus asked, kindly as he turned Harry more towards her.

“Ello.” Harry giggled as he waved his little hand. Aunt Cassiopeia’s face softened ten times more. She did have a weakness for children, even if she never had any of her own. She had always had a warm smile for all her young nieces and nephews when she’d come to visit.

“Hello, Harry. Pleased to meet you.” She replied with her own graceful wave. Kreacher popped in a moment later. The elf’s eyes doubled in size when he saw who was occupying the kitchen.

“Mistress Cassiopeia! Kreacher be missing you. How has mistress been?” The elf asked, waddling his way over towards her. Cassiopeia smiled as she greeted the elf.

“I’ve been well, Kreacher. Nice to see you in good health.” She answered.

“Oh yes mistress. Master Regulus is the kindest master Kreacher be having.” Kreacher answered, bouncing slightly. Regulus smiled.

“Will you be having breakfast, mistress?” Kreacher asked. Cassiopeia glanced slightly at Regulus for a moment. He hesitated. It was all in her hands now.

“I will be, and I’ll be having whatever little Harry is having.” She finally said, her lips tugging into a little smile.

“Crêpes!” Harry clapped, there was a small chuckle from everyone in the room.

“Crêpes, it is for a little master.” Kreacher crooned.

“Watch?” Harry pointed to Kreacher. He had taken a habit of watching everything everyone did lately. He’d just stare at them doing the simplest of tasks as if it was a grand showcase.

“If you give him space, and stay away from the heat.” Regulus said firmly. Harry nodded as he sat down and he padded over to stay a few steps behind where Kreacher was humming and working away. Regulus smiled as he sat down, lifting his tea. Much more at ease then he had been. He hoped the rest of the morning would be as successful as it had been, but he was cautiously optimistic.

“Well, well young nephew. There is much more for me to catch up on.” Cassiopeia smirked as she sipped her tea, leaning back comfortably. There was a glint in her eye, and her face had a youthful glance to it. Sighing, Regulus took one last sip before diving into the lengthy explanation.

After breakfast, they moved to the drawing room. Regulus laid out the plastic toys for Harry to play with. He took them with glee and moved them in his little hand making noises that made sense to the scene in his imagination. Finally, Regulus sat himself in one of the chairs with Cassiopeia just next to him.

“So, now I know how this came to be. A question still remains though.” She said quietly as she smiled at Harry’s rebounding sounds.

“Yes?” Regulus inquired.

“Why am I here?” She turned and looked at him slyly.

“Easy. I want to get me and Harry out. You are the solution.” He smiled back just as crafty.

“Is that so?” She questions, narrowing her small silver eyes.

“Indeed. Isn’t that home of yours out in the country much too large for just yourself?” He questions.

“The home that is dutifully situated many countries away from this one? I actually find it quite cozy.” She replied with a slight scoff.

“The six bedroom home? Cozy?” He questioned with a brief laugh.

“Don’t forget the library, wine cellar and conservatory. Have an impressive garden as well. I was thinking of getting some chickens this season.” She retorted back.

“Harry would like chickens.” Regulus replied. Harry looked up at his name and smiled.

“Would you like chickens, Harry?” Regulus asked, leaning forward and smiling.

“Food chicken?” He asked, tilting his head sideways.

“Real chickens, the birds have feathers and they make funny sounds.” Regulus smiled as he shook his head.

“Chickens.” Harry said determinedly as he waved his hand before turning back to his toys.

“See a boy like him needs more fresh air than the inner city can provide him.” Regulus turned back coyly. Cassiopeia raised her eyebrows as she clicked her tongue.

“It also provides you a likely escape from one Albus Dumbledore does it not?” She asked.

“Indeed.” He replied simply.

“What will he have to say on the matter?” She asked.

“I don’t plan to tell him till we have left, he’ll have to drag us back if he wants us here so badly.” He smiled. She laughed loudly as she shook her head, but he could tell he had made his point. They both let the room dissolve into Harry's childish joys.

-

Dumbledore was leaning over the railing above his office, pondering to himself. Only a few weeks from now would be Christmas Break, and the castle contained an undeniable spruce energy. He had a penchant for the winter holidays. It was his favorite time of year. The cold weather, the heightened spirit, the first crisp snowfall, all very atmospheric and pleasant to behold. He spent the holidays at Hogwarts, popping with magic and the few children left behind. It was a quiet affair and a good renewal of spirits.

He would need to make a small stop at the Black Residence shortly. He was making it a habit of dropping in only so often. He didn’t want Harry to become too familiar with him or else it could hinder the relationship he needed to establish later. In fact, he had to consider stopping the trips all together eventually. Before the boy’s memories could form properly and he’d be too comfortable with his position with the Headmaster. He’d have to find someone else to make a few visits to Mister Black every year. He just hadn’t figured out whom yet.

He was lost in thought when a knock came on the door. A fellow night owl came to pay a visit. He called for them to enter as he made his way to greet them. The door creaked open apprehensively. A moment later a dark cloak walked in. In the garment, was the brooding youngest Professor at Hogwarts. Severus was making it a habit to visit at night, maybe he too was keeping up with his thoughts.

“Severus.” Dumbledore greeted as he took his seat.

“Headmaster.” He nodded as he made his way to the seat Dumbledore motioned to.

“How can I help you this evening, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, resting his hands on his stomach as he leaned back comfortably. Severus stiffened in his seat slightly, eyes darting around.

“I wanted to follow up on a matter once again.” Severus muttered. He wouldn’t look Dumbledore in the eye.

“Always curious, a good quality to have.” Dumbledore replied. Severus didn’t acknowledge the comment.

“I do apologize for the repeated inquiries, but I cannot seem to recognize any reason to allow Regulus Black to continue to live in obscurity, he should at the very least face a trial.” Severus slightly snapped, a bit of fury in his eyes. Dumbledore sighed. He had worried about this, Severus was one to stew.

“And why is that?” Dumbledore inquired as he looked down his nose at him, much like he had when he was only a student here. Severus squared his shoulders at the look.

“Why is that? He deserves to stand trial for his crimes. You may remember a boy, but I saw what he was capable of doing. He could be cruel and ruthless as ever. He was taken by The Dark Lord at sixteen, clearly he had potential to be extremely destructive.” Severus continued, his nostrils flaring as he spoke.

“As we made you stand trial, Severus?” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. He knew it was a low swinging hit, but he did not like his ideas challenged. He was beginning to regret telling him about Mister Black being alive. Severus shifted uncomfortably.

“I saw my errors, I turned spy. I helped bring Voldemort down and saved lives along the way when I could.” Severus muttered less forcibly than before.

“How do you know Mister Black is not the same? He did try to leave the organization only two years after he had joined. Clearly, he must have seen an error in his ways as well.” Dumbledore questioned.

“Has he seen an error in his ways? Did he say so? I for one know he’s a convincing one when it comes to tales.” Severus sneered. Dumbledore had a feeling he knew where Severus’ ill feelings lied.

“He very well may have, Severus. As I have said, he will be left in peace as long as I deem it necessary and know he is assisting us in his own way. Now I do question Severus, if this is truly about the fairness of Mister Black’s freedom, or more to do with the rivalry and peacocking the two of you used to do? If I remember correctly, you did not fare well with either Black brother.” Dumbledore mused as he began to look around his office, growing somewhat bored of the conversation.

“Regulus and I had our differences, and we were far from friends.” He paused to take in a breath.

“I believe he bested you in most subjects, aside from Potions, of course. Then I do believe a nasty curse landed you in the hospital wing for a few days, and no one knew what it was or who caused it and you feign ignorance. However, in my memory, this happened just after a very particular instance that caused a rift between the elder Mister Black and his friends. Then once discharged, you were found to be trying to hex the younger Mister Black behind his back only to be blasted against a wall in front of many of your classmates. The elder Mister Black did have to serve many detentions for that. If I were to hazard a guess, I would think not all love was lost between the Black brothers and attacking the elder cost you with the younger more than once. Am I grasping at nargles?” Dumbledore asked knowingly. Severus shuffled into his seat slightly.

“He’s hurt people, he’s even killed people, and I doubt he regrets it. He was posed to become the greatest Death Eater of us all, and you don’t even question why he’s left? What if he wants to raise himself as a Dark Wizard? We can never be too careful; he could have plans kept from us both. Perhaps if I spoke to him?” Severus tried once more. Dumbledore simply pushed his glasses up farther.

“I had assumed he'd done as much. Worse than most people in morals as expected from a member of the Black family. However, I promise you I have this situation under control, or do you doubt my abilities?” Dumbledore asked a darker tone entering his voice as he leaned forward to emphasize his point. Severus had a smaller shudder to his shoulders for a second before he straightened himself upward. He cleared his voice and stared back at the Headmaster.

“You assure me he will be tried if he steps out of line?” Severus asked, his bushy eyebrows raising.

“Have I ever steered you wrong, Severus?” Dumbledore smiled softly. Severus only twisted his lips tightly together.

“Godric’s honor.” Dumbledore finally replied after a moment of tense silence. Severus nodded at that curtly.

“Now I suggest we get some sleep, the students will have us on our toes for the next few days, I assure you.” Dumbledore stood as he said that. He straightened his robes as he saw Severus to the door, wishing him well before closing it tightly behind him. He stood his hands on the door for a moment, suddenly overcome. He felt the need to make a visit to Mister Black sooner rather than later.

Chapter Text

Regulus could feel his teeth chattering, as he covered his nose with his gloved hand. He cursed under his breath that he hadn’t been able to say no to the bold green eyes when they looked at him tugging on the bottom of his robes and quivering his lips just so. Harry wanted to play in the snow, and it was negative outside. The rainy autumn had slid into a freezing winter, and even Regulus, who was rather fond of the cold, found himself bitterly sore and seeking any reprieve from the weather. Twelve Grimmauld Place was lit up like a town fire, every fireplace, candle, and warming charm that could be held without burning the place to the ground was.

Yet, here he stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the garden as he watched Harry frolic around, throwing snow in the air. He had told him only fifteen minutes was to be allowed, and then wrapped him up in so many layers that the toddler had to waddle, but he still managed to bury himself in snow. He stomped his feet to try and bring any feeling back to them as he pushed up his watch, only five minutes had passed as he blew out air that froze into a misty frost, nipping at his irritated nose.

“Reggie, snowy man!” Harry cried as he was trying to push a lump of snow into a ball. He proceeded to tumble into the pile, effectively flattening the still wet half circle. Regulus sighed again, filling the air with mist as he walked over stiffly to a giggly Harry.

“One snowy man, and then inside Harry. It is too cold to be out here long.” Regulus felt a shuddered clatter in between his shoulder blades as his elbows popped while he righted Harry. The toddler attempted a jump that was more of a lean in his layers of thick puffy clothing. He started to ball the snow in his mittened hands, Regulus laughed slowly as he leaned down to help. The snowman ended up a little leaning and only had two circles as a body, but he was distinguishable as Regulus poked in one arm while Harry shoved the other in much lower.

“Magic, Reggie!” Harry clapped. Ever since the first of the snowmen had popped up decorated in different hats, scarves and mittens, Harry had been entranced. He stared with his face smushed into the windows of Grimmauld Place at all different angles, leaving smudges behind that Kreacher quickly popped in to clean. Snowmen now trumped the broom as Harry’s favorite pastime, and he had wanted Regulus to use magic to transfigure the collection of accessories.

He pulled his wand from his pocket as he picked up a fallen handle of acorns that had never made their way into the ground from the local wildlife and tapped them twice before they popped into tiny silver buttons. Laughter from Harry filled around him as he had to carefully balance the button in his muffed hand to lay it just right on the tummy of their snowman. He picked up a spare branch and flicked his wand harshly to cause it to flow into a soft plaid material, flapping so slightly in the breeze. Regulus held Harry so he could gently wrap the snowman’s neck from the cold around them.

“Alright inside Harry. Your nose is about to fall off.” Regulus stated as he poked at Harry’s nose for emphasis. Harry smiled as he waved bye to their newest friend, before he turned and buried his cold face into Regulus’ scarf. The added coolness seeping through ever so slightly. It took a good few minutes to unbundle Harry to just his trousers and jumper, the toddler bouncing off to the kitchen once he was freed of the restrictive clothing.

“Chocolate, Reggie!” Harry cried as his sock feet slicked against the wooden floors. Regulus just kept his smile as he took off his heaviest coat, scarf, and mittens before following Harry to the kitchen. Hot chocolate had become a staple in the house, Regulus a bit concerned at Harry’s growing sweet tooth. The winter months were the best time for sweets though, he couldn’t argue with that. He sat the milk to boil as Harry watched with anticipation.

Sitting down the warm cup a few minutes later, Harry tried to reach for it with his outstretched hands. Regulus patted them back as he blew on the warm drink, Harry fidgeted in his seat antsy for the sweet treat. Regulus finally casts a quick cooling charm to cool the drink to an acceptable temperature for the small taste buds before pushing the mug to the outstretched, bouncing hands. With all the sugar, Harry would be hard to put down for a nap later. He blew on his tea as he sighed at the thought, he hadn’t slept well and was hoping he could rest at the same time as Harry. He did miss the warmer weather that was more appropriate for flying, indoor play wore Harry out significantly less.

They did make their way up to the drawing room, where Regulus was using half magic and half innovation to help Harry build a fort of the pillows and blankets in the room. The smaller of the two giggling and jumping into the pile of pillows causing them to fall to his disappointment. Regulus blew out a loud noise as Harry started to build it again, hoping that once it was constructed he could convince him to have a “sleepover” in the new place. They had nearly finished the contraption when a racket downstairs caused Regulus to poke his head up in a gap between two pillows. No one was supposed to be visiting, which meant the likely culprit was the least welcome guest.

Regulus padded down the stairs noisily and with clear agitation scrawled across his face. He did not do well cold, aching and tired. Harry pattered beside him, humming a tune to himself just happy to be along. The pair stopped at the last step as they saw the cause of the racket. Dumbledore stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall laughing from his stomach. Alphard was cooing in his portrait, obviously pleased at his captive audience. He did complain that Regulus didn’t have a single humorous bone in his body, and was passing the poor taste onto Harry. Regulus had just rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Oh, wonderful times Alphard. I do sometimes miss the simplicity of being a Professor, alas we must all grow eventually. Happy Christmas.” Dumbledore called a moment later when he had calmed himself and taken his spectacles off his face to wipe at his eyes that had sprouted small tears from the exertion. Regulus tapped his foot and crossed his arms, noting that Harry stared up at him before tightly hugging his arms crossed his chest and picking up his foot in an attempted mimic. Maybe Alphard was right, maybe Harry was picking up more than Regulus realized.

“Good afternoon, Mister Black, and Mister Potter. Happy Christmas to you both.” Dumbledore mused as he straightened his pointed hat.

“Christmas is three days away.” Regulus noted through a grumble as he hopped off the last step and made his way to their usual meeting spot, Harry trailing quickly behind.

“Duly noted Mister Black, unfortunately I believe I will be unable to make a call at the true date, so I have come bearing presence and presents a few days early.” The Headmaster hummed as they all made their way into the kitchen, Harry climbing into his seat as he watched the interaction between the two closely. Regulus pushed a cup of water towards Harry, as he laid a kettle on for him and Dumbledore.

“Presents?” Harry asked quietly, once he had downed some of the water.

“Oh yes, young Mister Potter. I’ve brought a surprise for you.” Dumbledore smiled as he went to retrieve an item from the pockets layered in his robes. From his robes, he pulled the silver tin of a Wizard Cracker. Regulus recognized them as the ones often found at Hogwarts, the few times he dared stay behind for the Christmas holidays. Dumbledore held one end as he motioned for Harry to pull on the other.

His face was a bit befuddled, but he yanked on the end nonetheless, quickly jumping back when blue smoke engulfed the table and a sound so loud popped out it shook the windows of the kitchen. Regulus huffed as Harry’s shock quickly turned to awe as he saw the small gifts in front of him. A strange top hat of a kaleidoscope of changing colors and a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans now lay strewed on the table. Harry reached for them as he laughed, Regulus sighed as he pushed the presents closer before setting down the teas on the now blue colored table.

“I’ve brought one for you as well, Mister Black.” Dumbledore glinted as he pushed another Wizard Cracker across the table. Regulus shot the Headmaster a strange look, as he responded with only a small tight smile.

“Reggie! Pull!” Harry cried as he held one end and pushed the other towards Regulus. He looked down weakly, not able to resist Harry. He covered his tea quickly as he yanked, only as hard as needed to avoid pulling Harry’s arm out of place. The room shook as blue filled his vision and Harry’s joyous screams filled his ears. He smiled as he looked down at the prizes. He caught the sight of a chocolate frog that Harry clamored to quickly; there was also a gardening hat, covered in roses at the end of the table. Regulus left it there.

“Wouldn’t be Christmas without Wizard Crackers.” Dumbledore mused as he settled into his seat. Regulus eyed the older man suspiciously, he’d hardly ever made himself comfortable.

“Harry, why don’t you go show Alphard your new treats?” Dumbledore offered, patting the boy on his head as he pointed towards the Entrance Hall. Harry looked up at Regulus, who was staring darkly at the Headmaster before he turned down to Harry and nodded quickly. There was the screech of the chair and tiny feet bouncing out of the ear shot. Dumbledore waited until the muffled voices of Alphard’s portrait and Harry’s babbling could be heard before turning his small brooding eyes towards Regulus.

“You know, one other person does know your existence. Though I thought it best not to bring him to your home, given the history between the two of you.” Dumbledore started, slowly lifting the tea in his hands, but never bringing it to his mouth. Regulus stiffed, but allowed years of rigorous and painfully training to kick in. His face stayed completely blank and almost vacant.

“You and Severus never did get along well, I thought with your associations out of school you may have grown closer, alas it does not seem so.” Dumbledore added as he flicked his eyes towards the stairs, the sounds of the two in the Entrance Hall barely wafting into the kitchen. Regulus felt his mouth dry, Severus knew he was alive. He’d read in the Daily Prophet that he’d turned spy for Dumbledore, it was hard for him to believe. Slimy, cruel Severus, in the hands of Dumbledore? He didn’t care for him nor trust him with a single weight of his being and he knew he was alive. It made things much more complicated. Severus could tell any matter of people, and each of them would want Regulus dead for one reason or another.

“Yes, it was him who figured you were alive after all. He is loyal to me to a fault, so he brought the knowledge to me. It is how this arrangement came to be. It was all Severus.” Dumbledore continued as his tea rested, cooling in his hands still. His eyes wandered around the kitchen, almost lazily once before burying into Regulus once again. He remained silent.

“He wants you brought in for trial. Believes you should stand before the Wizengamot and pay for your crimes. He has quite colorful ideas on your crimes, I may mention. I’ve told him little of our arrangement, he only knows you will be protected from trial as long as our arrangement seems fit.” Dumbledore explained in a low tone, the ever threatening look never wavering. There were several beats of silences as the two stared at one another neither willing to break first.

“He did want to come speak to you. I did talk him out of it.” Dumbledore finally broke. Regulus let a disapproving noise slip out his throat. The Headmaster turned his eyes as he waited.

“Severus didn’t want to speak, I can guarantee that.” Regulus finally mumbled. Most likely his old classmate wanted a shot at ridding the world of him once and for all.

“Alas, he could not come. Not with Harry here, I’m afraid his presence would only upset Severus.” Dumbledore stated. Regulus did not even hold back his scoff.

“It is true, he does hold some care for the boy.” Dumbledore replied.

“He only cares for Lily, and Harry is only part of Lily. He’d never be able to see past all of James in Harry. He’d last all of one day with his care before changing his tune.” Regulus scoffed, tapping his hands impatiently at the length of the conversation. He was still waiting for the point.

“I do believe Severus cared deeply for Miss Evans.” Dumbledore said as he narrowed his eyes.

“Mrs Potter.” Regulus corrected. He never understood why even after their marriage people tried to create distances between Lily and James, as if no one approved of the match.

“She was always Miss Evans to him.” Dumbledore added.

“Severus couldn’t respect her with even a bit of his being. Refusing to call her by her name, because it meant his defeat. He’d lost his precious little mud- witch.” Regulus stopped himself, almost slipping in his emotions back into his old ways. He clamored his mouth shut, feeling heat rise in his face. He’d almost called Harry’s mother the name she despised the most. No, Lily didn’t deserve that. He silently beat himself over the head for his near slip. Dumbledore seemed pleased at the fit, finally sipping his tea.

“I believe he loved Miss Evans. Even if it was not meant for the two to be together, he’d never harm her only living child.” Dumbledore finished.

“Obsession and love, while easily fooled, do not hold a candle to one another.” Regulus interjected. If Severus truly loved Lily, he would have never done half the things he’d done and Regulus certainly did not trust him to not cause harm to Harry. One antic too much like James and the temper and agitation behind Severus would show. Dumbledore only glanced over his teacup at Regulus’ statement.

“Well, however the two of you stand, he shall listen to me. Your status of being of the living shall remain a secret, for as long as you remain in our good graces.” Dumbledore’s voice went two tones lower as his grip on the tea cup tightened. His actions likely would have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but in the House of Black, Regulus had learned to pick up on veiled threats quickly and with ease. He only blinked in response, understanding now this visit was only to reinforce that he was under the thumb of Dumbledore. He was left serving a Master once more, even if Dumbledore would take insult to such comparison, Regulus had felt this threat and submission most his life. His mouth was filling with a bitterness as he risked a curt nod that seemed to ease the older Wizard. Their conversation died out after that, as Harry came running back into the kitchen with a twisted look across his face.

“Yuck.” Harry simply stated as he placed Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Bean in Regulus' lap. He stuck out his tongue and pointed at the strange green color it had dyed. His eyes were round and he looked rather upset. Regulus deduced that he’d likely eaten a grass flavored one.

“Yes, Harry, these sweets aren’t all nice. Some taste rather yucky.” Regulus smiled as he sat Harry in the chair next to him. Harry shook his head violently.

“Uncle Al.” He stated as he waved his finger in the direction of the Entrance Hall. Regulus laughed silently, careful of the Headmaster's eyes on him.

“Yes, Uncle Al does like to play his jokes, did he convince you to try the green ones?” Regulus asked as he tried to flatten the back of Harry’s hair. The little boy nodded as he crossed his arms, clearly upset at the betrayal. Regulus sighed softly as he let his arm fall.

“Be thankful Harry, I believe I once came across a vomit flavored one. I’d take a green one any day of the week over that.” Dumbledore chuckled to himself. Regulus felt nauseous at the idea, he’d never cared for the Every Flavored Beans. Not understanding the humour in eating something potentially off putting, the worst he’d come across in his few risks to try them was liver, and that was enough to keep him from the sweets. Harry’s face twisted disgustingly as he scooted away from the sweets even farther. Regulus sat them at the very end of the table.

“What a pleasant visit. However, I must take my leave. There are still many preparations for the Christmas feast. It is one of my favorites, the food is especially wonderful. I will drop in sometime after the holidays, until then Happy Christmas to you both.” Dumbledore smiled as rose to his full height. He nodded slightly before exiting the room. Regulus held his breath until he heard the Floo die in the Entrance Hall. He was petting Harry’s head to calm him, the toddler looking up at him a bit worried, but Regulus didn’t notice at first. He was too overwhelmed by the fact that the Headmaster had inadvertently made a full trip out here just to remind Regulus he needed to be complacent. That he was known by more than just him, and not one of the persons was in his corner.

He swallowed the bile in his throat, running fingers through Harry’s hair as he felt the small warmth to his side of Harry leaning into him peacefully. Thoughts swirled in his head, he needed to proceed carefully. He need not tick off the Headmaster and leave Harry in someone else’s care, likely from his choices Dumbledore would find someone less than ideal. Harry did not deserve that, he was cared for here as best as Regulus could. It may not be perfect, but Harry seemed happy and he did not want to risk that happiness on another guardian. Still, they could not stay here under the pressing thumb of the Headmaster, Harry was only getting more aware, and Regulus worried he’d fall right into Dumbledore’s grasp and fulfill whatever nonsense prophecy had been spoken. No, Regulus wouldn’t let them stay, he’d give Harry the best chance to make his own way.

-

Christmas Eve saw Harry up early, the cold had allowed Regulus to concede to the young toddler who now spent every night in the same bed as him. He regretted the decision only when Harry would wake early and try to peel open Regulus' eyes with his small fingers. Crying for him to wake up so they could eat or play or any other matter that Harry deemed more important than sleep. Christmas Eve being one such thing.

“Reggie?” Harry asked, Regulus feeling the pressure on his eyelid already. He wanted to groan, but it was too much effort.

“Reggie wake?” Harry asked as he felt his eyelids snap, the blurrier sleepy outline of Harry sitting in front of him.

“Harry.” Regulus sighed as he reached out his arms. He grasped the younger one into his chest, squeezing him gently.

“Too early.” He muttered as he cuddled Harry closer.

“Christmas!” Harry argued. He was pushing his little fist against Regulus' chest in protest.

“Christmas Eve, Harry. Christmas is tomorrow.” Regulus mumbled as he yawned.

“Breakfast?” Harry questioned. If his excuse of Christmas wasn’t going to work he’d move on to the next one and the next one until Regulus was forced out of bed. Regulus let go of the wiggling toddler who quickly rolled out of bed and clamored towards the door, bouncing to open the handle.

“Harry, wait for me.” Regulus grumbled as he looked at his watch, it was only ten past five. The last time he’d been awake this early was during his school days, for the dawn Quidditch practices. Harry was bouncing from one foot to the other in front of the bathroom waiting for Regulus to help him get ready. He stumbled in there, blinking heavily as he turned on the lights. A headache was already beginning behind his eyes as he readied Harry’s tooth brush as the green eyes gazed at him from his stool. Regulus bent down to brush his teeth as Harry bared his teeth awkwardly, still fidgeting.

They made their way to the kitchen, Harry much quicker than Regulus, who continued yawning. He’d been up later then Harry, stewing in the study. What was effectively now his desk, was scattered with notes and parchment pieces, he’d thought writing his thoughts may help. When that had been without avail, he turned to painting, he’d attempted the Muggle street out the window three times before getting frustrated at how the colors mixed. He eventually wore himself into exhaustion just around midnight. Now, he searched for the lone coffee canister. His parents had been stoutly against the drink, but his grandfather Pollux had enjoyed the stronger morning cup and had hidden a sack of grounds in the kitchen. They still smelled fresh enough as Regulus went to brewing.

Harry sat patiently as Regulus started a batch of eggy bread and sausage. Regulus had given him a banana to chew on to keep his growling stomach satiated. He kept yawning as he watched the food cook, Kreacher hadn’t appeared yet. Even the elf got more of a lie in then Regulus. Eventually the food was made, Harry clapping happily as Regulus set down their plates. He dove in quickly as the older of the two sat enjoying a few sips of the coffee first.

“Auntie Cass?” Harry asked through a mouthful of bread.

“Harry, eat politely, but yes Auntie Cass will come to visit today. She even said she’d bring a few surprises, isn’t that exciting?” Regulus smiled. Before Cassiopeia had departed she’d agreed to return on Christmas Eve and stay the night. Regulus hoped with her arrival they could find a way to delicately handle their departure this coming spring. Harry ate rather quickly before jumping down and pleading to go outside. Regulus sighed as he bundled them both up, he told Harry he was too tired for snowmen, which Harry happily replied he’d make snowballs instead. Kreacher finally popped in just in time to do the dishes, Regulus leaving behind a piece of eggy bread for the elf once he was done.

He was sitting on the steps outside, watching Harry try and make round spheres which he’d then throw into the air making loud noises as if they were fireworks. His jacket was coated in a layer of frosty white that cascaded down, and his hat was nearly unrecognizable from the pile of snow it was accumulating. Regulus only laughed over his warmed cup of coffee, at least Harry would have memories of holiday joy. Kreacher came for him not much later.

“Mistress Cassiopeia is here, and she be asking for a word with only yous Master.” Kreacher crooned, shivering in only his pillowcase. Regulus cast a warming charm around the elf, who looked up appreciatively as he took up place to watch Harry.

Regulus stomped the snow off his feet before heading towards the Entrance Hall. Cassiopeia stood tall and proud, her hair tied neatly at the nape of her neck and her shoulders covered in a mink fur coat. She was smiling fondly at Alphard making polite conversation as she waited. Her acceptances had filled a part of Regulus’ worries with ease. A feeling he had not had in quite some time, and he genuinely smiled as he entered the room.

“Nephew.” She said kindly, as she held out her hand. Regulus kissed it as he had been taught to do since he was only a young teenager.

“Alphard here was telling me that young Harry seems rather excited at the approaching holiday. Had you been up very early, and from your eyes I can tell you were up very late.” She narrowed her eyes, scolding him only slightly. Regulus shrugged as he smiled back.

“You’ve brought presents I see.” Regulus distracted her by pointing at the not-small pile of ornately wrapped gifts.

“Mostly for Harry, there are a few for you. I noticed on my last visit you seemed in need of a few new robes. There are also two for Draco, I unfortunately will need to stop by Malfoy Manor for a moment tomorrow. While I adore Narcissa, her husband is not my cup of tea.” Cassiopeia wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t fond of half the purebloods, in honesty. Regulus also felt his heart soar and drop at almost the same time. He’d seen the article in The Daily Prophet about the Malfoy heir. He’d been thrilled for Narcissa, she’d always wanted to be a mother. Her son was likely doted on as no other, considering he was the last of the Blacks as well.

He took a mental note to ask Cassiopeia for updates on Narcissa and her child; he could care less about how uptight Lucius likely still was. He couldn’t pretend he knew what Narcissa saw on him, but they’d been smitten the last he’d seen them. Even with Lucius' notorious record with the Dark Lord. If he was to wager, he’d figured Narcissa had been the one to come up with the idea to plead out with the Imperius Curse. She was a traditionalist and wouldn’t want Draco without his father, no matter how poorly it made Lucius look to fellow Death Eaters.

“I had a request, Regulus.” Cassiopeia began as she turned to face him. What she could request of him, he did not know given he had little to offer these days. He nodded slowly in response.

“I had someone I wanted you to meet. In fact, they are just outside. Now, I have not disclosed the location to them, and you have a right to decline. This is your house after all, but I would hope you’d indulge me.” She stated, with a blank look on her face. Regulus felt his stomach drop lightly. Another person knowing their location was risky at best, but they’d only be here for a limited time. As well, he did not want to insult his aunt, and he had trusted her so far and she had not betrayed him.

“I’ll indulge you.” He answered slowly, his tongue slow and heavy in the words. She nodded, a small smile peeking through her stoic facade. She turned quickly and walked out the heavy doors of Grimmauld Place, not closing them completely behind her. He dared to close the gap between himself and the door, his ears twitching as he heard the rush of the house revealing itself once again. The click of two pairs of shoes followed as voices gently wafted into the house.

“Sister, I do question why you’d bring me back here of all places.” A quiet male voice answered. Regulus panicked as he took two steps backwards instinctively. Cassiopeia only had one brother that he knew of, his grandfather. Cassiopeia must know better then to bring him here.

“Brother, trust me.” She replied quietly.

“Only so far.” The voice answered, a bit of humor in his voice.

Regulus craned his neck, he knew it had been years since he’d heard his grandfather speak, however, he was certain a voice couldn’t change that much. The voice on the other side of the door sounded much quieter and kinder than his grandfather ever had, and it was missing much of the distinct British accent, in fact the person speaking barely sounded British at all, as if they had not been living in the country for many years. Regulus kept his shoulders braced, unprepared for who may come through the door as it was slowly pushed open.

He blinked at the rays of sunlight that broke through his vision, having to raise his hand to block it until the door shut with a loud thud. As his vision readjusted, he took in the sight before him. Cassiopeia stood next to a man only slightly taller than her, though she was a rather tall woman. He had on Muggle clothing, a vest and dark pants. Most striking was his short dark hair and pale grey eyes. Regulus took a sharp inhale, even with the different haircut and strange clothing, there was no mistaking the resemblance the man bore to the Blacks.

“This is our nephew, brother.” Cassiopeia mumbled as she held out a hand for Regulus to take the few steps forward. He did so slowly. The man was looking him up and down, a bit of wonder in his eyes as he did. His face smiled without the forcefulness most of the family did from years of practiced frowning.

“Regulus Black.” He said quietly as he held out his hand. The man smiled even larger as he met with one of his own hands, shaking it with a strong grip. Regulus, feeling a bit contagious by the smile, smiled back.

“Marius Black.” He replied.

Chapter Text

“Presents!” Harry yelled as he ran into the Entrance Hall. He tracked in a small bit of snow behind him. His singular mind ran right towards the presents, the green eyes doubling in size at the stack. After taking in the sight for a moment, he turned back to the adults still standing stiffly in the Entrance Hall.

“Auntie Cassie!” Harry cried again as he ran up and held onto her robes. She smiled fondly, bending down and putting him up on her hip. Wrinkling his nose, he bounced excitedly and clapped his hands happily. It took a moment until he noticed the other visitor in the room. He slowled his movements as he tilted his head towards the stranger. He looked at Cassiopeia and Regulus with a look of confusion.

“This is my brother. His name is Marius, can you say hello, Harry?” Cassiopeia asked politely as she turned Harry towards the older man. Marius waved politely with a smile across his face.

“‘Ello Mars.” Harry said as his face went a little flush and he buried his head in Cassiopeia’s shoulder. He still politely waved his small hands.

“Hello Harry.” Marius replied. His hands flicked a bit nervously over his vest as he looked around the house.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” He continued. His eyes wrinkled a bit when he smiled, Regulus noted. He looked a few years younger than Cassiopeia, but only so. Regulus could recall there was a destroyed name on the tapestry next to Cassiopeia. He’d never been told who it was though, or what they had done to dishonor their family. He hadn’t even heard the name Marius from what he could recall. In his mind, he’d assumed it was just another sister who had married poorly. Like Andromeda or Cedrella, he’d never thought it to be a son, usually sons were talked about. Used as examples of what not to be, like Sirius, or Uncle Alphard. He wondered what this long lost uncle had done, but he did not want to be impolite and ask.

“Would you like a drink?” Regulus interjected. The eyes all turned to him as he licked his lips nervously.

“I could make something, or ask Kreacher.” He suggested, turning slightly towards the kitchen.

“Chocolate?” Harry asked, smiling. Regulus laughed as he nodded. The other two adults agreed silently as they made their way into the kitchen. Cassiopeia set Harry down who padded happily to the kitchen. He pulled himself into his chair as he peered to where the kettle and box of mixing cocoa was. Regulus offered a seat to both older Blacks as he went to set the kettle. Using the excuse to calm himself, he didn’t realize how his heart rate had accelerated at the revelation of another relative. He made Harry’s hot chocolate and three cups of tea and set them down just as Kreacher came walking into the kitchen. He took one look at the table as his lips snarled.

“Mister Marius, the disappointment of the House of Black.” Kreacher muttered as he stared at Marius from the entrance way, cowering into the corner as if he was worried to be too near the older Mister Black.

“Kreacher, no!” Regulus reprimanded.

“You won’t speak like that, not to anyone, understood?” Regulus commanded. He didn’t like to force Kreacher to do anything anymore, but Marius was a guest and Regulus was certain his time in the House of Black had likely already been poor enough. He didn’t need to have it continue.

“It’s alright, Regulus. I’m certain he can’t say anything I haven’t heard before.” Marius offered quietly as he sank a bit into his seat, bringing the tea to his mouth. Kreacher nodded as he eyed the table once more before popping out to go elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to teach him, but it has been difficult to make him understand.” Regulus replied, bowing his head.

“He’s been a part of this family for a very long time, it is not surprising it would take time for him to change, if it is even possible at his age.” Marius said, nodding slightly.

“You knew him then?” Regulus asked, apprehensively. He didn’t want to step on any toes, but he was curious.

“Oh yes, he was here when I was born, I believe he was brought up in this home. His mother was stuffed up on the wall there, though I noticed those had been removed.” Marius glanced back towards the stairs.

“I watched her be beheaded when I was about eight I believe.” He asked with a glance at Cassiopeia to get confirmation.

“Yes, I was just about to start Hogwarts, so you would have been around that age. She had dropped a tea kettle twice, so our mother thought it was time.” Cassiopeia nodded. Regulus shuddered. He still could not swallow the idea of beheading.

“Yes, an awful practice. I assume from the removal, you don’t agree with it?” Marius asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, I’ve always hated the practice.” Regulus shook his head, calming himself with a sip of tea as Harry looked between the adults with a line of chocolate over his lips. Regulus shook his head again as he rubbed his thumb over it, cleaning it off. Harry smiled as he took another large sip of the chocolate.

“Is he yours?” Marius asked a bit apprehensively. Regulus smiled as he looked up, he was fine with his uncle asking questions and he wanted to reassure him.

“Biologically, no. He’s a distant cousin, but I’m raising him because his parents are… gone.” He whispered the last part as he leaned down and placed a kiss on Harry’s forehead. There was a smile noise from the other side of the table, as he looked up at his uncle who had confused eyes.

“Sorry, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen such affection in this house.” He whispered. Cassiopeia’s eyes had grown sadder as she patted her brother’s arm. They both looked kindly at Harry.

“So it’s never been better?” Regulus whispered, running a hand through Harry’s hair.

“You might be surprised to hear this, nephew, but honestly it’s been much worse than it was.” Cassiopeia mused as she held tightly onto Marius’ arm.

“I know that may seem strange, and I make no defense for your parents or grandparents. However, our parents and their relatives, well they were not kind. It’s been as it has for many generations.” Cassiopeia continued as she looked sadly into Marius’ eyes, he only rubbed her arm as well as he nodded reassuringly.

“I don’t want to push, but why…” Regulus started, but he lost confidence. Marius knew though.

“Oh it’s simple really. I was the worst of the disappointments.” Marius began, looking to the side.

“You see, I am a squip.” He answered after a moment of silence. Regulus had to compose himself, his first instinct was to be repulsed. Squips were the lowest of Wizards, or so he had been told as he had been raised. Beneath even Muggle-borns, the greatest disappointment to families and a sign of losing magical prowess. He’d been raised that the House of Black had never once sired a squib. A sign of their superiority, magical power over other purebloods. Yet, here sat one just across from him.

“Oh, I’m certain you’ve heard we can’t exist. Not in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, the most pure of the pureblood.” Marius replied as he looked carefully over Regulus’ face. A bit of sarcasm had leaked into his gentler voice.

“In fact, I believe my parents did tell everyone I passed. Effectively ending any questions about me, explaining why their second son never made it to Hogwarts. I wasn’t dead though, not truly. I stayed here, was raised here until I was seventeen. Whenever anyone was here I was locked away in my room, bound and silenced so I couldn’t be questioned. So they wouldn’t have to answer anything, never forgetting what a disappointment I was. It was quite horrid, but I don’t think I have to explain that to you.” Marius added sadly, his grip on Cassiopeia never wavering.

“My brother and most of my cousins only reinforced how awful I was at every chance they could, you know your grandfather’s, imagine them young and egotistical. The men to continue the line of the House of Black, and I not to do the same.” He continued, his face dropping with each word.

“They threw me out when I was seventeen, I only survived because of my sisters. Cassiopeia and Dorea cared for me. Cassiopeia took one of the vacation homes, the one in Switzerland. Lucky, the man she was to marry ran off with some other witch. Allowed her to get away, take me in. Together she helped me learn the Muggle world, and surprisingly, the wizarding world in Switzerland is much kinder to my kind. Dorea distracted the family, married well, and had a son. Anytime anyone wanted to drop in, she’d send a warning. Yes, I do miss her terribly.” Marius continued, though some fondness returned to his face. Cassiopeia smiled sweetly at him.

“She wouldn’t want us sad, Marius. She cared for us both and this boy here. He’s from the last of her husband’s line. This boy, this is Harry Potter.” Cassiopeia explained as she rubbed Harry’s chin affectionately. Harry smiled with dirty teeth, but all the happiness he could muster at the mention of his name. Marius’ eyes grew large at the revelation.

“This is…the Harry Potter?” He asked slowly. His face flashed through many different emotions. Regulus nodded.

“James’ son. I should have known. He looks so much like a Potter.” Marius whispered as he leaned down to take another look at Harry. Harry waved again, Marius flashing all his teeth in a large grin back at the toddler.

“He has to stay with family, after all that happened. He was protected by his mother. Her protection is only effective if he is with family. I am his guardian now, but I want to get him away. Dumbledore, he isn’t the wizard everyone believes him to be, I don’t want Harry to grow up here.” Regulus explained, putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“And if that’s what you want, we will both welcome you with open arms into our home.” Cassiopeia replied. Marius nodded in agreement.

“So you two live together?” Regulus questioned looking between the two.

“Oh yes, you were right, being in that home alone would be awfully boring. So Marius and his wife live there with me, but there is plenty of room for two more.” Cassiopeia replied, her thin lips still smiling.

“You have a wife?” Regulus asked, before he blushed slightly realizing how rude that could sound.

“It’s fine, Regulus. I do have a wife, a witch in fact. She’s wonderful, she’s a healer at the local hospital near us, and goodness is she a force. She’d love little Harry here.” Marius replied with sympathy in his voice.

“She’s a healer?” Regulus asked, excitedly. Maybe she could take a look at Harry and his scar, and provide another opinion.

“Indeed, a damn good one if I do say so myself. I am biased of course, but she’s got nearly forty years of experience behind her.” Marius answered. His face had lit up as he spoke of his wife. It filled Regulus’ heart with a bit of joy that his uncle had found some normalcy after his childhood.

“She’d like you as well, though I will say she does have a bit of apprehension surrounding anyone from our family. I’ve told her all that happened to me, and she may be a bit tough on you at first.” He apologized.

“I’d expect nothing else, it only means she cares for you.” Regulus replied, finally allowing his stoic face to fall.

“Besides, I was also raised here, I think I can take a bit of toughness.” Regulus added, hoping to ease any of the lasting tension. The other two nodded understanding. Thankfully, Harry changed the heavy tone of the room once he finished his chocolate.

“Presents?” He asked excitedly.

“Presents tomorrow Harry.” Regulus reminds him gently.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Regulus. We did bring a set of presents for tonight.” Cassiopeia smiled as Harry looked up expectantly.

“Oh a few presents can’t hurt.” Regulus replied. Harry looked wide eyed as he stared back at the older two.

“Come along, I think the drawing room will do nicely. Marius, will you and Regulus be able to grab everything?” Cassiopeia asked as she held out her hand to lead Harry up stairs. Regulus nodded as his uncle smiled at him. Cassiopeia and Harry started upstairs as Marius led Regulus back to the pile of gifts.

“It will be the two green ones there. There is a set for you and Harry both. I’ll take this box here, I’ve heard electronics don’t mix well with magic.” Marius explained once they were back in the Entrance Hall.

“Electronics?” Regulus questioned. Marius only winked as they made their way up.

It turned out they had brought a projector and a roll of film. Marius set it up on the end of the drawing room to project onto the other side of the wall while Cassiopeia pulled the curtains closed and had Harry set up pillows and blankets on the largest loveseat. Regulus helped as he set the presents down. Harry was babbling happily about the prospect of opening presents. Regulus smiled as he eyed the presents too, confused as to what they could be.

“All done, it’s ready to go whenever, Cass.” Marius smiled as he took a step back.

“Perfect. First, the presents. One for Harry and one for Regulus.” She said as she handed each one to the two. Harry plopped on to the floor patting next to him, waiting for Regulus to join. Regulus sat down slowly, brightly green wrapped present tied neatly with a red bow. His eyes reflected slightly in the shiny wrapping. He’d never gotten such a nicely wrapped gift before. His parents didn’t believe in spoiling children and on the rare occasion presents were given, they were never wrapped. Harry dug into his with small fingers pulling at the sides, shredding the nice paper to pieces as he got down to a plain box inside. Regulus helped him pop the corner before moving to his own wrapping, neatly unfolding the bow.

“Look Reggie! Same!” Harry cried happily as he pulled out a pair of plaid pyjamas, inside Regulus’ box was the same red pair. He and Harry had the same pyjamas.

“We thought we could all spend the evening watching Muggle movies and eating sweets. A whole evening leisurely spent in pyjamas and being informal.” Cassiopeia smiled. His parents would hate every bit about it. He loved the idea.

“More chocolate?” Harry asked, his eyes growing wide at the prospect.

“Yes Harry, all the chocolate. Let’s go get you changed alright, and promise you won’t spoil your supper too much. You need some solid food.” Regulus explained as he pitched a joyous child on his hips and took them both to change across the hall. Marius and Cassiopeia slipped out once they came back, and came in their own set of sleepwear. Marius, in simple black fleece, and Cassiopeia in a long silk dressing gown, letting her long hair flow down her back for once. They both seemed a bit more youthful once they settled in the seat, Harry curling up with them as Regulus made himself comfortable on the ground.

“Now it’s going to be moving pictures and sound. It’s a traditional Christmas movie, it can be a bit sad at first, but it has an important meaning.” Marius explained. Harry was snuggled with another cup of hot chocolate, curled into Aunt Cassiopeia’s side, while everyone else had a cup of tea. Kreacher had brought it a bit begrudgingly, the elf still lingered in the background.

“Kreacher?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Yes, Master.” The elf looked up expectantly.

“Did you want to join us?” Regulus offered. Kreacher looked a bit impervious.

“Is a Muggle thing?” Kreacher asked.

“Yes, it is.” Regulus replied.

“Mistress would be upset.” Kreacher said nervously wringing his hands together.

“Mistress is not here.” Regulus replied firmly. Kreacher’s ears flicked side to side before he stumbled over to the group. Regulus motioned to the chair just to the side. Kreacher climbed into it, a bit uneasy but he still settled comfortably.

“Chocolate, ‘Reacher?” Harry asked, holding out his mug for Kreacher to have some.

“Thanks you little Master. You drink though, Kreacher gets his own.” Kreacher finally smiled weakly. He snapped his hands as a mug appeared in his hands, steaming. The cup looked overly large next to his smaller body, but Regulus smiled encouragingly. Kreacher was trying, and slowly he was learning. Marius reached back and turned on the projector as it hummed to life. The room fell silent and dark as the movie flickered to life, a happy silence enveloping the small odd group.

-

“Christmas, Reggie!” Someone screamed from above as he felt the bed move underneath him. He groaned in his sleep.

“Oh Cass. I think someone has lost all decorum. I distinctly remember being taught to wake up promptly and proudly.” Another voice laughed.

“Oh yes Marius. The House of Black has changed drastically, apparently lie ins are the norm now.” A final high pitched voice replied.

Regulus groaned openly for effect as he turned on his back. He blinked his eyes open to see Harry leaning over him, his hair hanging in his face. Behind him stood his aunt and uncle, looking as if they had just woken up recently as well. Their hair is still frizzy and pyjamas from the day before still on.

“Little Harry here is very excited, he came downstairs to wake us up.” Cassiopeia laughed.

“Said he needed help getting his Reggie up.” Marius added. Regulus’ heart leapt at the idea of Harry saying he was his Reggie.

“Reggie, presents!” Harry cried again as he jumped slightly.

“Yes, presents.” Regulus mumbled. He slowly rolled out of bed as Harry ran excitedly in a circle.

“Let's wash your face and brush your teeth and then we can go open them alright?” Regulus offered as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“I’ll get some tea started, and we can meet you two down there.” Cassiopeia laughed, as she patted Marius’ back, the two of them heading downstairs. Regulus got a very squirming Harry ready for the day, and joined the others.

Marius and Cassiopeia were laughing gently together, the tree was near Uncle Alphard’s portrait, who seemed to be joking with the other two. Harry rushed to the sparse evergreen tree. For the first time, it was filled at the bottom with different color presents and treats. Regulus took a seat as Kreacher popped in with tea for everyone. The elf stood just in the corner so he too could watch his little master open his presents.

“Reggie, yours.” Harry shook a red gift wrapped box towards him. Regulus looked up at the two of his relatives in the corner as they nodded.

“You didn’t have too. I don’t have anything to give.” Regulus answered, a bit regretfully.

“Oh Regulus, you’ve given us a chance. A chance with you and Harry. It is worth more than any present.” Cassiopeia replied, resting her hand on Regulus’ cheek. Marius nodded kindly as he squeezed Regulus' wrist. He smiled at them for a moment before taking a seat next to Harry, grabbing the present from him. The two sat side by side as they pulled apart colorful paper to reveal different gifts. Regulus got several new seats of robes, a new painting set, and several different books by authors he didn’t know.

“Brontë and Austen are quintessential Muggle reads.” Marius answered, when Regulus looked confused. He smiled back as he stacked the books carefully to the side. His final present opened to reveal strange clothing he hadn’t seen in awhile. He pulled out a few pairs of Muggle jeans, shirts, and jackets.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t wear them when you were at Hogwarts. We all experimented.” Cassiopeia winked. Regulus chuckled, he had gotten his hands on a few Muggle clothes during his years at Hogwarts besides the ancient trousers and dress shirts his parents made him wear. Though he'd never admitted to anyone, he had enjoyed some of the freedom of the clothes.

Harry was ecstatic at the mix of Muggle and Wizard presents. He sat surrounded by new clothes, blocks, a set of wizarding chess, and a myriad of other toys. He giggled joyously as he went from one item to the next, not able to keep his attention with all the options laid in front of him. Harry jumped up as he pulled Kreacher from his corner. He sat the elf across from him and opened the wizarding chess set.

“Play, ‘Reacher!” Harry clapped, as he spilled the pieces onto the board. Kreacher even smiled as his wrinkled fingers slowly put the pieces in their correct location. Harry wasn’t very good at the game, given his age, but he enjoyed how the pieces moved and Kreacher enjoyed being included.

“I’ll make breakfast, Kreacher. If you can watch after Harry?” Regulus asked as he waved his wand to clean up the mess of ripped papers and bows. Kreacher nodded as he had a bishop move towards one of Harry’s knights. Regulus nodded as Marius and Cassiopeia both ruffled Harry’s hair before following Regulus into the kitchen. They leaned against the counter as Regulus refreshed their cups of tea. He flicked his wand to have a batch of eggs and toast start, not feeling like anything too complicated so early.

“You didn’t have to get Harry so much. You’ve only just met him.” Regulus mumbled. He’d never been good at showing thanks, he’d been raised he should be given most just for his name alone, thanking someone was a sign of weakness.

“Nonsense, he’s a child. I think he can afford to be spoiled a bit.” Cassiopeia snipped back.

“It was mostly Cassiopeia if I am being honest.” Marius laughed. Cassiopeia elbowed him slightly.

“Oh sister, you know it’s true. You came home from your visit happier than I’d seen you in sometime. Telling me about some long lost relative and a new baby. You always did enjoy children.” Marius smiled as he eyed his sister. Regulus soaking in every bit of family he could. It felt so natural and so strange at the same time, they’d only been together for a few hours really and they’d fallen in together so quickly.

“Sorry, if I am excited. Draco is pleasant and all, but I know I am only so welcomed at Malfoy Manor. Same with Lucretia’s and Cedrella’s grandchildren, they are kind enough, but I see the way Molly looks. She doesn’t like me being there. Harry can get every bit spoiled then, and this one can’t complain unless he wants to face the wrath of me.” Cassiopeia threatens as she waved a finger at him. Regulus threw his hands up in defeat as he turned around to finish breakfast. He’d let Cassiopeia spoil Harry as much as she wanted, and only partially because he was fearful of her wrath. She’d never truly hurt him, but she’d certainly disapproved and honestly, that scared him more. He worked silently for a few moments until Harry and Kreacher came in from where they had sat by the tree. Kreacher shooed Regulus away, to finish the last few moments of cooking.

“How is everyone? I mean the rest of the family.” Regulus asked, a bit worried. He sat Harry in his seat as the little one clung to his arm, a bit sleepy from all the excitement. Cassiopeia looked a bit solemn at him, her eyes cascading down him before she sighed.

“Oh let’s see. I’ll see Narcissa and Draco tomorrow. The trials were intense, but Lucius got away from most of his crimes. He can thank Cygnus for that, he pulled every favor he could to keep his favorite daughter’s husband safe. Bellatrix’s well she was hopeless, I think we all knew that after what she had done. She got away initially, but they caught her eventually after what she and the Lestranges, and that Crouch boy did.” Cassiopeia sighed heavily. Regulus' throat felt tighter at the mentions of their names, but he managed to swallow still.

“I’m certain Pollux, Irma, Cyngus, Druella, and Walburga will be there. They’ve all been holed up in the country estate, out in Wiltshire. Pollux has been hoping for this to all blow over. He’s tired as he should be. He deserves every bit of shame this has brought him.” Cassiopeia continued.

“Your mother’s sanity slips more each day, she sometimes still tries to call for you and Orion. We have to keep reminding her you’ve both died, but she gets this glassy look in her eyes. I think she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Cygnus is keeping the family going, as he always has.” She sighed as she rubbed her head.

“Lucretia is doing well. Goodness as well as she can be, she’s lost more than almost all of us. First her brother, and Merlin knows we all had our thoughts on Orion, but he was still her little brother. He wasn’t always the way he was, he changed once he married your mother. Then you, she cried for days over you.” She paused as she noticed Regulus’ lips quiver before continuing.

“Then Fabian and Gideon, Merlin, whoever did what they did to those two deserve worse than even the Dementors Kiss. It took days for them to die, I held her hand as we heard them scream. Lancelot drove himself to magical exhaustion trying to save them; he and Ignatius blame themselves too this day for not getting to them sooner.” Her breath was shuddering as Marius gripped her arm tighter.

“Finally, your brother…” she trailed off.

“But she has her grandchildren, thank the stars for them. She loves those babies, and Molly had plenty of them. Keeps her days busy running after them. Helps her and Cedrella both, Molly is a bit tight lipped around everyone of the Black family, but she doesn’t say anything. She can’t, not when Cedrella and Lucretia are their grandmother’s. Sure, Lucretia may not be her biological mother, but she helped raise Molly and the twins once their parents were gone. She’s healing.” Cassiopeia replied.

“Arcturus is locked up in France. Has been since Orion died, only dragged himself out for your wake, before he cursed this entire family. He and Pollux got into a nasty row, and no one has seen him since. I think Lucretia writes, but their relationship has always been strained, but she’s his only one left. Then Andromeda, she had a baby you know? An adorable little girl, she’s about nine now. A metamorphmagus, she’s a hoot. Always changing the way she looks for laughs. She’s kept Andromeda going, her and Ted. Doesn’t want a thing to do with most Blacks, we speak occasionally, I send presents every holiday and stop by once every year or two.” Cassiopeia slowly started to smile at the fonder memories.

“We’ve all made our way, one way or another.” Cassiopeia nodded. Regulus could feel the swelling in his chest, he tried to swallow it. He only coughed it up again. Harry looked at him concerned, he turned his head so people wouldn’t see the small tears forming at the corner of his eyes. They’d all moved on, one way or another. His family, both good and bad, we’re all in one place or another. He felt choked up. At the beginning, maybe he had hoped for some reconciliation, but now, surrounded by Cassiopeia, Marius, and Harry. It felt almost as a reconciliation, not the one he had expected, but it felt right. It felt warm.

“Well, Christmas isn’t for crying dear. We’re here now, and we’re family enough. We focus on each other today.” Cassiopeia nearly whispers as a shaky hand reaches out to him. He held it gently as he looked up, blinking the tears from his eyes. Harry made a small noise as Regulus looked down at him. He’d buried himself in his side, holding his small fist in Regulus’ pyjamas.

“You’re right. This is family. This is home, not this place, but these people.” Regulus smiled. He squeezed Cassiopeia with one hand and Harry with another as he flashed Marius a smile. It was warm.

Kreacher set breakfast a few minutes later. They all ate silently, but peacefully. The silent sounds of carols and music wafting in from outside as the world began to stir around them. They enjoyed quiet company together, until Cassiopeia took a quick leave to head over to Malfoy Manor for Christmas dinner. Marius and Regulus laid Harry down for a nap before dinner. They made their way down to the drawing room, the dying light outside casting shadows in the room. Marius drew his fingers over the seats and the tables, moving like a ghost. Regulus stood still behind him, letting him take a moment to himself.

“I swore I’d never come back.” His Uncle started.

“This place was a house of horrors for me. The acts they committed here, I would not wish them on some of the worst of society. Yet they did it to their own blood.” He whispered as he stopped to stand at the end of the desk staring down at his fingers, lighting touching the worn wood.

“My Uncle Sirius used to sit here. I remember being brought in front of him when I was only ten, when it was apparent I had no magical ability. Most of the Blacks got a speech on how they were expected to act and behave once they got to school. My cousins did, my brother and sisters as well, but not me. I was told that from that day forth, everyone was to say I died in a tragic accident, my name would be removed from every mention of the Black family and I was to be locked away in my room until I turned seventeen. They’d bring me meals, keep me alive, but it was just a waiting game till they could be rid of me.” He continued as he wandered to the tapestry strung against the longest wall. His hand quaked a bit as he ran over where his face had once been.

“Then my father did this. Right in front of my face while screaming at what a disappointment I had been, then he took his cane to me. He loved to beat his children with his cane, saying it created character.” Marius' voice was shaking now. He paused for a moment before he slowly sunk into a seat, motioning for Regulus to take the one across from him.

“So tell me young nephew. Who are you, in this family of horrors?” Marius asked, a slight hardness to his grey eyes. Regulus sat. He knew he’d have to admit to every awful part of himself, and then beg for forgiveness and pray his uncle could see he had changed. He took a deep breath, it would be a long conversation.

Chapter Text

Winter started to peel away from the edges. Regulus could see the green starting to return outside the windows. It made him hopeful and nervous all at the same time. The green tints meant they were one step closer to leaving, he and Harry would be rid of Twelve Grimmauld Place once and for all. They’d hopefully not have to return for many years, or possibly forever. It was a sickly feeling.

He blinked heavily, sipping his tea. He’d never called anywhere else home. Unless you counted him scouring the empty cabinets of the beach home for those few months as home. He called it desperation. There was a pit to his stomach as he thought of packing up the home and abandoning it. He’d thought he’d be ecstatic, there had been times he’d sell his soul to leave this place. He’d never been one for change though. Always worried, always stuck in the same cycle, it was his comfort. The repetition of it all.

He tore his eyes from the street to look back into the room. Harry had fallen asleep on the loveseat, tucked under the same quilt he’d used when his aunt and uncle had been here and let him watch Muggle films with too much chocolate in his system. Harry declared it was his favorite quilt now. Apparently, it was the warmest and comfiest of them all. Regulus wouldn’t argue to the point of a very intelligent and independent two year old. He found the quilt quite comfortable himself. The lingering of soft shampoos and woodsy cologne adding to its character.

He’d do it. One look at Harry and he’d lose all doubts he had on leaving. He deserves a childhood, a happy one, and a family to grow up around. Nothing he could get here locked away in a dank old house surrounded by the horrors of the past. He’d get that by them leaving, a fresh start surrounded by greenery and more land than Harry could possibly fly over in a day. Cassiopeia had apparently already begun setting up rooms for them, stocking them with more than they’d ever need. She was happy to combine her drawing and sewing room to free up the rooms downstairs. He and Harry would be just across the hall from one another.

He sat at the end of the loveseat, petting Harry’s head lightly so as not to wake him. The toddler was always chattering away about getting to stay with his Aunt Cassie and Uncle Mars, and he absolutely couldn’t wait to meet Aunt Helena. Regulus was a bit intimidated to meet Marius' wife, but he was hopeful. If he could survive his mother and his aunt Druella, he was certain he could handle this witch. Whatever treatment she had in store for him was likely valid anyways. He let out a shaky sigh. His tea had grown cold, it had a habit of happening now. His mind is too crowded for the extra thought.

He stared into the dark liquid as he ran through it one more time. It was a rather simple plan. The next time Dumbledore stopped for a visit, they’d treat him the same as always with whatever nonsense he had to say that time. Then they’d leave. He’d send a letter to Cassiopeia so she could arrange the portkey, she had enough pull for there to be amble discretion. He’d pack the few things they’d need and the few creature comforts and close the door to Grimmauld Place behind them. Simple enough. Dumbledore would be none the wiser. At least for a time.

He did suspect the Headmaster would find them before too long. His greatest fear being that he’d be so furious at the insurgency he’d try to remove Harry. Though from their prior conversation, it seemed limited the people Harry could go too. However, he supposed the Headmaster always had a trick up his robes, his eyes constantly calculating his next move. Cassiopeia said she could handle Dumbledore, she was determined of that. She said there were secrets for everyone, and a weakness within them. He was a bit perplexed what information his aunt could have on a wizard such as Dumbledore, but he did not push the issue at the time.

His eyes wandered to the window again. The drawing room was a bit of a mess. He could only imagine the beating he’d get if any of its former occupants could see it now. Harry’s toys were littered throughout, there were a few half drunk teas on tables and shelves, and his paintings had dripped onto the ancient carpet. He had found a bit of joy when he saw it happen and ignored the mess. A silent rebellion no one left to witness. He smiled at the thought. Kreacher popped in just then. He scurries around making dishes disappear and blocks to float back to their proper place. He was mindful of the noise, trying to be quick and efficient before moving to the next room.

“Kreacher?” Regulus asked, watching the elf slow and turn to him.

“Yes Master?” The elf croaked.

“Will you come with us when we leave?” Regulus asked rather slowly. The elf seemed a bit cloudy at being asked for his own ideas. He shuffled his feet like he often did when he was nervous.

“Kreacher serves you Master. He go with you.” Kreacher finally mumbled back.

“You serve this house. We will be leaving this house, you can stay if it is what you prefer. You are not required to follow me and I will not command you too.” Regulus explained. His grip tightening on the tea cup. He didn’t want to lose Kreacher, there was a time when the elf was his only solace, but he was working on allowing him his own freedoms. In that, he’d need to let Kreacher make his own decisions.

“Kreacher could stay?” He asked, one of his ears twitching uncertainty.

“If you so pleased.” Regulus replied. Kreacher chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head as he thought.

“Kreacher has known nowhere but here.” He started slowly.

“This is Kreacher’s house.” He continued as he fiddled with the end of his pillowcase.

“But Master be the best Master Kreacher be having and Little Master be good to Kreacher too.” He answered.

“Kreacher wants to be with yous, Master.” He finally confirmed after a moment's pause. Regulus smiled a little to himself.

“That makes me very pleased to hear Kreacher. I’m glad you’ll be coming with us and I’m sure Harry feels the same.” Regulus nodded as he made eye contact with the elf.

“Thank you, Master.” Kreacher added as he did a slight bow. He turned back to his task at hand, cleaning the last of the room, even the paint on the carpet. Finally, he popped out to another part of the house. Regulus settled back in the seat, a comforting hand on Harry still. This move would be good for all of them, he was determined to make it so if he had too. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to though.

-

His heart was racing in his chest as his knees clattered against each other. He had a strange burning sensation in the back of his throat. He wasn’t sure how it had gotten here so fast, but it was spring. The weather had finally warmed the last of the cold breezes and dandelions had started to sprout in the cracks of the sidewalks. Regulus wasn’t sure how he knew, maybe intuition, maybe some cracked up Divinations nonsense, but he could feel it. Dumbledore would come today.

He was trimming the brush outside, usually Kreacher handled such but he had the elf in the attic, trying to sort through the mess. He’d given him a list of useful items they would need, and then told him to grab anything he thought useful or that he didn’t want to leave behind, within reason. He knew given the chance Kreacher would probably find sentiment in every item owned by his former Masters and Mistresses. Regulus shakily cut off a dead bud before setting down the scissors again. He took a deep breath and forced himself to shove any ill feelings down. He had lied and betrayed the darkest Wizard the world had ever seen, he could handle Dumbledore.

Harry let out a little cry of joy as he circled behind him on his broom. Regulus leaned back on the warm grass, letting the sun cover his face as he watched for a moment. One day Harry would graduate to a proper broom. He hoped they could fly together, across the rolling fields his aunt owned. It had been so long since he’d been on a broomstick. His mother had thought them undignified, but many of the men in the family had played Quidditch in school. His father and uncle Cygnus had been Chasers, his uncle Alphard and his grandfather Arcturus had been brutal Beaters, even his namesake great-uncle Regulus had played, though as a Keeper. He’d been the first Seeker he knew of and once he’d joined his parents had only used it as a way to try and divide him and his brother farther apart. Little did they know, he had joined so he’d be able to see his brother more, even if in just flashes.

He wondered if Harry would play? He’d been a bit cocky when he’d told McGonagall and Dumbledore he’d seen a bit of a Seeker, but it seemed true enough as he grew. His father had been a chaser though, a damn good one. He’d tried multiple times to fly circles around Regulus, doing his best to throw him off. All the while, McKinnon and Sirius tried to hit him square in the head with the Bludger. They’d been successful a time or two, spending time in the hospital wing was not a pleasant experience. Eventually, when he did wind up there one way or another, the Professors had learned it best to call his father not his mother. Though they did learn the hard way when she made a point to show up and wreck the hospital wing to pieces.

No, they learned quickly after that. Neither of his parents were preferred or welcome guests at Hogwarts and henceforth avoided at all cost. The few times they were required, it became one of his father’s only responsibilities. He could imagine his father, curled up in his bedroom, his tea spiked with more firewhiskey than water, getting a Hogwarts owl clattering against his window. He could see him grumbling the whole time, likely ripping the paper in half trying to open it. Then if his presence was required, he’d untap one of the many Sober Up Potions he had locked away in his room and find his way to the old halls of his youth.

Regulus remembered one particular time, he’d been facing likely expulsion. He’d and his brother both truthfully. They’d duelled something awful, hurting more than just themselves this time. Indeed, a wall had fallen and several students were laid up on the hospital beds. He and Sirius pushed all the way into the farthest corner, awaiting their punishments. He’d known when he had entered from the click of his shoes, he’d learned how everyone in the home walked and how their shoes sounded from a young age. It was a defense mechanism to best prepare for who was coming up the stairs. A few moments warning of whatever would happen next.

Orion Black’s steps were unusually steady, but the click of his heeled boots was indistinguishable against the cold tile floor and his slow but meaningful pace an agonizing wait. He was propped up on a hospital bed, all decency lost in the garb he was forced into. His brother staring him down evilly from next to him, but even he shrunk back at the sound of their father. By far, Walburga Black was the more corporeal of their two parents, but there was something in the way their father spoke, and the way he looked at them that sent the darkest chills down their spines. He was an accomplished Legilimens, so much so that sometimes one didn’t even know he was in their minds until too late. It had forced both his sons to accept some defense of Occlumency. Though if he truly wanted, he could get around it.

“Mister Black, so wonderful to see you.” Professor Slughorn greeted as he bumbled forward. He had the most rapport with the oldest present Black, having been his Head of House during his years at Hogwarts as well.

“Mister Slughorn.” Orion’s smooth voice seemed to coat over the entire room. It sent fresh chills down his spine.

“Mister Black.” Headmaster Dumbledore took a few steps forward standing just an arms length away. He stood a good few inches taller than their father.

“Mister Dumbledore.” Orion replied curtly, forgetting all manner of decorum by referring to the professors as Misters, but likely doing it on purpose. He thought himself greater than them.

“Our apologies for calling you down here. I’m certain you were quite busy this afternoon. However, as you can see there has been an incident.” Dumbledore nodded vaguely around the hospital wing. Orion only grimaced in response.

“Both your son’s behavior is becoming a bit intolerable. Before they've been limited to only going after one another, and I for one can respect a bit of sibling rivalry. This time was different. They’ve injured no less than eight students, ten including themselves and damaged a considerable amount of the school as well. I’m not certain how we can resolve this issue.” Dumbledore narrowed his eyes as he clasped his hands behind his back. Orion only straightened his posture and squared his shoulders at the Headmaster.

“Has anyone been gravely injured?” His watery smooth voice asked.

“Madam Pomfrey has confirmed everyone will make a full recovery.” Dumbledore responded. Orion clicked his tongue loudly.

“Do you see it fit to call in Aurors?” He continued. Regulus sucked in his breath through his teeth. His own father couldn’t be suggesting they deserved Azkaban for a bit of hexes.

“Oh no, I don’t believe we need to resort to that just yet.” Dumbledore replied, tilting his head slightly.

“Well then, I will gladly make a generous donation to the school, enough to replace several walls and I will have a private word with my sons. If either of them are to act in such a manner again, I will call the Ministry myself.” His father replied, a slight twitch to his lips as he said it.

“Very well. They will both also be serving several weeks worth of detentions and they’ve respectively lost a hundred points each from their House. Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn have agreed to such.” Dumbledore replied after a brief pause. Orion only nodded. Dumbledore motioned for the two Professors to follow him, each casting a wary glance at their student before leaving. The second their feet were beyond the curtain, it loudly and tightly closed around them. A silencing charm encompassing them almost hotly. Regulus could see his fathers breathing, his head turned to the side not facing either of them for several moments.

Then he felt it. The burning cold entrance into his mind, he let out a small whimper before he allowed the intrusion, closing his eyes to ease the pain. His thoughts filtered through in white flashes. The argument that had led to the fight, the hot rising of emotion piling in his chest, the rapid thoughts of different curses he could throw across the way to his brother, all came rushing painfully forward through his head. It made him nauseous and dizzy, on the verge of both vomiting and passing out. Then it ended, as he let out the heavy breath he’d been holding, only to intake it again when he heard a small cry next to him from his brother. Their father wasted no time on frivolous questions. He found it much more efficient to go straight to the source.

After he had gotten the information he needed, he let out a short dry chuckle. As if he found his own children's torment humorous. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared upward at the ceiling for a long while. Both brothers were a bit frozen, Regulus clutching the thin sheet he had over him till his knuckles turned white. His father being silent for so long was never a good sign. He could see Sirius growing fidgety. He wanted his wand more than ever to stun his brother before he did anything stupid.

“Well?” Sirius finally coughed out. A bit weaker than he had intended. Orion’s head almost snapped; he brought it towards his son so quickly.

“Well?” He mocked back, his brows furrowing and his eyes such a dark silver they were nearly black. Sirius clamored shut, apparently he had a drop of self preservation somewhere in his bones.

“Well, son.” Orion spat out like the word was venom. He took very slow purposely steps forward, then in a flash he had both his hands wrapped around his Sirius' ankles and leaning all his weight forward as he stared him down.

“I believe this behavior will end. You two want to hex each other dead very well be it, but finish the job so the only thing I need to be bothered with is collecting your bodies. If I ever have to be called back down here for folly nonsense again, I will call the Aurors myself. Not before I’ve given you every horrid memory I can for the Dementors to sustain off only the two of you for the rest of their miserable lives. You’ll lose all sanity just by stepping through the threshold. Am I understood?” He growled in such a low voice the silencing charms were not needed. Regulus could hardly hear him as he nodded quickly. There was a loud bang of hand against the metal railing.

“Words for fucks sake, we’ve raised you better than this.” He snarled so darkly he felt the room go still.

“Yes, sir.” They both replied quickly and quietly. Orion turned to face Regulus for a moment, until then all his attention had been on his oldest.

“And you, I’m disappointed in you.” He whispered. Regulus felt a cold dagger go through his chest as the words sunk in. Orion pushed back off the bed to stand in between his two sons at the end.

“One last thing, I believe there’s an upcoming Quidditch match between the two of you. I’d rather this animosity not be taken to the field for more embarrassment to some. So I’ll make certain you cannot play.” He smiled wickedly without any teeth. He gave each a harrowing glance as he snapped his fingers. Their father had always been a talented wizard, had he been born differently, he may have made something of himself.

Instead he used his prowess and nonverbal spells here. Just as his fingers snapped, Regulus choked on a scream as he felt searing pain at the ends of his feet. His brother had thrown himself forward grasping at his ankles. Orion seemed content as he watched them flail and fight tears and gasp at the pain. He took two more steps back to soak it all in.

“Madam Pomfrey won’t be able to heal those in time. I assure you of that. I never want to step foot in these halls again, understand?” He hurled his words at them.

“Yes, sir.” They replied weakly. He only nodded harshly once then the curtains threw themselves opened and their father was gone in an instant. Leaving behind his sons with searing broken ankles that Madam Pomfrey would be complexed by for two weeks. Both brothers bound to bed as they missed both a Hogsmeade weekend and the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch match. Magically, just as the match ended their ankles righted themselves with a painful snap, causing them both to cry out in pain with sweat on their brow. Regulus had turned his head over to his brother who was looking at him, his hair stuck to his forehead and neck, whatever curse that their father had used has caused pulsing pain that never ceased and both had dark circles under their eyes and creases to their faces. Regulus offered the most sympathetic look he could towards his brother. Sirius weakly smiled back.

“Reggie?” A voice asked, tearing him from his memories. Regulus shook his head as he saw Harry sitting in front of him looking questioningly.

“Sorry Harry. I was just thinking.” Regulus smiled weakly, an exhaustion settling in his chest.

“‘Bout?” Harry asked as he leaned forward on his little hands.

“Padfoot.” Regulus attempted to smile. Harry smiled back as he clapped his hands.

“Pa’foot.” He clapped along. Regulus leaned forward and brought Harry into his lap.

“You know, me and Padfoot once climbed to the very top of that tree over there.” Regulus explained pointing to the furthest tree tucked away from most of the house's windows.

“We wanted to see who could get higher and what we could see from there.” He said as Harry turned his head to look at Regulus before pointing at the tree.

“Padfoot beat me of course. He was braver than me, he went to the very top and sat like a king on top of the world. He told me everything he saw though, down to the littlest details. He could see smoke billowing from a factory in the distance. Then he could see our neighbor pushing her baby in a purple pram with a little rat looking dog behind her.” Regulus continued. Harry giggled in his arms.

“You would have loved Padfoot, Harry.” Regulus sighed.

“He would have taken you on so many adventures.” He nearly whispered to himself. He ducked his head at all the memories, he could feel tears edging his eyes. Just then he felt warm sticky hands take his cheeks and push with all their might. Harry was making him look him in the eyes.

“No cry Reggie.” Harry smiled as he wiped a dirty hand under Regulus’ eyes. He felt his lips quiver even more at the actions.

“It’s ok to cry, Harry.” He croaked out, feeling himself pushed to the edge.

“Miss Pa’foot too.” Harry smiled a bit crookedly as he tried to wipe the tears again. Regulus squeezed Harry close to his chest, burying his tears in his head. He felt Harry’s little hands wrap around his sides and his little fingers dig in tightly.

“Is ok Reggie, I haves you.” Harry mumbled and that’s all it took. He felt heavy wet tears drop from his eyes. Curling his knees up he brought Harry as close as he could, squeezing him as tight as possible without harming him. He missed Padfoot, he missed his brother so terribly. His heart ached and his breath took awhile to get even, but Harry just held him. Letting him rock the small toddler back and forth slowly in the garden, for what seemed like nearly an hour as he tried to compose himself. Harry didn’t complain once, he only squeezed tighter.

-

After the episode in the garden, Regulus and Harry both seemed more tired than usual. They skipped the usual snack and headed straight to their room, Regulus laying down with Harry. He asked Kreacher to wake him if anyone arrived, the elf looked a bit perplexed at his Master’s swollen eyes, but only agreed. Harry curled into his chest as he fell into sleep peacefully, Regulus staring at him for a time. His hands mindlessly playing with the mess of hair. He had Harry, and right now he was all that mattered.

He must have dozed off for a while because when he woke it was nearly dark outside. He searched for a moment for the source of his disturbance until he saw the wide eyes of Kreacher at the end of the bed. He was playing with his hands nervously.

“Master, Mister Dumbledore is waiting for yous.” Kreacher pipped up. Harry was still sleeping soundly with one hand under his head and his hair laid in all directions, Regulus got out of bed carefully, silently thanking Kreacher. He slipped a cloak over his clothes, he’d been wearing the Muggle clothing he’d gotten for Christmas, before slipping downstairs quietly avoiding the louder steps. He found Dumbledore waiting for him in the Entrance Hall, once again engaged in a conversation with Uncle Alphard’s portrait. Regulus stood in the shadows for a moment waiting for the Headmaster to notice him.

“My apologies for popping in so late. Your elf tells me you were already resting for the evening.” Dumbledore finally turned his head. His eyes widening at the clothes and general state of Regulus, before quickly gathering himself.

“Tea?” Regulus grumbled as his sock covered feet stumbled towards the kitchen. He could still feel the edges of sleep in his mind and he’d rather be more attentive for this conversation then he currently was. The Headmaster followed silently as he took his seat at the table. Regulus stared over the kettle until it hummed loudly, wanting to avoid any small conversations with the Headmaster. He slowly stirred in four sugars to the tea before finally placing it down at the table, the Headmaster thanking him under his breath. They took a few sips in silence.

“I fear I may not be able to keep up these visits.” Dumbledore said after a long moment. Regulus hid his shock in another sip.

“With the trials mostly over and people ready to return to life as they had known, I believe I will have more on my plate than typically required.” He explained after Regulus made no comment. He was a bit befuddled by the idea that Dumbledore would be more busy in normal duties then during an active war.

“You plan to have Severus come and check in on us?” Regulus let slip from his tongue. He quickly took another sip to cover his bitterness. The Headmaster looked almost amused.

“Certainly would be entertaining wouldn’t it? But no, I have made other arrangements, an old colleague of mine will be stopping by from time to time, just quick check ins and updates on my behalf. He won’t impede too much.” Dumbledore added. Regulus only leaned back into his seat, thinking.

“Do I get to know who else will be privy to my rather well laid protections?” Regulus muttered. The Fidelius Charm seemed to be growing weaker by the day. Dumbledore chuckled as he took a heavy swig of his tea.

“I think the surprise of it is rather exciting, no?” The Headmaster smirked under his beard. Regulus didn’t push the issue as he ran his tongue over his lips. He did not like being felt like he was the end of a punchline.

“He’ll likely make his first pop in a few months' time, just as the weather gets better. Hopefully Harry is enjoying the warmer temperatures, is he still fond of his broom?” Dumbledore asked. Regulus only nodded in response.

“Good, may make a good chaser after all with all this early practice. Hopefully, he gets his intelligence from his mother though.” Dumbledore mused.

“James was intelligent.” Regulus mumbled, instinctively. Dumbledore eyed him suspiciously for a second.

“I suppose he was, if only he had applied himself with as much vigor as he did on the Quidditch Pitch, he and Miss Evans would have likely shared the top spot instead of Mister Lupin.” Dumbledore responded a bit fondly. Regulus bit his tongue not wanting anything else to slip out. His sleep-tousled self was much too sympathetic for the Headmaster’s ears. Dumbledore thankfully rose only a minute later.

“Well I will let you and Harry return to your rest. I hope to hear nothing, but positive reports.” He nodded once before turning and exiting the room. The Floo roared to life just a moment later. Regulus allowed himself a smirk as he settled into the seat. Their exit had just become a bit more exciting indeed.

Chapter Text

Air rushed into his lungs, a relieving feeling. He’d been packing boxes all day. The last of them was now at the end of the stairs. In the morning, when Cassiopeia arrived he’d only need to pack the last of the essentials and they’d be ready to leave. He looked around at the nuts of his life left around him. It made a strange feeling sit heavy on his chest, like he couldn’t get the air to the bottom of his lungs. It didn’t seem enough to carry his life with him, but truly they didn’t need to bring much else. He and Kreacher had boxed up everything small in every room. Leaving the boxes piled in the corner of said room, the drawing room had to have two piles pushed to opposite corners, same with the kitchen.

“Reggie.” Harry called as he stumbled down the stairs. He was dragging Vera by her tail as he yawned. He’d just woken up from his nap, he’d been on either his or Kreacher’s heels all week. Asking questions, and trying to help pick up the house. He had accidentally almost set Grandfather Phineas’ portrait aflame when he made sparks appear by accidental magic. Thankfully, Grandfather Phineas had been in his other portrait and Regulus had been able to fix the frame, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it. He was bringing Phineas with him to keep an ear on Dumbledore and his movements. He was also bringing Alphard, who had given a persuasive argument, and more then a few threats if he wasn’t brought along. Having someone who could come and check on the house didn’t seem awful.

Begrudgingly, he’d taken a few of the portraits out of the attic and placed them throughout the house so Alphard could do just that. Regulus didn’t fancy having to make visits back to Grimmauld Place unless necessary. He had tried to choose some more agreeable family members. His Uncle Alphard had at least helped him with that. His Great Uncle Regulus now hung where Alphard once was, his sister, his Great Aunt Lycoris hung across from the back entrance, and his cousin Dorea and her husband Charus had agreed to keep watch on the stairs. The main parts of the house were covered and if any of them got a whiff of anything suspicious they’d let Alphard know.

“Yes, Harry?” Regulus asked bending down to meet the sleepy toddler.

“Leave yet?” Harry asked, his eyes popping open a bit more. Since Dumbledore’s visit just over a week ago, Harry had been asking daily if they were leaving.

“Tomorrow, Harry.” Regulus chuckled as he grabbed onto Harry’s free hand.

“Now come along, let’s go help Kreacher with dinner.” He offered. Harry started moving a bit faster at the prospect. He enjoyed helping the elf, and Kreacher, while unsure at first, seemed to enjoy the bit of help Harry’s unsteady hands could offer. They had bare minimum supplies remaining in the kitchen and pantry both, but the three managed to scrape together a bit of soup and ate the last of their loaf of bread. Harry entertains the table with his hopes of the new home they were moving to. Regulus smiled at the toddler, his antics and joy surrounding their move made the pressure in his chest lighten.

Cassiopeia arrived just as they finished breakfast the next morning. Harry helped to store the dishes they had used for breakfast away in a box before Regulus sealed it shut. She let herself in and after a moment, wandered into the kitchen herself. Regulus only looked up when he heard her distinct heels brush against the kitchen stairs.

“Well, I never thought I would see the day.” She mused as she glanced around the room.

“Grimmauld Place packed and abandoned. Good riddance.” She whispered under her breath as she made her way to them.

“We just need to shrink the boxes in the Entrance Hall, everything else is staying here.” Regulus explained as Harry tottered across to meet Cassiopeia half way. She bent down and placed her hands on his cheeks happily as Harry smiled and made small noises of excitement. Regulus felt a wave of relief rush over him like a cool breeze. This was the right decision.

“I’ll help with the shrinking. The first portkey leaves in thirty minutes and it is a ten minute walk from here. That one will get us to France, then we have to make a second one to get home. Helena said she’d wait for us at that location and help us get back. Marius said he’d have a warm meal and nice place to rest for us after all the traveling. Especially me, my old bones can’t take this portkey travel like I used to let alone four in one day.” She said stretching her back to emphasize her point.

“Oh Aunt Cass, you look just as young as ever though.” Regulus smiled as she swatted at him gently.

“You’ll only get so far with your flattery young man. You’ll get old one day too.” She tisked.

It took a few minutes to get the boxes shrunk enough to fit into the two bags Regulus had prepared. Once that was done, he strapped a small backpack that Harry had insisted on packing himself. It had his stuffed dog and dragon sticking out, the framed photo of his parents and their friends, a few blocks, his toothbrush and his copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Or as Harry had called it, his essentials. Regulus had just laughed as he packed away Harry’s clothes and necessities. Kreacher bounded down the stairs with a worn briefcase in his hands. He looked a bit nervous as he shuffled his feet side to side, glancing so often around the room. He hadn’t backed out though, and Regulus was proud of him for that.

“Goodness, finally done with all the nonsense.” A voice called from behind him. His Uncle Regulus had returned to his portrait and was leaning on the desk watching them all. His portrait was painted when he had been much younger, he looked barely thirty. Granted, he had heard as the years went by, both his great uncle and great aunt visited less and less. Neither wanted much to do with the family, Uncle Regulus traveled quite a bit, and Aunt Lycoris maintained the homes in France. His namesake had passed before he was born, and he only had the briefest of memories of his aunt. Neither of them had been of particular interest to him because of such.

“Oh Regulus, moving up in the world I see. This spot better than the attic I suppose?” Cassiopeia mused as she took a step closer to her passed cousin.

“Only slightly, I’ve never cared much for this home, or any home for that matter. Never liked being in one place long, making myself a portrait was an unfortunate mistake in retrospect.” Regulus mumbled as he stared out the sides of his portraits. It was painted in the drawing room, a slightly less cluttered and worn version of it.

“How’s my brother doing? Reckon he’ll be joining me eventually, then all three of us can be together again.” He smiled a bit at the idea. His grandfather hadn’t spoken much of his siblings, but he always had an inkling their deaths had taken a toll on him.

“Alive, and a bit lost. I don’t think he ever thought he’d be the one to outlive everybody. First Melanie, then you, and Lycoris, and even his son left before he did. He’s a bit of a pitiful old man, if I do say so myself.” Cassiopeia explained quietly. Uncle Regulus got a thoughtful, almost sad look in his eyes.

“Arcturus always did poorly alone, and he’s been alone for so long now. I’ll have to pay him a visit one day, but most of the time he covers the portraits up at his home. Mumbling about the ghosts of the past.” Regulus sighed. Cassiopeia nodded in agreement.

“I’ll see if I can't stop by later this year and check in on him.” She added. Regulus nodded back as he sat on the chair behind the desk, staring into where the windows had been painted. He fell silent for the rest of their packing. Between him and Cassiopeia, they were able to shrink and pack the bags rather quickly. Regulus slips his hand through the handle on the larger one then wrapping his free hand tightly into Harry’s. Cassiopeia gives one strong look at the group around her before nodding and picking up her own bag to head out the door. Regulus followed a step behind, pulling a hood over his head, and having already tied his hair back tightly. Harry fidgeted a bit with the hat Regulus had tugged into his head earlier, but he’d been instructed not to remove it.

He took a deep breath as he took the first of the stairs, then all at once he was at the bottom. He turned back for one last look before the house disappeared between number eleven and number thirteen. He felt a building heaviness behind his eyes, shaking his head he turned down to glance at Harry. The boy waved at him, pulling his arm to follow Cassiopeia down the street. It was a quiet walk, and on a weekday, most were already at work. It left only a few stragglers behind. All of which Regulus avoided any eye contact with, he knew running into anyone who would recognize them was slim, but it was a chance he did not want to take. Kreacher padded behind them, he’d cast a charm around himself that made him invisible to passersby, but allowed Regulus to keep an eye on the elf.

Regulus could feel tension rising in his shoulder and making his back ache with each step. He could feel the magic of his home slowly becoming undetectable as they moved to make their first turn. There was a hollowness in his chest that he didn’t want to harp on. As his uncle had said, it was a place of terrors, yet why did he feel a longing for it still? He shuddered slightly as he kept in step with Aunt Cassiopeia, despite her prior comments, she was moving with a rather spring step down the cracked warmed concrete. Harry has to patter along quickly to keep his shorter legs in time.

After two more turns, and a rather distant walk straight, Cassiopeia paused in front of an abandoned rundown store front. The glass had been cracked and there were old shelves and storage containers shrewd throughout. She made a quick glance left and right before pushing open the glass doorway gently. Her robes had to be lifted to avoid catching the old beer bottles and cigarettes on the ground. Regulus wrinkled his nose, he knew they couldn’t be picky, but even here seemed a bit lowly.

“Not the prettiest, but the portkey is here, just out back in the delivery port.” She explained as she ducked her head from a dangling light fixture that had broken off. Regulus only nodded as they wadded though the rubbish. Harry giggled when he made something crunch under his trainers. Regulus was happy he’d worn Muggle clothes. His robes would have been caught and torn if he had them on his person. Kreacher seemed to be going a bit pale as he shook his head at the sight. They went through a nearly empty back room before pushing through a heavy metal door that groaned loudly when opened. Then just as they hit sunlight again, he noticed a bent up old tire placed precariously in the middle of the delivery port.

“Took a lot of calls to get undetectable portkeys out of the country, thankfully I’ve kept my connections over the years.” Cassiopeia winked as she pulled a watch from her skirt.

“Only two minutes to go. Wonderful timing.” She said as she bent down to grasp the portkey. Kreacher stumbles forward to grapple onto an edge as well.

“Alright, Harry, you'll need to hold onto this tire very tightly. Then we’re going to get pulled elsewhere. You cannot let go no matter what Harry. It might feel a little uncomfortable, but I’ll hold your hand the whole time, understand?” Regulus explained as he bent down to Harry’s level. Harry nodded enthusiastically as he gripped the inside of the tire tightly, looking up at Regulus for approval. Regulus smiled, squeezing their joined hands quickly as he placed his hand just next to where Harry gripped. There were a few awkward seconds of silence before he felt the magic start to crawl up his arms. Harry jostled a bit, but did not let go. Then the next he knew, he felt the signature hard pull in his lower stomach before the world became a wind of colors, nauseously passing around them for a long moment.

The impact wasn’t gentle, international portkeys never are. He felt the breath knocked out of him. A minute passed before he could take in a sharp short breath. Quickly, he looked over at Harry, who was looking at him holding his middle tightly and a light of distress in his eyes. Regulus lifted himself up and pulled Harry into his lap and ran small circles over his stomach to help calm the nausea he was feeling. He then looked over at Cassiopeia, she was standing which was a good sign. She stretched her arms a few times and rubbed her side a bit, but she looked to have landed rather well otherwise. Kreacher being the smallest seemed to have taken the least impact and was already up and staring at Regulus with his large eyes.

“Guess we can’t complain when it’s technically an illegal portkey if the trip is a little rough.” Cassiopeia grunted as she shook a bit of dirt off her skirt.

Regulus just then thought to take in his surroundings. They were in a large empty field, he could see a fence in the distance. It was a bit blurry in vision from how far it was, just a swirling line on the horizon. On the other side of them, he could see a small road, empty of the Muggle cars. Likely, this area was not well travelled. He kept the motions on Harry’s stomach as the young one leaned into his chest tenderly.

“Well, the next portkey is two hours from going off. Thankfully, there is a little Muggle village just about a fifteen minute walk that way. There’s a little bakery, I think we need to get a little something in our stomachs before the next trip. Hydrate as well.” Cassiopeia instructed as she pointed towards the direction of the road. Regulus only nodded as he pulled Harry onto his hip. They trekked down the dusty road for a good few minutes before the outline of the village came to view. Regulus pulled his hood to his head again, he knew there was likely not a soul in this town that would recognize him. The pressure in his chest told him otherwise though.

Cassiopeia had clearly been to the village before. She moved with purpose. Her more practical boots stomped on the old brick roads heavily. They had to go to the town center to find the bakery she spoke of, Regulus felt vaguely comfortable here. It reminded him of the places they used to visit in France when he was younger. They came nearly every summer, his family having to keep the affairs in France in order. There had been a wizarding village near their country manor that had a similar feel as this one. The small buildings, the cobblestone streets, and the small center with anything one could need. The air wafted by his nose and it even smelt the same, the hints of melted butter and fresh bread. He felt a knot of tension loosen in his shoulder as he soaked it in.

"Bonjour." A voice cried as they entered a warm yellow building. The room could barely fit the three of them, Kreacher waited outside, clouded in his magic. Regulus shuffled Harry onto his other side as Cassiopeia greeted and conversed with the lone man in the bakery. His French was good, but he always felt nervous using it. As if his accent gave him away in an instance, Sirius has the French accent perfected. A feat he never let Regulus forget even as he got older and stopped his lessons and nearly never spoke in it anymore. He still could outdo Regulus.

Cassiopeia pulled out a bit of Muggle money from her pocket. Regulus, narrowing his eyes at it, the paper money had always seemed so foreign to him. He’d have to ask Cassiopeia to help him understand their meanings. He’d never been able to comprehend it, even when he did sneak reads of the Muggle Studies textbook. She thanked the man who heavily waved at them all as they exited, Regulus using his free hand to grab the bottles of water from her hand and his foot to prop open the door. They made their way just a few steps to a bench near a water fountain. The fountain was cracked down the middle and there was only a puddle of water at the bottom littered with leaves and dirt. He wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say anything.

Once they sat down, Harry seemed to be doing a bit better. Regulus tilted back one of the waters to help him as he hungrily drank from it. Cassiopeia opened the paper bag as it crinkled next to Harry and it garnered his attention. He whipped his head around and tried to preen his neck to catch a look. Cassiopeia chuckled slightly at his antics. She pulled out a small wrapped piece of paper, unfolding it carefully in her lap. Harry’s eyes never breaking as his nose started to twitch as the warm smells revealed themselves.

“Savez-vous ce que cela est?” Cassiopeia asked quietly, raising a warmed snack into Harry’s vision.

“Oui! Croissant!” Harry cried as he looked eagerly.

“Oui, bon.” She answered as she held it out towards Harry. He took it happily as he crunched on the end quickly. Regulus pushed his hair back to avoid it getting in the way, as he shook his head lightly at the actions. Cassiopeia handed a crossinant to him and Kreacher as well. They all take it gratefully. They let Harry run about a bit in the square, with only a few people passing through. The strangers got a few wary glances, but no one approached them. Regulus can feel himself ease into the situation as they allow time to pass. Eventually though, they must move on. He collects Harry, who has worn himself down a bit and carries him on his side down the road back to the field. The dirt from the ground kicks up slightly as they walk along.

Once back in the bright green fields, only a few meters from the tire they had abandoned sat a ripped up purse, easily fifty years old from the looks of it. The color was muddled by years of wear and the dirt it was shoved into. It was just big enough for all of them to grab hold onto when Cassiopeia instructed them too. Harry reached his hand out slowly and not nearly as enthusiastically as he had the first time. He held on the torn strap tightly in his little hand. Regulus held their free hands together squeezing tightly just as the electricity of Magic rippled up his arm. The world turned sideways once again. The second landing was a bit better than the first. He kept his breath in his lungs for one, though he did feel a stiffness in his bones.

“Nephew, that is the last time I will take an illegal portkey for you. Merlin, do they even try with these?” Cassiopeia complained and cracked her back. Kreacher grunted a few times before grabbing his briefcase that had fallen close by. Regulus brushed himself off and reached for Harry. He looked a bit better off than the first time, though his eyes were a bit distorted.

“Oh Cassiopeia, don’t spew lies. From how you talk about him, you’d do anything for the boy.” A sweet voice called from behind him. Regulus turned around quickly, going a bit off balance as he did. His stomach cramped and he regretted the decision, but before him stood someone he hadn’t seen before. She was a rather short woman, her hips were wide set as she walked towards them. Her hair was straw colored and braided down her back, still long and beautiful even considering her age. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled and her neck had a few lines, but he could obviously still see her beauty and kindness. He supposed this was Helena.

“Sh Helena, you and I can know that, but he doesn’t need to.” Cassiopeia scoffed as she reached the other woman, they embraced swiftly before separating. Helena seemed to cast a warning glance at Regulus, her pale blue eyes darkening ever so slightly.

“Regulus Black.” He stepped forward with a hand outstretched. She took it gingerly as she only moved it a few times before relaxing her hand.

“Helena Black.” She quipped back. Her lips pressed together thoughtfully. He had been warned she wouldn’t be won over easily.

“Come along now, Marius should be finished with lunch. He’s been waiting all morning for you all to arrive.” She nodded, pulling up the straps of her overalls. Her outfit seemed very no-nonsense, from the long sleeved shirt, to the sturdy jean overalls, down to her weathered boots. It looked like she’d simply stood up from some gardening and walked to meet them. Once they climbed up a small hill he noticed why, they were only a few minutes walk from the house. The shortest walk they had today.

The large manor came into view rather quickly. It sat just on the next hill over, slightly below the one they were on. The grass rolled out indefinitely it seemed, a large wooden fence encompassing the land that was theirs. He could just see the small shapes of the neighbors. The manor was three stories high, with large windows throughout, it faced to the east from how the sun was currently placed. The colors seemed faded from the few memories he had here, the grey house and white trim needed a fresh coat, but otherwise it was in immaculate shape. The shutters were thrown open and the brush well kept, he could see to the side the garden Cassiopeia talked about absolutely flourishing. He even spotted the greenhouse to the back with a small shed next to it. He remembers sneaking in there with Sirius when they were only children. They’d only been to visit Cassiopeia a handful of times in their youth.

“Food is ready.” Marius called from the door as they approached. Harry let go of Regulus' hand and spirited to meet his uncle, Marius bending down and scooping Harry up in a twirl before placing him back down. They both were laughing. Helena even cracked a smile again as she placed a kiss on Marius’ cheek. The older man led Harry inside, Harry babbling about their travels and his croissant he had in France. Marius nodded along continually. Before he entered the home Regulus paused for a moment, turning completely around once. Cassiopeia seemed to sense his hesitation. As she sat her bag down and looked at him.

“It’s alright Regulus. You’re home now.” She smiled, he returned her smile and nodded. She continued inside bag in hand again, he glanced over his shoulder once at the rolling hills and the far off neighbors. She was right, he was home. Maybe for the first time ever.

Chapter Text

Dedalus Diggle was an excitable wizard. He didn’t find anything the matter with it, in fact he thought it was better to be that way. Why should he compromise his joy for anyone else? Besides, now more than ever was a time to be joyful. Over a year with barely a peep from dark witches and wizards with standing, they had all sunken back into their shadows, now that Harry Potter had defeated The Dark Lord. It did seem a wondrous time to be joyful.

His steps had a bit of a kick to them, he had to straighten his hat when he took a kick the wrong way over a crack in the sidewalk. His purple top hat was too precious to him to fall into the dirty concrete street. He wasn’t sure why the Muggles didn’t fix their walkways, it couldn’t be too difficult. It would only take him a few seconds with a wave of a wand, granted he knew their ways tended to be a bit slower, all these cracks on the sidewalk were a bit hazardous.

He shrugged it off as he continued down Grimmauld Place. He’d never been to this part of London, though he had heard rumors of the infamous House of Black residing in these parts. Their home was never found during the war, granted it turned out they didn’t need to find them. He was excited to finally get a glimpse inside the secretive home. He could only barely fathom what a family as ancient and dark as them had tucked away in their house. He glanced up at the passing house numbers, he’d find out in just a moment.

When Dumbledore had asked for an audience with him at The Three Broomsticks, he thought it was a final catch all for the now dissolved Order of the Phoenix. The trials had come to an end for the most part, several notorious Death Eaters escaping the clutches of Azkaban, quite unfortunately. To his surprise, Dumbledore had a new mission for him. He was shocked there would be any left. His shock only furthered as Dumbledore took them upstairs for privacy. The story seemed hard to fathom had it not come from a man he trusted implicitly.

Regulus Black, the heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black and known Death Eater, was alive. Even more so, he was caring for the Chosen One, Harry Potter. It had all been a large amount of information to grasp a handle on. As Dumbledore slowly filled him in though, it became a clearer picture. Harry was only safe with family, and Dumbledore was certain Regulus was the closest connection that could keep Harry ambably hidden. It made sense, who would want to keep away from the Death Eaters then one who had supposedly defected from the organization.

Then came Dedalus’ role in the whole affair. Dumbledore was a busy man with a rather full schedule, but he needed to check in on the young Mister Potter still. That is where he came into play. He was to be a liaison of sorts. Check in on Mister Black and Mister Potter every few months, make sure both are in line and acting accordingly then report back to Albus. It did seem easy enough, Dedalus’ had free time. He had retired from his life as a champion duelist to his family's estate in Kent. He occasionally was recruited to teach additional classes at the dueling academy or he spent time writing papers and articles on various curses and jinxes.

Checking in on the one and only Harry Potter would give him some more excitement to his days. He wasn’t going to complain about such a task, instead he found glory in it. That feeling filled his chest as he stopped at his destination. The spot just between a number eleven and a number thirteen. He had memorized the address just before Albus had burned it to ash. A Fidelius Charm was rather impressive, maybe once he and Mister Black become more acquainted, he could question him on the charm. He had never had a reason to cast it, and theory versus practice were always so different.

The two Muggle homes slowly pushed aside with a bit of a tumble of old brick and dirt. The sound shook the ground he stood on. A moment later the old worn steps were present to him and he took them two at a time. He wondered if he should knock first, but there was no knocker on the door. Instead he drew his wand and used the code to unlock the door. It pushed open with an echoing groan of an empty Entrance Hall. He suspected maybe the two young men were just having a bit of a lie-in. He took steps into the grand room, his boots tapping with each move.

His mouth gaped slightly at the place. He had a sizable country home himself, but there was a feel of magic here that was hardly found anywhere, aside from maybe Hogwarts and The Ministry, and for that feel to encompass a home. Well that was a home full of years of powerful magic. He did a small circle as he looked upwards, there had to be several floors above him, and it looked as if there were steps leading down as well. He wondered why the Blacks ever needed all those additional homes, this one seemed more than fitted for a large family or two to share. Granted, they were always about the appearance of their family. He didn’t wish ill on many, but he would not be upset as the Black’s dwindled down to the barest of members.

“Merlin, who do you think you are?” A voice cried from behind him. He whipped around so quickly he almost lost his hat.

“Dedalus Diggle, pleasure to meet you.” He replied to the portrait that was just behind him. He was staring into narrow silver eyes on a rather lanky young figure. The portrait was a few years old from the bit of fading, but the person painted looked youthful as ever, in fitted dark robes and shaggy longer hair.

“Pleasure.” The portrait scoffed as he leaned over the desk to eye him a bit harder.

“And you are?” Dedalus smiled back. Maybe the portrait just needed a bit of kindness. It must be strange to be stuck in a painting.

“Regulus Black.” The portrait spat back. His face twisted cruelly.

“Eh, not the Regulus Black I’m looking for I suppose.” Dedalus replied, lightly. The portrait rolled his eyes as he threw himself back into his seat.

“My great nephew, I suppose?” The other Regulus asked.

“That would be the one. Would you happen to know where I could find him?” Dedalus asked as he jumped a bit closer to the portrait. He hadn’t ever known Regulus Black personally, but he supposed him and his great uncle did look a bit alike. The Black’s all held the same type of features.

“Why would I tell you?” The portrait hissed as he turned his chair around to face the windows behind him. Dedalus assumed that was the end of the conversation. He continued moving, they had to be somewhere in the home. He pondered for a moment before moving towards the stairs head down. He ended up in a rather large kitchen, though it was particularly bare, and a thin layer of dust had started to settle on the counters. He ran a finger over it, the color was still a light grey, but it was substantial enough to leave a mark on his hand. He also noted that there were boxes pushed into the farthest corner. It seemed strange to box up a kitchen. He shrugged it off and walked back out, noting a door was to his side.

He opened it to find himself outside. There was a small yard behind the home, a few weeds sprouted on the grass, but otherwise well maintained. He glanced around to see that no one was hidden outside as he made his way back inside. He noticed on his way in that there was another portrait staring him down from behind a wine glass. He blinked as he took in the curly haired figure. She was a few years older than the other portrait, in fact maybe a decade older. She was leaned against a loveseat, her dress cascading around her as she slowly sip the elf wine in her hand.

“Afternoon, Madam.” He tipped his hat to her.

“Afternoon, Sir, find what you are looking for yet?” She replied, tilting her wine glass towards him.

“Not yet, Madam. You wouldn’t happen to know Regulus Black’s location would you?” He asked, wringing his hands. This portrait at least seemed more agreeable.

“My baby brother? Likely sulking in his portrait.” She answered before taking another heavy sip.

“Oh no ma’am not him, I did have a run in with him already. The younger Mister Regulus Black.” He corrected himself, tottering a bit on his toes now. There was this inkling of a feeling creeping up his spine.

“Oh, my nephew. What a dear he is, reminds me a bit of his father when he was younger. Nose always in a book, you know rumor has it, they were both hatstalls. Between Slytherin and Ravenclaw no less, could you imagine the heirs of the House of Black sorted into Ravenclaw? Oh I would have loved to see that. The chaos it would have caused this family would have been immaculate.” She chuckled a bit. Dedalus himself had been in Ravenclaw, he could imagine how it would have ruffled feathers for Blacks to be in the House with others like him. They were more respected than the other Houses, but Blacks belonged in Slytherin.

“Yes ma’am. I'm certain it would be most interesting; however, do you happen to know where your nephew is right now?” He asked again.

“Oh goodness me, I am not his keeper. Though you know who was one? My dear brother, he’ll chat your ear off with his glory days. Yes, all three of us played for a short time. My eldest brother Arcturus was ruthless on the pitch, and I, if I do say so myself, was a cunning little chaser. Oh yes, it was a glory, three Blacks on the pitch at a time. Pity I got taken out after only one season, don’t you worry though, my brothers got revenge on my behalf. That Beater never played again either.” She smirked, more to herself. It didn’t seem he was getting anywhere with this conversation.

“Well wonderful stories Madam. Thank you for your time.” He answered as he edged his way back towards the front room. She only nodded and waved her hand to dismiss him. He let out a long sigh as he started up the stairs. The first room was an old abandoned bedroom. Then so was the second, until he reached what may have been a drawing room at one time. Only now, it too was packed up, with the furniture covered in white sheets. That feeling he had got hollower. Maybe this is just how Mister Black preferred to live.

He made his way to another landing to find it even more barren than the first, he was starting to feel the creeps of dejection sprout in his mind. There couldn’t be many more places, even in this large home for two people to be hidden. He leaned against the landing, trying to collect his thoughts. There must be some sort of trickery here, if he could only piece it together.

“Knut for your thoughts.” A voice called. He jumped and pulled his wand to only be facing a third portrait. This one looked distinctly different from the other too. He was looking at a distinguished man, with warm brown skin, and glowing brown eyes. He wore clothes that were of a different style than most British Wizarding families, but he had seen flourish on his travels outside of the country. He blinked to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.

“My thoughts all center on finding one Mister Regulus Black and Mister Harry Potter.” He sighed as he leaned back into the wall again.

“A Potter eh? Well we can be slippery when needed now can’t we?” The portrait chuckled. It clicked then that he recognized the portrait, if only vaguely.

“You’re a Potter, no?” He inquired, tilting his head, hat and all.

“Charlus Potter, good to meet you.” The man replied pleasantly. This was by far the kindest of the portraits. Maybe, he could get somewhere now.

“Oh Mister Potter. Wonderful to meet you sir, I’ve been trying to find Mister Harry Potter, but to no avail, would you happen to know where he is?” He asked, leaning forward in his excitement.

“Well even if we knew where our great-nephew was, why exactly would we disclose it to you?” A new voice replied. Charlus’ eyes seemed to glint a bit as he held out a hand and allowed another woman to step into the portrait. She was rather beautiful, her black hair pinned back with many jewels, and her pale skin complimented by the deep green gown she wore. Her silver eyes gave her away, she was most certainly a Black.

“Madam.” He answered with an awkward bow.

“Sir?” She questioned.

“Diggle, Madam. Dedalus Diggle.” He shook his head.

“Well Mister Diggle, I can assure you, and Mister Dumbledore, who I am most certain you report to, that my nephews are well taken care of, the both of them.” She replied, turning her nose up slightly.

“Madam, if you please. I’ve been tasked with checking up on them. If I could only know where to find them?” He pleaded a bit, his hands growing a bit sweaty.

“I can assure you, you won’t get the information you need from us.” She narrowed her eyes at him. His stomach felt a bit ill.

“They aren’t here, are they?” He whispered. She turned her head to him, but Charlus did look a bit sympathetically at him, twitching his face in a reply.

Goodness, his first day and he had already royally messed up. He thought as he stumbled through the rest of the house fruitlessly. He knew, maybe from the moment he stepped into the house. He knew they had left, right under his nose. The House was empty and packed away except for one room on the highest floor. Regulus Black and Harry Potter not to be found anywhere. He shook slightly as he reached the Entrance Hall once again, wringing his hands nervously.

“Merlin, how do I explain this?” He whispered to himself.

“I should have come sooner, maybe I could have caught them in the act, and not a drop of evidence anywhere to where they might be. Oh, Albus will be so disappointed.” He ranted to himself.

Unbeknownst to Dedelalus, just behind where he lamented, four portraits had gathered. They watched with some curiosity as the small wizard paced back and forth. His mumbling filled the air as they observed. Their plan is already in motion. They had prepared for this moment.

“Lycoris, you go and inform Alphard. I’ll go and update Grandfather Phineas. Charlus, Dorea stay here and watch the peculiar little wizard. Find us if anyone else shows up.” Regulus informed under his breath. They all nodded in agreement before dispersing. The Blacks always had a plan after all.

-

Regulus groaned as he rolled over. The sun was brightly shining into his room, hitting just across his face. He covered his face with a pillow. It had been nearly four months since they had moved to Switzerland, and he still wasn’t used to the brightest here. Sometimes he did long for the overcast of the British, though most days he was appreciative of the sun. He sighed as he threw the covers off, if he wasn’t down at breakfast soon, Cassepeioa would come and dump water on him. A fact that Harry was always so amused by since the first time she had whipped out her wand and soaked his face when he tried to curl back under his covers.

He stumbled to the bathroom just down the hall, noting that Harry’s room was wide open and empty. He must have already stumbled down to breakfast. Helena was always up early for her shifts, and Harry had taken a liking to waking up early to join her. Regulus had just found it a relief that he wasn’t alone in caring for Harry. He loved Harry to pieces, but knowing there were other people in the house who could care for him was a relief he hadn’t known he needed. Now, he didn’t feel the need to hover constantly, though he’ll admit he still did. His aunt and uncle were often home most days, and Helena got off in the afternoon. Then Kreacher could pop wherever Harry called him. It was a group effort.

He started his way to the kitchen, noting that for the late hour the house was rather quiet. Usually, he could hear Cassiopeia wandering the house tending to one task or another, or he could hear his uncle Marius tuning an instrument or out in the greenhouse. At the very least, he should hear Harry. The toddler could hardly sit still and be quiet anymore. It was a challenge to get him to do either. Regulus spent most days creating new tasks to wear him out in order to get him to lie down when needed. Currently, he had found that having Harry chase the garden gnomes would entertain him for hours and make afternoon nap easier to digest.

Then when he turned the corner, the kitchen was dark. The kitchen was never dark, even at night, the curtains were thrown open to allow the moonlight in, or if it was a dark night, they left a burning torch to light the way in case anyone needed a later night tea or snack. He stopped and pondered for a moment. Had he missed something? He chewed on his lip as he thought, he felt a bit of a pit in his stomach. His worry escalated as he took slow steps forward, keeping his hand near his wand. He cautiously approached the archway into the kitchen. Just as his eyes started to adjust a flood of light filled the room so bright that he had to lift his hand to shield his eyes.

“Happy Birthday!” Voices cried, as he rubbed his eyes. Birthday?

“Reggie!” Harry squealed as he threw himself at Regulus' legs. Regulus rubbed his head as he looked before him. Cassiopeia stood holding a small cake. Marius and Helena were just next to her, a few small wrapped presents in front of them as they smiled at him. It was his birthday, he’d nearly forgotten.

“My birthday.” He said slowly, as Harry jumped up and down for attention.

“Yes, nephew, it is your birthday. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” Cassepioa chuckled as she sat the cake down, and started putting small candles in it. Marius chuckled along with her.

“I’ve never celebrated my birthday.” He whispered as he picked up the bouncing Harry and stepped forward.

“A tragic tradition in our family unfortunately. They will lavish on the birth of a child, but afterwards act as if it never existed. Not here, here we celebrate birthdays.” Cassiopeia smiled as she lit the few candles.

“Wish, Reggie.” Harry pointed excitedly. The candles flickered as he felt his head sworn in befuddlement. He had not the faintest clue what to wish for. Harry kept wagging his finger at the candles as Regulus smiled and kissed his forehead before bending down to blow out the candles and make a wish. Everyone let out a small cheer as he did.

“Cake!” Harry cried out as he leaned forward towards the sweet. Regulus pulled him back gently as he laughed into his forehead.

“Shouldn’t we have breakfast first Harry?” Regulus muttered as he bounced Harry on his hip. He had grown so much over their time here, it felt like it was flying by.

“Cake for breakfast.” He declared determined as he wiggled out of Regulus’ hands and onto the floor.

“How about cake with breakfast, Harry? You can have your eggs and a slice of cake on the side.” Cassiopeia offered, setting the cake just out of Harry’s reach. Harry nodded enthusiastically.

“Kreacher be making breakfast, Mistress.” Kreacher nodded as he popped up from behind the counter.

“Kreacher make Master best breakfast.” He nodded as he quickly padded over to the other side of the kitchen to gather the supplies.

“Wonderful, thank you Kreacher.” Cassiopeia smiled before turning to Regulus.

“Did you truly think we would not celebrate your birthday?” Cassiopeia asked with a bit of concern in her face. Regulus shook his head as he approached her, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Truly, Aunt Cassiopeia. This is wonderful and better than I could even imagine, thank you.” He whispered as he held onto one of her arms. She smiled at him as she nodded.

“Thank you to you two as well. You didn’t have to.” Regulus turned to face Marius and Helena.

“Nonsense, it’s not everyday you turn twenty-two.” Helena replied with a small smile. The two of them were slowly getting more acquainted.

“This isn’t all either.” Marius replied with a twinkle to his eyes. Time with his uncle had taught him that twinkle usually preceded something Regulus wouldn’t necessarily be prepared for at first.

For instance, when he’d dragged Regulus out to the greenhouse that he was so fond of and he had ended up dodging Venomous Tentacula. It had reminded him of all the Herbology lessons he had dreaded in school. It was by far his worst subject, yet Marius thrived in Herbology and Potion Making, to Regulus' surprise. His uncle had only chuckled when Regulus had found that the shed next to the greenhouse was a potions room. Even more shocking was his uncle brewing potions with a wand no less.

They had ended up having a tedious, but meaningful conversation. While his uncle had much less magical properties to Regulus, and most subjects were beyond his abilities. Subjects that involved minimum wand work, he could excel at when taken the time and patience to teach him, which both Helena and Cassiopeia had done. Regulus had been thrilled to have access to potions again, he spent several afternoons out in the shed with his uncle. Brewing potions needed for the magical village down the road from them, usually for the hospital that Helena worked at.

“Presents, Reggie.” Harry pointed at the handful of gifts sitting on the counter. Regulus ruffled his hair as he went to sit next to the presents.

“Now?” He asked a bit hesitantly. Gentle laughs filled the air around him.

“It’s your birthday, Regulus. If you want to open your presents now you can.” Cassiopeia smiled as she placed a hand on his arm. Childish giddy rose into his chest, he’d never celebrated a birthday like this before. He quickly turned to the presents, untying the first bow, as Harry climbed up next to him preening his eyes to catch a glimpse of the presents first. Regulus cast a glance his way as he pulled Harry closer to help him unwrap the gifts. The warmth of Harry to his side combined with the excitement in his chest, made it easy for him to think this was his best birthday to date.

With Harry’s happy helping hands his presents laid before him. A broomstick leaned against the counter from Aunt Cassiopeia. Then more Muggle books to add to his collection, he could easily admit it, he’d rather enjoyed the collections from Christmas, Helena had signed her name to those. She was astute in the fact that Regulus and Harry were exposed to all the finer points of Muggle life. She was a muggle-born witch after all. A new cauldron for his potions, Marius had winked at him as he opened it. Then Harry had written his name on a rather messy, lumpy wrapped present.

“Mine, Reggie!” Harry clapped as he pushed the present noisily across the counter.

“Did you wrap it yourself?” Regulus asked as he gingerly picked up the present so the wrappings wouldn’t fall. Harry nodded his head rather pleased.

“Wonderful job, Harry.” He encouraged as his fingers tore into the thin paper. He touched a piece of cloth inside the wrappings, pulling out a strange pair of shorts. Harry looked at him eagerly as he feigned understanding.

“Swim shorts!” Harry exclaimed a moment later. Leaning forward wiggling his whole bottoms as he poked them.

“For lake!” The little voice continued. Oh the lake, the thorn in his side. There was a lake not terribly far from them, filled with local Muggles and vacationers alike. They trampled past the old country manor nearly every day since arrival, Harry hanging onto their every movement from inside. He’d pleaded with everyone to be allowed to go. The idea of being in a place so full of people and so exposed to the world had kept Regulus on pins. Cassiopeia had tried to calm him, explaining that Harry needed to be around other children, and the reason they left was to give him a more normal existence. Not leave him trapped in a different house in a different country. After weeks of nights spent pacing the grounds he had conceded. They were going to the lake for Harry’s birthday.

“How thoughtful, Harry.” He smiled to hide the rising flush of nerves in his cheeks. He’d survived the trip, he told himself. Override his bad thoughts with good ones, is what Helena taught him. She always had this magical potion that helped calm him completely. She said he suffered from anxiety, he didn't know what that meant. He’d been raised that the Blacks were the healthiest and proudest of their kind. A facade broken when Uncle Alphard died of a heart condition, his father quickly befell the same fate. Though Helena had forced him to sit in the sunroom as she did a full exam on him, she confirmed he did not have the same genetic condition, but that his heart's increased speed was from anxiety. A case that she said would need to be treated with a mixture of potions and therapy. He’d been sold on the potions, the therapy word was a bit too much still.

“We can swim, Reggie.” Harry hummed as Kreacher slowly placed plates in front of everyone. Regulus only nodded as he tucked Harry into his seat. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know how to swim.

“We will have loads of fun, Harry.” He smiled, rubbing a bit of dirt from his cheek. He swallowed heavily and tried to make himself believe his own words as he thanked Kreacher for the breakfast and then Cassiopeia as she sliced that cake. No matter worrying about the future yet, not when there was a celebration to be had all around him.

Chapter Text

A quick snap of a quill crushing in his hand brought a reality crashing around him. Albus Dumbledore was a proud man, he could say it. He was also a controlled man, and the act of anger was out of character for him. He set the remnants of the quill into a pile on the corner of his desk. With a heavy sigh, the parchment was pushed aside into a clutter. He wasn’t going to finish the letter tonight as he let his head fall into his hands. Rarely, did he admit defeat. Even now, this was only temporary.

Regulus Black has slipped from his grasps with Harry Potter in tow. He’d met with Dedalus at The Three Broomsticks only that evening to be updated on the news. He’d quickly made his way to the home himself to find it astutely packed and abandoned. For some time from the state of it, and the portraits only seemed more useless as he went on. He couldn’t force portraits to give him the information he needed. They were only fragments of people long passed on. He knew that as well as anyone.

Regulus Black was but one wizard though. Dumbledore would find him before long. How he proceeded once he found him was yet to be seen. He had been on a tight mess to find an appropriate match to raise Harry. Granted, throwing away Mister Black may be more difficult than it was to do so to his brother. Regulus held favor with his family still, likely at least one of them would come to his aide if not all those left. Young Mister Black was a political and he’d never severed the ties with his family, even as they began to falter, he could not deny the power and wealth the Black Family still held.

His train of thought screeched to a hold. His family. Yes, wasn’t it Mister Black who suggested other members of his family. Wouldn’t it be easier to drop off a child with one of them and then run off on his own? Dumbledore just may have to make a drop in at all the remaining Blacks homes and see what he could find there. It was the start of a plan, which seemed better than the letter he had been struggling to write for the last hour. Getting on his feet would do him well, allowing him to clear his thoughts. He’d have to start first thing tomorrow.

Which is how the older man ended up on the edge of the town of Chudleigh. It wasn’t a particularly notorious town, and far off from any place magical. Besides the Quidditch team being a long run joke, people hardly paid attention to Chudleigh. Likely the reason the Tonks family now called it home. Several counties away from London and far enough away from the manor in Wiltshire where the Blacks now resided. Andromeda had probably felt safe and comfortable enough to make her home here after her banishment from her family. If he remembered correctly, Mister Tonks was just from the county over in Cornwell, here was probably homey to them both.

From where he stood, he could see a young child chasing butterflies in the garden. Her hair is a bright yellow, not a natural blonde, but a fluorescent shade of the color. It would be hard to miss Miss Nymphadora. She was a force, he had heard. In just over a year's time, he could see her ever changing hair bouncing down the rows in the Great Hall to be sorted into her home for the next seven years. The wonder of where she would be and what she would do was ever open and free. Childhood was so precious, ever fleeting. He took in a deep breath before descending from his place of watch. If Mister Regulus or Mister Potter was here, they had not appeared yet, and truthfully, this was the place he expected them least of all.

Slowly, he descended on the garden. The dew of morning fresh against his ankles as he walked. The young girl turned to face him as he smiled. She tilted her head curiously, letting the butterfly near her ear fly to its freedom. He could see it land on a nearby rose bush. The small child took a small step back, but stuck out her chin defiantly. The essence of Andromeda shows in every aspect of her stance.

“Hello Nymphadora.” Dumbledore greeted. Smiling even more at the child.

“Name’s Tonks.” She replied sharply, crossing her arms. She had spirit.

“My apologies, hello Tonks.” He corrected himself. Her shoulders loosened slightly, and slowly a broad smile showed. She was missing one of her front teeth. It added character and Dumbledore could see the glow of Ted now. The young child seemed the perfect mixture of her parents' personalities.

“Good day.” She replied, never letting her eyes waver.

“Are your parents home still?” He asked gently. He peered over her shoulder. There was a curtain flapping gently in the breeze and through it he could see what appeared to be shadows moving in the kitchen. Tonks nodded slowly, jutting her chin towards the door.

“Wonderful. I’ll let you get back to your play. I must speak to your parents for just a moment.” He replied, as he headed towards the door just a few strokes from the opened window. Tonks quickly turned back to him and dropped down to observe a creature creeping up a small bean stock. As he approached the chipped red door, he knocked once before entering. Inside was a flurry of Magic and movement, Andromeda stood tending to a warm stovetop, fruit being sliced next to her by a knife hovering by itself, while she managed the eggs cooking. Ted was rushing about behind her, his green healer robes flapping against his legs as he searched for his bag.

“Dora keeps playing with my things, Dromeda.” Ted chuckled when he found his bag atop the fridge. He turned just then to make eye contact with the older wizard standing in their doorway.

“Albus.” Ted said quickly. Andromeda quickly dropped the pan in her hand as she gasped and turned sideways to face him as well. There was a look of concern across her face.

“Is everything alright?” She asked quickly, grabbing her chest. Yes, he did suppose some habits of war were harder to let go of. Usually a visit from Dumbledore in the past few years had been news of the worst kind. The poor woman had suffered greatly over the years, the thin lines of her lips often tight against her face. Andromeda and Ted had been loyal allies, but for the sake of themselves and their young daughter they kept their role out of The Order. Ted did supply them with excess healing equipment when possible and Andromeda had done her best to provide them with the knowledge and customs of the purebloods. They had provided useful, albeit a bit distant.

“No worries, Miss Tonks. I do not come bearing bad news.” Dumbledore assured as he took a step inside. Andromeda relaxed visibly as she hurried for a kettle.

“Please come in, make yourself comfortable. It’s not much, but it’s home.” She called over her shoulder as Ted nodded along.

“Thank you, Miss Tonks.” Dumbledore replied, lowering himself into a chair at the small table just to the side of the kitchen. Ted disappeared for a moment before reappearing with his cloak on and stumbling to place his wand in his pocket.

“I would love to stay and chat, but St. Mungo’s calls. Cases of Scrofungulus have been rising rapidly. Have a good day, Albus.” Ted tilted his head before stepping back into the Floo. The room was silent until the Floo quieted down again.

“Four sugars still?” Andromeda asked from the kitchen counter. Dumbledore nodded and a moment later she set the tea in front of him.

“Thank you.” He replied with a nod. She smiled, but he could see small bags under her eyes and they were warm and red in appearance.

“Everything alright Andromeda?” He asked kindly. He knew the poor woman had lived a tough life.

“I’ll be fine, Albus. Tonks is just at a curious stage in her life. She stumbled over some old family heirlooms and photos and started asking questions. Merlin knows I barely could get through answering them.” She sighed leaning into the counter before staring out at her young daughter still playing in the garden.

“Curiosity is a good trait in a child. I’m certain she will do wonderful things.” Dumbledore reassured her. She didn’t look away from the window.

“Now in regards to your extended family.” Dumbledore started. Her neck nearly snapped; she turned so quickly he could hear it crack.

“My only family sits in this very house.” She snipped at him, clenching her tea cup.

“I understand your sentiments on your extended family, Andromeda. I promise this will only take a moment.” Dumbledore tried to calm her.

“Do you understand? Has your family thrown you away like a piece of rubbish they stepped in? Did they try to curse you back to their ways? Did your closest family lie to your very face for years?” She huffed. Her face grew pale and slack as her shoulders began to shake.

“We were all shocked at Sirius’ betrayal.” Dumbledore’s begun.

“I shouldn’t have been. I should have known, I should have seen it.” She snapped. Her lips were quivering, but her eyes were hardened and strong. A product of years of restraint she had been forced to use. They sat in silence for a few moments, Dumbledore allowing her to compose herself before continuing.

“You know, it would have been Regulus’ twenty-second birthday just the other day. Tonks found one of his Quidditch jumpers and tried it on. I don't even know how I came to possess it, but to see her in it, so close to the day he was born, so close to the day he was last seen. It nearly broke me.” She sniffled. Ah, he had figured Mister Black was not hiding here. Such an emotional response meant that Andromeda must still believe him dead. He was almost glad, he had hoped the Tonks had not lost faith in him.

“I’m sorry, Andromeda.” He replied quietly.

“I won’t bother you about your family any longer. Is there anything you’d like to ask of me?” He asked after a few moments had passed. She looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Did he truly do it? Did Sirius really betray the Potter’s? I know there was no trial, but there must have been overwhelming evidence, no?” She whispered as she took a noisy sip of tea.

“It is true to the best of anyone's knowledge.” He said simply. No need to fret over details with an upset woman. Her jaw clenched as she began to stare out the window.

“Well enough. It will do me good to get even farther from any remnants of my family. Not a good one left in them.” She grumbled, her eyes following her daughter’s quick movements outside. Dumbledore finished his tea as he stood.

“Thank you once again, Andromeda. I will leave you to your day.” He nodded slightly as he took his leave. He cast a glance at the active child before popping away to his next location.

Andromeda sat contemplative for a moment. Her tea barely touched as she stood to stare out the open door. Tonks was bent down to inspect a large insect of sorts. She’d gotten her fascination with the outdoors from her many play dates with Charlie Weasley. She believed there was a bit of a one way fancy growing there. The poor boy would never see it though, his head was too full of dragons, chasing the gnomes and writing to his older brother to have him tell him all about Hogwarts. Charlie and Tonks were an interesting pair when together, at least they’d have each other to lean on during their years at Hogwarts.

She sighed heavily. The feelings still caught up in her chest. Her child would learn many things while at Hogwarts, her worries were about the gossip that would be told about herself. The Slytherin house was notorious for their gossip and she hoped everyday the Sorting Hat wouldn’t consider the house. It would get back to her child’s ear eventually though, and a long hard conversation would need to be had, she’d avoided it too long already. Ignoring and putting off the questions that came about regarding uncle Sirius. How does one explain a horrific situation to a child?

She’d push through though. Explain it as plainly and calmly as she could. Her parents, her sisters and her cousins all, and everything that had happened to them. Tonks would not go to school ignorant. Andromeda resolved that to herself a long time ago, no matter how painful the memories would be. Tonks was tough like her, but kind like Ted, a powerful combination. Hogwarts would need to prepare for the day school began in over a years time. The thought brought a lightness to her face again. Not all was lost when she had her family tucked away in their little cottage here.

-

Sunlight beat down onto warm sand, as the quiet laps of water clicked just a few meters away. Regulus dug his toes into the sand as he rested his head into his knees. The lake wasn’t as awful as he had predicted it to be. Behind him, Cassiopeia and Helena were in a deep discussion about a new healing method the hospital was trying with complementary medicine. Marius sat quietly flipping through the pages of a book he had brought along. All three had chairs they sat in under a large very colorful umbrella. Regulus was sitting just far enough away on the colorful towel Harry had gotten him. The swim trucks tight on his thighs as he fidgeted his toes in the sand.

Harry had run off to chase the waves as they moved back and forth along the shore. His laughter filled the air every few moments as the water would hit his ankles with a splash. Regulus watched with a careful eye, constantly glancing around them every time he caught new movement. There was a Muggle family sitting only a few arms lengths from where they had stationed themselves. He eyed them over heavily when they arrived a few minutes prior, but he deemed them relatively harmless. The father had a deep chuckle as he dug a hole for their umbrella and the mother doted on her two younger daughters as she smattered sun cream on the wiggling younger children.

The oldest daughter laughed at her sister’s predicament until they both ran off towards the water. The two younger ones splash loudly together just next to Harry. Harry was taken aback by the new company as he blinked heavily at the two. The older of the girls, who was likely around six, waved at Harry. Harry looked back at Regulus, who while a bit nervous, nodded at Harry. The younger boy waved happily back as the youngest daughter waddled over to him. She was likely around Harry’s age, she giggled as she approached him, babbling in half words and half nonsense. Harry seemed to understand it though as he laughed along with her. She took his hand in hers and they started jumping over the waves together as her sister hovered nearby.

“Is that your brother?” A voice asked from above him. Regulus looked up to see the eldest daughter standing above him, she was much older. Probably close to his own age if he had to guess. She spoke in a thick French accent.

“Cousin.” Regulus replied sharply, before turning his attention back to the children. Harry had wobbled a bit on the last jump as he wanted to make sure he caught his footing. At least Helena was nearby, though they’d have to get away from the Muggles if he hurt himself.

“Bit warm out for a long shirt.” The girl continued as she flung out her own towel. He just shrugged in response. He wasn’t sure why she’d taken such an interest in him.

“You're not much of a conversationalist are you?” She laughed as she sat the towel close to him and made herself comfortable. She flung dark hair back as she leaned on her elbows, soaking in the sun with her face. He held back a sigh, he had hoped for a quiet day.

“Guess not.” He mumbled. She placed sunnies over her blue eyes. They were in the shape of hearts strangely enough.

“Is that a British accent?” She leaned in curiously, her smile was genius though. Her lips didn’t overstretch on her face and she didn’t bare her teeth in an overly excited way.

“Indeed.” He answered slower. The word dragged out as if he subconsciously tried to cover the accent now that she had pointed it out.

“Are you on holiday too then?” She asked, leaning back again. The sun glimmered on her golden one piece, like there were small diamonds sewn into the fabric. He hadn’t seen anything quite like it before. He could see in stones, but the shine was very present.

“We just moved here.” He mumbled lower than usual. Instinctively ducking his head to avoid her glance.

“Our grandparents live here. I’m from France, not Paris, farther away near the countryside.” She explained. He wondered how much longer she would talk for. He wished he had brought his book here so he could use it as an excuse, but it was tucked in one of the bags behind his aunts.

“Ever been to France?” She asked as she laid flat on her back.

“A few times.” He answered quickly. She chuckled a bit.

“Am I going to have to carry this whole conversation myself?” She laughed. He glanced over at her again, her eyes flashed as she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like you said, I’m not much of a conversationalist.” He sighed back, turning his eyes back to Harry. He looked to be having much more fun than Regulus’ currently was.

“Can you at least give me your name?” She laughed again. She laughed a lot and he blanked. He didn’t want to give out his name, not when anyone could overhear them.

“Reggie.” He thought quickly. No one, but he brother’s and their friends had ever called him that. It seemed innocuous enough.

“Interesting name. I’m Bernadette, those are my sister’s, Beatrice and Brigette.” She said pointing to the older one and then the little one.

“Harry.” He nodded towards the boy who was now fascinated with a rock he’d found in the water.

“He’s a cute little babe. Are those your parents?” She nodded towards the three older adults.

“Aunts and Uncle.” He replied. She looked a bit perplexed.

“Are your parents coming later?” She asked, tilting her head. He just shook his head. She fell silent for a bit finally, Regulus concentrating on Harry as she lay stretched out next to him. She looked like she was going to speak again just as Harry wobbled over to Regulus. He plopped down on his knees and squinted up at him.

“Ow.” Harry said as he pointed to his eyes. They were watery and he could barely keep them open. Regulus rubbed his back as he picked him, his entire side getting drenched from the residual water from Harry’s playing.

“Let’s see if Aunt Helena can help.” Regulus smiled as Harry sniffled a little. He turned his back quickly, stepping into the warm sand, not caring to glance back as he left. Harry wiggled in his arms as his aunts fell silent as they approached.

“Auntie Helena, ow!” Harry cried as he pointed to his eyes again. She smiled sweetly as Regulus let Harry down as he stumbled over to kneel in front of her. She lifted his eyelids slowly as Regulus waited patiently stepping closer to Cassiopeia.

“Seems like you have a little admirer over there, little nephew.” Cassiopeia cooed as she shifted her eyes back to the girl who was still sunning herself.

“Oh.” Regulus muttered. He didn’t particularly want an admirer.

“You know Regulus, you can have little fancies now. We’re not going to make you marry off a suitable woman, you can do as you please. You are a grown man.” Cassiopeia whispered, leaning forward towards him.

He had supposed it was true, at least briefly. Not marrying had been one of the reliefs of his new found life. As he grew, he’d been told Blacks did not have fancies, they married who they were told and they did so proudly. Granted, as he matured he realized that wasn’t always true. Aunt Lucretia hadn’t initially been betrothed to Uncle Ignatius, Andromeda had run off from her marriage to Evan Rosier, and Cassiopeia had never married. He’d hopped to slip under the rug and avoid the commitment altogether, just as his namesake had.

However, as his brother rebelled more and more, his prospect became folly. It would fall on him, everything, the heirdom, the marriages, and the House. Of course, he had at least gotten a reprieve in the inevitable. His brother being disowned, his father falling incredibly ill, and the brewing war distracted everyone from his sense of duty in that aspect. He’d managed to finish Hogwarts without a single hint of an engagement. It wasn’t until a few days before his eighteenth birthday, only a few months after his father had passed, that his Uncle Cygnus sat him down and said he would have to marry before the end of the year. He’d given him three names of acceptable women to wed and an option many never had. He could choose his bride, he would die for all intents only a week later. He hoped those women found suitable honorable husbands.

“She's only here for a holiday.” He mumbled back. Cassiopeia’s eyebrows perked up.

“Sometimes a holiday fling is good for us all.” She snickered slightly as her eyebrows moved. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he provided her a crooked smile.

“All done.” Helena declared, breaking any awkward conversation. Harry’s green eyes were open and bright again, though a bit irritated around the edges.

“Just a little sand in the eyes, washed it out with some cold water. Now let’s not fling sand around anymore alright Harry?” She wagged her finger at him but her face was lit up. Harry giggled as he nodded.

“Play Reg?” Harry asked, stretching out his hand. He’d take any excuse to get away from the tense conversation of his admirer. He took Harry’s hand and wadded out into ankle deep water as he Harry took turns splashing each other for awhile before Harry grew tired and Regulus took him back to their huddle of a family. Coaxing half a sandwich and a bit of fruit in him before he slumped in Regulus lap, taking an afternoon nap under the shade of the umbrella. Regulus finally was able to flip his book open satisfactorily.

He didn’t hear from his admirer again until they had begun to pack up. There was sand scratching all along his legs now and Harry’s hair was hard as a rock in some places. Regulus could almost feel the cooling reprieve of a nice shower as he helped Marius pull down the umbrella. When she approached silently, clearing her throat to get his attention as he turned around awkwardly.

“I’ll be in the village next week. There’s a summer festival if you happen to go, it would be nice to see you there.” She coyly asked as she shuffled her feet in the sand.

“Maybe, I’ll have to see.” He chewed his lip as he responded. He could hear Marius hushing his aunts giggles behind him. She smiled for a second before trekking back over to where her family had started to pack up their belongings as well. Regulus kept chewing his lip until Aunt Helena threaten to force a calming potion down his throat if he didn’t stop.

Chapter Text

Wales was a quaint country, but not often visited by many in the wizarding community. Prewett Hall was one of the few places of notice, and even that seemed as if it would fade over the next few years. Mister and Mistress Prewett were the last of what had been a long line. Dumbledore thought they should be proud of their nephew's accomplishments. Till the very end Fabian and Gideon had been strong and loyal men.

He stood facing a large sized rocky cliff, the waves of the Isle they resided on lapping as the clouds hung darkening the sky. There was a whipping breeze and even now it was cooler here then where he had just come from. He fixed his sleeves down and waited a moment more for any movement to begin in the home. Tall and proud it loomed at the edge of the cliff, the grey house over four stories tall and just as wide had once housed many of the prestige family. Now to his memory, there were only two of them that resided within.

He could see warm flickers in some of the windows indicating someone was likely within, he started down the stone path to the home when he couldn’t stand to stare any longer. Clasping his arms behind him as his robes dragged slightly against the uneven stone. The fresh air here was a bit different than out by Hogwarts. There was saltiness to it. He approached the wide double front doors, painted a dark grey as the house was and took a moment to flick his eyes up at the many white panes windows. He saw just a flash of movement in one of them before everything was still again.

He raised his wand and knocked twice. A resounding sound could be heard on the nearly empty home. He waited. Several minutes passed, as he raised his wand to knock again a pattering noise could be heard. Bare small feet against wooden floors and then the creak of the hinges slowly opening. At first, it appeared no one was there, until he thought to look down. A small house elf stood before him, blocking his way inside. The creature’s large eyes staring at him as he noted, she was dressed in a small simple yellow outfit. She’d been freed.

“Hello.” Dumbledore began, eyeing the small creature. She only blinked at him once.

“I’ve come to call on your Mister and Mistress.” He continued as the creature never broke eye contact with him, her little hands tucked behind her back.

“Efa knows whys yous is here.” The elf pipped. She took a few pattering feet back as she held the door open a bit wider. Dumbledore nodded as he took a step inside. The lights gave the house a warmer appeal then the outside did.

“Mistress and Mister goes on a walk this morning. Down by the waters, I do not disturbs them.” The elf replied as she popped away a moment later. Leaving Dumbledore a bit befuddled by the act. Elves were usually a bit differently mannered, and most certainly they did not open doors in most pureblood homes. He wandered about the main room of the house. Glancing at the well set furniture, and the heirlooms of many generations of Prewett’s.

He allowed himself a few moments to wander around the living area. He could see the stairs that lead to the sleeping quarters and resting areas of the house. He had heard the younger Prewett sons speak on the expansive library that took up half the first floor. They had spent many times hiding dungbombs in different spots to surprise their Aunt and Uncle as they went to search for information on one of their many research projects.

The elder Prewett’s were well respected members of society and Ignatius and Lucretia had done extensive research on different characters in the magical world. Some of it well received, such as their vampire chronicles and even the goblins had sat to speak to the two. However, their more controversial work with banshees and werewolves could cause harm to their reputation. Not that he had ever heard either of them complain. They had an aptitude for Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures when he’d been their simple Transfiguration Professors. They were two of the brightest students of their year and he was pleased with their continued success.

The main hall branched off into two sides, one with more sitting rooms and the other into the kitchen. He made himself comfortable as he sat at the raised table overlooking the open space, folding his hands and waiting. The kitchen much like the rest of the house was simple and clean. It reflected the grey outside with grey cabinets and dark countertops. He wondered for a moment if Mistress Prewett was recreating, even subconsciously, the rather dark nature of her childhood home.

“A well kept home.” He mumbled to himself.

“Easy to do when there are so few to keep nowadays.” A voice called back as he looked over his shoulder. There in the doorway to the kitchen stood just the people he was looking for. Lucretia Prewett was a good head and half shorter than her husband as she stood in front of him, a stately but simple black dress adorned with a shaw on her shoulders. Ignatius had one hand on each side of the doorway leaning forward with a hard look in his eyes.

“Mister Prewett, Mistress Prewett. How are you today?” Dumbledore stood to greet them.

“Was better before I found an uninvited guest helping himself to our kitchen.” Lucretia replied again as she removed her shaw and stomped her feet clean before entering the kitchen. Igantius entered much more silently, keeping his arms to his side and his eyes focused.

“My apologies, Mistress Prewett. I do have my reasons for the unexpected drop in.” Dumbledore replied, turning to follow her as she walked. She washed her hands quickly before turning to put on a kettle.

“Well out with it. You can make your own cup of tea, I’ve always been told by my mother I’m a terrible host. Wouldn’t want to prove her wrong.” She stated. Her arms crossed in front of her. She’d never be a pleasantries type of woman, less so as the war raged and she’d lost more and more of those around her.

“I’ve come to provide you with these.” He said, slowly pulling out two small ribbons with a golden metal at the end. He had thought ahead on his endeavors. He sat them slowly on the counter in front of him, and waited for a response.

“I had been informed you had never collected them. I thought I would bring them personally.” Dumblerdore offered when the response never came. The air had grown very tense around them as the kettle began to hum. Lucretia merely flicked her hand behind her to have the kettle lift and pour two cups of tea, never taking her eyes off the shades of purple on her counter now.

“Had you not thought, maybe we had not collected them on purpose?” Ignatius finally spoke.

“I don’t see why not? It’s a prestigious honor, it should be given to you, as their closest living relatives.” Dumbledore explained. Lucretia made an unflattering noise as she picked up one tea cup and handed the other to her husband.

“Prestigious, my father was able to buy one. I don’t see prestige, I see a constant reminder that the sons I raised are gone. Lost to a war they didn’t have to fight.” Lucretia spat out, even Dumbledore could admit there was a look in her eye he could not place.

“Fabian and Gideon were a part of the greater good.” Dumbledore replied slowly.

“The greater good? They were twenty-six. Gideon was supposed to get married that Christmas and you think worthless little purple ribbons make it better?” Lucretia declared swatting her hand at the Order of Merlin, First Class.

“The wizarding world is safer because of their sacrifice, You-Know-Who has been handled.” Dumbledore tried to reason.

“Tom, his name was Tom Riddle. He was a spineless little boy I went to school with, and somehow he, of all people, made this mess?” Lucretia nearly hissed, her grip on the tea cup deathly. He felt slightly taken aback that she knew of Voldemort’s real identity. He’d done his best to keep who he was under wraps as he rose, but he supposed she did spend many years in between the same walls as him.

“And you? Aren’t you supposed to be the greatest wizard of our time? Why did you need an army, did you not defeat Grindelwald alone? This was your fight Albus, not theirs.” Lucretia finished, a slight shake to her tea, but her face was calm and her lips tight. She knew how to keep composure under the worst of pressures.

Dumbledore turned his head to Ignatius, but he wasn’t looking at him. He was staring out the window, a simple hand on his wife’s shoulder, his eyes unfocused. The clouds had broken outside, allowing a bit more light into the grey home. Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, trying to defuse the situation at hand. He straightened the Order of Merlin’s back to their original position. If calm wasn’t achieved soon, he’d never find if Mister Black was tucked away in one of the many rooms.

“I apologize greatly for your loss Lucretia. I understand you’ve lost more than most.” Dumbledore apologized, the word sticky in his mouth.

“I’ve lost nearly everything. All my nephews are as good as gone, my niece keeps me an arm’s length away. Society has annexed me for being one of them, a Black. All crazed and ever waiting for the moment we die off, to take whatever bite they can of what’s left of us.” Lucretia chipped at his apology.

“No apology corrects these wrongs, Albus. No actions can either. We’ve passed that point.” She shuddered, breaking his eyes for the first time to glance at her husband. Her look brought him back from wherever in his mind he had travelled too. He let out a labored breath. Before looking at his former Professor. Dumbledore noted his hair was starting to grey, streaks of it shown through his light red hair. His eyes were darker than he could recall, with less green and more brown as he glanced up and down.

“If that is all Albus. My wife and I have duties to attend to.” He sighed, he took two steps forward and collected the ribbon, shoving them into his coat pocket haphazardly.

“How is your sister these days, Ignatius?” Dumblerdore tried his best at small conversation. It had never been his strong suit.

“Tessie is well. The Fawley Farm had a fruitful year.” He replied shortly, straightening the arms of his robes. He had hoped mentioning his only living sibling would cause him to open up, but alas he had been incorrect.

“Work has been going well?” Dumbledore inquired. He only needs a bit more time. Only a bit of information to confirm if Mister Black had found solace in his aunt and uncle.

“Well enough. The Ministry still tries to poach us to join the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but we prefer our independent work. They can call me for a consultation when needed.” Ignatius explained as he gently led Dumbledore towards the door.

“I’ve read about the work with the Romanian Vampires. Very dutiful work you’ve completed there.” Dumbledore added as he paused to take in the sitting room as they headed towards the door.

“Yes, we’ve just returned from Romania the day after last. We were able to reinterview a few of them.” Ignatius sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’ve been traveling then?” Dumbledore’s interest peaked.

“Indeed. We were going to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, we’ve wanted to touch on the creatures for sometime now. Our little great nephew, Charlie, is obsessed with them, and will chat your ear off. He wrote to us nonstop while we were there, wanting to know every detail.” Ignatius paused, a small smile forming in his lips. He had always had a soft spot for Molly’s children. Once his elder brother and his wife tragically passed on, he and Lucretia had raced back to care for their three children without a single protest.

That was the information Dumbledore needed. He could easily confirm the Prewett’s had been away. Mister Black even if he had stopped here would have found the home vacant and likely wouldn’t have waited around long enough for them to return. No, the Prewett’s may not be on his side any longer, but they were not harboring the two people he needed it seemed. He bowed slightly as he left. Taking the stone path to the end before he turned and waved once more, before apparating back to Hogwarts after the day of traveling.

Ignatius and Lucretia stood side by side in the open doorway as they watched the man leave. Suspicious and tired as they did so, they had once held Dumbledore in high regard. A facade that had quickly crumbled as they lost the boys they had thought as their own sons. Neither of them had been the same since then, and who could blame them. They threw themselves into their work studying and researching different beasts and beings, trying so desperately to distract themselves from the hurt that Dumbledore had brought forth so painfully once again.

“Love.” Ignatius whispered as he placed gentle hands on Lucretia’s tense shoulders.

“What was he truly after, Ig?” She replied, lifting one hand to rub his.

“Dumbledore doesn’t make house calls except to benefit himself.” She mumbled.

“I’m not sure, love.” Ignatius answered, rubbing her shoulders.

“I think I know somebody that may be able to find out.” She whispered more to herself. Ignatius knew that tick in her voice though. He’d heard it countless times in their marriage, and he’d sit beside her and support her through it all. There was little that she could be talked out of when she set her mind to it.

-

Harry’s giggles ripped through the glass of the greenhouse. He rather enjoyed it when he was allowed in the green house with Reggie and his Uncle Mars. Regulus had a tight hand on the toddler, many of the plants were dangerous in here. When they left they would make certain to triple lock the greenhouse to keep Harry out. Today, they were strolling along the narrow walkways, letting Harry point at different plants and babble about them as Marius would chuckle and explain them to him.

“That’s aconite Harry. It’s also known as monkshood and wolfsbane. Very difficult plant to gather and even more dangerous to handle. We must not touch Harry.” Marius explained as he pointed to a light colored lilac weed-like plant.

“You know, a potineer got an Order of Merlin for making a potion out of wolfsbane. Helps with lycanthropy and very complex concoction. Don’t believe I would ever risk making it.” Marius noted as he looked at Regulus. Regulus blinked, he hadn’t heard of this.

“How does it assist with lycanthropy?” He asked.

“Makes the symptoms less so. Though unfortunately the ingredients are rare and expensive, and many werewolves could never afford it. Not with how prejudiced the employment system is for them. It is mainly used by The Ministry I hear, when they capture rogue werewolves to contain them in the basement.” Marius explained. Regulus could feel as if wheels were racing in his mind.

“Do you have all the ingredients?” He asked rushedly. Marius paused his walking as Harry giggled at a bit of puffapods that were gleaming just above him.

“I believe so, but it’s an extremely difficult potion to brew. Dangerous if done so incorrectly, and Well I’d have to confirm with Helena, but I believe it requires a dose for seven days before the full moon. Why do you ask my nephew?” Marius inquired, tilting his head and pursing his lips slightly.

“I may know someone with Lycanthropy. They may not have access to this potion, but I feel they should. Do you think, if we worked on it together, we could brew it?” Regulus asked, his eyes glowing slightly. He didn’t know why he felt such a need to help Remus, but he did. Hadn’t he lost everything? For the life of him, he couldn’t get the shambled appearance out of his head from the last time they had seen him. The old worn clothes, the unwashed hair, and the jagged face. He felt the need to right some of the wrong done to the man.

“You care for this person don’t you? I believe we can try, but I make no promises we will be successful.” Marius nodded as he grabbed onto Harry’s other free hand. Regulus felt a bit of relief in his chest as they continued their stroll through the greenhouse. Harry joyfully skips between the two of them.

Regulus tucked comfortably into a chair with his book in hand. Marius had agreed to read to Harry until he took his nap and Cassiopeia was knitting close by. She and he did this often. Their own quiet activities laid in front of them as they sat in a comfortable silence. He enjoyed these moments with her even if they didn’t speak often, there was a safety in being in a room with someone and not having to worry when they would break. He slowly turned the page to the novel Helena had recommended, he must say Muggles were very entertaining authors.

“Regulus.” Cassiopeia called, setting her knitting neatly in her lap. He looked up from his curled position, placing his bookmark to hold his spot. He tilted his head to acknowledge her.

“That summer festival is tomorrow. I’ve looked it up in the local newspaper.” She commented, looking gently at him. He bit into his lower lip gently.

“You don’t have to go, but maybe it would be good for you. The girl seemed very kind, especially to invite you.” She continued. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. He had hoped no one would bring it up again, and should have known better with this family.

“I’m unsure, Aunt Cassiopeia.” Regulus answered, slowly closing his book. She set her knitting aside.

“Why exactly?” She inquired. He felt a bit uneasy about the conversation.

“I’m not sure she and I could see eye to eye.” He answered slowly, hoping to extinguish the conversation slowly.

“Because she’s a Muggle?” Cassiopeia asked, her eyebrow arched.

“No, not that at all.” He answered hurriedly. He didn’t have the energy to be prejudiced any longer. Far from perfect he was indeed, but he was trying to untangle himself from how he’d been raised on a slow and painful journey.

“She was just very talkative and I’ve never been wonderful at conversations. I’m certain I would bore her.” He shrugged.

“You’d never know if you’ve never tried. I suspect there may be more to this though young nephew, and you’ve heard what Helena said. If you won’t see a mind healer, at the least, you need to speak to us.” Cassiopeia folded her hands together as she spoke, leaning back to prepare for a long conversation. He signed as he pulled his knees closer to him.

“I’ve never been on a date, Aunt Cassiopeia, and this feels very much like she’s invited me on a date.” Regulus replied, dejectedly. She only nodded as if she had suspected such a reaction.

“Understandably, we are raised to believe not to have such fantasies and to only wait for the person your parents choose for you to marry.” She replied. He fiddled with his lip between his teeth for a moment.

“Yes, we are, but Aunt Cassiopeia I had chances to date, I just never felt the need to.” He answered slowly. Her face softened slightly.

“How do you mean dear? Did you not fancy any of the girls?” Her face is gentle and her eyes are understanding. He’s never spoken to anyone about this, but he feels safe here. A warm blanket of non-judgement encompassed this home so far away from where he had been.

“No, I suppose not. The way other boys spoke about their dates and their fancies, I’ve just never been able to relate.” He chewed nervously on his inner cheek, clutching to his knees to keep himself steady. She seemed to ponder a moment. He kept his eyes down mostly, staring at the woven rug across the room.

“Let me ask this as kindly as I can. Have you ever been with anyone, nephew?” She asked, emphasizing her words. He rocked slightly in his spot.

“I have. Only with one person, it wasn’t a date though. It was just, I’m not sure. Curiosity I suppose, I didn’t particularly care for it, but I wasn’t opposed either.” He answered. He tried to rush the words, not wanting her to question it anymore further. The one person he had been with was long gone and forever changed. He had cared for them at one time, but that had long passed..

“You also don’t have to feel any need to be with someone Regulus.” Her face was firm as she said it.

“In my many years, I’ve never felt the need to be with someone. Else why would I go unmarried for so long? At first I thought maybe I just hadn’t encountered the right person, but eventually I made peace with who I was. Now in my younger years, I did enjoy the night time company of several, but I never want anything more than that. There is nothing wrong with either, nephew.” She leaned in her chair to get closer to him. He felt his words caught in his throat. He’d always thought he was strange, or maybe all the years of abuse had changed him. Yet, Cassiopeia felt similarly. She didn’t want an established relationship and he did not want a physical one.

He felt a slight shudder go through this body. He hadn’t had any chance in the last few years to think about himself. It was first survival, then Harry. Now he had a moment. A real true moment to focus on himself, just for a bit of time. He shouldn't abandon that time even if it scared him to think about it. Even as he thought it, he could tell his own thoughts hardly made sense. He’d battled with the right words for his feelings for some time now. Cassiopeia’s face got very still as she looked at him.

“I think I want to go to that festival. Maybe just a conversation would be nice.” He finally replied after a few moments of silence. Having a conversation with someone closer to his age, and maybe with a common interest or two could be enjoyable. He hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of his family in so long. Sometimes he felt he was much older than his age. Spending time with his older relatives and raising Harry from such a young age seemed to have done that to him. More youthful activities could be useful.

“Maybe, all of us could go though. I think Harry would enjoy it.” He smiled at her. She nodded excitedly, a smile creeping up her cheeks as she did.

“I’ll see if Helena and Marius would like to go. Us three can watch Harry, while you enjoy a conversation. Besides, it has been many years since any of us made it to one of the village's festivals.” She replied with a glint in her eye before she picked up her knitting. He felt a pulse of anxiety go through him, but it was followed quickly by a glimmer of excitement. New experiences might not be all awful as he built them up to be, he thought to himself as he found his place in his book. He dove into the world of a young mad scientist and his world of creations, Regulus hoped the young girl read. They could always find common ground in the Muggle stories.

Chapter Text

Rolling green hills surrounded the Black Manor. The sun was breaking through, rays dotting along the greenery. Dumbledore stood just at the edge of magical wards, he could feel the pulse and pull of the protection around the house. They were nearly as strong as the one’s around the Black family home in London. Yet, he could manipulate them if needed. He’d be discovered by Pollux shortly though. It was his magic protecting what remained of his family.

Dumbledore was hesitant to do so right away, instead he watched the scene before him unfold, from the outskirts unseen by anyone for the time being. Before him was nearly all the remnants of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black that he had yet to visit. Even Narcissa, her husband and son were here today, he was just in luck. From his view, he could see Narcissa sitting politely next to her mother, grandmother and her aunt. The women sipped cups of tea in an oversized bench under an apple tree and watched over a small boy with stark white hair who sat just before them playing with a set of toys he could not distinguish.

Then to the side of them, sat Pollux and his son with their guests Lucius and Abraxas across from them. They sat at a long table outside in the garden likely meant for meals, one across from the other, with the head of the table empty. They seemed to be secretly discussing from the beant heads and the constant glances around their shoulders. To be privy to their conversation would likely be eye-opening, and partially appalling in nature. His next move had to be delicate, here he would be least welcomed. Trying to disentangle the private family would be a task even for himself. Thankfully, he enjoyed a challenge as he leaned back on his heels and watched a moment more.

“Find what you are looking for yet?” A low graveling voice called from over his shoulder. His bones creaked as he turned halfway to meet the unsuspected guest. There stood a tall man with hair tied tightly back to the base of his neck, more grey than black anymore. One hand leaned on an ornate walking stick and another held a smoking pipe. Arcturus Black looked as renowned as one may suspect. Still, the lines of defeat drew into his forehead and eyes as he stared forward at the Headmaster.

“I’d be surprised if you did, considering my grandson is far from here.” Arcturus stated before bringing the pipe to his wrinkled lips. The years were beginning to catch up to him, not that Dumbledore could judge when he himself was a good twenty years his elder.

“I was under the impression you had no grandchildren remaining Arcturus.” Dumbledore replied, adjusting his spectacles as he did.

“Contrary, Albus. I would like to think of us as contemporaries, I believe we should treat each other as such. You know as well as I do, neither of my grandsons are dead. One may be incapacitated and the other very well hidden, but neither is dead.” Arcturus snipped back, letting smoke curl from his lips. Albus felt a bit taken aback, Arcturus seemed the last choice as a reprieve for Mister Black, but maybe that could be the reasoning for the choice.

“So your grandson sought you for sanctuary?” Albus inquired, taking a step closer to the man. Arcturus scoffed as he continued to smoke.

“Hardly, but I’ve been alive awhile now, I have seen many events transpire. My grandson did well hiding and he did it himself. However, I make it a habit of mine to keep tabs on all my family, whether they want me too or not.” Arcturus answered, staring into the distance at his family sitting in the garden.

“I do not pretend to understand your motives, Albus. Leaving your golden child in the hands of a boy who is still a child himself; however, I will say this, and I will only say it once. My grandson is to be left alone. You’ve made your grave now lie in it, and if you try to pull any tricks as you have with my son’s oldest child, I will do everything in my power to bring you down from the graces you bask in.” Arcturus stated evenly. Still casually smoking his pipe and digging his walking stick into the dirt in small circles, but his eyes had gone nearly completely black in color and his jaw was tight against his neck. He was threatening Dumbledore.

“Exactly what would you have on me, Arcturus?” Dumbledore replied, pulling his shoulders back. He did not take being threatened lightly. Arcturus let out the smallest of laughs.

“What do I not have, Albus? I could start with your father, his trip to Azkaban was buried so well, or maybe I begin with Ariana. She was such a precious child wasn't she?” Arcturus smiled cruelly as the smoke curled into the skies. Even Dumbledore felt a heat in his chest he had not felt for many years now.

“Of course I could go straight to the source. A blood pact with the second darkest wizard in recent history would cause many questions to arise, I believe the one that would be most forthcoming, is what kind of relationship would cause such a grand wizard as yourself to stoop to such ancient and questionable methods?” Arcturus' eyes glinted as he implied. Dumbledore’s nose flared as he let out a heavy breath.

“Now of course, not everyone will believe me. I am well aware of such, but I think one only needs to create reasonable enough doubt. Would be much more difficult to play your chess game if you were knocked down a row or two, wouldn’t you think?” Arcturus finished as his evil wild smile grew across his face. He’d played this game before, anyone could tell it. Dumbledore stood silently, his hand clasped in front of him. Any response he made now would be of emotion, and such responses usually backfired. The two old men stood one across from the other in a tense stand-off for several moments. The air of the words spoken heavy around them as neither of them made the first move.

“Come along now. See for yourself my grandson is absent from these grounds.” Arcturus shook his head as he finished his pipe, making it vanish with a click of his fingers. Dumbledore could feel the magic next to him twist around as the wards broke apart momentarily to allow the two through. Arcturus entered first looking boredly over his shoulder for the older man to follow. Albus took two careful small steps in and continued them as he followed Arcturus into the garden. His hands still tightly clasped in front of him.

The sounds of conversation grew as they drew closer to the family gathering. Arcturus’ walking stick striking the ground every few seconds as they walked. The smell of flowers and fruit flooded his senses as they entered. The larger shrubs and trees offer shade and protection from the hills surrounding the home. He could almost distinguish the words spoken as they approached closer to the stately house. Arcturus’ pounding on the ground announced their arrival as the family quieted.

“Cousin, I was beginning to wonder if you had wandered…” Pollux’s words died in his throat as he noticed Albus over his cousin’s shoulder. His eyes grew darker and a sneer was ever apparent across his face as he stood tall as he could, though he was about half a head shorter than the older men. He was several years younger than them both and his hair, cut apprehensively short at his jaw, was still nearly all black. His lips twisted as they continued their approach as his only remaining son sat rigid next to him.

“Pollux, certain you are aware of who our guest is.” Arcturus waved his hand nonchalantly without bothering to look at Dumbledore.

“Certainly I do; however, I didn’t know you’d be bringing any guests.” Pollux gritted through his thin lips. His fist slowly balling at his side.

“Neither did I. However, Albus seems to have lost something and I offered to assist him in finding it. Unfortunately, it seems we were unsuccessful, weren’t we Albus?” Arcturus asked as he leaned onto the chair at the head of the table. Dumbledore could admit, at his age he rarely felt intimidated. Now though, surrounded by the judgement and crazed eyes of the Black family, he felt a hint of the old feeling creeping into the edges of his mind as he feet dug into the soft earth beneath him.

He slowly let his eyes wander over each person as he could see them closely now. Cygnus sat tall and still as stone, his face vacant of any true expression. Abraxas mused over a glass of firewhiskey, leaned back casually in his chair, his son a bit bewildered by his side as he smoothed his long hair as a twitch. Over to the side, Druella sat with all the poise of her years, still sipping her tea. Walburga’s eyes were clouded with confusion and her hands shook from years of dark magical abuse, she likely barely understood what was occurring around her anymore. Her niece sat like a porcelain doll. A hair not out of place and a painted expression across her face. Her son gripped tightly to her leg as his translucent young eyes tried to comprehend his family’s reactions.

“Yes Arcturus, it appears what I have been looking for is not present. However, I do thank you for your time and assistance. I do take our conversation with heed, and I do believe I will leave you all to your afternoon tea.” Dumbledore responded with a slight bow. Arcturus wore a smug look across his face as Dumbledore retreated his steps outside the wards, apparating away the moment he could. A creeping feeling in his spine he had not felt in years as he did.

“What in the bloody hell was that theatrical performance, Arcturus?” Pollux snapped as soon as the pop of Dumbledore leaving rang over the group.

“Well you see, young cousin, he had been observing the lot of you for nearly half an hour without even one of you suspecting so. I thought I’d invite him in if he was going to waste so much time at a distance.” Arcturus replied as he sat down slowly, a reliving sigh escaping his lips as he did. Pollux loudly gritted his teeth as he took his seat just to the right of his cousin.

“What was the meaning of inviting him into my wards?” Pollux demanded. Arcturus rubbed his temple with the words. He and his cousin had never seen eye to eye, even after he had conceded and forced his son to marry his daughter. It had not healed the years of animosity between the two.

“To knock him off his feet, young cousin. A man like Albus needs a good fall every now and then.” Arcturus replied. He grabbed his own glass of firewhiskey in hopes of ending the conversation.

“What was he looking for Uncle Arcturus?” Narcissa quietly asked as she held her son to her hip. Arcturus looked her up and down, the only remaining child between them all. Her son is the only viable heir to their House. He waved for her to come to his side, and of course she did so dutifully.

“He was looking for something long lost to this family.” He murmured as he held out his arms to take Draco from her grasp. She passed him over almost hesitantly. He was to be her only child the healers had said, years of abuse, of intermarriage finally catching up to them. She was cautious with him at the best of times. He gently placed the toddler in his lap, brushing away a few stray blonde hairs.

“He was trying to dig up the past, when we only have the future before us.” Arcturus mumbled almost to himself as Draco stared up at him with distinctly silver eyes. The only speck of Black showing through all the Malfoy blood. He petted his head for a moment.

“Here Draco, sit with us. It’s best if you start to learn.” Arcturus sighed as he adjusted the child more comfortably on his lap. Narcissa seemed hesitant.

“He’s only a child.” She said, sticking her chin out as she spoke. Arcturus met her blue eyes, she looked more like her mother than he would have liked. Rosier's genetics shouldn’t have outweighed the Black’s yet there she stood, blonde hair and blue eyed as Druella was. He squared his shoulders and stared her down fiercely.

“Look what happened when we allowed the last of us to be children. Lest we repeat the same mistakes twice.” He gridded at her before turning his head to dismiss her and looking back at the men before him. He could feel her opposition, but she went back to her seat. Staring at him over her tea for the rest of the gathering.

“Now, I believe we were discussing Minster Bagnold’s unhopeful want for reelection next year, and exactly how we could sway the Wizengamot.” Arcturus started their conversation again with Draco securely by his side.

-

“Well we will be watching Alphard. I’ll deal with it as it comes, Regulus has enough on his plate. He should have a chance to not worry for once.” Cassiopeia whispered. Unbeknownst to her at the time, Regulus had just rounded the corner in time to hear her. He crooked his eyebrows in interest, as he leaned into a plush chair.

“Deal with what?” Regulus asked, only slightly startling her. She turned swiftly from where she had been speaking with Alphard’s portrait across the wooden floors. She frowned deeply as she looked at him, coming from behind the rocking chairs that sat in front of her.

“It’s not kind to eavesdrop, Regulus.” She scolded lightly as she scrunched up her skirt in her hands.

“I was simply walking into the room.” He shrugged with feign innocence. She pursued her lips at him.

“He should know Cassiopeia. It’s for the best.” Alphard chimed in. She waved her hand at him, but sighed defeatedly.

“Albus is making his rounds to all the Blacks, likely in search of you and Harry. He’s already stopped by Andromeda’s, Lucretia’s and even dropped into tea with Arcturus and Pollux and the rest of the family.” Cassiopeia sighed, her skirt twisting in her hand. Regulus nodded, he had suspected they’d only get away for so long. Truthfully, he was surprised they had gone undetected this long.

“We could Fidelius the home.” Regulus suggested. It was the most powerful charm they had at staying undetected. Cassiopeia looked thoughtful for a long moment.

“No, let him find us. Best get it over with, I believe I have enough information on Dumbledore to keep him at bay. Over my dead body, will he take you or Harry from us.” She stated determinedly. Regulus felt a cold rippled through his body that made his shoulders shake. He trusted Cassiopeia, but even then he worried about how Dumbledore would react. He simply nodded.

“I’d say you have at least a few days until he arrives. He’s got to set up a portkey and arrange travels. Reckon that’s why he saved here for last anyways.” Alphard added as he leaned against the tree painted next to him. Cassiopeia agreed.

“Let’s not worry about this yet. Harry is much too excited about this festival, we should be getting ready.” She proposed as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder guiding him out of the airy sunroom where Alphard and Grandfather Phineas’ portraits were housed. Regulus followed as his socks brushed against the ground, leaning into Cassiopeia and hoping for the best.

The village was located on the side of a large hill, the summer rains making for a lustrous backdrop. As the sun's warm rays made the red roofs a tint darker in the sunset. The houses they passed on their way in were quaint and colorful as the five of them knitted closely together towards the town. Regulus could already see brightly colored flowers and drapes adorning the edges of the city. The laughter of children filling the air as some skipped along in a mixture of traditional dress and more modern clothes. Harry’s eyes were wide as could be as he nearly dragged Regulus by their interlocked hands. He did not want to miss a moment.

There was live music clashing with the children’s laughter, and the smells of cooking oil mixed with the sweets sold by vendors all along the streets. Harry stopped at each one to point out one treat after the other, Regulus having to pick him up on his hip so he could see better. Helena chuckled as she pulled behind them. She wore a long folk dress with a white top with heavy red embroidering along the front. She fit right in with many of the other mothers and grandmothers of the town as she tightly laced her arm through uncle Marius while explaining each of the foods as they passed them. Even Regulus had to admit, the food was most tempting as he paused at a cart that made a food called a Rösti.

“You made it.” A voice called from his side. He caught the bright eyes from the lake staring back at him. She was holding a warm flat cake in her own hand.

“I did. Harry really wanted to come.” He smiled as he shook Harry on his hip, who finally tore his eyes away from the food and waved at Bernadette. Her eyes crinkled a bit when she waved back.

“They are rather good.” She said as she held up the snack in her hand and nodded her head towards the cart.

“What do you say Harry? Would you like one?” He asked the toddler, who nodded enthusiastically at him. Regulus laughed lowly as he pulled the bit of Muggle money from his pocket. Helena had to whisper in his ear a bit when he looked at the strange currency twice. He eventually handed the smiling older man the correct amount and passed the cake to Harry. He bit into it without any abandon.

“Oh Harry, it's still hot.” Regulus tried to warn, but Harry just opened his mouth and breathed heavily like a young dragon trying to breathe fire for the first time. Bernadette laughed.

“We could take Harry for a bit if you wanted.” Helena offered as she smiled between the two young adults. Regulus instinctively clutched Harry a bit closer. Bernadette gave him a sympathetic look.

“He could stay with us, there’s a vendor selling balloons a bit farther down. My sisters adored them, I could show you both.” She offered. Regulus looked around before nodding his head in agreement.

“Well we will be around if you need us. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to find my husband and convince him we must absolutely eat our body weight in cheese.” Helena chuckled as she patted Harry’s cheek before disappearing into the crowd behind them. Marius and Cassiopeia already lost in the jumble of people.

“She's my type of woman if she can eat her body weight in cheese.” Bernadette laughed as she nodded towards a break in the vendor carts, allowing them to get away from the suffocating mix of people and smokey air for a moment. Regulus took in a deep breath of fresh air, heavily relieved as his chest filled with the crispness.

“I’m not wild about crowds either. Come along.” She nodded towards a light spot a bit farther away, he could vaguely see the bright colors of balloons being held by a sweet looking couple as they passed them out enthusiastically to jumping children. Harry’s eyes grew wide as they approached, Regulus letting him down as he skipped towards the balloons. It took him all of two seconds to decide on a bright red one, Regulus stumbling only slightly over the money exchange this time. Before they retreated to a nearby bench just out of range of most of the people. Harry sat at the end staring wondrously at his distorted reflection.

“He’s a sweet child.” Bernadette commented as she sat rather close to Regulus on the other end of the bench.

“He had good parents.” Regulus sighed. Harry’s temperament reflected joyously of his parents even if he didn’t understand that.

“I think he’s a bit like his cousin. You treat him as if he’s your own, he picks up on that.” She laughed as she shook her head towards him. Regulus let a small smile form, a part of him warmed by the comment of a near stranger.

“Reggie, sweets!” Harry cried as he gripped the string of the balloon in one hand and pointed at the chocolate being sold just across the way, surrounded by a large hoard of families. Regulus shuddered a bit at the thought of fighting through that crowd.

“I could take him. We’d just be right there, and you could save our seat here.” Bernadette offered with a sweet look.

“I couldn’t, he’s my responsibility.” Regulus shook his head.

“Oh come along, people won’t try and take a seat from you. Me though? I am a bit of a pushover.” She laughed as she pushed their shoulders together. He chewed on his lip in thought as Harry started to get antsy.

“You’ll be on your best behavior, Harry. And here take this to give to the woman selling it alright?” Regulus explained a bit sternly as he handed a bit of money to the toddler. He nodded as he grabbed Bernadette’s hand firmly and started babbling to her as she giggled while they made their way across the square. Regulus’ eyes narrowing to follow their every move.

“I will admit, she is rather pretty.” A voice whispered from behind him. Regulus went rigid, and a cold shiver travelled down his spine as he recognized the voice behind him. He bit down on his lip hard, not letting his eyes waver from where Harry was bouncing up and down waiting for his turn. A tall robe clad figure slowly lowered himself into the spots just recently abandoned.

“Harry could do well with a mother.” Dumbledore mused under his breath.

“Harry has a mother. Harry has Lily.” Regulus breathed back. Dumbledore turned to face him.

“Yes I suppose, but young Miss Evan’s has already given her all for her son.” Dumbledore replied. Regulus gripped into the side of the bench, cracking every knuckle as he did. His eyes still staring down at Harry.

“You were tricky to find, Mister Black. You did well getting you and young Harry out of Britain. I hadn’t supposed you’d travel this far. Alas, I’ve found you once more.” Dumbledore hummed as he settled into his seat, crossing his hands in his laps.

“What are you going to do?” Regulus muttered. Never letting go of his death grip on the bench.

“Oh well, I’ve thought quite a bit over the last few days on the answer to that very question myself. The simplest of answers presented itself. I will do nothing.” He started after a tense moment of silence. Regulus finally broke his gaze on Harry to glare at Dumbledore.

“Nothing?” Regulus replied sharply, taking in a breath.

“Nothing, but what we had already agreed on. My associate has agreed to make the trip out to these pastures a few times a year to check in. Harry looks in good health and truthfully far out here, hardly anyone will care to remember The-Boy-Who-Lived as more than a far off legend. Yes, I believe raising him here will do good for him.” Dumbledore replied, truly believing the words. This was the simplest measure. One that kept the Blacks in their places all across Europe. One that still allowed Harry the distance from his fame and magic he’d otherwise be engrossed in. While upset at first, Dumbledore had come to a silent agreement with the breach of trust. Regulus only blinked at the Headmaster.

“However, there is one thing, Mister Black.” Dumblerdore stated as he rose, brushing off his robes gently with one hand. Regulus turned his neck up to stare at the Headmaster.

“Pull a stunt like this again, and I’ll make certain they have a cell saved just between your brother and cousin with your name written above.” Dumbledore threatened. His darkened eyes narrow and the muscles in his neck tensing. Regulus took a shaky breath.

“Understood.” He answered. Dumbledore broke into a small mischievous smile.

“Wonderful to be on the same page. Now, please do enjoy the rest of your date.” Dumbledore mused as he glanced towards Harry and Bernadette, who had made it to where they could order. Regulus glanced as well his heart in his throat after the conversation. By the time he looked back, Dumbledore had disappeared as quickly as he had come.

“Reggie!” Harry cried as he ran into Regulus' legs with excitement, his small hands full of treats as Bernadette’s laughter danced over him.

“You!” He said as he waved a slab of chocolate towards Regulus. Regulus shook off the prior encounter as best he could as he lifted Harry into his lap smiling at him.

“For me? How kind Harry.” Regulus cheered as he grabbed the chocolate from him. Harry’s small teeth are all on display in his smile.

“He insisted on getting something for all of us.” Bernadette laughed as she held her own piece with a smile.

“Very considerate, Harry.” Regulus whispered as he placed a light kiss on Harry's forehead.

Harry engaged Bernadette in a conversation that she tried her best to follow along. Regulus chewed thoughtfully onto the piece of chocolate as he half listened. The other half of him stared into the darkness behind him, cast deep into shadows by the fires and lights from the town. There was a feeling he couldn’t shake, even as the night grew on and they eventually rejoined the rest of their family and Regulus parted with Bernadette for the final time. She giggled as she placed a light kiss on his cheek and thanked him for a wonderful evening. A feeling that creeped as Harry hung over his shoulder sleeping soundly as they made their way up to the home. A constant feeling of eyes burrowing behind him that he wasn’t able to shake even once tucked into his bed late that night.

Chapter Text

“Wake up, Reggie!” A small cry came. He promptly covered his eyes with his free arm. There was a heavy weight to his other arm and a sinking feeling on one side of the bed.

“Reggie, Reggie.” The voice continued as a shaking started against his shoulder. Regulus let out a low groan as he threw his arm off and blinked his eyes open. Harry was leaning over him, his breath hitting the end of his nose. His small lips parted into a crooked smile as he realized his goal was accomplished. He was missing one of his bottom teeth, the gap instantly noticeable. It had fallen out just a few days prior.

“Reggie, flying! You promised!” Harry cried again as he pushed against Regulus’ arm more. He had in fact promised Harry he’d take him flying. He rolled over pulling Harry into his chest as the small child let out a sound of disapproval.

“It has to be light out to fly, Harry.” Regulus mumbled into his mess of dark hair. He’s clearly not brushed it yet.

“It is! Look!” He said freeing one of his arms to point to the break in the curtains. The faintest of sun rays was peaking through. Regulus huffed as he let loose of Harry, who quickly rolled off the bed onto the floor and began jumping.

“Flying on the new broom. You promised Reggie!” Harry said through his breaths as he jumped with all his might. Regulus let out another groan, regretting his decision already. He should have known Harry would want to go flying at the break of dawn.

“Have you even eaten yet?” Regulus inquired, trying to buy anytime he could.

“Yes, with Auntie Helena!” Harry replied, stopping his jumps to nod.

“Did she help you brush your teeth, or your hair?” Regulus asked as he rolled himself to a sitting position.

“Um maybe?” Harry said bashfully, shooting his eyes away from Regulus. Regulus yawned heavily, stretching his arms out.

“We need to brush, then we will go fly.” Regulus explained as he pushed himself begrudgingly off the bed. Harry nodded enthusiastically before darting off to the bathroom. Regulus listened to the sound of his small retreating feet.

He sighed once again as he went to gather clothes for the day. He had two minutes, maybe three before Harry got antsy waiting for him and would begin calling his name. He pulled on a thick jumper and slipped into heavy trousers. Of course, Harry would want to fly in the middle of winter. Granted Regulus had been the one to buy him a new broom, he was getting too tall for the small one. So he bought a child sized one for Christmas. Now, he wished he had thought of this during the summer when his fifth birthday was around, as they stepped into the snow a few minutes later. Harry bounding down with his broom buddled so thickly he waddled a bit more than walked.

“Ok Harry. This broom is a bit different then your old one. It has more magic, so we have to be extra careful.” Regulus explained as he held his own broomstick in his hand. Harry looked up at him with wide eyes and an already red nose.

“Set it on the ground gently.” Regulus showed as he did the same. Harry followed suit, soaking in every word being said.

“Alright and arm out and hand wide.” He continued to explain following his own commands by holding out his own hand over his broomstick. He waited for Harry to situate.

“Alright, and very clearly and purposefully you’re going to say the word up. Now you need to remember to use your magic, the feeling inside you. The broom will feel it too and it will fly up into your hand. Don’t be upset if it doesn’t happen the first time, it takes practice. Watch me.” Regulus stated, before turning to look down at the broomstick. He didn’t need to command most brooms anymore, it was only needed when younger, but for the example’s sake he could.

“Up!” He stated very firmly. The broom struck his hand with force as he gripped it firmly. Harry let out a gasp as he quickly stared down at his broom. His green eyes scrunching in concentration.

“Up!” He said, but the broom didn’t move.

“A little louder, Harry.” Regulus advised.

“Up!” He tried again leaning forward. The broom rolled around a bit.

“Really focus, Harry. Try and feel the magic and move it to the tips of your fingers ok?” Regulus encouraged. Harry looked at him, then nodded and took a deep breath.

“Up!” Harry cried steadily a moment later. The broom jolted into his hand. His eyes widened in shock and his mouth fell open, exposed to the cold.

“Great job, Harry. You did so well!” Regulus cheered as he leaned down and ruffled Harry’s hair. He had been certain it would have taken longer than three tries. He gleaned pridefully at Harry.

“Alright, now we have to mount the broom. Then we’ll just hover for a few minutes and come down alright?” Regulus explained as he moved his broom into position. Harry smiled as he did the same.

“Alright, push up with your toes and balance. Like so.” Regulus added as he pushed off, hovering only slightly above the ground. Harry’s brow furrowed as he pushed himself off the ground, jerkily coming to Regulus’ side with his hands tightly wrapped.

“Loosen your grip a bit Harry. You don’t want to startle the broom. It might just try to kick you off then.” Regulus pointed at the nearly white fingers Harry had. He let out an unsteady breath as he loosened his fingers one at a time.

“Good, now just breathe for a minute. Focus on your balance.” Regulus smiled. Harry wasn’t used to being this high in the air, even though they were just above the door frame. Harry took a few calming breaths before becoming comfortable enough to glance around. The snow was still fresh on the ground, but it wasn’t particularly heavy yet. It must have snowed lightly overnight. Aunt Cassieopia had said it looked like it would at Christmas Eve Dinner last night.

This Christmas Eve Dinner was an experience he didn’t have until they moved here and it was nothing like the Christmas Eve Dinner his family used to host. There were no stuffy clothes or soirées introducing children for marriages. Instead, Helena made a traditional meal with plenty of meat and vegetables. Then afterwards they opened all of Harry’s presents with him. Plus Harry had ended up a very special child with three different holiday celebrations.

First came Hanukkah, which Regulus finally was able to figure out this year. A celebration of rededication for Jews. Harry was Jewish, or at least born Jewish, he supposed. Religion still greatly confused him, but he got his hands on a Menorah and a Hebrew Calendar. In which, he found that they needed to light the candles from the end of November to the beginning of December that year. He’s even found a Torah, so he could read the passages to Harry and recipes for food, which were fried mostly. Since he slowly found out Hanukkah was centered around oil and lights and so many other wonderful things he wished Lily could have taught him.

Coincidentally, this year St. Nicholas Day was on the same day Hanukkah ended. Helena had been thrilled to take Harry into the Muggle village to meet some man called St. Nicholas, or a St. Nicholas impression artist, because apparently the real St, Nicholas died hundreds of years ago. Regulus was still confused why they took Harry to a man dressed in strange clothes who was pulling a donkey, but Harry had been thrilled and in the end that’s all that mattered to him. He had enjoyed eating the people shaped bread, no matter how morbid it seemed, apparently it was tradition, and very tasty.

Finally, they had Christmas. In spirit, they’d opened all the presents on Christmas Eve. Only because Harry asked. Even though it was their third year doing Christmas as a family, Regulus was surprised that there were still a few presents for him. Cassiopeia and Helena had forced him into the red hat that Dedalus had brought on his latest visit and made him and Harry pose for photos in front of the tree while cooing at them. He’d only admit he enjoyed it if absolutely forced too.

Dedalus was a strange character, he’d been checking by four times a year on them all. One for each season, or so he said. He made a point to come near Harry’s birthday and Christmas. Then on St. Patrick’s Day in spring and he’d come dabbing his eyes that day before Halloween for autumn. Each time he bore a gift for Harry, typically a hat of strange origin. This year was a red Christmas hat, one for Regulus and one for Harry and laughingly exchanged for yesterday’s photo shoot.

He and Harry worked on his liftoff and landing for nearly two hours before Harry’s grumbling stomach forced them to take a reprieve. Besides, Regulus could feel a drop in temperature that felt like another snow storm was coming in. They’d likely have to spend the rest of the afternoon tucked inside. Regulus wasn’t terribly upset at the idea since Harry would likely be forcing him on the broom everyday for the next few months. Even during Quidditch season, he hadn’t spent that much time on the broom. Professor McGonagall should be thankful, she’d be getting one of the most well trained Quidditch players in years. Granted, he had heard the Gryffindors fortunes had changed, the Daily Prophet occasionally covered school sport games. Apparently, the House of Lions had secured their best Seeker in nearly a century.

“Master Regulus.” Kreacher greeted him as he reached for Regulus’ coat.

“Kreacher.” Regulus smiled down at the elf, who was bouncing on his toes.

“You know, Kreacher, you could dress warmer. Especially if you took clothes.” Regulus hummed under his breath. He’d been trying since they arrived to allow Kreacher to be free. Constantly, saying he could stay and work, but just be allowed some dignity. The elf was stubborn though.

“Kreacher’s not readys yet, Master Regulus. Ones days.” Kreacher nodded.

“Mistress Cassiopeia asks for yous in the kitchen. I’ll help Master Harrys with his bath.” Kreacher added as he padded towards the bathroom where Regulus could already hear the happy cries of Harry and rushing water. He shook loose snow flurries out of his hair as he made his way to the kitchen. Cassiopeia did not often call him, so it must be important.

He entered into a solemn kitchen, Cassiopeia sitting stiff with a steaming cup of tea in front of her and one across from her on the white eat-in set they ate most their meals at. The tension in the room was tangible. His hairs went right and tense on the back of his neck. He could feel it becoming hard to swallow as he slowly took steps against the cold tile floor. The hardness grounding him to the floor, otherwise he felt the tension might make him float away.

“Aunt Cassiopeia?” He questioned quietly as the chair creaked beneath him. Her eyes were turned downward and her lips thin against her pale skin. There was a look almost adjacent to sadness across her face as she pulled her hands above the table clutching a newspaper too tightly in one hand.

“Regulus. I’m not sure how to do this. I’ve never been good at these things. Marius offered to be the one to tell you, but I felt it had to be me. He’ll keep Harry entertained for as long as you need. Understood?” Cassiopeia replied shakily. Her hands were likely clutched so tightly to prevent them from trembling.

“Aunt Cassiopeia, what’s happened?” Regulus asked, reaching his arm across the table to brush against the navy sleeves of her sweater over her dress. With a look of deep sympathy, she slowly placed the paper down in between them. Even the wrong way up, he could see a flashing photo. It was a photo of his mother. It was a few years old, during his last year at Hogwarts. His mother had gone in place of his ailing father to a charity event, her hair done tightly on top of her head and a high collar around her neck with the jewels of the family flashing brightly. He slowly turned the paper around with hands slightly shaking now. As he did the words of the cover struck deep inside him.

Heiress to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black Dead

Sources close to the Black Family have confirmed, Walburga Black, aged sixty, passed away in the early hours of Christmas Eve. She was preceded in death by her brother, Alphard Black, her husband, Orion Black, and her only son, Regulus Black. She is survived by her father, Pollux Black, her mother, Irma Black, and her brother Cygnus Black. The Black Family has made no comment as of yet, and many speculate the wake will be a private one, please turn to page three for an in-depth look at the highly scrutinized life of the Heiress.

Tears had begun before he even realized it. Only noticing when the first few struck the moving photo. He touched his face in shock, dropping the paper in his haste. Slowly, retreating them he was forced to recognize they were stained with the remnants of his own tears. He shouldn’t be crying though, he shouldn’t. His mother had been an awful person, to him and nearly everyone else around her. He’d cried many times because of her pain, shouldn’t he be relieved she’s gone? He gasped up at Cassiopeia hoping for some answers.

“You’re allowed to mourn her, Regulus. After all, she was still your mother.” Cassiopeia whispered as she pulled a tissue for him, gently handing it to him.

“I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be sad, she was a horrid person.” He sniffled before using the tissue to clean his face. Cassiopeia reached out and held his arm comforting.

“You are still allowed to mourn her. Even if you’re just mourning the mother you never had.” Cassiopeia whispered a bit sadly. He looked into her eyes and she had a far off look shrouded in emotions.

“Isn’t it wrong?” Regulus mumbled, a few more tears slipping from the corner of his eyes.

“My mother was worse than you could believe, you never got to meet her. She passed away just a year before Sirius was born. I saw her do horrid acts to her own flesh and blood too. Marius was subjected to torment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and none of us were spared. Yet, when she died, he and I curled into that seat in the other room and cried for hours. For a woman, who for all intents and purposes, was vile. At the end of the day, she was still our mother.” Cassiopeia explained, patting his arm the entire time he spoke. He supposed she had a point. There had been moments, briefly, where his mother hadn’t been awful. Where for just a moment he could imagine an entirely different life, a hope she’d snuff out as quick as a candle typically. He lived in that hope though, spending nearly his entire life trying to please her. Nothing worked in the end, he was never enough.

“I want Harry.” Regulus muttered.

“Are you sure, dear? Marius can handle him, I’m certain he’s telling him the importance of a rubber duck as we speak and Kreacher is probably confused as can be.” Cassiopeia chuckled. Regulus let out a weak laugh as he nodded. Cassiopeia squeezed his arm tightly as she rose to check if Harry's bath was over. Regulus grabbed the paper one last time, holding the paper an arm’s length away. Taking in one last glance at his mother.

“Reggie!” Harry cried as he came running in with damp hair and arms widespread. Regulus bent down and popped him into his lap pushing back the wet locks as Marius and Cassiopeia slowly made their way in.

“Harry, I’ve told you. I cannot run as I once did, you’ve got to give an old man a chance.” Marius chuckled as put a reassuring hand on Harry’s head. He risked a glance at the newspaper before looking into Regulus' eyes searching for his response. Regulus gave him a small smile and a nod. The older man nodded back and took a seat quietly next to his sister. Harry laughed as he noticed the newspaper, reaching out a hand for it. He had always enjoyed looking at the moving photos.

Regulus picked it up shakily as he allowed one of Harry’s smaller hands to clasp onto an edge as he slowly took in the photo and headline. He scrunched up his eyes and nose focusing for several seconds before glancing between everyone at the table and the woman in the photo again. Eventually, he jabbed one of his small fingers at the headline, and looked questioningly up at Regulus.

“Black?” He read as he squinted his eyes at Regulus. Regulus had to take a deep breath before he responded.

“She was my mother, Harry.” He replied lowly. Harry’s face twisted in confusion.

“She died yesterday.” Regulus explained. He’d found the easiest way for children to comprehend was to explain it as plainly as possible.

“She’s dead?” He questioned looking back at the photo. Regulus nodded.

“Your father?” Harry whipped his head back to ask. His eyes glistened with the newfound information. Until now, Regulus had purposely avoided ever mentioning his parents.

“He died a few years ago, he had been really sick.” Regulus explained, the pain of his fathers passing having eased as time continued without Orion Black. Harry sat contemplative staring at the photo, his hand still grasped at the corner.

“Like me?” Harry looked up at Regulus again. Regulus felt his throat catch. He hadn’t expected that. Even Marius and Cassiopeia looked a bit bewildered across the way from them.

“A bit, Harry. I got a lot longer with my parents than you did though.” Regulus answered after a pause.

“Miss them too?” Harry whispered as his little hand began to shiver against the newspaper.

“Sometimes, Harry. Do you miss your mum and dad right now?” Regulus asked as he slowly removed Harry’s hand from its grasp. Harry nodded slightly.

“Well how about this? You know that new record player I got for Christmas, what if I played you some of your parents favorite albums?” Regulus asked, perking his voice up as much as he could. Harry’s slight eyes brightened a shade as he jumped from his spot, pulling on Regulus’ hand to another room where his record player still sat.

“Go on Harry, I’ll follow in just a minute alright?” Regulus encouraged as the noise of Harry’s feet filled the kitchen as he moved quickly into the other room. He looked back at the two others still seated and then at the newspaper still flashing on the table.

“I could watch him for a bit, Regulus. If you needed more time.” Marius offered standing to hold onto Regulus’ shoulder. It was a reassuring action, one he supposed a father would do to a son when needed. His father had only ever dislocated his shoulder a time or two.

“I want to be with Harry. He’s my family, this is my family now. I accepted the rest of them were gone a time ago now.” He whispered leaning into Marius a bit. He felt warm caring arms encompass him, a fresh set of tears verging over his eyelids. He’d always enjoyed being hugged. Even if it felt strange after years of never experiencing it. He’d always been so envious of Sirius, James used to hug him constantly. He choked a bit on the tears and the emotions, letting a few tears fall onto the warm jumper his uncle wore before composing himself.

“Do you guys want to listen to an obnoxious amount of ABBA and Bowie?” Regulus chuckled as he wiped the end of his nose.

“Oh I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon, could you sister?” Marius laughed, as he held out a hand for Cassiopeia.

“Sounds like a wonderful afternoon to me.” Cassiopeia smiled as she grabbed his hand. Both of them draping their arms around Regulus as they guided him into the room where Harry had already strewed nearly the entire records collection onto the ground in front of him, giggling all the while. Regulus had been true, this was his family now.

-

Arcturus leaned into the plush armchair behind his desk. A fire crackled behind him, the only source of light and noise in the darkened room. It was evening out, but even if it was daylight he’d have the curtains tightly drawn. A copy of The Daily Prophet laid in front of him and a crinkled letter was still lightly in his hands. She was dead, that horrendous woman had finally croaked. He’d never been a fan of Walburga, she was one of the first signs of madness taking over the family. Torturing animals and people alike from a young age, it had thrilled her father, and disgusted him. His biggest mistake was making his son marry her.

There was no time to change the past though. He knew that better than anyone, and regrets only made one weak and vulnerable. No, his son was dead and so was his wife. His daughter was the only remaining part of his family, if one did not count the two grandsons he still had. He counted them though. They were all that remained of them now. His nephew was wearing thin already, the pressures of keeping his family together, his wife starting to grow frail, and now his only sibling remaining had died. Cygnus wouldn’t hold much longer, he could see that clearly.

Sirius and Regulus would be the last of them, likely the last two to stand. It had seemed that in the span of such a short time his entire life had changed. Everyone who was anyone to him had already apologized to him. He was the last true heir of the House of Black. His son never took the reins, no matter what methods Arcturus used. Orion would just stare into him with dead eyes, his soul lost a long time ago. His grandsons had been lost cause nearly from the beginning. Sirius was too rebellious and Regulus too meek. Walburga had tried to force her sons into some semblance of heirs, but she’d ended up only exiling them both in the end.

No, he knew. He couldn’t correct the past, but he could do something about the future. Allow this House to die nobly. Not become the laughing stock of the purebloods as the Gaunts had done. His grandsons could make an impression, Sirius on spirit alone and Regulus with his hand in raising the supposed Chosen One. They may never be what they wanted as heirs, but they could pull together a pinch of respect for the Black Family name to die on. He was certain of that much.

“Teeny.” Arcturus called for one of his elves. They were his only steady company since he’d holed himself into the old home in France. There was a quiet popping sound as the elf stared at him with her wide eyes.

“Teeny, I need my bags packed as soon as possible. I must return to Britain before sundown tomorrow.” He instructed.

“Yes, Master. How long will yous be staying?” She asked politely.

“At least two weeks, maybe three. I have a wake to attend and then I need to sort out some issues of my own. Pack for the cold, you know the British winters, they are unforgiving.” He replied.

“Of course Master. Teeny is sorries for your loss.” She answered before popping away.

Truly, Walburga’s death wasn't a loss for him. In fact, it was the last piece in his puzzle. He picked up his quill to write a quick reply to Pollux. Likely, he’d arrive before the owl did, but customs were customs for a reason. His younger cousin would find it a great insult if he did not send a written reply. Then he pulled the freshest parchment he could find and pinned a letter to his only daughter. She may have married into the questionable family of the Prewetts, but once a Black, always a Black. He’d be needing her assistance.

She’d been the one to tip him off on Dumbledore searching his family a few years prior. Asking him to throw off the old wizard however he could. Apparently, he had done so as he never had to present himself in front of a full Wizengamot and pull every last favor he could to keep another Black out of Azkaban. He knew one day, the information he hoarded on Dumbledore would be useful. He made it a habit to keep as much information on any wizard seemingly more powerful than him. Everyone could use some persuasion at times. As he finished his letter, a ruckus rang across the small study he had.

“Brother.” He nodded without looking up.

“Merlin, Arcturus, would it kill you to light a torch?” His brother’s portrait responded.

“How did he take the news?” He asked, ignoring Regulus’ prior comments.

“Yes, always to business with you. Never how are you brother? Is the weather good today?” Regulus mocked back.

“You’re a portrait, I would assume everyday is the same.” He mused, smirking under cover of darkness. He may never have his brother back, but the portrait brought the smugness and attitude he had been famous for.

“I’ll let you know it’s not. Unless you're our dear sister, who spends her days lounging and drinking and gossiping with Dorea most days.” Regulus hummed.

“Much like she was in life.” Arcturus replied, finally looking up and crossing his arms. He swore he could see his brother’s eyes light up a bit.

“She was the life of the party when she was alive.” Regulus hummed, leaning against the statue in the portrait.

“It was a bit difficult to hear. Alphard’s portrait was a bit far from them. Regulus seemed to take it well enough. The lot of them started blasting awful Muggle music sometime after, guess they are partying to celebrate her death.” Regulus shrugged. Using his brother to spy on his own family was the least of the worst things he had ever done. He’d been doing his best to keep eyes on Cassiopeia and Marius over the years, but she had done a worthy job shielding them from the family.

“Very well. As long as he stays there, I should have no issues.” Arcturus replied before turning his head down a bit.

“Are you sure about this brother? It seems risky, even for you.” Regulus chimed in, a hint of concern rising. He turned his head back up to him.

“Certain.” He replied sharply as he stood. He needed the letters to go out tonight and then he’d need to confirm he was well packed for Britain tomorrow. This would be one of his most reckless endeavors yet. However, he could no longer sit back. He’d do this for his family, even if it was the last thing he was able to do.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia swirled around the house just a few days later. Clothes flew in different directions as they slowly folded into the luggage. The wake was the next evening and she had to be in Britain today. There were advantages to staying in the Black Family’s good graces; however, there were disadvantages too. Such as now, where she needed to throw everything together between Christmas and the New Year and get to England.

“Just like Walburga. Ruin the holidays by dying and bringing all the attention to herself one last time.” Cassiopeia grumbled as she stomped through the halls. Regulus sat on the floor trying to teach Harry how to play Gobstones as Marius sat on the chair just next to them flipping through a book.

“Should have gotten yourself blasted off sister. I must say it does have its advantages at times.” Marius called out to her without looking up as he casually flipped a page in his book. Regulus couldn’t help, but snicker under his breath a bit before returning to taking Harry through the next step of the game. Grateful for the wood floors of the sunroom for easy clean up of the explosions to occur.

“Marius, don't antagonize her. You know she can hex you quicker than you could pull your wand.” Helena hissed as her head bobbed around a corner. She was following the wake of destruction Cassiopeia was leaving in every corner.

“Considering I can barely throw a hex, I think pulling my wand is fruitless. However, if she does she better watch her tea carefully. I can brew a mean potion.” Marius laughed as Helena let out a defeated sigh before disappearing into the hall. Regulus looked at Marius warily out of the corner of his eye as his uncle chuckled.

“You learn after many years, dear nephew, when you can and cannot pull a sarcastic remark.” He winked before flipping another page. Regulus laughed a bit under his breath before he was lightly sprayed by a loose Gobstone as Harry laughed and clapped his hands in victory. Regulus looked back with a bit of vengeance. Before casting the next move and promptly spraying Harry back.

“Now, it will only be for a few days. Walburga’s wake, check in on Pollux and his family, then Narcissa, Lucretia, and a quick stop by Cedrella’s. Then I will be home, and if you need me sooner don’t hesitate to owl.” Cassiopeia hugged him tightly a few moments later when she had finished her packing and was preparing to leave.

“We will be fine, Cassie. I haven’t almost burnt the house down since I was twenty.” Marius joked as his sister playfully slapped his shoulder. Helena rolled her eyes as she kissed both her cheeks before letting Harry jump up and embrace her tightly as she crouched down to reach the child.

“Now, Harry, be good for everyone and I’ll bring you back a treat.” Cassiopeia cooed as she pinched one of his cheeks. Harry giggled as he went in for one more hug. Regulus pulled him back into his embrace gently putting a hand on each shoulder. Cassiopeia gave one last smile before Marius took her arm and escorted her just beyond their view to a portkey location so she could return to Britain. Marius returned just a few minutes later, and grabbed Harry from where he and Regulus were lounging by a lit fireplace.

“You’ve got yourself a date.” Marius winked as he tickled Harry on his sides.

“A date?” Regulus inquired. His face twisting in interest. Marius winked as Helena came up behind him with a set of keys in her hand.

“A date.” She declared with one hand on her hip.

“I’m going to teach you to drive a Muggle car.” She smiled almost deviously. Regulus felt his arms go heavy.

“A car?” Regulus gulped. He’d seen Muggle cars before. Not once had he ever been in one. He never saw the need, they seemed terribly inconvenient.

“It’s snowing though.” He pointed out. Truly the light flurries outside were only just sticking.

“Good day for me to have snow tires.” Helena remarked as she shooed him up. Regulus looked back at Harry, who was already content to lean into Marius reading a book he had opened between the two of them.

“They will be fine. It’s me that should be worried.” Helena continued to push him out the door. He knew they had an old car stored out in one of the sheds. He’d never actually seen anyone use it though. They had other modes of transportation that made more sense in the magical world.

Helena used her wand to unlock the creaky worn door. Digging her foot to brush off some of the snow. Inside sat an old slightly beat up car, it had once been a dark blue color but had faded into a more grey shade. There were a few dents and paint chips.

“She’s well loved. At least if you crash it’ll blend right in.” Helena smiled as she handed him the keys and took the seat next to the driver. Regulus balked at her as he slowly lowered himself into the driver's seat holding the key out in front of them.

“Just there.” She said pointing to the ignition. He bit his lip as he tried to keep his hand steady while turning over the car. Helena nodded when a low rumble began below them.

“Good. Now the gas is there and brakes there. Finally, you’ll need to shift here. We will start simple, just down the path and back. No people around and Marius has Harry held tight. I made him promise for you.” She nodded determinedly. Regulus exhaled as slowly forced himself to get into a proper position. They spent nearly an hour just trying to get him down the path and turned around. Shifting was distracting and then when he had to make a full turn at the end he nearly panicked and threw the keys out the window. Finally, he was pulled securely into the shed again. A fresh bead of sweat on his brow from the anxious rack of nerves. He slowly rolled up his sleeves to try and catch some of the cool breeze, a mistake he realized too late.

Helena caught a glance of the red burned scar on his left arm as she coughed twice. He tried to quickly push his sleeve down to correct his error, but she wrapped her small short fingers around his wrist and twisted his arm towards her. The Dark Mark had faded into a nasty pinkish scar, one could no longer see the face of the serpent. The skull was still distinguishable if known what was being looked for. Her cold hands gently ran up his arm until she grabbed hold of his elbow. The was a silence in the air for several moments as they sat awkwardly in the car.

“Did you truly believe it?” She whispered, clutching his elbow tighter. He could feel his lips quivering already.

“At a time.” He replied. She sat still as her nails dug into his elbow slightly. The dull pressure grounding him to the seat of the car.

“You believed yourself to be better than others because of how you had been born, better than people like myself?” She asked, her head tilted down.

“I did.” He barely breathed out. He hated the taste of the words and it made his whole face feel tight. The sixteen year old version of himself seemed so far lost, yet the sting was still fresh.

“I was so proud of it at first. My parents, my mother mainly, were so pleased for the first time. I’d never had their attention so fully. Then once I was away from home, with the rest of them. It was dreadful, and I couldn’t add up their words in my head for very long. Slowly, it was a building regret, but I had already been chosen. You couldn’t back out once you were chosen. I hate that I joined, but I understand I can’t undo it.” He tried to explain. There was no justifiable reason for his actions. He should have known better, he should have never agreed. He should have been brave.

“Mankind has had this fight many times. You are not alone, but what proves you know is your actions going forward. I’d think you’re turning into a fine young man.” Helena replied, releasing the grip on his arm one finger at a time before patting his elbow gently. They don’t say anything as they exit the vehicle. A silent understanding passes through them though and Helena gently pats his back as he enters just before Harry throws himself at Regulus. Regulus scoops him up and twirls them both in a circle before putting him down. Marius and Helena lean into each other as they watch the two kneel closely together.

“Do you think we’ve distracted him, dear?” Marius whispered as he grabbed his wife’s hand.

“Well enough, darling.” Helena replied, her head gently resting on his shoulder as she soaked in the scene before them. Her and Marius had never been able to have children. They knew this from early on, and Cassiopeia never wanted her own, but Harry and Regulus being here felt right. They were their children now, and wonderful additions to the family. The older couple sat gently down together as they watched the younger two pick up a game of Gobstones again. Everything is falling slowly in place.

-

The wake of Walburga Black was relatively small for a family wake. Granted, most of the family was dead. Arcturus could remember his wife’s wake every time he had to attend a new one. She had been a beloved woman by many, the people were overflowing and tears did not have to be faked. Melania had done well in her short life and he never took for granted that she had chosen him. He only wished it had been him first. She would have handled his death in stride as opposed to him stumbling around after she was gone.

He sat in the first row, surrounded by the meager remains of the family he was charged with. Pollux and Irma sat closest to their daughter's casket. Irma dapped dried eyes and Pollux could have been one of the statues surrounding the dead. He supposed losing their beloved daughter wasn’t taking as terrible a toll on them. His own daughter sat just to his left. Her husband is next to her. He’d always seen a bit too much of himself in Lucretia. If she had been born male, she would have been a perfect heir. Rebellious enough to lead the way, but traditionally enough to not sway.

Her hand was on his knee as she sat rigid against the cold. Her shaw tightly drawn over her thin shoulders and no fake displays of sympathy. Her and Walburga had never been friends, less so as they aged. Any chance of reconciliation had vanished once Orion had taken a turn for the worst. Lucretia always blamed Walburga for his heart going so soon, even if the Healers had said it would take him eventually. He couldn’t disagree with her.

Now, they are both dead. The wake seemed to be dragging along painfully slow as he had to stifle a yawn. He glanced around, the few close families the only other visitors to the wake. A few Rosiers, the remnants of the Lestranges, even a Crabbe or two were here with their thick necks against their heads. The few people felt obligated as he did to pay their last notices to Walburga Black.

Eventually, the wake ended and roses were thrown on the grave. The Black family all convened at the Wiltshire Manor for a few drinks. Arcturus holed himself with a glass of firewhiskey into a corner chair. The dark drank swaying side to side against the cold glass. His silver eyes follow the subtle moves of the liquid to distract himself from the mundane conversations milling around him. He was both the Head of the House and the eldest remaining member of his family. No one could question his actions even if they wanted to.

He could see Pollux and his wife next to their son. Druella had to excuse herself to her room. Her health was going he’d likely have to venture back out to Britain in a year or two for her wake. He wondered how many more he’d have to attend before he was at his own. Some days it would seem he would see them all pass before himself. Tilting his head back, he finally allowed himself a sip of the drink wavering in his head.

“Father.” Lucretia said as she came up behind him. She was dressed simply in dark colors. As morbid as it may seem, he hoped she outlived him. He could only suffer to bury one child.

“Daughter.” He replied shortly before casting a glance around the room again, finishing his drink as he did.

“Are you coming to stay at my husband and mine’s home for the rest of your holiday?” She asked her eyes, taking him in for the side.

“If it isn’t an inconvenience.” He answered formally. Everything was a stage show with the Blacks.

“There is plenty of room. Ignatius' cousin Lancelot will be staying for a time, but there are still plenty of rooms available. I know you prefer the one on the top floor to the end.” She answered as she shrugged her shaw off to the warmth of the fireplace filling the hollow room.

“I do like the privacy there. Your husband and you are still next to the library, yes?” He inquired. He doubted they had filled the rooms once held by their adopted children.

“Yes, and Lancelot will be on that floor as well. So privacy you will have.” She answered. He nodded.

She stayed by his side most of the wake. Her husband comes to their side occasionally. They had always had a tense relationship. He had not been the one she was supposed to marry, but tragedy struck at the worst times. Besides he had run off with Melania from his obligation. Another connection between him and his eldest daughter. They had always been so similar.

Prewett Hall was a reprieve from the stuffy corridors of the Black Manor. He took a deep breath of the salty wind. The few stray grey hairs fluttering around his ear as he did. The Prewetts did have a stately home, not that anyone would want to admit it only because of its location in Wales. Age had pushed him beyond some of his lesser held prejudices. An elf on a bright green sweater took his bag as he entered. He’d never understood why they felt the need to free her, but she was well worked if not a bit outspoken.

He followed his daughter into her kitchen, sitting down to finally rest himself against the thin wooden stools along the edge of a dark counter. She quickly began to make tea for them all as Ignatius seemed to disappear from sight. He hardly heard more than ten words come from his mouth all day. Granted, he was often tight lipped in situations such as that. He heard when not surrounded by the uppity class of pure bloods he had a bit of wild streak and strange fascinations with magical beings of all sorts.

“Arcturus.” An older nearly completely grey man greeted him as he entered the kitchen in comfortable robes.

“Lancelot.” Arcturus nodded back. Lancelot had been finished with school by the time Arcturus had begun. Still they knew each other rather well from the social circles they wandered in. Lancelot was a rare Ravenclaw in a family of Gryffindors. Though he’d never married or had any children, he’d thrown his all into St. Mungo’s and was almost undisputedly the most well respected Prewett of them all. His work as a Healer had saved many lives and his mixture of unconventional treatments would be passed on for years after his death. Even now at his age he still worked, though he’d apparently taken a step back last year from his Head Healer position to focus on research. They were all becoming old men faster than before.

“How is France?” Lancelot asked politely, as Lucretia’s feet scurried against the ground.

“Better than it has been in many years. I believe we were all worried for its state after our War.” Arcturus answered, folding his hands against cold counters. Lancelot leaned against the end with one arm as he nodded.

“It was a dark time in that war, even darker was this one. Sometimes I wonder how many wars one can see in a lifetime.” Lancelot murmured as he stared out at the crisp winter grounds.

“I hope not to see another myself.” Arcturus answered solemnly as Lucretia set a steaming cup of dark tea in front of him before handing one to Lancelot. Ignatius appeared again only a moment later. He kissed his wife on her head before taking his cup from her smaller hands. There was a tense moment of silence broken only by the wind snapping against the old home.

“Well out with it father. We all saw the letter you sent, it was vague in the best of senses.” Lucretia finally sighed a slight nip in her tone still. Her face did appear a bit grey as she stared at him down. When has his little child grown so old?

“Wonderful. I believe I will find most use in your assistance Lancelot. If you so wish.” Arcturus started before pausing to take a sip of the dark plain liquid. Lancelot only raised his red eyebrows in response.

“I’ve spent the last few years working on the details of this plan. The last of it has just fallen into place with the death of dear Walburga. It is risky, and I don’t even know if my connections would keep me safe if I am caught. Hence, for most of this, I will go alone. I’ve lived my life and if this fails I have so qualms with it ending.” He explained, tensing his shoulders. His daughter set her tea with a click against the counter as she leaned forward to look at him hardly, but he continued nonetheless.

“The next few steps are for me and for me alone. Of you, my dear daughter and Mister Prewett. I simply need the use of your home for a time. Of you Lancelot, a quick examination of a patient would be appreciated. Then of you all, I will need utmost secrecy and trust.” Arcturus puffed his chest out slightly, hoping he still held some of the robust nature of his youth. The eyes around him looked uneasy as he waited.

“Will you tell us what this is for?” Lucretia wagered to ask. He let out a small breath of air.

“I suspect if all goes well, you will know by tomorrow evening. If it goes poorly, it is best you can plead ignorance.” Arcturus explained. The best laid plans were held close to one's chest after all.

“I trust you father.” Lucretia replied almost instantly he turned to look at her husband. His brown eyes were uneasy as his nose wrinkled in thought a bit.

“If you succeed, my home will be your home.” He relied on his gently accented voice. Arcturus gave him a sharp nod. Lancelot was next.

“At our age, what is another secret for the grave? I’ve made an oath to heal all those who need it. I will keep the oath.” Lancelot replied with only a moment's thought. Arcturus was thankful for this even if he didn’t say it. Thanking someone was weakness, it meant a favored owed. Habits die hard.

“Wonderful. Then I will take my leave. I must leave early before dawn tomorrow. If I’m not back within a day or two, do suspect the worst has occurred.” He replied firmly, finishing his tea as he rose. One last glance at everyone before exiting to the room at the top of the tall stairs.

-

Azkaban was a dark place. Void of anything more then a grey light, a constant storm seemed to rage outside its walls. The cries of its prisoners drowned out by the noise of the ocean. The walls were complete stone and impenetrable with no windows as it rose lost to the low hanging clouds. The only way to access said prison was to take a terribly rocky boat ride out to the middle of the North Sea. The boat nearly capsized twice as Arcturus held tightly to the sides, as his knuckles cramped from the grip. His captain was a gruff looking man, who didn’t ask questions and charged many pieces of gold.

The entrance was a small platform that sunk into a dark cavernous hallway. It was the only way in or out of the place. It took a rough amount of strength to exit the small boat onto the platform. The boat would only wait so long before retreating from the storm the captain had shouted over the crashing of the waves against the harsh stone and the continuous rumble of thunder. Arcturus even with his shielding charm could feel the salty spray at the edge of his robes and in his boots. He nodded his response before astutely turning on his heel to enter the damp hallway.

There were no humans here except when necessary. He’d confirmed with his contacts that they wouldn’t be anyone to check the prison until after the holidays were through. Now was the perfect time to ensure his plan. As he stepped farther down the hall and closer to where the stairs were to the cells, he could feel them all around him. Dementors preying on a fresh mind. He pulled out his wand and held it tightly in his hand as black started to seep into his vision. His patronus wasn’t the strongest, but it would hold them off for his time here. The glowing blue light cascaded from the end of his wand, forming into a black vulture erupting and squawking at the hooded figures as he entered the stairwell. He took a deep breath before he began his ascent.

The Death Eaters had been imprisoned on the highest levels. Making escape even less probable in the inescapable prison. It would take many steps to reach where he needed to be, the dementors at each level baring their hoods at him before fleeing from the light of the patronus. He stopped every few flights to catch his breath and recast the blue light of protection. Before long he had reached the floor he needed, finding the exact location of this cell had been costly. No one wanted to disclose it except for the highest price. Thankfully, money was never a worry for him.

He had to pass several dark cells filled with the moans and complaints and the occasional scream of its occupant. The smell of decay seeped into his nostrils as he tried to block out his senses. Here was not a place to be distracted. He needs full bearing of his being in order to pull this off with himself and his passenger intact. He’d prefer not to die in a place as dark as here. He’d think even after the life he lived, he did not deserve this. The hall stretched on for a long while before he reached the last one, bordered by two empty cells. Apparently, once thrown here, they wanted the occupant to remain as isolated as possible. The door was thick iron and only the smallest barred window was there. He cast his patronus inside to light the filth cover floor.

It took a bit of maneuvering for him to find the raggedy shape of striped prison clothes huddled crouched into the corner. Even from here, he could see the thin lined tattoo of a prisoner number on the exposed skin of a pale neck peeking through heavily matted black hair. He could see every bone and muscle poking from the sides of the neck. Azkaban left a toll on anyone, particularly someone who had been here for years. Sometimes even as short of a sentence as that could leave someone dead. The will to live essentially sucked out of them. He didn’t know what lies beyond here, he could only hope this person could at least make some semblance of existence.

He knocked his wand against the heavy door twice. A unlocking charm caused it to creak open slowly. The rough sound grating against his ears as he took a small step into the darkness. They didn’t bother with complex charms on the doors. Most prisoners lost the will to escape within a few weeks, and even if they left their cell it only gave the dementors an easy excuse to kiss them. Some in their madness had been known to do it in the hope that they would end up dead. The cruelty here was unprecedented. He kicked aside a stale bread crust as the dirt clouds the air from the movement. The raggedy figure shuffled away, but made no other movement.

Arcturus crossed the room in three quick strides. The smell was rancid and his Patronus weakened the longer he was here. He needed to make this as quick as possible. He crouched down his old knees popping as he did, the noise caused a twitch in the neck of the person. Again, they refused to look up. Their head tucked into their knees tightly. He pushed his hand forward and slowly lowered it onto the greasy head before him. A heavy shake on the body as he did, as gently as he could he pushed back a bit of the hair to expose the edge of a face.

“Sirius, it’s time to go home now.” He whispered quietly.

Chapter Text

Cold air swirled around the outside of the house. The touch of a red frostbitten nose and lightly snowed on eyelashes the only exposed parts to his face. Regulus kept stomping his feet through the snow. The weather had taken a turn for the worse overnight and the snow was thick and brutal. He had just made his way to the potions room beside the greenhouse to check on the next dose of wolfsbane.

After several failed attempts and a rather precarious fire that had taken a few plants, he and Marius had finally gotten the concoction correct. Ever since, like clockwork, they’d been sending the potions to Remus under the guise of an experimental program. Remus had replied almost immediately with thanks beyond anything Regulus had ever heard. It made a strange swell in his throat as he read the letter. At the very least he had helped to ease his suffering.

Harry sat curled next to the fireplace with Kreacher dusting around him telling him stories of the Black Family of the past to Harry’s amusement and many questions. He was very curious why Aunt Lycoris had poured an entire bottle of champagne over Uncle Pollux one Christmas. Kreacher chuckled and told him he’d explain it when he was older. The real reason was Uncle Pollux had insulted her recently deceased little brother and after she had poured the bottle of champagne on his head she had smashed it to pieces on his chest. Aunt Lycoris was always very defensive of her brothers. One could insult her all day long and she’d brush it off, insult Arcturus or Regulus and she’d go into a wildly famous Black Family tailspin. Regulus had advised to keep the stories child friendly for Harry, which did greatly limit his options.

“Reggie!” Harry jumped up as Regulus was removing his final layer of coats. Harry jumped into his arms, Regulus noting it seemed everyday he grew a bit bigger and sometimes he wished he could just freeze the time they were in for a bit longer.

“Harry, has Kreacher been entertaining you?” Regulus asked, adjusting Harry on his hip.

“Yes, Kreacher the most fun!” Harry answered, clapping his hands a bit. Kreacher looked like he was blushing under his wrinkled skin.

“Kreacher is wonderful isn't he?” Regulus added as he smiled at the elf, who was distinctly staring at his bare feet. Harry nodded happily from the side.

“Magic, Reggie. Teach magic!” Harry clapped. Regulus laughed as he sat both of them on the lounge not far from the fireplace.

“Did you work on other lessons today? While I was running the errands.” He asked Harry as he fluffed the pillow before leaning him on it.

“Yes, learned colors and piano with Uncle Marius.” Harry smiled as he nodded.

“Well then Magic it is.” Regulus exclaimed as he reached for his wand.

Early on in their arrival, they all agreed it would likely be best for Harry to be taught at home. Both to keep his identity and his magic as much a secret as possible. Switzerland had a much smaller leadership council than Britain with the magical population being limited, but they were still notified of accidental magic performed in front of Muggles and Harry and Regulus would be more likely to be recognized from someone of an official capacity than anyone else. So Regulus and Marius and Cassiopeia took on the burden of teaching him while Helena was away at work. Each of them working on their own specifics with the young boy. Harry preferred when Regulus taught him magic though, it was his favorite lesson.

“Alright, now Harry most wizards have a hard time centering their magic so young. We will work on very simple charms first and don’t get upset if you can’t get it the first few times we will work on it together.” Regulus explained as he drew his wand into his right hand.

“The simplest of charms we can work with is Lumos. Can you say that? Lumos.” Regulus stated. Harry stared fascinated at the wand with his hand stretched out before he turned his focus to the task at hand.

“Luos.” Harry tried.

“Very close, don’t forget the M. Lu-Mos.” Regulus repeated.

“Lumos.” Harry smiled as he got it right on the second try.

“Perfect, Harry.” Regulus congratulated. As he twirled his wand slightly to get the slight light at the end of his wand to flicker on. Harry clapped his hands and leaned forward in excitement.

“Lumos simply gives you a way to see. Muggles have torches and we have wands.” Regulus explained as he tilted the light closer for Harry to see.

“You can touch it, it may be a bit warm, but it won’t hurt you.” Regulus coaxed at Harry, whose fingers were nearly touching the light anyways. He quickly grasped at the light fading it slightly and wrapped his hands around the end of the wand, the small engraving rough against his soft skin. He played with the movement of the light for a few moments before looking at Regulus in awe.

“To extinguish the light, we say Nox. Can you say Nox?” Regulus asked. Harry squinted his eyes.

“Knocks.” Harry tried with a look of concentration.

“Very close. A little shorter, Nox.” Regulus replied as he said it he turned out his Lumos. Harry’s eyes grew wide.

“Nox.” He said enthusiastically. Regulus nodded his head in approval.

“Here, you try now Harry.” Regulus smiled as he held out his wand in his open palm. Harry’s hands quickly snatched the wand and held it just in front of his small face. A smile etched all the way to the ends of his cheeks.

He shook the wand once causing small yellow sparks that his lips parted to laugh at. Regulus gently put his hand over Harry’s and repeated the movement to cast Lumos a few times as Harry watched with intent in his eyes. He practiced a few times once Regulus removed his hand. Then with a face perused in determination he held the wand strongly and repeated the movement.

“Lumos.” He called. Nothing happened.

“It’s alright Harry. It’ll probably take several tries, but you pronounced it very well.” Regulus encouraged as he saw a bit of the determination fade from Harry’s face. With the words, Harry gained a bit more courage.

“Lumos!” He started loudly. A small spark struck at the end of the wand and held for a few seconds before fading. Regulus clapped in joy.

“Amazing Harry. You almost got it!” Regulus cheered as he looked in shock. It was rare anyone could perform such magic purposely when still so young.

“Lumos!” Harry cried again, pushing the wand in movement with force. It took a moment, but then a faint glow held at the end of the wand and while flickering it didn’t fade away this time. Regulus was shocked. He’d never heard of a child purposely casting a spell on a wand so young before. Even himself, he hadn’t been able to hold anything until he had reached seven.

“Harry, that’s spectacular.” Regulus gasped as Harry turned his head over bouncing in excitement.

“Reggie, light!” He commented as he gripped at the glow at the end of the wand. His hands trying to grasp at it.

“Harry, this is wonderful. Okay, now try to make it go away Harry. Like this.” Regulus mumbled as he moved Harry’s hand the correct way,

“Nox.” Harry replied firmly, shaking the wand. The light sputtered and then faded away. Regulus’ eyes grew wide as he watched it happen. He could hardly believe his eyes. He quickly picked up Harry and shuffled into the sunroom where Marius was speaking with Uncle Alphard’s portrait.

“Harry, look at you with your wand and all. Looking like a proper wizard.” Marius commented when they entered the room. Even Uncle Alphard looked impressed at Harry.

“Look at this.” Regulus breathed as he nodded at Harry. Harry smiled as he was sat down and held out the wand again.

“Lumos.” Harry cried as the burst of light came a bit stronger from the end of the wand now. Marius openly gasped as he put a hand to his chest. Alphard bent down in his portrait to get a better look. Regulus held his breath as Harry smiled at each of them.

“Nox.” Harry stated a moment later with a twirl of the wand as the light faded away. The whole room was silent.

“By Merlin, did you just teach him that?” Alphard quipped, finally breaking the echoing buzz of silence in the sunroom. Regulus nodded as he stared at the other two men in the room.

“Astonishing.” Alphard whispered.

“That is better magic than I could do at twenty.” Marius sighed, finally letting his hand drop.

“He’s only five, is he even supposed to be able to do this?” Regulus muttered more to himself.

“I’ve heard rumors of magical abilities being honed this young at exceptional wizards and witches, but only rumors. Most don’t show control of their magic until eight, some not until they’ve reached Hogwarts.” Alphard informed from his crouched position. Regulus gulped as he stared down at excited little Harry, who had lit the end of the wand again.

“We will have to ask Cassie when she returns, and Helena may know something as well, but I don’t believe it’s anything to worry of yet, Regulus.” Marius informed as he crossed the room and put a hand on his arm.

“We’ve known Harry was a very special child from the beginning. I’m certain he will be fine.” Marius reassured as he moved his hand slowly. Both of them watching Harry wander around the room showing off to every corner he could find his new found talent. A part of Regulus felt a creep up his spine. Harry was a special child, what did that mean for his future and more importantly, how would people use that against him one day?

-

“Grandfather?” Sirius croaked out of a sorely dry throat. His eyes squinted as he spoke. There was a bright light scorching against them and making them pulse. It had been so dark for so long.

“Am I dead?” Sirius whispered. Maybe his suffering had finally come to an end. Maybe he could see James again and fall to his knees in apology or wrap his arms around Lily once more and beg for forgiveness.

“I’d hope if you were dead I wouldn’t be the one greeting you.” Arcturus huffed as he straightened himself again.

“Can you stand?” He asked as he took a step back. In honesty, Sirius has spent more time as a dog than a man since arriving at Azkaban. He wasn’t sure if he could, but in an automatic fashion he raised himself wobbly against the stone floor. His hands flush against the coldness as he supports himself.

“Good, get your footing. I must grab one more thing and we will be leaving.” Arcturus replied as he fixed a button on his cloak. Without another word he turned with the flutter of fabric following him as his boots descended down the hall.

Sirius had to resist the urge to slide down the wall into a fetal position again. None of this felt real, his grandfather couldn’t be here. Much less could he be offering to free him from these confines. He wasn’t a Black any longer. His grandfather should consider it good of him to rot in here. Unless, his grandfather thought as his mother did. That he had turned to the Dark Lord, in that case it was even worse. Once out of these walls, his grandfather would expect him to showcase the behavior of a Death Eater, which he astutely was not. He wasn’t his brother. His knees cracked as he held his spot waiting for his grandfather to return before making any moves.

Arcturus had a plan. Blacks always had a plan. He didn’t want people to know Sirius had escaped from Azkaban. It would mean a mass manhunt, and that was the last headache he needed to handle. He simply needed a body. One whose mind had already gone. It should be a simple enough task surrounded by far-gone inhabitants. He needed to pick his choice carefully though. The dementors could be fooled easily enough as long as they had souls to feed on. The Ministry, who occasionally ventured to the prison for business, were a bit tricker.

He had an idea of who to pull, he’d done some digging into who was here and for how long. He simply needed to grab them now that he knew Sirius still had some sanity to him. A cackle broke though his train of thought. He knew that sound, hadn’t it haunted the halls of his family homes for so many years before finally being shipped off to the Lestrange Manor as bride. He stopped his movement as he waited a moment. The cackle broke again just a few cells before him, he cast his wand in that direction as he approached slowly.

“Bellatrix?” Arcturus called through the dirty bars. A clash rang against the door as if someone had thrown their whole body against it.

“Now Bellatrix, enough of your foolish nonsense. I’ve never had time for it.” He snapped as the door shook slightly. With a jolt the bars were filled with wild dark curls and hallowed heavy eyes. Her face starchily pale against the black of the cell.

“Uncle Arcturus, how good to see you.” She smiled to show that she had lost several teeth in her time here. Her breath was so horrid he almost wanted to take a step away from her, but he wouldn’t give her that power.

“Can not say the same to you Bellatrix.” Arcturus growled slowly as he stared down her silver eyes. The lack of sun made them lighter then they had even appeared before. She cackled slowly as her bone thin hands gripped tightly onto two of the iron wrought.

“What brings you here Uncle Arcturus?” She replied almost childlike as she tilted her head. She looked terribly like her recently deceased aunt like that.

“Nothing you need to be privy to.” He grumbled as he wrinkled his nose and began to get away.

“Uncle Arcturus.” She jumped forward, stretching her bony arm out the small crack. She’d lost so much weight her whole arm could fit through it. It was disfiguring.

“He’s coming back. My Master is coming back. Join us Uncle Arcturus. Help me find him so he can come and free us.” She pleaded with wide eyes and a feigned sort of innocence to her tone. Arcturus stomped his boots twice loudly as he sized up his great-niece.

“Your Master is dead. You served a weak man. One who depleted his magic supply so much that he was killed by a child.” He started as Bellatrix let out a low hiss.

“Blacks do not serve, dear Bella. I would never lower myself to a man such as your Master.” Arcturus spat.

“You deserve to wither away here, crying for a man who will never come.” He stomped his feet once more before turning his back ignoring her screams that followed him down the hall. He’d changed his mind. He knew who he needed to take Sirius' place. He had heard the Lestranges were even more likely to break here. Rodolphus may have stood for some time, but his younger brother had always been so much weaker. Besides, the Lestranges were French and had always taken a bit of the Black look. It would be an easy enough switch.

Finding Rabanstan Lestrange was rather easy. He wasn’t far from his sister by law. A rather uneasy mistake in his opinion, but he didn’t have time to have opinions. The man was curled into the corner of his cell babbling nonsense words in a mixture of French and English as he rocked back and forth with glassy eyes and longer knotted hair. A quick cast of a transfiguration charm that he would have to hold for the rest of his life, a magical exhaust but not a terrible one. No one would care to gather close enough to tell the difference if they thought Sirius lost his mind. On his way out, he’d cast a quick gravestone with the younger brother's name on the graveyard just outside and pay off someone to file some paperwork to make it look as if he had died. People cared less about the younger Lestrange, they’d ask less questions.

He grabbed the man by his neck and pushed him down the way. It took longer than he had supposed between the constant moaning and crying and falling. Rabastan was practically rolling down the hall by the time they made it to the where Sirius was half leaned against the wall, knees bent a shudder in his shoulders that didn’t seem to waver. The patronus was fading by the minute as he pushed Rabastan into a far corner and pulled his wand to cast the complex transfiguration charm. Magic meant to hold for as long as the caster was alive was hardly taught anymore, but so was most of the magic Arcturus knew.

“We have to go, Sirius. The boat leaves soon.” Arcturus stated firmly as he grabbed one of the shuddering shoulders and pushed him towards the stairs. Recasting the patronus which would likely be the last one he could manage. He was trying to stay out of his own mind, but he could hear the voices creeping in his head. The last yells of his brother telling him to run, his sister panting as she passed in her sleep, and the scream he had released when he found his own son dead on the drawing room floor. Then Melanie, his Melanie, the last words they had exchanged. He never made it to her bedside the day she died. Shaking his head, he tried to knock the voices away. It wasn’t real.

Placing a heavy hand on Sirius arm, he half dragged him down the stairs. The dementors moaned as they could feel the new mind getting closer to the exit combined with the panting of the two of them as they took the stairs as quickly as they could. The spray of the ocean hit his face with relief. Sirius collapsed at his feet as he let him, he then pulled his patronus and used his wand to cast a spell to cause a gravestone to slowly rise out of the earth. The etching was horrid and not his usually perfect script, but it would do. He needed to stop by the Ministry soon and then send a well pinned letter to the Lestrange family expressing his sympathies.

Sirius curled into a ball once in the boat. The old man yelling through the gap where his front teeth should have been about them taking too long as Arcturus scoffed. He knelt down gripping the sides of the boat as a wave broke near them, causing a small puddle at his feet. Sirius’ eyes were unfocused and moving wildly as he tried to take in everything around him. The silver in his eyes almost completely took over by the black dilation of his eyes.

“Sirius?” Arcturus asked as the boat rocked causing the younger man to fall over on his side.

“I didn’t do it.” Sirius gritted out as he shrunk into himself.

“If you’re doing this because you think I did it, then take me back now. I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill them.” Sirius gasped.

“I know.” Arcturus answered. A look of confusion clouded Sirius’ vision.

“You were never strong enough to take another person's life, let alone thirteen.” Arcturus replied as he sat with his back against the opposite side of the small dingy.

“Then why?” Sirius whispered with one arm strung along the side of the boat trying to keep himself steady.

“Once a Black, always a Black.” Arcturus answered shortly. Then turned his head towards the raging cries of the ocean as he waited for land to show once again. Sirius seemed to understand it was the end of the conversation.

Arcturus had made sure to Oblivate the man who had taken them. Leaving a small bag of gold next to him as he stared confused at his wet clothes, he was nothing if not a man of his word. He was also careful to leave no witnesses, but he didn’t fancy bloodshed unless absolutely necessary. The man was paid and oblivious, as needed. The apparition to Wales left Sirius doubled over and barely able to stand. He’d been without magic for so long, the turmoil of such travel left him weakened.

Sirius remembered being tucked into someone’s shoulders. He’d been exposed to so much in a short few hours, his mind was shutting down. Seeing his grandfather, the rough boat ride, the apparition, even something as simple as being exposed to light again was making him dizzy and ill. Once he felt himself lifted by what could only be magic he couldn’t help it as the whole world turned back and his head lolled to the side. Nothing could be worse than Azkaban.

Arcturus floated Sirius out to the rocky edge of Prewett Hall. The grey skies looked as if they’d open any moment as the distant rumble of thunder rebounded off the hills behind him. He’d been successful, in a task even he hadn’t thought he had the power to succeed. To his knowledge, no one had ever gotten a prisoner out of Azkaban before. He let out a breath from deep in his chest as he approached the side doors. The evening hours were slowly approaching though the sky above made it seem like it was almost night. As he approached the door flung open, and in the doorway stood a tall figure with piercing eyes. He hadn’t expected Lancelot to be the one to greet him.

“Bloody hell, Arcturus. We didn’t think you’d return. Igantius took your daughter to the shoreline to calm her and —” Lancelot broke his speech as the white tea cup in his hand tumbled to the stones below crashing into unrepairable pieces and scattering among the dirt and rock. His dark green eyes blinked at the figure floating in front of him as his mouth gaped. Arcturus knew plenty about Lancelot, he’d seen the worst of humanity being a healer during two different wars. He knew it would take plenty to shock him anymore.

“What have you done?” The older man asked as one of his hands gripped at his stomach and he looked weak in the face.

“Do you still hold your oath?” Arcturus grunted, he could feel the exhausting coming over him. He wasn’t as young as he once was. Lancelot looked up from Sirius’ limp form and his eyes swelled as he stared down Arcturus. Then he straightened his shoulders and wiped the look off his face as he pulled his wand from his pocket.

“Put him on the couch by the fireplace, it’s freezing and you are both soaked. I’ll grab my bag, he’s going to need a plethora of potions.” Lancelot replied with all the authority of a man of his experience. He turned on heel and his feet padded against the floor as Arcturus followed to set Sirius as gently as he could on the smaller lounger, lighting the fire just before he himself slumped into a plush black chair too exhausted to cast even a simple drying charm. He struggled to breath for a moment as he stared at his grandson.

Sirius had taken after his mother in looks besides his eyes that looked so terribly like Orion’s eyes, a fact she opposed when he got more rebellious trying to defect the blame on Orion for every bad gene in their children. Yet, she had been the one thrilled for their marriage at first. Sirius's hair was the longest he had ever seen it. Passing down towards his waist and tangled so terribly they’d need to chop it off before trying to brush it. His face was gaunt and his figure nearly all bone, the tattoos he had insisted on covering himself with faded and sticking out strangely in some places. He looked nothing like his mother anymore like this, a fact his grandson would probably revel in if he wasn't so close to near death. A noise tore him from the observation as he could barely lift his head to look at the shadows of the new arrivals.

“Father, what ever have you done?” Lucretia gasped as she covered her mouth with her hand taking in the disheveled sight before her. Her husband stoic behind her and staring not at Sirius, but instead directly into his father by law’s eyes. Arcturus didn’t have the energy to return the glare. Once he heard Lancelot’s feet descending the stairs faintly in the background he let his eyes slowly flutter close. Sirius would be in good hands, he could rest for just a few moments.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia thought herself a moderate woman. It’s how she had survived as long as she had, living as a woman in the Black family was ruthless. It was as if one had to run for political office every year, keeping face in the front and cutting throats in the back. An exhausting task that as she became a woman of a certain age, she engaged in less and less.

For now, she strode along the wide path towards a tall stately manor. The windows staring down menacingly at any approach. The air felt stale even with the lush trees spotted the rolling lands. Everything laid covered in a thin layer of frosty snow from the dropping temperatures. Cassiopeia shrugged her coat closer as she approached the home of the Malfoy’s. Her visits here were infrequent, but Narcissa was always the gracious host.

She strode up the few steps to the wide solemn door. She paused for only a moment before it swung open on its own accord. Her heels clicked against the stone floor as she made her way down a dimly lit hall. She shrugged her coat off and it disappeared before it fell to the floor. The Malfoy elves were strictly trained and well hidden, handled in ways even she found barbaric and she was a Black. Taking a turn she found her way to the room they always hosted in, the stately drawing room. The Malfoy’s loved to boast about how they had the greatest drawing room of the purebloods, with their vaulted ceilings and organ pipe.

As she passed a window, she could see the infamous peacock wandering the gardens even in the cold. Her eyes had to be restrained from rolling in her head. Lucius was always the egotistical type. Peacocks fitted his personality all too well, and only he could find it appropriate to have one parade around his house at all hours. She coughed to cover a building laugh before she entered the open doors of the drawing room. She paused her steps for a moment before she made her presence known to the occupants.

Lucius and his father stood overlooking the lands next to a roaring fire that crackled across the room. The purple walls reflected the orange flickers of light strangely. Abraxas was a few years younger than herself and she counted it lucky he was. They hadn’t run in many of the same circles and then she had left the country shortly after she left school. He was a ruthless man and strong willed in his staunch views. Apparently, he was the mastermind behind the quick and solemn exit of the first Muggleborn Ministry of Magic. She did send him a letter with her condalaces when his wife had passed only a few years prior, she was a kinder woman.

Narcissa sat poised perfectly at the edge of her seat with a cup of tea in her hand and her eyes following her son. A hand smoothing a wrinkle out of her stuff skirt. Draco was sitting on the floor flipping through a book, his nearly white hair slicked against his head. It made him look much older than he was, when he was the same age as Harry. She wondered for just a moment how different the two boys' lives must be, but also how similar they still were. With one last breath, she took careful steps into the drawing room slowly drawing the attention of the occupants.

“Aunt Cassiopeia.” Narcissa smiled as she set her teacup down faintly and stood to greet her. The two women exchanged a kiss on the cheek before she was guided back to the center of the room.

“Lucius, Abraxas, always is a pleasure to see you.” Cassiopeia nodded as the men did the same. The gruffness of their personality is not lost on her. They reminded her of her brother and his youngest son.

“And Draco, my goodness, how you have grown.” She exclaimed as she sat in the seat next to Narcissa. Draco looked up from his book for only a moment before he shrugged off her greeting to go back to his reading. He was child raised on the idea he was greater than most.

“Draco, greet Aunt Cassiopeia politely.” Narcissa chided. Draco's little shoulders rose slightly as he plopped his book down with a ring on the carpeted rug and looked up again.

“Hello Aunt Cassiopeia, how are you?” Draco asked robotically as he placed his hands in his laps.

“I am well Draco, and how have you been?” Cassiopeia asked kindly, leaning forward to engage the youngster.

“I got a new racing broom for Christmas! I’ve been riding it every day, well ‘cept for the other day.” Draco’s eyes lit up a bit.

“Well yes, the other day was important.” Cassiopeia nodded knowingly.

“Father says Aunt Walburga wasn’t important.” Draco stated openly. Cassiopeia wanted to laugh, but stifled it under another cough. He wasn’t completely off the mark.

“Draco.” Lucius hissed from where he stood as Narcissa chided her son lightly. Cassiopeia felt her niece blushing from her seat. Children did say whatever was on their minds.

“Well tell me more about this broom, Draco.” Cassiopeia asked to divert the negative attention being thrown around the room. Even the portraits had gone stiff in their frames with their eyes still wandering about.

Draco dove into a long winded explanation about the fastest and newest broom he had been given. In detail, he told her all about his flies around the garden and chasing the gnomes with a stick from above. She nodded and made the occasional comment as Narcissa sat back always straight next to her as the men continued their conversation in the back. It sounded like some matter at the Ministry she didn’t care to bother with. From where she lived, the Ministry had less reach and even less impact in her life anymore.

“It is a wonderful broom from your stories, and I believe this gift I’ve brought will be of great use for it.” Cassiopeia explained as she dug out a neatly wrapped present from her bag. Draco jumped up quickly, his book thrown to the side as he stood eager to take the bright color wrapping paper off the gift. The paper shredded onto the ground as Narcissa sighed about it. Inside a small box, he revealed neat child size gloves.

“The finest dragonhide riding gloves money could buy.” Cassiopeia explained as Draco’s eyes grew wider.

“Mother, could we try them, please?” Draco pleaded with his face breaking into a smile. Narcissa looked hesitant with her brow furrowed together.

“Oh, Cissa, let’s take the boy for one lap around the garden. Maybe these two can stop talking about threatening a Ministry official long enough to join us.” Cassiopeia snipped slightly as she shot a look at the two men still closely speaking in hushed voices. Lucius looked a bit blushed, but Abraxas was too proud. Still they both sat their drinks on the mantle and followed her outside.

They all gathered their jackets and shuffled to the side garden. Draco bounced with each step until he was mounting his broom, the form fitting gloves stark against his pale skin as he kicked off the ground. All four adults stood rigid and silent as they let the boy fill the still air with laughter as he rounded the bare trees and snowy shrubs. Cassiopeia was already plotting her graceful exit from the unforgiving home of the blonde family. For now, she let the gentle laughter of a child bring her peace until she could be home with the child in her care once again.

-

Aunt Cassiopeia had been gone a week, the house felt empty without her. Marius and Helena were wonderful and spent every moment they could tending to Harry and even Regulus despite his protest. Still, Regulus couldn’t wait for her return. Her hold on this house made him feel safe, and then by default made Harry feel more protected. Besides, he knew his family and nearly all of them were horrid hosts. He was just contemplating making a meal for her when she returned when a pattering of bare feet drew his attention.

“Harry, you should be asleep.” Regulus commented. He was still awake, trying to distract his thoughts in his bedroom with a book he hadn’t understood a word of. Harry stood in his doorway with his dragon in one hand and his Quidditch pyjamas ruffled from tossing and turning.

“Bad dreams, Reggie.” Harry yawned as he balled a fist to rub one eye. Regulus smiled as he closed his book, scouting himself over and patting the bed lightly. Harry scrambled into bed with joy as he threw Vega the Dragon on the bed first before hoisting himself up one leg at a time.

“What was the dream about, Harry?” Regulus asked as Harry curled up into his side. Regulus pulled the quilt over top of them both tucking it in on Harry’s side to keep him warm.

“Heard screaming, Reggie and bright lights. Green bright lights.” Harry explained as he nuzzled his face into Regulus' hip. Regulus thought for a moment.

“What kind of screaming?” He asked a moment later.

“Loud scary screaming, like when Aunt Helena found the rat, but worse.” Harry yawned as he explained.

“It was a woman screaming?” Regulus blinked. He didn’t like the sound of this dream. Harry nodded.

“And bright green magic lights. Like the blue ones, but scary.” Harry added as he looked up at Regulus with a bit of worry in his eyes. Regulus smiled back and petted his hair gently. It was enough questions for the night.

“How about a story, Harry?” Regulus asked to the slowly dropping eyes. Harry perked up a bit and made ruffling noises under the covers with his feet as he nodded. Regulus grabbed his wand and called forward the Bard Tales from his bookshelf next to his window. He could see the faint moonlight from the crack in the curtains as he settled against the silk pillows.

“Which story, Harry?” Regulus asked as Harry made himself comfortable with one of Regulus’ arms wrapped around his small shoulders.

“Hopping Pot!” Harry yawned again. At this rate, he’d be asleep before the story ended.

“The Wizard and the Hopping Pot it is.” Regulus smiled as he cracked open the spine. His copy of the Tales wasn’t as worn as Harry’s often open cover.

“Lest the pot cast off it’s slipper and begin to hop once more.” Regulus finished as he was made aware of gentle snores coming from his side. He looked down at the mess of black hair against the brown skin of Harry’s face. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head and laid his head against one of the pillows softly.

“You make a wonderful father, Regulus.” A quiet voice called from the doorway. Marius and Helena were wrapped up in each other watching the scene unfold before them.

“Harry has a father, he has James.” Regulus corrected. He never wanted Harry to forget who his parents were and one day when he was a bit older he’d tell him how they loved him so much that they gave their own lives for him. James and Lily’s memory will live on and their son will never forget them.

“A child can have more than one father, Regulus.” Marius added as they slowly creaked the door open a bit more to get a better look at Harry. He looked peaceful and darling while he slept. He hadn’t admitted it to anyone other than himself yet, but he liked the idea of being Harry’s father. He liked the idea of Harry being his son.

“Children look like angels when they sleep.” Helena smiled with his full cheeks as she curled into Marius more. Her curvy generous figure leaning heavily on his taller wire shape. They looked happy together, gazing at Harry curled into Regulus’ side. Like a pair of happy grandparents cooing at their grandchild.

With a sigh, he pushed a bit of Harry’s tousled hair to the side, gently so as not to wake him. The stark scar was there with a pinkish color and white outline nearly a perfect lightning bolt shape just over his right eye. A killing curse had caused it and even now there was a pulse of Magic, four years later. Regulus' hand laid at the end of the scar tracing it lightly once. Harry stirred but didn’t wake.

“There's dark magic behind it.” Helena quipped, shaking her head. She’s inspected it several times during the course of their lives here.

“No amount of healing could rid it, and you know I’ve tried. When I mess with it too much Harry complains of a headache, never seen anything like it in all my years.” She sighed as she leaned her head against Marius’ arm. Regulus copied her sigh as he let Harry’s hair fall back into place, he purposely kept his hair to where he could cover the mark. Harry didn’t need to see the reminder every day even if he didn’t quite understand how he had gotten it yet.

“He had a bad dream, said he heard screams. A woman’s screams and then bright green lights like magic from the end of a wand.” Regulus mumbled. There was a shuffling of feet and intake of breath from the two other occupants. They must have the same worries as him.

“I thought he was too young, but I think he’s starting to remember that night. The night his parents died.” Regulus shuddered as calmly petted Harry’s head as his breathing evened out and his snoring lessened.

“Oh by Merlin, he doesn’t need to remember that. They were killed in front of him weren’t they?” Helena gasped.

“I don’t know all the details and the reports afterwards were so varied and clustered. I believe James ran out to try and fight him, but it was without success. I think Lily stayed with Harry, I think she died for him right in front of him.” Regulus sniffled. He’d never gotten the exact details of the attack, no one had unless they were there on scene immediately after. The media was in a frenzy describing more outlandish details as time went on. From the consistency in the papers, that’s all he was able to garner. James was found outside and Lily inside. It seemed in James’ character to go out fighting, to try and give Lily and Harry a chance to escape. His son had survived. It hadn’t been for naught, and Regulus would throw his own life on a fire to make sure Harry lived the life his parents had sacrificed themselves for.

“I’ve been considering when he is a few years older, I want to teach him Occlumency. To protect his mind when he needs it, my father taught me. It isn’t an easy art form and it can be painful, but he has to be safe. Even if it is his own memories he needs saving from.” Regulus muttered more to himself.

“If anyone can learn it would be Harry, and I think you will be a brilliant teacher.” Marius smiled as he wrapped an arm around his wife. A few moments later they left the two of them alone, Regulus adjusting Harry so that he could lay just next to him. His eyes burning from exhaustion as he tried to get every last glimpse he could of the precious child before he slipped under the gaze of slumber.

-

Everything felt sideways. His thoughts moved in a slowed motion, and the world seemed to spin. Arcturus felt terribly nauseous and his head felt heavy against the warm pillow. He hadn’t felt this ill since his youth when he and his brother would spend much too many hours pouring over firewhiskey and elf wine. His eyes hurt to open, but at least they found the room filled with nearly all darkness, only a lone candle burned on a table across the room.

“Drink this, the dementors take a toll.” A voice called as he turned his head to the side. Lancelot sat next to him in a wicker chair, a cup stretched out in his hand, steam still curling from the end. The smell carried a hint of sweetness, almost reminiscent of childhood to his nose.

It took some strain on his older bones as he sat up and slid the cup into his hand. He took a sip of the steaming liquid before realizing what it was, when the nearly sickly sweet taste shook his head in a bit of shock. He could not recall the last time he had hot cocoa.

“Chocolate is the best cure for dementors, now the potions by your side should care for the nausea and any lingering effects.” Lancelot explained as he rubbed his own temple with a bit of stress. The wrinkled edges of his eye moved as he did.

“Sirius, where is Sirius?” Arcturus managed out after finishing half the cup. Lancelot continued to rub the corner of his head as he sighed.

“Being doted over by your daughter rather excessively. I examined him, physically he shall recover in a few weeks. Mentally, it is an entirely different story.” Lancelot explained slowly. Arcturus understood, he hadn’t been expecting perfection. Years in Azkaban would change even the strongest of souls, Sirius would not have escaped unharmed, but he was alive.

“Sirius isn’t the one you need to worry about.” Lancelot added after a minute. Arcturus pushed himself to a full sitting position before looking questioningly.

“Once I leave this room, I can promise you Ignatius will be in here as quick as a nip and he has a storm fire brewing in him.” Lancelot warned as he stretched himself up.

“I’d finished the cup and down the potion quickly. I have to go give Sirius his potions. I reckon you’ll have five minutes, maybe less before your rest is interrupted.” Lancelot provided before he opened the door a flash of light quickly entering the room before the door closed with a rang. Arcturus quickly uncapped the potion and followed Lancelot’s advice. Before dealing with his son by law, he’d best feel on his game as he smoothed out the pale comforter around him. He didn’t prefer to have his meeting while he was in bed, it felt a bit shameful but he didn’t have many options here. In the end, he had about three and half minutes before the door clanked open with another flash of light. Another swish of noise and the room grew with a flood of lit candles and a chandelier above brightly shining.

“Ignatius.” Arcturus greeted. His son by law stood tall and furious. His hair looks redder under the light and his eyes were a dark shade as his shoulders tensed with each breath.

“You brought your grandson to our home. You removed him from prison and thought of bringing him into my family’s home.” Ignatius snorted out as he closed the gap to stand at the end of the bed. His robes dragged roughly against the floor adding to his angered expression.

“He is your nephew is he not? You did promise me the use of your home.” Arcturus pointed out as he stretched himself to as far to his height as he could from his sitting position.

“And you bring an escaped convict to my home, do you not think this is the first place they will come? Lucretia is his closest blood relative with his father and mother gone. They will leave my family’s home in shreds and cart us all off! We’d be lucky not to get kissed for this act of treason!” Ignatius yelled as he slammed with force down on the wood of the end of the bed causing the base to shake. Arcturus even now found the reaction reasonable. Ignatius always was protective of his family, it was in his charge after his brother and sister by law passed.

He had been the one to fight for the right to marry his daughter. Going to levels even Arcturus was shocked with, proving him a dutiful husband when she had been promised to someone else. He’d been the one to fight off five Death Eaters to get to his nephews, even if he had been a few minutes too late. He’d been the one to take over in the hospital when Lancelot collapsed of magical exhaustion trying to save them. Then for his niece he’d burn the whole world to give her anything, even as she kept him at an arm's length. Her children gave him a reason to continue on. He had every right to be angry at it all being at risk. Arcturus could understand his anger.

“They will not know.” Arcturus began. Ignatius' eyes switched into a black color as he put two hands on either end of the bed and stared down at him.

“Arcturus, I’ve believed in you for many years. Trusted you with my own life before, but please give one reason why the most high profile criminal since Grindelwald would not be noticed missing from his cell.” Ignatius started with his lips in a set line and a fire behind his being. He dared him to proceed carefully, one wrong word and he would likely be kicked out of the country of Wales, not just Prewett Hall.

“I’ve replaced him. Rabsatan Lestrange sits in his cell under a heavy transfiguration spell and is so mad he can’t even string together a coherent sentence. The dementors won’t care about the difference and I made certain to leave a gravestone with Rabastan’s name. I need a day to visit the Ministry and get the paperwork sorted, but no one will the wiser Ignatius. I promise you I will not risk your family. No one will know” Arcturus promised. Ignatius sifted his mouth side to side and leaned heavily at the end of the bed. If not for all the two men had shared in their time knowing one another, it may have been embarrassing. They had done worse things together though.

“If anything happens to my family, my niece, my wife, my cousin, their blood is on your hands. Their lives and their freedom hinges on your plan.” Ignatius began. His elbows shook from the pressure in them for a moment. The stress of the situation radiating through his body. He had a stressful life. He likely had been hoping to spend the second half of his life by the ocean only wandering out for the occasional job.

“We go to the Ministry together. I want my hand on the last part of this. I have a friend in the records department, we will go together when you are better.” Ignatius finally finished. Arcturus nodded in agreement. He knew better than to argue, if it was him, he would want to be involved as well. Besides, Ignatius was a kinder face to the Ministry. People didn’t hide from him when they heard his shoes click against the marble flooring, instead they’d openly welcome him and were quick to engage him in a conversation. It would be a useful tactic for a stealthy mission.

“Your grandson is asking for you. Can you stand?” Ignatius asked. Arcturus bit his lip and with a bit of force pushed his legs over the side of the bed. Ignatius came to stand next to him and held out an arm.

“Another secret to take to grave.” Ignatius mumbled as he assisted him up.

“At least this one didn’t involve burying a body.” Arcturus snipped. Ignatius let out a dry laugh at the poor humor. That secret was an ancient one.

“Yes, though the rose bushes do still look beautiful.” Ignatius mused as he helped the older man out the door and down the hall to see his grandson. The two men are stiff and tired under all their secrets.

Chapter Text

Muffled noises came from all around him, the different sounds of the household clattering and popping. The clanking of plates, the whine of a kettle, and the constant shuffling of feet at all hours of the day. Sirius wasn’t used to all the noise yet. It had been several weeks since he had arrived at his aunt and uncle's home. He found the reprieve only in the silence of the night. Laying awake, he’d stare at the ceilings and focus on his breathing in his room. He was the only one on the floor, so he didn’t have to worry about much noise. The Prewetts were below him and his grandfather was above him. At night, it was just him.

Sighing, he brought himself to slide out of his bed. The shower was almost overwhelming, it took him days to get into it. Until he could, he used cleaning spells and damp towels. One day he gathered the courage to stand under the cascading cold water, the smells of soap and conditioner flooding his senses as he had to build up to using large amounts to not cause sensory issues. His hair had been chopped roughly at his shoulders, the knots too tangled for his Aunt Lucretia to clean out. She’d done her best for his constant jumping at the sound of the Diffindo spells. Dangerous noises were still off-putting.

The stairs creaked slightly under his bare feet. The coldness of the wood felt familiar under him, vaguely reminiscent of the cold stone of Azkaban. When he had energy, he’d find himself pacing the small cell counting the steps to keep sane. He’d done it as both man and dog, trying to do the math of the difference to keep his mind sharp and off the horrible memories the dementors tried to feed on. It had only worked to an extent.

The dining table was already set for breakfast. The elf in the house was very efficient and timely, even if she did have a mouth on her. Sirius liked the attitude, she was the only one in the house who didn’t act as if Sirius was one wrong word from exploding. She treated him as just another human. Bringing him cups of tea and throwing open his curtains humming along the way when he’d spend too much time in bed. He enjoyed Efa.

“Good morning Mister Sirius. Oolong or English Breakfast today?” The elf in question chirped as she brought the kettle to the table.

“Oolong please with a bit of vanilla.” Sirius asked politely as he sat at the table with only his patterned silk pyjamas on. No one else was at the table yet surprisingly. Usually he was the last to arrive and he tended to interpret the conversation held by everyone else. Today, the room was silent for a moment as he stared at the perfect white table settings with the perfect silverware. It reminded him terribly of his house. Not the place he called home, the place he had been raised in that horrid house on Grimmauld Place in London. His mother’s table had looked nearly identical.

“She and I were raised together.” His aunt made him jump from his seat as she leaned against the table next to him. She should know better than to do such a thing, everyone knew not to walk up behind him. He had tried to attack uncle Ignatius one night when he came in without knocking. His uncle may be almost double his age, but he was still quick on his feet. He’d gotten Sirius pinned to the ground as Lancelot woke from his sleep and forced a Calming Draught down his throat. His grandfather and aunt watched from the background. The first few days had been difficult.

“What?” Sirius asked, very uncomposed.

“You were mumbling about your mother and staring at my plates as if they stole the last dinner roll.” Lucretia added as she pulled out her chair next to him.

“We were raised together, girls born in the House of Black only a few months apart. I’ve tried to change my ways, but I suppose some habits don’t change.” She explained as she straightened a fork to proper alignment.

He supposed he had never thought of it that way. His aunt seemed so different from his mother. Kinder, gentler, but still so strong and resilient after all she’d been through. Now that he saw her with her curled dark hair and refined pale skin, he could see aspects of his mother dotted throughout. They were cousins after all.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius whispered as he tucked his hands under his legs and lowered his head.

“We’ve told you before Sirius you don’t have to apologize.” Lucretia reminds him.

“Right.” Sirius muttered. His hands still tucked and his head still bowed as he heard the rustling noises of others approaching.

“Good morning love.” Ignatius greeted as he kissed Lucretia’s cheek. Lancelot was on his tail, both of them without formal robes and dressed comfortably for the February winter weather. Sirius peaked his head up as he heard his uncle, his hazel eyes bore into him as they had every day since his arrival. The suspicious look under his dark eyelashes. He knew uncle Ignatius had questions. No one had been able to ask any of him yet, Lancelot was nervous about how he'd react to being questioned about his time in Azkaban and how he had ended up there. Sirius was thankful for it most days.

“Daughter, Ignatius, Lancelot.” Arcturus answered as he finally came into the room as stately as he was. A grand velvet robe over his shoulders to keep him warm. He eyed Sirius once before the younger man instinct moved his eyes down. He had grown up with his grandfather knowing not to keep eye contact for long lest you wanted a slap on the cheek for being improper.

“Sirius.” Arcturus nodded as he took his seat.

“Grandfather.” Sirius mumbled without looking up as his fingers clenched under his legs. The table fell silent as Efa returned. She floated a large serving of eggs and sausage to the middle of the table and then poured each person their tea. Stopping to smile at Sirius as she pinched a bit of vanilla flavor into his dark tea. He risked a small glance at her in her pink sweater as she astutely nodded and tapped his tea cup twice with a crooked finger to remind him to drink it all. He picked the cup up gratefully.

Sipping as slowly as possible, he stared down at the food on his plate. He would think he’d be ravenous after years of inadequate meals, but food made his stomach turn to look at still. If he didn’t eat though, he got lectured by nearly everyone. Efa at least tried to keep his food as plain as possible. His plate had three pieces of toast, a small portion of eggs, and only one piece of sausage links. He started with the bread, it was familiar. He nipples the edges slowly as the others at the table began a casual conversation on some article on the Daily Prophet. He stared at the paper squinting his eyes to try and read the cover article about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.

“Here.” His grandfather folded the paper and held it across the table. Sirius felt his back shudder but he held out a shaking hand and gently grabbed the paper and pulled it closer to him. All the eyes of the table were on him as he flipped the paper in his hand and opened to the article on the Cup.

“America seems to be in the running for the qualifying rounds this year. My galleons are on the French team to win it all though. Granted they always are, and I’m often disappointed.” Arcturus stated casually as he held up a tea cup. His eyes staring straight into Sirius’.

“Don't discount Wales. They have been building a good team for several years now.” Lancelot added.

“I say Brazil.” Lucretia added putting her elbows on the table. An offense Sirius almost gasped at, but no retribution came. Once he thought for a second, he realized it was a wasteful idea. This was her home, who would punish her here.

“Brazil won the last cup, they are too predictable.” Ignatius replied as he shot his eyebrows up.

“Who would you say Sirius?” Lucretia asked, turning her head towards him. He swallowed shallowly.

“I always run with England.” He mumbled out his words. There was a small choke of laughter from the end of the table.

“We will both likely be disappointed men then.” Arcturus scoffed as he eyed the paper. He was right that England was struggling, but it was his team nonetheless. Sirius felt the edge of his lips twitch in a strange motion, almost as if he were trying to smile instinctively for once. The feeling felt foreign anymore.

Breakfast continued without him having to speak anymore, only nod attentively occasionally. He managed down two pieces of toast and nearly all the eggs, he could only gag down one bite of sausage before he placed it back on his plate. When Efa came to clear the settings she nodded her head in approval before popping out with the plates. Lancelot left for St. Mungo’s and Lucretia left to visit Tessie in Scotland for the day. Arcturus excused himself to return the letters he had forwarded from France. He had to be more prompt with replies since he hadn’t told anyone about his stay in Wales. It left Sirius with little to do.

He wandered the halls and walked to the top of the stairs and back. It was his way of rebuilding his muscles after so much time idle. Still, he found himself out of breath after climbing the stairs twice. He sought reprieve in the cool weather outside. Leaving more than a few yards from the house made him uneasy. Instead, he often sat on the edge of the rocks and listened to the crashing of the ocean. Maybe one day he’d have the courage to make it to the sand beaches again. For now, the salty air in his lungs and the waves in his ears were satisfying enough.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” A quiet voice called from above him. His head shot upwards to see his uncle standing there still in his casual morning clothes. He worked freelance, and had plenty of money to take as much time off as he pleased. Since Sirius’ arrival, he’d kept himself cooped up in Prewett Hall more than Sirius could ever recall. This was the first time he had sought Sirius out in all those weeks.

“It’s quiet.” Sirius whispered as he tucked his knees up and sat his chin on them. Ignatius sat next to him, his legs hanging over the edge. It was at least a forty yard drop, but he supposed his uncle had faced worse adversaries than a sandy beach.

“I never liked the quiet before.” Ignatius began.

“When I was young my siblings and I would fill the halls with noises, then when I got to Hogwarts, well it was always loud there. I came home for a bit after school, but I couldn’t handle the stillness. I married your aunt and we went gallivanting around the world. My brother was always the better son anyways. Then he died, he and his wife both. An occupational hazard working in the Department of Mysteries, a tragic accident they said and I came home to the quiet again. His children, though, filled it with noise and color and life. Molly, Fabian, and Gideon were always up to some mischief or another.” Ignatius rambled slightly as Sirius just listened.

“Once they started school, it seemed perfect. Lucretia and I could work during the school year and be back for the holidays. I wouldn’t be surrounded by the quiet.” He softened his voice a bit.

“Then the War started and everything changed. Fabian and Gideon had always wanted to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, there was no talking them out of it. So they went, and they studied, and they became the Aurors they wanted to be. While Molly had her family she always wanted. You could feel it though, the shift of it all. You see Lucretia and I were an embodiment of the old ways. Two people from ancient pureblood families sitting in their ancient home with our wealth and our status. Even though we didn’t support the war, we still embodied it. We had already been through our own war, granted it wasn’t fought here, but we still suffered. Your aunt lost her mother to that war, and she didn’t want to lose anyone else. I suppose her tenaciousness kept us safe, but also kept us away from it all.” Ignatius nearly whispered now.

“So far away from it that I suppose we never understood the danger until it was too late. Until we started to lose people one after another. First, Lucretia’s brother, Merlin, I know you didn’t like your father and I don’t blame you. He was a terrifying man, but he was her baby brother and he wasn’t always the way he was.” Ignatius hummed as he noticed Sirius go rigid.

“Then we lost Regulus.” Ignatius almost sniffled. Sirius could feel a sadness washing over him.

“When he went missing, we decided it best we come home and hold down the house and our family. It was too little too late, I suppose. Because before we knew it we lost Fabian and Gideon, and then we thought we had lost you.” Ignatius added again, Sirius risking a look at his uncle. His stance was casual, but his face was a different story. His eyes were far off and his lips turned down, there was a tiredness to him. An exhaustion that sleep couldn’t repair.

“Tell me you didn’t do it. I need to hear it from you. I need to know you weren’t one of them Sirius, I need to know you didn’t fight for the people who killed my sons.” Ignatius' voice was cracking now and his figure seemed to slump. So this was the reason he had come. He wanted to know Sirius didn’t betray his cousins, that he didn’t betray his friends.

“I never could have.” Sirius whispered as he lifted the sleeve over his left arm to show it was blank. Of all his tattoo’s he had purposely never placed any there. He never wanted anyone to have a reason to doubt him. It hadn’t been enough in the end.

“I believe you.” Ignatius sighed as he put a hand on Sirius' wrist and held it warmly.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so stiff, this has been an adjustment. Arcturus gave us no warning and you are here with us again, it’s like if I accept it and get comfortable with it. It will all be torn away from us again. I don’t know how much more we can take Sirius.” Ignatius explained as he leaned forward and twisted Sirius arm to rest on his leg as he rubbed small circles into his hand. He had used to do the same thing when he and Regulus were children and they had visited the Hall out in Wales. It was comforting then and comforting now.

“I know it isn’t easy having me here. I haven’t thanked you for letting me stay, you don’t have to keep me here.” Sirius whispered back as he leaned closer to his uncle. He had always seemed so strong and unbreakable when he was younger. The valiant Gryffindor in a family of Slytherins. Sirius had looked up to him and after his Sorting, Ignatius had been the first one outside of Hogwarts to offer him kind words.

“You’re family Sirius. We do anything for our family.” Ignatius replied as he continued to hold his arm. The two sat there in silence for several hours until Lucretia found them and forced them inside to take a warm shower after sitting in the elements for so long. Sirius stepped into the shower without fear for once.

-

“Harry.” Regulus laughed. Harry was looking befuddled at the end of a wand. He had accidentally just made his hair bright green and stood on all ends.

“Boys, Kreacher is nearly done with lunch. Oh, goodness Harry, a little mishap here.” Cassiopeia giggled as she looked at Harry sitting in the middle of the sunroom with his new hairstyle.

“Aunt Cassie.” He waved the wand around in a circle to greet her causing blue sparks to fly in all directions which caused everyone in the room to jump.

“Alright Harry, enough magic for the day there.” Cassiopeia warned as she gently took the wand and handed it back to Regulus before taking her wand and tapping Harry’s head twice. Once to make it black again, and another time to make it neat, or at least neater.

“Good as new.” Cassiopeia smiled.

“Now come along. Kreacher has made us lunch.” Cassiopeia smiled as she took Harry’s hand and walked him to the kitchen. Marius was already there eating his soup as Kreacher bustled around cleaning as he talked to Marius. The two had thankfully gotten rather close over the years. Kreacher is always happy to gather any potion ingredients Marius needed and Marius is always very helpful in being the cleanest of them all leaving less work for Kreacher. They had a thriving relationship.

“I think I need a replenishment of snake fangs to the drawer, Kreacher. Helena told me the hospital is dangerously low on Boil Cure, so I was planning on spending the afternoon brewing a few batches. However, it will likely deplete my supply. Would you mind gathering some when you have a chance?” Marius asked as Kreacher finished cleaning and was wiping his hands off.

“Certainly Master Marius. Kreacher will go after the dusting.” Kreacher replied with a nod of his head.

“I wanna boil potion!” Harry exclaimed as he jumped into his seat.

“Did you finish studying with Regulus?” Marius asked.

“Yes! Turned my hair green!” Harry cried out with a laugh.

“Oh well that is impressive, even though I don’t think it was purposeful.” Marius laughed.

“Well I believe if Regulus doesn’t mind, I could take you for the afternoon and we can teach you how to brew a Cure of Boils.” Marius smiled as he leaned closer to Harry and glanced at Regulus, who nodded. Harry quickly ate his soup and sat rocking back and forth until Marius finished and laughing took a very excited Harry to the potion shed.

“Well then since you’re free this afternoon. I could use some assistance mending some sweaters.” Cassiopeia put her wrinkled hand on Regulus’ shoulder as she winked at him. He handed Kreacher his bowl and thanked the elf and reminded him to not overwork himself before he returned to the sunroom to find a small pile of clothes that needed mending. Cassiopeia didn’t like to be wasteful and if it could be fixed, she’d take the time to fix it.

They sat in silence in the sunroom. Grandfather Phineas’ portrait was empty as he was often at Hogwarts during the school year. Alphard was dozing off in his with only a light snore or two coming from him every now and then. The portraits were useful in reporting back any information that wouldn’t be reported in the Daily Prophet. There had been suspicious moments in the years passing, but nothing had come to fruition. They were only interrupted when a new figure appeared in Alphard’s portrait.

“Merlin, wake up!” The painting of Regulus I yelled as he kicked Alphard’s legs back. Alphard jumped with a start as he stared up at Regulus, who was hovering quite menacing above him.

“Can’t a man sleep in peace?” Alphard cried out. Regulus laughed under his breath at his two uncles. The few times his namesake had visited he and Alphard always got into spirited conversations.

“You have eternity to sleep unless someone burns your portrait, which knowing you is likely. Now Lycoris wants to speak with you.” Regulus scoffed. Alphard stood brushing off himself.

“She couldn’t come to see me?” Alphard snipped back.

“She’s a bit too inebriated to stand, but she apparently found the newest piece of gossip.” Regulus shrugged.

“Wine and gossip? Consider myself already gone.” Alphard called as he disappeared out the corner of the painting. Regulus let out a strangled noise and crossed his arms as he observed the scene before him.

“Are you fixing clothes?” He asked from within the frame.

“Yes, Regulus. They need repairing.” Cassiopeia replied, her eyes still focusing on her mending.

“Why not just buy new ones? You have plenty of funds.” Regulus’ asked his head cocking sideways as he watched with fascination.

“Just because they have a few fixes doesn’t mean they need to be thrown out yet.” Cassiopeia answered, glancing over her glasses at her cousin.

“Whole family has gone mad, you’re fixing clothes like some peasant, Narcissa has raised an absolute imp, and my brother has —” Regulus stopped abruptly as if he wasn’t supposed to continue. Regulus put down the sweater he was working on to stare at the other Regulus in the room.

“Your brother has done what exactly, Regulus?” Cassiopeia eyed him as she spoke.

“Nothing of your matter, Cassiopeia.” Regulus snipped back, standing defensively.

“Arcturus scheming is never a good sign. Maybe I need to write to him.” Cassiopeia mumbled.

“Should we be worried, Aunt Cassiopeia?” Regulus asked as he still glanced at his uncle in the portrait frame. Cassiopeia shook her head.

“I’ll write to Arcturus, he’s always been open with me. There is no need to fret, dear nephew.” Cassiopeia reassured him.

“If things had gone differently, you’d be privy to all of Arcturus’ thoughts. Wouldn’t you, Cassie?” Regulus called from the portrait with a smug look.

“I suppose so, Regulus, but life went as it has and a letter shall suffice.” Cassiopeia snapped back. A bit of darkness clouded her eyes. He wasn’t sure what would cause the two to snap at each other. Something he wasn’t privy to.

Regulus huffed and left the room in silence once again. Regulus tried to focus on the sweaters again, but his mind was swirling. He knew his grandfather, anything he was involved in was likely less than pleasant. Certainly, he couldn’t be onto them though. Regulus had covered their tracks well and if grandfather Arcturus thought there was a chance for the Black line to survive, Regulus was certain his grandfather would have hunted him down before now. Still he had an uneasy feeling about the situation.

Then the strange comment made by Uncle Regulus. How could Cassiopeia ever be privy to all of Arcturus’ thoughts? He hadn’t known anyone to know his grandfather well enough for that. He supposed maybe his brother had been close. His grandmother was likely even closer, but both had passed before Regulus was even born. His aunt Lycoris never seemed to care much about her older brother’a plotting from his few memories of her. If his own sister couldn’t be inside his head, how could Cassiopeia ever be?

He shook his head. He had to have faith in Cassiopeia. If he didn’t trust her then his whole world could crumble. The thoughts left his head as he picked up one of Harry’s small green sweaters, smiling as he did. Harry had unraveled a bit of the material at the edges, fraying one day while the two of them were on the broom. Harry had gotten a bit too close to one of the brushes as he raced Regulus and it had gotten caught. Harry wasn’t fazed of course, he kept flying, torn sweater completely forgotten to his child state of mind. They were safe here, and they were happy. It was those thoughts Regulus chose to focus on.

Chapter Text

The night was dark, the moon was only a sliver. The stars were bright against the blackness. If he had cared to look, he’d find his namesake star shining up there, not far from the Orion constellation. He had always hated that his star had been so close to his father’s star. They had been cosmic opposites of each other for as long as he could remember, yet the stars kept them together for an eternity.

That was not his problem today. No, today he was staked out in his flat wishing he could be anywhere else. He was alone, and Sirius never did well alone. Remus was gone again for more unknown reasons. Even worse, when he was here, it felt like he was farther away than when he was gone. Sirius wasn't sure the last time they had a conversation that was just between the two of them. They barely even looked at one another.

Sirius knew it was mostly his fault. Their trust had been broken, and when raised as he was, once Sirius lost trust it was difficult for him to gain it back. Remus couldn’t tell him where he was going or what he was doing or who he was meeting, and Dumbledore had said there was a spy. Deep down, he didn’t want to believe it, but on the surface it was too easy. It would be all too easy for Remus to be the spy. Besides, who else could it be at this point. Half of them were dead, Edgar, Benjy, Dorcas, Marlene and her entire family all gone. Caradoc had disappeared without a trace. Fabian and Gideon, his cousins, had been brutally murdered not even a month ago. Then his brother had been dead for over two years now, though he had been on the other side of the war.

Hope was faltering everywhere. Sirius felt it dragging at the trenches of his stomach. Guilt, despair, pain, all mixed with varying other emotions as he lay on his couch staring out the open window. He longed for simpler times as stared at the bleakness of the English night. He’d want just one simple day under the warm summer sun, at the end of fifth year after exams had been done and they had all been so carefree and young. It seemed a lifetime ago. He seemed fifty years older now.

His eyes flickered a bit as tiredness crept in. He supposed he should sleep. It was a lacking necessity as time continued on. Tonight, there didn’t seem to be any battles to be fought or attacks to be coming. If anything changed, he’d wake to the notice. His sleep was hardly sound any longer. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d began to wake at every creak of the flat or scurry of wings from a passing bird, but it had been years now. It had been years since he’d slept through a fleeting sound.

He stretched his back before he rose to his feet. The socks touched the cold wooden floor as he nearly slid across them to the bedroom. He and Remus still slept in the same bed when he was around though often with their backs turned. Without his other half here, the bed was left unmade and messy. He’d never seen the point in making a bed, he'd only mess up again that night, besides after years of perfectly tucked corners, he enjoyed the chaos. Lying down he felt a creeping feeling in his spine, maybe it was the holiday. Halloween had felt strange the last few years.

He slowly let his eyes close, the light still barely visible from the edges. He twisted to his side and breathed out and slowly drifted into a calming sleep. A cracked window let in a loose howl of the fall breeze, Sirius breathed it in deeply once before his mind shut down for the night. Hoping for once, the racing thoughts would calm themselves. That sleep would be restful and kind to him, then he’d wake tomorrow and prepare a simple breakfast and hope Remus wouldn’t return that day or the next or the one next week. Anything to avoid the inevitable fallout that would occur between the two before year’s end.

A haunting white light blasted through the open window, as Sirius startled awake, grasping at the edge of the table where his wand lay. It took a few hard blinks before he recognized the Phoenix patronus fluttering its wings widely at the edge of his bed. The room went frigid and goosebumps grew all along his arms as he waited for the booming voice of Dumbledore to inform him of the latest news. A midnight patronus was never a good sign. The last one sent out to all the Members of the Order of the Phoenix had informed them that Fabian and Gideon had lost their battle against a deadly curse and died within an hour of each other. He’d nearly thrown up when he heard that news.

“James and Lily have been betrayed. The Potters are dead. Please be on guard and wait for further instructions.” Dumbledore’s voice stated so calmly, the words didn’t sink in at first.

Be on guard were the first words to soak through his mind, he was always on guard now. His life was spent in a fighting stance and now was no exception. Further instructions would come, yes he’d get more information soon. The first word must be false, they couldn’t be true. His best friend couldn’t be gone. Not James, never James, the life of the party, the reliable backbone, the man who looked at all of life in yellows. James would never die it seemed. His aura couldn’t leave this earth, not when he had the loves of his life, Lily and Harry, with him.

Lily, sweet, smart, caring Lily. Her fiery personality matched her striking red hair. Death couldn’t take her, she’d look it in the eye and refuse and even death couldn’t argue with her. No one could, not even Sirius who tried many times and failed every one. Her wit would keep her alive, and she’d use it to save her family. James and Harry were her everything. After she lost Marlene, her best friend since Hogwarts, she’d been on a fierce protective streak. No one touched Harry or James, not with her around to have a word with them with her wand outstretched threateningly. No, The Potters couldn’t be dead.

Sirius sat, frozen and kneeled above his quilt. The cold breeze blew away the mist of the patronus as he swayed slightly in his place. He stretched out his hand and flexed each finger. Maybe he was trapped in a nightmare, maybe he just needed to wake from his restful slumber. He’d wake in a cold sweat and wander into the kitchen to make tea that was too watery, but suffer through drinking it anyways. Remus made better tea. He’d sit curled at the edge of the couch waiting for the dark sky to turn lighter and lighter and watch as the sun rises. How many nights had he done it before, and how many nights would he do it again?

His breath came out shaky as he continued to flex his fingers. He wasn’t waking up, why wasn’t he waking up? Slowly, he brought his fingertips to his lips and brushed them softly. It was cold. Hesitantly, he pulled away again, now with shaking hands. He was repulsed. Suddenly, like a crashing wave to a rocky shore, he was overwhelmed. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He wasn’t asleep. Very much, he was awake as a day could be and his ears had heard those words. Quick flashing of emotions struck his heart once and once again, grief, fury, disgust, fear. The rapid beat of his heart brings forth another slash of pain deep in his chest. Then his mind went blank as fresh parchment, all but one word circling his mind.

“Harry!” Sirius screamed as he jumped from under his sheets. He scrambled around, searching for the wand that had just been in his hand. As he did he felt the softness of the bed. He couldn’t hear the sound of the wind anymore, and even the nightstand was no longer in the same place. His eyes went blurry as he realized it was all a dream, or more a memory of his.

He wasn’t twenty-one year old Sirius. He wasn’t in his old flat in central London. His best friend and his wife hadn’t just been murdered that very night. He was twenty-five. He was in Wales. Still his friends were dead. With a distinct plop, he fell back on his pillow. The warmth of the room bothered him, but he had no will to change it. Instead, he lies staring at the ceiling trying to burn the images out of his mind from the night that had ruined his entire life. James and Lily lifeless, the cries from Harry, the rush of blood to his head as he stumbled out of the stairs, the last evil glimmer on Peter’s face before blood gushed from his hand and he disappeared into the night as a small vile creature.

Sirius heard the soft sounds of socks against the wood. He assumed his screams had woken someone in the house and any moment now his room would be intruded on. Letting his eyes flutter slowly, he strained his ears to count the steps until they were outside his door. Purposefully, the door was pushed open quietly as the break of light illuminated half the room. Sirius stayed still, hoping the person at the end of the room would glance quickly at his still firm and move along. He had no such luck. The shuffling noise continued to the edge of his bed until a sinking feeling happened near his feet as he let out an unsteady breath.

“You’ve never been successful at pretending to sleep, Sirius.” His grandfather husked, his voice rough with sleep. Sirius' eyes popped open with a crack. His grandfather was the last one he expected to be checking in on him.

“Come along, sit up. You won’t be getting any sleep until you talk about it.” His grandfather said as he patted the bed loudly. Sirius slowly propped himself on his elbows. Eyeing his grandfather’s shadowy silhouette. His bathrobe hung almost lose against his shoulders, and his hair was freely falling around his shoulders. The grey shining in the light from the hall. Sirius propped himself up against the wire headboard as they sat a few moments in silence.

“What’s the elf’s name again?” Arcturus muttered as he tried to stifle a yawn.

“Efa.” Sirius whispered. Suddenly a pop rang out in the room causing him to jump and pull at the quilt over him.

“Mister Sirius call Efa. Mister Sirius has a bad dream again?” Efa asked as she stood in a miniature nightgown with a cap over her usually flapping ears. She even had wool socks pulled lopsided over her knobby knees.

“Yes, we called. Would you please brew two cups of tea? Anything good for rest.” Arcturus asked as Efa turned to him. She eyed him suspiciously as she looked back at Sirius, who gave her small nod. Without another word, she popped out of the room.

“Never understood the Prewetts need to give their elves such autonomy.” Arcturus complained as he shook his head. Sirius hadn’t found his voice yet.

“Well, what was it this time?” Arcturus asked as he turned his body towards where Sirius sat. He felt rather childlike, a quilt clutched in his hand, himself tucked into bed with his grandfather sitting at the end of it. It was foolish if he thought too much about it.

“Talk, son. You’ve got to speak.” Arcturus warned, his voice getting the slightly threatening tone he’d used nearly all of Sirius’ adolescence. Swallowing hard, Sirius tried to find his voice again.

“It was about Halloween. That night, when everything changed.” Sirius mumbled as he flinched back. He’d always been punished when his words ran together. His grandfather didn’t raise a hand at him though, he only raised it to brush his hair down slightly.

“I had supposed that was the reason for your screams.” Arcturus sighed after a moment of thought. Sirius sat almost shivering under his covers. The whole affair made him terribly uncomfortable. Arcturus seemed to notice as he waved his wand in a circle and slowly a light warming charm fell across Sirius legs. The comfort made him instinctively sigh and sink into the bed. He snapped up a moment later as he remembered who he was in the presence of.

“Rest, son.” Arcturus answered quietly as Efa popped back in with two cups of tea to hand out. Sirius sipped the flowery flavor slowly. The warmth burning the edges of his throat as he swallowed. Pain was a familiar friend.

“Grandfather.” He mustered the courage to whisper. Arcturus lifted his chin slightly, his tea still cooling in his cupped hands.

“Why did you save me?” He dared to ask. There was a sharp intake of breath from himself after he heard the words echo in his ear as he waited.

“Age makes one reflect on one's life, whether we wish to or not. As I’ve aged, I’ve come to realize in the end, there is only those who we call family.” Arcturus replied vaguely as Sirius slurped his tea slightly.

“Family may be blood or they may not be, but I’d believed it be the same. You may not like it Sirius, but you and I have only a bit of family left.” Arcturus continued.

“You saved me because I’m family?” Sirius asked, conflicted. Arcturus shook his head a bit.

“I saved you because you are my family.” Arcturus corrected. Sirius chewed on his cheek.

“That night, that Halloween, I believe I am correct in saying you’d thought you lost all your family in one tragic swoop, correct?” Arcturus asked his eyes, staring ahead and not at Sirius.

“Didn’t I?” Sirius replied.

“Did you?” Arcturus retorted. Sirius thought for a moment.

“I thought I had.” Sirius whispered.

“As we think and as is, can vary so tremendously.” Arcturus answered.

“What do you want from me then?” Sirius tried a different approach. His grandfather placed a hand on his ankle as Sirius jerked it under the pressure. His brain flooded with the memory of the time his father had broken his ankles so horribly they hadn’t healed for weeks and he spent the days sweating and crying in the hospital wing of Hogwarts until the bones finally clicked back into place.

“Yes, Orion was rather cruel.” Arcturus muttered, bitterness tinging every word. Sirius had let it slip his mind that his grandfather could easily read his thoughts without so much a blink of his eyes if Sirius didn’t throw up the protective shield. His magic was too weak still for him to be truly successful.

“He is dead though, and you are not. Do with your life more than he ever did. If you do so, I’ll consider my actions worthy.” Arcturus stated firmly. He squeezed Sirius' leg once before leaving without saying anything else, closing the door softly as Sirius was plunged into darkness. He took one last sip of his tea before he placed it beside his bed and turned his pillow over and wafted into a restless fit of sleep. The interaction with his grandfather weighed so heavily on his mind that he didn’t think of that horrid night again.

-

Gasping for air, Regulus' eyes shook open. He was warm and covered in a sticky layer of sweat as his breathing shuddered. A nightmare, another nightmare had struck his rest. His head lolled to the side as he glanced at his watch, squinting in the darkness. It was half past three in the morning. Letting out a dejected sigh, he turned his head upwards. Staring into the ceiling, he tried to shake the thoughts of his nightmare.

The decaying smell, the scratching bones, and the black holes filled with algae where eyes should have been. The Inferi from the lake, their iron grip on his arms as he was dragged downward into the dark iron water. The taste of blood and salt filling his lungs as he screamed, the last of the air escaping him. The coldness of fear drowning out every thought. He was going to die, and for once he felt he hadn’t wanted to die. His last gasp filled the last of his lungs with the dangerous liquid, the burning in his chest threatened to implode him from the inside out before he could even stop breathing. His eyes grew heavy as he begged in his mind for anyone to save him. He could barely see the surface any longer as he lost sight, the brightest flash of yellow cascading behind his eyes as he let a moment of acceptance flood his senses. At least he died for the right reasons.

He shook his head again, he didn’t die. That flash of light wasn’t him leaving his earthly body. It was Kreacher, Kreacher had flooded the cave with a burning light that forced the Inferi downward. Then he used his magic to pull Regulus upward. Apparating them both from the cave and jumping on Regulus chest with his crooked feet until the water gagged up his throat. The burning in his chest and throat had lasted for days. He’d been forced into a state of disrepair for days as Kreacher did his best to tend to him while still answering his mother’s call. He hadn’t died, but he’d been as close as he supposed one could be.

The near-death experience had changed his entire life. His story had nearly ended there. Him dying unknown and for a sacrifice of the greater good. His life would have meant something by his death, but now his life meant something by living. He turned to the framed moving photo next to his watch. The darkness made it hard to distinguish the features, but he didn’t need to see to know it. The image was never to leave his mind. Harry was on his hip, smiling as he tried to catch a passing butterfly with his toddler hands wide open, Regulus was staring at Harry, laughing with his eyes crinkled at the edges from joy. His life had meaning now. His life was Harry.

Alertness pulsed through his body to the ends of his toes, sleep was long gone now. He threw off the heavy quilt as he pushed himself upwards, the layer of sweat slowly drying into his skin as wrinkled his nose at the idea. A shower would be nice. He slipped on his slippers and found a new pair of clothes to change into as he made his way down the darken hall to the bath he and Harry shared. Closely the door gently and casting a silencing charm to keep the noise from waking anyone else. He turned the water warm as he undressed, the sound calming him. The tiles made his feet flinch at the change in temperature. Stretching his arms, he pulled himself under the cascading falls of the shower. Washing his hair first as his mind wandered again.

He thought of the nightmare once more. The Inferi were his greatest fear now. Without a doubt, if he came across a boggart it would turn into a slimy, bony, baggy creature. It hadn’t always been that way before. When he was little, he came across a boggart hiding in a wardrobe in his home. He’d only been four or five, the wardrobe flew open pushing him to the floor as pain smarted his small hands. The coats shook a bit before two tall stately figures emerged. His parents stood before him with their nose upturned. They were disgraced and insulting him at every turn as their voices grew louder and louder. Tears streamed his face as he felt his cheeks burn with shame. He laid there on the floor for too long listening to their noise before Uncle Alphard found him sobbing into his knees and banished the boggart.

He didn’t face one again until his fifth year Defense Class. Second term had been horrid. He’d for the first time slipped in his classes, distractions were abound. Sirius had run away. His parents were distraught with the abandonment, all the responsibilities his brother had and had waved away now fell on him. He had never been strong enough to be the heir. His hands shook often and he withdrew from everyone. He never really had friends, only people who saw him as advantageous to be seen with. They were all going down one path, the same path. He wasn’t sold on their ideals yet. Not when his brother’s abandonment had left him so scarred.

He’d been sitting in the back of the classroom when the Professor made them line up. He had said when they banished the Boggart they were dismissed for the day. People were clamoring for the front laughing and pushing others to leave class as soon as possible. He resided himself to the back of the line. At least waiting gave him something to fill his time with. One after another, he saw spiders and snakes and a few werewolves. He already knew his Boggart. It would be embarrassing for his teacher to see it let alone anyone else. The last student before him banished a hag into a banana peel, he took a moment. Waiting for the student to stumble out of the room before approaching the trunk the Boggart was contained in. His teacher almost looked sympathetic at the sullen worn student in front of him.

Regulus gripped his wand tightly. Trying with all his might to think of a humorous item. He was drawing only blank thoughts as he heard the clicking of a lock. There was a rush of wind that pushed his loose hair’s back, then climbing out of the trunk was the last person he had expected to see. Sirius was there. In his leather jacket and cheap jewelry, Sirius stood before him. Regulus almost dropped his wand in shock. His brother hadn’t even been near him since they had returned for a second term. He could almost feel a smile tugging at his lips, his brother was there. Then his brother opened his mouth.

“I’ll never be like you. You’re just a weak git who eats out of their hands like their fucking gods. Don’t you see Reg, they are using you! I’m leaving, don’t speak to me ever again. As far as I care, James is my brother now.” Sirius's eyes darkened and his lips curled as he spoke. His fists were balled at his side, and he leaned forward threateningly as Regulus cowardly retreated a few steps. He tried to cover his ears like a child and squinted his eyes closed. No, he wasn’t weak. He just believed his parents. They were his parents. His parents weren’t using him. He was their son. This was just their way of showing love. They just showed it differently that was all.

He felt another gust of wind as he creeped his eyes open. The trunk was locked again, his Professor bent over it, hands pushed down on the end of it. Regulus’ knees shook and he felt weak for a moment. It was just a Boggart, and he’d easily failed the assignment. He fell to the ground in a mess of his robes that were growing looser by the day. He wanted to cry. In that very moment, all the emotions that had built up were flooding him. He wanted to sob, but Blacks didn’t cry. So he stumbled upward and tried to dry his eyes and clear his throat as he tried to form an explanation. His Professor raised his hand to silence him as he reached into his coat to pull out a Chocolate Frog container. He handed it to Regulus softly.

“You’ll pass the assignment Mister Black. Eat this and take as much time as you need here. I’ll excuse you from your next lesson.” His low voice gruffled as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Regulus’ lip trembled as he fell to his knees, the sweet still clutched in his hand. A wretched sob left his lips as he kneeled over in defeat. Letting the sadness consume him for only a little while, before he had to pretend again that he was nothing more than the newly stated Heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.

Regulus pushed his wet hair back as he stepped out of the shower. The mirror was fogged from the steam. His fingers had begun to prune as he’d lost himself in the thought. He didn’t bother to clear the mirror as he dressed, he didn’t need to see his botched red face. He slipped on his slippers again and he made his way to the kitchen, to pour himself a cup of tea. Once he had the warmed cup in hand, he stepped into the coldness of the night as he sat on the steps. He looked to the stars, finding the brightest star rather quickly. Canis Major would disappear from the skies soon, when winter died away. For now, his brother was only a glance away.

Chapter Text

His hands felt around wet soil, soaking through his thick work gloves as he grimaced at the sensation of warm damp slime against his wrist. Sweat dripped down his brow. He would wipe it away, but his arms were covered in dirt. Regulus wasn’t certain why he’d offered to assist Marius, other than he must enjoy putting himself in uncomfortable situations. Marius and Helena were out, enjoying her few days off to a village a few towns over. They’d be gone the weekend, and the greenhouse needed tending too. It had sounded a better idea in theory, now that he was elbow deep in a plant.

“Harry, don’t touch those!” He yelled as he glanced over to see curious little Harry reaching for a deadly plant. With his ever growing height and queries, Regulus couldn’t dare take an eye off of him.

“Those are Mandrakes, Harry. If they fall over the screams will kill us both. Come over here, help me with the Wormwood, it needs repotting. This one is cracked, but we can’t disturb the roots.” Regulus offered to try not to panic as Harry edged away from the Mandrakes. He’d need to move those to a higher shelf. Harry was getting too curious and too quick, and many of these plants were deadly in one way or another. Harry came over as Regulus had him grab the end of the pot to hold it steady while he roamed his arms around more to get the entire plant moved to the next pot.

“Is wormwood deadly?” Harry asked curiously, his eyes following Regulus’ every move. Regulus shook his head.

“It’s bitter, but not harmful particularly. It can be mixed into potions that are dangerous. It’s mainly used in the Draught of Living Death, which when brewed correctly, even a drop can kill you. It is a very difficult potion.” Regulus explained as he finally wrangled the plant into its new home.

“Can you brew?” Harry asked, tilting his head. He was full of questions as he grew. He’d been six just next month, the thought making Regulus want to squeeze him closely and never let go.

“I managed to brew it once, after a few tries at Hogwarts.” Regulus answered as he patted some fertilizer in with the Wormwood. They mainly used it to brew the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, though with some modifications. Apparently it was useful in healing in some ways. Regulus never had the knack for healing nor the attitude.

“Hogwarts is fun?” Harry asked as Regulus moved to the sink to clean himself up. Harry pattered behind him, messing with the tools stored to the side of the sink. None of them looked particularly harmful, so Regulus allowed him. Battles had to been chosen when raising a child.

“I’m certain you’ll have plenty of fun at Hogwarts.” Regulus answered as he scrubbed harshly under his nails. He was beginning to think the gloves had been pointless and he may as well have gone bare-handed.

“Will I have friends?” Harry asked gently, as he lifted a shovel to inspect it. Regulus froze slightly. He tried not to think of it often, but Harry didn’t have many interactions with other children. Of course, they’d been to the Lake a few more times and into the village occasionally and Harry made a friend everywhere he went, but never for more than a day or two. It wasn’t as if he could have play dates with the Muggle children, not in a house full with witches and Wizards.

“I’m sure you’ll make the best of friends, Harry.” Regulus forced out a smile as he stared into wide green eyes. Harry perked up as his cheeks flushed at the idea.

“I’d like friends.” Harry mumbled as he grabbed Regulus’ outstretched hand. They walked back to the house together, Harry humming to himself quietly. Regulus tries not to let the weight of the prior conversation drag him down. Cassiopeia and Kreacher were sitting in the sunroom, each with their own pile of clothes they were folding with waves of their hands.

“Hello, boys. How was the greenhouse? I’m rather glad it isn’t my responsibility to watch after it anymore. I’ve never had a talent for plants. Anytime Marius would leave me to care for it I’d end up killing no less than three plants and he’d always return to be disappointed. It weighed heavily on my heart. At least, you two have a better talent for it.” Cassiopeia mused as sweaters flew over their heads to be stored away. Winter had melted away and summer was approaching quickly. She and Kreacher were spending the day cleaning and storing away many of the winter clothes to make room for the summer clothes.

“Just barely.” Regulus huffed as he sat Harry on a seat to help him remove his shoes. Harry kept accidentally using magic to strap his shoes so tightly the laces would take half an hour to untie, even with a wand.

“I helped!” Harry shouted joyfully, kicking his feet towards Regulus’ face. Regulus had to push gently down on his knees to avoid getting a black eye.

“How wonderful, Harry. How’d you help?” Cassiopeia asked as she turned to the swishing and patting of her clothes, never hesitating.

“Hold the pot, Reggie pulled a plant!” Harry laughed, thankfully keeping his feet still this time. He’d terribly tightened the laces again as Regulus sighed pulling out his wand to try and assist.

“Very good, Harry. You’ll be an ace in Herbology easily.” Cassiopeia praised him.

“Goodness Harry, what have you done with your laces?” Regulus mumbled as he finally undid one after much effort and concentration.

“This!” Harry cried happily as he touched the recently undone laces. They raised straight up and before Regulus could stop them, looped inhumanly fast together before tightening into a knot at the base of the shoe again. Regulus let out a defeated sigh. Harry was very talented at magic.

“Magic, Reggie!” Harry clapped his hands.

“Yes, would you happen to be able to undo them?” He muttered under his breath as Harry continued to celebrate. Cassiopeia chuckled behind them.

“You’ll miss these moments when he’s a moody teenager hexing you.” Cassiopeia chided behind her light laughter.

“You won’t hex me will you, Harry?” Regulus laughed dejectedly as he went back to work in the laces. Harry shook his head as he tottered back and forth on his hands. He was getting antsy, he never liked to sit still. He was a bit like James in that way, but his brain retained information like Lily. He would be a destructive force as a teenager, Regulus knew it. A sound cluttered behind him in one of the open windows. The distinct sound of the scratch of owl claws against a window pane. Cassiopeia must have received mail, she was really the only one who did. Helena occasionally received mail from her friends, but her Muggle family used the Muggle post, which was terribly slow and was delivered to a box at the end of the drive.

“Strange, that is a long travel owl.” Cassiopeia muttered as Regulus felt a light touch of air on the back of his neck as her stack of clothes collided with the seat they’d been hovering above. He could hear the distinct click of her boots as she took quick steps across the room. There was a murmur of words and a hoot of owl before the wings took off again. Harry giggled, he always enjoyed owls.

“Arcturus.” He heard Cassiopeia mumble. His back straightened. He knew Cassiopeia had written to his grandfather, but he hadn’t replied yet. An action she found only vaguely concerning. Apparently, in his older ages, he occasionally went into fits where he’d refuse to respond to anyone. His reply had finally come. He worked on Harry’s laces for a few moments as he heard the cracking of a seal and shuffling of paper.

“What did he have to say?” Regulus asked, his ears perking and his neck turning. Cassiopeia let out a sigh.

“He sent me an invitation to the summer ball. Apparently, he doesn’t want to attend alone. The Parkinsons are hosting this year.” Cassiopeia began. She shuffled the papers again.

“Then, he wants to stop by for a visit after the summer ball.” Cassiopeia muttered. Regulus felt a prick in his spine. His grandfather to visit here, where they have all been hidden away from the Blacks. Where would they all go?

“Calm Regulus. He has visited before. We handled it then, and we can handle it now.” Cassiopeia advised as if she could read his mind. He knew while she was decent at Occlumency, she had admitted she was horrid at Legilimency. His face must be easily read as of now.

“Where would we go?” Regulus questioned as he focused on the task before him, trying not to run himself anxious.

“Helena has her sister and her family, just a few towns away. They are all Muggles, but they know about magic. They’ve always taken Helena and Marius in when needed. I’m certain if we explained the situation they’d gladly take you both in. They are very kind people.” Cassiopeia explained. Regulus tapped his wand again as the laces loosened more as he thought. Muggles, a weekend with Muggles, it couldn’t be terribly awful. He’d just need to keep Harry’s magic under control. They didn’t need to set off their location to the local wizarding government. He was protected here in their house with all the magic of the adults surrounding him. There though, he’d be sure to set off notice if he performed any magic.

“It’s strange. It was a long distance owl. France doesn’t require that strenuous of an owl.” Cassiopeia mumbled as she paced slightly. Regulus finally accomplished removing the shoes as Harry jumped down and ran to Kreacher. He tugged the elf’s arm, asking him to play a game with him. Kreacher finished his last bit of folding in his arms and then gladly followed his little master out of the room. Kreacher loved to play games with Harry, and from the sounds of it. The elf’s croaky voice suggested a game of Gobstones outside to get his young Master some more of the pleasant weather. Harry’s feet pounded against the floor in response as a door flung open in the distance. Harry’s feet would be filthy, but it was easier to clean him than to bother with shoes anymore.

“Could he be elsewhere?” Regulus asked, approaching her from behind to crane his neck at the note.

“He hardly ever leaves France. If he did leave, he often wrote to me. It is odd for him not to.” Cassiopeia mused her free hand grabbing her slightly sagging elbow, tapping thoughtfully.

“Why would he not inform you?” Regulus asked, craning his neck farther until Cassiopeia flung the paper almost careless towards him. Her eyes were unfocused as she thought.

“He’d be doing something he’d not want me to know.” She nearly whispered as her eyes narrowed. Regulus flustered with the papers as he watched her eyes shuffle and her thoughts seemed to be racing behind them. He turned towards the paper. If anything, he knew his grandfather's scheming was not anything to get in the middle of. He was best left alone at times like these, but Cassiopeia seemed bent against the idea. Regulus just sighed as he read his grandfather’s perfectly poised script. Hopefully, any scheme of his would not bother the peaceful life they’d made here.

-

“When could he travel?” Arcturus asked, firmly.

“Travel, Arcturus, we’ve just gotten him to the shoreline. He’s in no state to travel!” Lancelot huffed back.

“Father, where could you possibly think of taking him?” Lucretia gasped.

Sirius supposed his descent down the stairs had not been detected. Lancelot had just left his room from giving him a check over. They do so every few weeks now. Originally, it had been every day, then every week. Sirius felt a bit of pride rise in his chest when Lancelot suggested he only need to check every few weeks. He’d finally gained enough weight, he was only a few stones shy of his prior weight. His skin had more color to it from the spring days spent in the garden. He’d even ventured down with his aunt and uncle to the shoreline. Letting the cool water lap at his ankles had brought a brightness to his face. Apparently, his grandfather thought he was healed.

“I have my reasons, Lucretia.” Arcturus advised raising his voice a tone, as he did when he wanted people not question him.

“No, I won’t allow it, Arcturus. His body may be nearly there, but his mind. I am not well versed in mind healing. The work is slow.” Lancelot interjected, the sloshing sound of tea being poured echoing in the background.

“There is more he needs to do then just hide out here.” Arcturus stated forcefully.

“Such as? Father, he is an escaped convict. You can’t simply order a portkey. He doesn’t even have his own wand yet. We’re still trying to acquire a spare one without much suspicions.” Lucretia lamented. He could hear her chair scratching against the tile.

“Daughter, don’t doubt me. It would be quite easy for me to both acquire a portkey and a wand without any suspicious looks. I have rather good connections.” Arcturus replied with a haughtiness to his voice.

“Take him where, Father? Back with you to France, no. He will stay with us, if you must return then do so. Sirius stays here, we will gladly take care of him.” Lucretia answered, her voice raising now.

“I have my reasons.” Arcturus nearly growled back. Sirius flinched instinctively. He’d been on the other end of that, raising his voice in protest. Never once had it ended well. Arcturus may have been the kinder grandfather, but he’d still throw him against a wall for defiance. No crash came though, only a huff of noises.

“Fine, how long will it take to heal his mind, Lancelot?” Arcturus asked, his voice lowering. Lancelot let out a sputtering sound.

“After the life I can assume he’s lived? Years. Tack on the years in Azkaban mixed with the years of warfare? Decades.” Lancelot explained sarcastically. Arcturus let out a displeased noise.

“The life he’s lived? You wish to judge how I’ve raised my family, Lancelot? Your family is far from perfect either.” Arcturus spat back at the older man.

“I don’t deny my family has flaws, no one family can be perfect. But you can’t deny you haven’t heard him screaming for his parents not to hurt him in his sleep either. That type of damage, that type of abuse, from the people who should have been his caretakers, that takes years to undo.” Lancelot explained very forcefully with a crashing of a hand to the wooden table. Sirius was shocked. No one challenged Arcturus Black. Certainly not Lancelot Prewett, the Prewetts may be well established and well to do family, but Sirius knew the Blacks considered themselves better than them.

“My son and his wife weren’t meant to be parents, I’m well aware of that fact.” Arcturus stated, his voice strangely calm.

“Then why encourage them to become them?” Lancelot ticked.

“We needed heirs. Druella only delivered girls, and Alphard wasn’t going to be sharing any woman’s bed. We all could see that. It had to be Orion, he was our last chance.” Arcturus grumbled.

“Look what that has come to.” Lancelot finished. A loud click of a tea cup against wood sliced through the dining room. The air felt thick even around the corner where he was tucked away from the confrontation.

Sirius had hidden long enough. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He took a few soft steps back and then rather loudly took the last step again letting out a small cough for good measure as he rounded into the dining area. Any remnants of the prior argument seemed to have vanished as his aunt stood to greet him and ask how he slept. He smiled at her softly as he sat down to a full plate. Efa was insistent on him gaining the last few stones back it seemed as he bit into a piece of toast. The table lapsed into a stiff silence, Lucretia breaking it occasionally to ask her husband a question, or to make a comment on the Daily Prophet in his grandfather’s hand.

Sirius found himself sitting in the library tucked in the window. He’d come inside a few moments earlier from a bit of light work on the garden. His aunt took pride in her stalks of lavender and the few rose bushes, and he’d take to helping her. Finding a bit of exercise and fresh air is good for him. It was still a few hours till tea and the clouds were growing over the ocean and rumbling was starting to cascade over the waves. He curled his knees up as he propped open the book he’d been working on there so he could read from the grey light of the hidden sun rays. It was peaceful here, but he could see how in different days when he was a different person, he’d dislike the quiet too. He and Ignatius were the same in that sense. Life had changed them both though.

“It’ll rain soon.” Arcturus commented, spooking Sirius. His book slid from his hands, but he caught it before it crashed to the floor.

“Still have the Quidditch reflexes I see.” Arcturus almost chuckled as he lowered himself into the comfortable lounge chair. Sirius just watched him stiffly.

“Well, are you going to ask?” Arcturus prodded. Sirius turned his head towards him in confusion.

“Please Sirius, let’s be cordial with each other. I know you overheard the conversation this morning.” Arcturus explained. Sirius bowed his head slightly.

“Do I really scream about my parents?” Sirius muttered. Arcturus huffed a bit as the chair squealed. Sirius looked up to see his grandfather lighting a pipe. The smoke clouded around his wrinkled face before he replied.

“Only occasionally. Would you like a try? It isn’t like those cigarettes you used to smoke up in your room, but I suppose it is similar.” His grandfather offered, holding the pipe out towards him. Sirius wasn’t sure when his feet moved, but he found himself standing just in front of his grandfather reaching for the wooden slick device. He brought it to his lips slowly, letting the feeling wash over him. He hadn’t had a smoke in so many years. He could hear a chuckle.

“I remember that feeling. I remember Melania tried to get me to stop smoking. I made it a whole year and half too before my brother tempted me and I fell into the habit again. She hexed us both, but that first taste was worth it.” Arcturus commented as he took the pipe back into his pale hand. Sirius watched it longingly. There was a peace in the old habit, even if it was a a nasty one.

“You knew I smoked cigarettes in my room?” Sirius asked quietly.

“I let you get away with plenty more than you realise Sirius.” His grandfather replied, his eyes gazing around the room as he spoke. The room had all four walls covered with floor to ceiling shelves, all filled to the brim with books and mementos from the years. There were plush chairs on one side and window seats on the far wall for the three windows. At the other end sat one stately large desk, even larger than the ones he’d seen at Black family residence. Typically, one would find Ignatius behind there running the household. Today, he was away. Checking in on the werewolf pack of Wales. He was the only Wizard ever allowed near them and it had taken him nearly his entire life to gain their trust. His heart went frigid as he thought of Welsh werewolves, he couldn’t bring himself to those thoughts yet. Maybe Lancelot had a point, maybe he was too broken.

“You’re grandmother, she would have liked it here. Maybe not the scenery, but she’d enjoy the quiet. She grew up far away from many places in Scotland.” Arcturus mumbled, more to himself.

“I never knew her.” Sirius pointed out as he sat in the chair next to his grandfather.

“A pity, she was a wonderous woman. People across all of Britain questioned why she would marry me. Even I questioned it myself, but she was my greatest blessing, and then she brought even greater blessings to me. She gave me children, ones she never got to see grow. A blessing and a curse I suppose.” Arcturus muttered. Sirius hadn’t ever heard much about his grandmother. He knew she was dead before he was born. She’d died somehow during the Great Wizarding War. The family hardly spoke of her, he had figured it was by Arcturus’ command that they did so.

“Where do you want to take me?” Sirius finally managed to ask after a few moments of silence.

“Ah, there it is.” Arcturus coughed slightly.

“I don’t want to go to France. I prefer Wales to France.” Sirius added. It was true, he’d never been a fan of the family visits to France. They were stiff and formal, and the place reeked of the old ways.

“Not France, son.” Arcturus shook his head.

“Though you always had a better handle of French than your brother.” Arcturus added after a moment. He didn’t seem to want to answer the question yet.

“I enjoyed the summers here.” Sirius answered as he crossed his ankles and watched a strike of lightning break the waves farther out in the ocean. The cascade of rain began just a moment later, patterning and fogging the window.

“I figured so. You would never stop speaking of your cousins here. Everyone thought they’d be a poor influence on you boys, but I insisted you’d be allowed to stay with my daughter. Maybe if I hadn’t, events would have turned out differently.” Arcturus reflected for a moment. Sirius felt uncomfortable as time continued on, shifting his weight side to side causing his chair to squeak.

“Where I wish to take you doesn’t matter yet. Clearly, you will not be allowed to leave without heavy resistance. Focus on healing yourself, Sirius, the time will come.” Arcturus commented as he stood. He made his way nearly out of the room before Sirius abruptly turned in his seat catching his attention.

“Can’t you tell me anything about it?” Sirius questioned. He hated being left in the dark. The feeling dragged on in his mind. It had been like this since he was a child, always sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. It caused more issues than solved, but it was a habit at this point

“I’ll leave you with this. Where did you grow up Sirius? If you can answer me, I will tell you all.” Arcturus smiled crookedly. Sirius thought this must be a trick. Of course he knew where he’d grown up, how could he forget a place as evil as that. He opened his mouth to answer, only to have to close it again a moment later. The words escaped him. The place had a name, it must. He couldn’t place it though, not for all his concentration. His grandfather let out a lowly chuckle, one the reverberated in his chest and made Sirius feel even more lost than before,

“Gives you plenty to think on, doesn’t it?” He posed before stepping out of sight. Sirius slumped in his seat defeated. His grandfather was clearly trying to make a point. A point completely escaping Sirius as he stared off into the watery horizon, the claps of thunder and flashes of lightning only casting more confusion on his thoughts as he trailed the rain down the window.

Chapter Text

Cassiopeia made her way through the gardens. The Parkinson Estate was not one she frequented. They lived in Cheshire, among the old villages and sea towns. The portkey had dropped in her in the middle of a field surrounded by browning grass and swaying wheat. The sounds of cows mewing in the background as she sniffled and pulled her robes up to make her way down the path. The Parkinsons would never admit it, but they had once been a simple import family with their connections to the seas. Now, they tended to dwell on many finer things of life, but their Estate still held their history.

As she was flooded with the overwhelming display and scents of the flourish garden, the trees swayed and revealed a tall figure turned away from her. The swaying grey and black hair and the strong shoulders were forever familiar. Even as they aged, there was a part of her that could never forget her eldest cousin. She’d hold a soft spot for him in heart till her dying day. He lived a difficult life with difficult decisions and though she may not always agree with him, at the end of the day, he was the one to make this family survive.

“Arcturus.” She stated as she put her thin bony hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch, he’d known she was arriving.

“Beautiful as ever Cassiopeia.” He replied looking over her as he held out his arm. She took it kindly.

“Beauty is not what many see on a woman of my age.” Cassiopeia mused as she stared in the distance at a bird's fluttering wings that drew her attention to the clear blue sky.

“I will always see the best in you, my dear. Now, I believe we’ve delayed long enough.” He smiled ever so slightly under his sharp cheeks. With a gentle pull, they began their way inside. There was to be a light tea before the night fell and the festivities began. The summer ball was more a socializing event for the younger of the purebloods. A way for their families to see how they interacted together before arranging marriages.

“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me. These events bore me, it’ll be good to have intelligent company.” Arcturus commented as they entered the wide threshold of the Entrance Hall. The glittering chandelier shined spotless with dots across the walls to draw one's eyes to the many priceless artifacts on various shelves.

“I’m surprised you chose to attend. You seem to enjoy your solace in France.” Cassiopeia replied as she flashed a smile at an old acquaintance from the Greengrass family. He nodded his head as two small young girls ran up to him.

“My daughter worries for me as I age. She asked me to visit more often, hoping I’ll stay.” He answered loosely as he nodded at the remains of the Shafiq family. A cluster of a few older women, wrapped in head dresses and shawls.

“So the owl was from Wales then? I was wondering why such an owl would come from you.” Cassiopeia pointed out as she pulled her cousin closer to her as the crowd grew.

“Little escapes you.” He chuckled under his breath.

“I’ve learned from the best over the years.” Cassiopeia whispered to him. She would swear she saw another rare smile from him.

They lost themselves in the pleasantries and performances of the night. A few sips of drinks and light bites of the floating trays as they inputted their commentary on the sparse few pureblood children left. Cassiopeia left much of the speaking to Arcturus. He always had a way with people, as he laughed and toasted with the elite of them all. The wrinkles on his face seemed to fade slightly as he rode high in his element. He was born to be the heir, the last true heir of their family. She could see it written all over him in the way he moved through the dancing crowds never letting his robes cross another and the tactful conversation glittering in her ears. Before long the night grew cold as the halls began to filter thinner, she waited in the garden as Arcturus made their goodbyes.

The cool breeze was refreshing against her face and thinning hair. The heat of the bodies in the Estate got stifling after so many hours. The fresh smell of the flowers helped ebb away the stench of alcohol and smoke that had filled her nose for many hours. With a deep breath, she filled her lungs with the fresh air. The faint scent of the sea only a few kilometers away stinging the air. When she looked up the night sky was bright, quite different then the sky she’d grown up with. Here you could see every star.

“Strange isn’t it? They named us after stars we could never even see in the city.” Arcturus commented from behind her.

“I don’t like when you read my mind, Arcturus.” She chided slightly as she rose. Her cousin had the rarest of talent where he could enter one's mind without even the slightest of notice.

“Old habits.” He chuckled as he held out his arm once again.

“Will you accompany me on a walk? I could use a few moments before I return to my daughter’s home.” Arcturus asked as they reached the edge of the garden. She nodded gently towards him. She could use the time to calm herself before having to return to her brother’s home. It was not her preferred place to stay, but once he got news of her visit he had insisted and some battles were better left alone.They walked forward towards where the sea ports would be, arm in arm.

“Is Pollux expecting you? We crossed him several times, but he seemed uninterested in making conversation.” Arcturus stated a few moments later.

“I think I am of an old enough age that my older brother need not wait up for me.” Cassiopeia scoffed, even though she knew her brother differently.

“I suppose you are a correct. You’ve never been one to stand down against Pollux.” Arcturus commented.

“Nor you.” She added quickly as her boots meet ground that was growing softer as they walked. The sea couldn’t be far now.

“Pollux was only ever as strong as he thought he was. A boy thrown into a man’s game too soon. He and I will never see eye to eye, but at least he respects my hold on this house for a few more years.” Arcturus mumbled as his eyes grazed the stars.

“With how we've been going, I would place galleons on you outliving us all Arcturus.” Cassiopeia mused quietly as she followed his eyes over the stars. So many of them reflected her own family back at her.

“Ironic isn’t it? The one who desperately wants peace, left to live in turmoil for so long.” He gasped under his breath as he turned their walk to the right slightly. Her ears weren’t what they had once been, but she swore she heard the light lapping water against land.

“Don’t be so down, Arcturus. You have much to live for.” She tried to encourage, though it was likely fruitless. She’d known of her cousin's dilemma for many years now.

“Oh reality is down, Cassiopeia. All around us, the good was taken much too soon.” He fumbled under breath. His eyes strained into the light.

“Do you ever look at the stars for answers, dear?” Arcturus asked a moment later.

“You know I never believed in Divinations, dear cousin.” Cassiopeia shook her head. Arcturus chuckled.

“No, you were one of the only women in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. A woman of study.” He laughed again, catching in the breeze as the shoreline came to view.

“I believe you took the subject though.” She noted as she picked up her robes to avoid the dragging grains of sand.

“Indeed, not for the subject matter though.” He smirked under the shadows across his face as he lifted his arm to help her onto the sinking sand.

“No, instead I was following around this blonde hair Hufflepuff, who adored the stars. She found my name rather charming. I’ll never forget the way it sounded in her accent for as long as I live.” He whispers as his eyes gazed at the stars again.

“Melania was a good woman.” Cassiopeia whispered. They didn’t speak of her often. Even after all these years, the pain of losing her struck a chord in Arcturus even Cassiopeia didn’t understand.

“She spoke of fate often. To believe in the fates, the stars, and not to let their decisions cloud us. I was never any good at any of it. I curse the fates every day.” He muttered as he dropped his arm to grab hold of her wrist as his eyes stared so far away she wasn’t sure he could see her anymore.

“We named our children after the skies. Melania said the names spoke to her. I remember my father striking me across my face so hard I couldn’t speak for days for not naming my only son after him.” Arcturus recalled.

“I wonder if it would have changed anything, I question it all, constantly. I would never admit it to anyone, but you, my dear. As I grow old, I fear I have so many regrets and not enough time to correct them.” He whispered clenching her wrist tighter as he stared off still.

“You’ve done the best you could, Arcturus. Orion made his own choices and his sons the same as he.” Cassiopeia could feel a slight chill down her spine. This conversation felt terrible foreboding.

“Do you ever think of it? If it had all gone differently, what would have happened?” Arcturus asked as he finally turned to face her. His eyes were darker and glazed as he stared at her.

“I tend not to dwell on the past. I cannot change what has already happened.” Cassiopeia said shallowly. Her voice seemed to escape her as she had to gasp a moment later. He turned his face out towards the ocean.

“I’ve wondered about it. My father blamed it all on me. I married a weak woman, who bore weak children and if I had simply done as he said, it would all be different. Maybe it would have, but still. The years I did get with her, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.” He stated barely audible over the light crashing of the waves. She flexed her arm in his grasp as she gazed at his profile.

“She was a good wife.” Cassiopeia whispered. Arcturus chuckled gently as he released his iron grip, Cassiopeia letting her arm fall limp her side.

“You would have made a good wife Cassiopeia, I mean no ill when I say that. I’m certain our marriage would have been agreeable, but Melania, she was the only one for me.” Arcturus murmured.

“I’ve never held any ill will that you ran from our engagement Arcturus. You know this.” She replied as she let out a slow breath. If this is what was stressing out her cousin, she could handle this.

“I know, Cassiopeia. We’ve always had an unspoken agreement on the dissolution of our parents' plans for us. However, I would think we are as close as we can be because of it. That our relationship since then has been built on a bench of mutual respect.” Arcturus stated his shoulders pushing back and his normal demeanor returning as he breathed slowly.

“I would agree.” She replied, her hands clasping in front of her.

“Yet we keep secrets from one another for the protection of others.” He stated firmly as his arms flinched at his side. There was a blow of wind as she stood, her boots slightly sunk in damp sand and her shoulders shuddered from the cold around her. She forced her lips into a straight line and her neck to stick out. She wasn’t going to give Arcturus any response. Her back stiffened as she continued to stare down the side of his face unwavering.

“Calm, Cassiopeia. I’ve let you and your brother live in peace for many years. Why waste to disturb it now?” He broke through the howling wind as Cassiopeia felt her eyes widen. Arcturus had played his hand rather early without asking for any retribution. It was a move highly unlikely in his unusually skilled mind.

“Marius is not a part of this. He left his family long ago.” She gritted through her teeth. She may have a soft spot of Arcturus, but her brother had her whole soul. He’d suffered greatly and spent his entire childhood in torment. She’d made it her life’s mission to make sure he never suffered again. Her last promise to her sister had been to keep him safe bearing her own life if she had too.

“I recall it a bit differently, but yes dear. Marius is a part of this, he and his wife both, as are you and I now. And my daughter and her husband and his cousin, we’ve all been brought into this. We are old, but they are not. And their youth is what we must protect.” Arcturus murmured as he turned to face her, the grating of the sand ringing in her ears.

“They?” She asked quietly. Worry rising in her chest as she did her best to keep her thoughts under lock from her cousin. Instead of pushing harder, he simply held out his arm once more.

“Come, let me show you my secret. It is only fair.” He answered among the crashing sounds of the sea.

-

“None of them ever knew or suspected that Fountain’s waters carried no enchantment at all.” Regulus finished as he looked at the sleeping boy in his arms. Harry looked small and defenseless, his eyes fluttering gently in his sleep. Regulus leaned down to press his lips towards his forehead, kissing just next to his scar as he brushed back the wild dark hair. He ran his thumb over the scar once before sighing and pushing himself off his bed. He’d been hoarding Harry in his room every night since Cassiopeia had left two days ago. She said she’d write before they’d return, but Regulus didn’t trust his grandfather. He wanted Harry nearby in case Cassiopeia didn’t have time to warn them. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he felt safer with Harry in arm’s reach.

He tucked his wand into the top of his head as he scooped up the various papers and pictures on his bed. They’d been going through the photos and letters of his parents again. Harry had asked, it was one of the first times he had ever asked. Maybe because another birthday had passed without them. Maybe he was simply missing them.

As time had gone on, Harry realized more and more about his parents. He knew they were a powerful witch and wizard, he got his magic from them. He knew they were gone, and that a very bad man had taken them from him. He knew there was a war, even if he didn’t quite understand the concept yet. Most importantly, he knew his parents were brave. Brave until the very end, and they had died so he could live.

Regulus sighed again as he adjusted his sleeves. Harry had noticed the remains of The Mark. He’d been four when he’d first noticed it. His little fingers pointing at the red scars left behind, his eyes growing wide as he moved his hand to his head.

“Same?” Harry had asked. Regulus hadn’t expected a reaction as he had gasped and choked on his own breath. After his coughing fit, he’d curled Harry into his arms and sat him in his lap as he rocked them back and forth to keep calm.

“Not the same, Harry. Your scar is from you being so brave, mine is from me being so scared. They look the same, but I promise they have such different meanings, Harry.” Regulus had whispered into the small ears as they rocked on the floor for a bit longer. Harry never asked about his scar again. Regulus knew one day he’d have to explain it all, but Harry was still so young. He deserved to be innocent for a bit while longer before he heard about the war and all the horrors that had come with it.

His hands shuffled slightly as he felt one of the photos slide from his grasp and fall to the floor. He tucked away the rest of the mementos before he bent down to grasp the fallen photo. He shook a bit of dust off the edge as he picked it up. Turning it over, he realized it was a photo of all of them. His eyes flashed over the smiling faces of Lily and James, holding each other in the middle of the photo. Sirius was peeking behind James making a strange face as Remus loomed tall over all of them smirking from the far corner, his sweater loose on his shoulders.

Peter was there, his chubby cheeks poking over Lily’s shoulder as he waved. Marlene and Dorcas held each other’s arms and mouths wide in the abandoning kind of laughter that caused sides to hurt. Mary had her lips covered with one petite dark skinned hand as she tried to at least cover her humor. Someone must have said something funny just before the camera clicked and flashed. He felt the corners of his lips tug as the happiness in the photo pulled him in before they fell heavily against his cheeks.

This had to be one of the last photos of them all. He hadn’t seen much about The Order from his days of surviving, but there was a maturity to their faces. Grey hairs poking at James’ temples, lines of worry on Lily’s face, Remus and Sirius looking thinner then he had seen them. This had to be from the end of the war, and yet they still found time to smile. He felt his eyes grow heavy as he sat at his desk shuffling through the photos again. There were photos from all the way from their first year at Hogwarts to the last few months of their lives. These photos, they were all that remained of them. Nearly all those people, just memories left behind.

He pulled a photo of Sirius out of the box as he tilted it gingerly in between his fingers. He was sitting on the motorbike he’d been obsessed with, thick leather jacket over his shoulders with patches of Muggle senses all over the sleeves. His lips broke into a cocky grin as his hands squeezed at the throttle. Regulus would bet anything Remus had taken the photo from the coy look in his brother’s eye. He had only ever given Remus that look. He placed the photo carefully into a stack as he pulled another.

It was the one of Peter and James at the kitchen counter. One of the one’s he’d shown Harry the first time he’d gotten his hands on the photos. There was something more formal in the photo as they sipped their teas leaned against a bright kitchen counter. Regulus fiddled with it in his hands. Turning it over he looked on the back, there in small loopy handwriting were simply written words.

October 1981

The date rang odd in his mind. He couldn’t quite place the reasoning for it though as he flipped the thin paper in his hands a few times. Harry would have just turned one. Hogwarts would have just begun on the first of the prior month. It was the month Lily and James would meet the Dark Lord for the final time. Chewing on his lips, he slipped out of his room into the hallway with the photograph clutched in his hand. With a small click, he closed his door behind him to leave Harry to rest while he went to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he could be found sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. His head rang with the date like a record with a scratch. There had to be more to this photo, his instincts told him and they had rarely led him astray. He held the photo up to the fading light of a cloudy night hoping for a breakthrough of the crescent moon outside the fluttering curtains. The slight translucency of the photo; however, revealed no new secrets. Plopping his hand with a wince against the wooden table, he chewed roughly at his inner cheek.

A flash of lights cracked his neck as he shot up from his chair as the clattering of the fallen object rang in his ears. His wand outstretched, he blinked at the light blinding the reflection of someone behind it. His breath shuddered for a moment before he heard a whisper.

“Nox.” Marius called quietly as his wand dropped to his side, his face half cast in shadows as he stepped into the bare stretch of moonlight. Regulus' chest heaved as he tumbled backwards two steps laying his hand on the cool kitchen counter to catch his breath. Counting silently in his head, he used the back of his hand to catch a drop of sweat on his cheek.

“You’re too on edge, Regulus.” Marius mumbled as he pulled his night robes over his chest. His eyes looked worn for a moment as the glint of moonlight caught the grey color with matching grey bags under his eyes.

“I could have hexed you.” Regulus breathed as he pushed his wrist with a crack off the counter to pick up the scattered kitchen chair.

“And I’d be helpless to defend myself. Unfortunately, my defensive skills are minimal.” Marius mused as he picked up the kettle to start a fresh batch of tea.

“Want a new cup?” Marius nodded at the trashed table with the fallen tea cup. He hadn’t even noticed the spill, but now he could hear the quiet drip of spilled tea on the hollow wood floors. With a wave of his wand, he cast out liquid and shot the cup towards Marius and the kettle. He sighed as he slumped into the chair he’d just righted.

“Doxies get you in a twist?” Marius asked over his shoulder as a flash of heat flushed through the kitchen before the kettle settled onto the flame.

“I found something, and it’s been bothering me.” Regulus grumbled as he pushed his hands into his eyes from the exhaustion. Marius hummed quietly for a few moments until the kettle whistled and the tea was poured. The warm cup was pushed into his clammy hands as Marius took the seat just across from him.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Harry’s been sleeping in your room would it? Or the constant defensive stance you're taking with your wand?” Marius asked with a knowing look in his eyes. Regulus let out a strangled noise as he sipped his tea. Marius glanced up and down for a moment, the look felt searching.

“None of us like when Arcturus writes of coming around, Regulus. It is best that Cassiopeia stays on his good side though they have a long history with one another.” Marius explained. Regulus groaned as leaned his elbows on the table and stared into the wispy dark liquid.

“I don’t want him to know about Harry. He could have his words with me, but he can not know about Harry.” Regulus stated, firmly.

“Harry will be fine, without all the hovering. Cassiopeia can handle herself, she’s a strong woman. If there was ever anyone to go toe to toe with Arcturus, it would be her. Truthfully, I’d even put my galleons on her.” Marius chuckled a bit as he tried to ease the tension.

“Grandfather Arcturus, he always made me fearful. Not in the way Grandfather Pollux did, he just hex us senseless. At least I knew what to expect of him, but Grandfather Arcturus, you could never tell his next move. He was less physical and more mental. I couldn’t predict him, and that made me even more scared of him.” Regulus whispered as his knuckles strained against his grasp on the tea cup. Marius cleared his throat as he waited a moment before speaking.

“That is what makes Arcturus powerful. Not his brute strength, or his cruelty, no those are my brother’s strengths. I would know, I was on the receiving end for so many years. No, he could never outdo Arcturus. He played the long game, a chess master of sorts. He could predict your move before you even knew it yourself. And you are correct, that is what makes him terrifying, but let me tell you something.” Marius leaned forward as his eyes bore into Regulus’ for a heated second.

“Arcturus would burn the world for his family.” Marius uttered with a shake to his chin.

“And no matter how many morals he’d have to break, he wouldn’t do anything to disparage his family’s name. He wouldn’t expose you, anymore than he would expose me. His pride keeps us safe.” Marius insisted his arms leaned against the edge of the table leaving marks as he pressed forward.

Regulus gulped as he slowly nodded, turning his head towards the open window. A part of him knew it was true, another part of him sounded alarms throughout his head and chills from the base of his skull. He didn’t like the unpredictable, and he had a fear of losing control. All which his grandfather worked best in. He sat curled up finishing his tea, listening to Marius’ steady breathing as he agreed to a comfortable silence, until the moon sank low and they both stated sleep would be best.

Regulus creaked open his door slowly, allowing the hall light to cast over the back of Harry as he took him in for a moment. He watched his breathing and the slight twitch of his leg as he dreamed. Marius may be right about Arcturus burning the world for his family. He could see the passion. Maybe that is where Regulus got the trait from because, there leaned against an old door frame with only the light of the hall to cast over the tuft of black hair, Regulus would burn the world to keep Harry tucked and safe away from the dangers outside these walls.

Chapter Text

Sirius sat staring out at the lapping sea. His knees tucked close to him and his hair fluttering behind his ears. It had grown since he’d had it cut, it wasn’t quite to the length he liked it yet, but before year’s end it would likely be. For now it curled just above the collar of his robes, brushing against the small hairs on the back of his neck. His brother had worn his hair like that for most of his life, he never enjoyed the long haired tradition of their family and in a rare moment of rebellion, Regulus had cut his hair the second year at Hogwarts.

Their family had been livid at him. Sirius could hear the ringing of the broken vase shattering against his brother’s shoulders that Christmas. He’d always been so perfect, they’d never expected such an act from him. Maybe that’s why they were so harsh against him. Sirius had been pulling glass out of cuts for hours after that while Regulus sobbed into his shoulder. They hadn’t spoken much since Regulus had been sorted into Slytherin. Sirius’ hopes of his brother being just a bit more brave dashed when the Sorting Hat had rung out the bellowing cry of the House of Snakes.

“Thank you.” Regulus sniffled in his small squeaky voice. In just a few years time, that would transform into the silken tone of slyness and slippery words. His brother would slowly fall farther away from him in every way.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Sirius had whispered back as he pulled a long, painful shard from just below his collarbone. Regulus shuddered against him and let out a pathetic sounding whimper. He’d never been good with blood. The sight made him sick, particularly when it was his own. His parents had known this since he was young, apparently his mother had decided to use it against him when she smashed the glass vase over his head when they arrived back from King’s Cross Station. All while cursing him out for cutting his hair before he was allowed. It had been hounded into their head that they weren’t to cut their hair significantly until they were married. He’d never understood the tradition, his mother had considered it the greatest insult when she’d cut all of his hair off after he’d returned from being sorted in Gryffindor. Now here the two sat, each with hair shorter than it was supposed to be, huddled into one another on the floor of his room.

“Why’d you do it?” Sirius dared ask as he laid a bandage across the collarbone, the cut looked particularly nasty and swollen already. Regulus sniffled loudly, pushing his nose into the bone of his shoulder harshly.

“You had short hair.” His brother whispered into his skin so faintly it almost didn’t reach his ears. Sirius blinked heavily as his hands shook as he reached to smooth a bandage over a dripping wound on his brother’s arm.

“Oh.” Was his only reaction as he slipped into silence while trying to finish and heal and wrap the rest of the cuts across his brother. He parted not long after and left Sirius alone in his thoughts staring at the top of the ceiling. His mother had banned both of them from meals until she determined it was appropriate. His stomach wasn’t aching yet, he’d made certain to stuff himself on the train after a similar punishment had come every year.

His mind was swirling with the images of fresh blood and screaming voices mixed with the shattering of glass over and over again. Why would his brother go through all that hell for a haircut? Regulus wasn’t immune to his family’s punishments, but he certainly received fewer than Sirius. Then his comment, that he had short hair. He couldn’t mean that. Regulus couldn’t want to be like him, Regulus esteemed to be everything opposite of him.

Sirius shook his head to bring the crashing sounds of waves back to his mind. Maybe if fourteen year old Sirius had been a bit more observant. If he had been a bit less selfish, if he had tried just a bit harder. If he hadn’t pushed Regulus away with his entire being, trying to distance himself from any associates with his family. Maybe Regulus would have had a chance, maybe he could have had a choice. Maybe he’d still be alive today. A lot of death’s weighed heavy in his heart, Fabian’s, Gideon’s, Lily’s, James’, but Regulus' death, he’d never even properly mourned him. Everyone had known he was a Death Eater. His mother had practically put an ad in the paper. It had felt improper to mourn his brother when others were celebrating the loss of another Death Eater.

Only James had come to him when they heard the news, The Daily Prophet clutched in his hand as he barged into the flat Sirius had inherited from his Uncle Alphard his last year at Hogwarts. Sirius sat curled at the end of the couch with the curtains drawn tightly shut and not a single light lit as he stared into the darkness. He could quote the Prophet article he’d gapped at it for so long.

“The Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black pronounced dead. After speculations for months at the lack of social presence of Regulus Arcturus Black, an anonymous family member had confirmed that the Black Family is in mourning at the loss of the last heir of their family. A private ceremony will be held withstanding. Regulus Arcturus Black was the only son of the late Orion Alioth Black and Walburga Irma Black. With his death, the state of the ancient family is in the air. Turn to page five for a continuation of the mysterious short life of Regulus Arcturus Black.”

His brother, his baby brother. The one he taught to tie his shoes and fly a broom. Shortened to a gossip article in The Daily Prophet. Sirius didn’t want to even breathe any longer, let alone move. James had known, James had always known. He sat the Prophet down on the table Remus had gotten from a market nearby. It was worn and lopsided and clashed terribly with everything in the stately flat. For that reason, Sirius had always loved it. Right now though, with the Prophet and the barely moving photo of his brother staring down at him. He wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room and smash it into pieces.

He didn’t though. He sat there all night long not saying a word. Leaned against James, nodding off into sleep occasionally until the sun rose. Then James with only the determination he could muster, forced Sirius from his spot and made him clean up and then dragged him down to the musty and greasy eat-in down the street and nearly shoved as much food as he could manage down his throat. Then that was it. That was the last time anyone seemed to even acknowledge Regulus. Remus when he finally came home from visiting his mum, she was getting worse, had tried to offer some words of condolences. Sirius had snapped at him prematurely, and Remus didn’t bring up Regulus again.

Now, with nothing but time to think, surrounded by the salty air of Wales and the tumultuous weather that would put London to shame, he thought too much. Regulus was his shame of the day it seemed. As his boots brushed against a loose rock; he paused to listen to its shaky tumble over the edge of the cliff. He’d thought more than once what it would feel like to tumble like the loose rocks over the edge of the cliff. The one time he’d nearly considered trying it, he found his grandfather looming over his shoulders. He didn’t have to say a word, Sirius knew. Whenever he was away from home alone he could feel the light intrusion in his head. His grandfather was listening from one of the windows in the house, and when his thoughts had become more concrete, he’d appeared. He shook his head to force the thoughts out of his head.

Arcturus was away from the house though. Everyone but Lancelot was, and of all the people in the house Lancelot gave him the most space. He wasn’t supposed to be left home alone, and with everyone else away he took the chance to be as alone as he could. The rough hard dirt digging into his backside and the way he hunched aching his shoulders, but he was alone sitting near the shoreline. The waves rushing and retreating and the slight howl of the wind his only companions along the darkening skyline. He’d been here for hours soaking in every second along the edge of the cliff. As the last of the grey sky retreated though, he knew he’d needed to return soon. Otherwise, Efa would hunt him down with her tea towel snapping him inside.

The crunch of his bones adjusting filled his ears and he pushed against the dirt to rise. Stretching for a moment before he brushed his hands loudly against his pants to clear them. He’d need to wash them before dinner, some proper habits were harder to push off. He’d always felt the need to wash his hands before every meal even now. The filth filled years in Azkaban making him crave cleanliness in a new yearning. The side door was cracked open as he stomped off his boots before taking the quick steps though the hall before reaching the kitchen. Lancelot was already seated in his dark robes with several books and pieces of parchment in front of him. Sirius assumed Lancelot had to be approaching a hundred from his shriveled hands and worn face, but he never stopped working. Even as he took on the singular duty of healing Sirius.

“Thought you were going to leave yourself to freeze on the edge there.” Lancelot commented without looking up. His Welsh accent had faded considerably from all his years in London. He had a flat closer to St. Mungo’s and had only recently taken to staying in his childhood home in Wales.

“Not cold enough to freeze out there.” Sirius pointed out as he made his way to the sink. Efa’s soft hum filled the otherwise quiet space.

“You’d be surprised, in my youth, there were nights in the middle of summer that used to go frigid in a matter of minutes once the sun went down.” Lancelot explained as his quill finally began to slow down.

“What in 1592?” Sirius joked with a light chuckle as he sat down across from the older man.

“Funny, it was only the 1800s.” Lancelot chimed back with a glance of his pale eyes. Sirius chuckled again, at least Lancelot could be humorous here. It brought a bit of his old self back to the surface for a moment when he could joke.

Efa scurried with her feet padding against the ground as she put out a small pile of scotch pie in front of them still steaming from the edges as the savory smell struck Sirius's nose. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast with his long day spent staring into the sea, his hand greedily reaching out to pile more than half the food onto his own plate before pushing the rest towards Lancelot. The older man waved his wand to quickly clear the table of his work as he perked an eyebrow at Sirius.

“We talked about eating three meals, Sirius.” He chided slightly as the scrap of his plate rang through the room.

“Was distracted.” Sirius replied through half a mouthful.

“With?” Lancelot asked as he used a dainty cut into the meat pies.

“Just thinking.” Sirius shrugged as he turned his head towards the open window over the sink where Efa was humming and scrubbing the dishes.

“About?” Lancelot prodded. This was his newest tactic, working on mind healing. Sirius preferred the potions and salves to this. He didn’t see the point in talking about his thoughts, they were his and not for anyone else’s privy.

“Regulus.” He replied shortly as he clattered the fork against his teeth with the next bite.

“Do you think of him often?” Lancelot asked as his head tilted and he twirled his knife against the edge of his plate with a scratching noise.

“No.” Sirius snapped. Chewing heavily, he tried to keep shoveling pies into his mouth to avoid having to answer anymore questions. Lancelot seemed to take the notice as with heavy eyes he only glanced at Sirius throughout the rest of the meal.

“Mister Sirius was hungry, Efa cut you a big slice of Amber pudding.” Efa noted as she came to clear his plate of crumbs from in front of him. He smiled weakly at her as his stomach strained against all the food. Chewing on his lips for a moment, Sirius turned to see Lancelot shuffling a few pieces of parchment while Efa prepared pudding.

“I don’t think of him often.” Sirius blurted out before he could stop himself. The soft noise of parchment froze as Lancelot slowly lowered them out of his hands.

“I don’t think of him often, because it hurts. It feels like I never got to mourn him. Everyone else, I could. Marlene, Fabian, Gideon, James and Lily. Everyone mourned them, so I could mourn them. No one mourned Regulus. I was alone in that.” Sirius explained in a soft whisper. Efa put the slices of pudding in front of the two men before softly leaving the room, she had a knack for understanding the air in a room.

“Why do you say no one mourned him?” Lancelot asked as he picked up his fork, but made no move to the food.

“Because who would have, he was on the other side of the war. He was a Death Eater, everyone knew that. My mother would only miss the fact that her heir had died, not her son. His so-called friends were probably happy to be rid of him. Less competition in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Who else was there?” Sirius scoffed as he stabbed into the middle of the auburn sweet. The pudding let out a deflated bit of air as he did.

“Your aunt mourned him. She cried for weeks after his wake. Ignatius got so desperate he begged me to bring her calming potions. Your uncle mourned him too, in his own way. Rampaging through the Ministry trying to reveal anyone who could have been responsible. You were not the only mourner Sirius and it was completely acceptable to mourn him. He was your brother.” Lancelot replied softly. Sirius felt a shudder run through his spine.

“I told him he wasn’t.” He whispered as he ducked his head with the shame rising in his chest.

“Pardon?” Lancelot replied.

“I told him he wasn’t my brother. That he never was, that I had a brother and it wasn’t him. I told it to his face when I realized what he’d done. When he sold his soul to that despicable cause.” Sirius answered, choking on his words as his fork stabbed repeatedly against the pudding mashing the contents across the plate. Lancelot let him rage for a moment before replying.

“So the guilt of what you said is why you felt you couldn’t mourn him?” Lancelot asked, placing his fork down and clasping his hands. Sirius could feel tears jerking along his eye line heavily. He didn’t want to cry, not here, not now, not over his dead brother he couldn’t help. He could only shake his head in response.

“Well, the dead can hold no grudges Sirius, only the living. I may not have known Regulus well, but I’d like to believe he forgave you. More importantly, I think he’d want you to forgive yourself.” Lancelot answered slowly. Sirius sniffled loudly as he squinted his eyes so tightly to push the tears back into his skull. There was a growing pain in his throat as he scouted his chair loudly against the floor.

“Tell Efa I’m sorry, I’m sure pudding was lovely, but I can’t eat anymore.” Sirius choked as his stomach began to turn. He regretted eating so extensively now. His feet moved faster than his thoughts as he threw his side against the bannister of the stairs and could only barely register the creaks against the wood as he rushed himself into his room.

Lancelot sat still facing the destroyed pudding across the table. With a heavy sigh, he slowly cut his fork into his own dessert and ate meaningfully as he thought. Sirius had healed well physically. With another year, he’d likely have the muscle strength he’d possessed before he’d been sent to Azkaban. His appetite had been steady for several weeks now, and he didn’t cry in his sleep as much any longer. Mentally, his decay had begun long before Azkaban. Lancelot had only spent minimal time with the Black family, he was older than Arcturus, but younger than his father Sirius. Until his cousin had married a daughter of the House of Black, he’d hardly even acknowledged them. An accomplishment for a man of pureblood society as himself.

That was until a haggard and tired looking soul had wandered into his office one day. Orion Black had looked like a man who’d lost his battles many years ago. He was only forty, but already grey on his temples and his cheeks were sunken and contorted from years of alcohol and substance abuse. His weakness was no secret from even the edges of pureblood society where Lancelot had been happy to reside. To see the hunched figure of Orion Black sitting himself in the chair across from him yanked him directly into the middle of said society.

He’d never forget the way Orion’s hands were shaking. The slight stutter to his words and the constant pacing of his eyes over the room. He didn’t seem like the type of man he was spoken of. He seemed small and scared. Like a lost child who had never been healed. He had come to Lancelot to be checked, his cousin had just died. They said it was his heart, an incurable disease. Genetic. Orion wanted to be tested, and he wanted Lancelot to do it. The results had not been favorable, in fact given the abuse his body had sustained over the years, Lancelot was shocked he was still standing now.

“How long?” Orion had croaked a few minutes after the results had been read.

“It is uncertain. This type of disease we haven’t seen before. Could be days, it could be years, I wish I could give you better answers.” Lancelot had sighed as he removed his glasses and rubbed his temples. Orion’s legs shook repeatedly across from him.

“The words spoken here are supposed to stay correct?” Orion asked as he stared into the bookshelf of healing text to his side. His eyes were almost blue in the light from the windows behind Lancelot.

“Healers take an oath.” Lancelot stated as Orion snorted in reply.

“Yes, but you and I both know those oaths get broken rather regularly for a good piece of gossip.” Orion fumbled as he fiddled with the ends of his coat. He couldn’t seem to stay still, the obvious signs of withdrawal.

“My oath is my greatest honor to uphold.” Lancelot replied.

“I’d assume. I’ve only heard wonderful words spoken of you, you're the type of man anyone would be grateful to be, Mister Prewett.” Orion had said shakily.

“I’ve heard the same of you, Mister Black.” Lancelot sighed politely.

“Lies, all lies. People fear me. It is my only reason for power.” Orion snorted again as it morphed with a slight chuckle under his breath.

“You know, I’ve wanted to die for so many years now. It is why I indulge so heavily in all the worst that is offered to me. I wanted to escape this torture I was trapped in. I wanted a reprieve from the life I had been given. Now here it is. Death staring me down just a moment away.” Orion had finally stopped shaking as his head dropped farther. Then with a quick snap he stared down Lancelot with a coldness and defeat that trudged from the bottom of the humanity he had seen.

“And I am terrified.” Orion whispered. Lancelot had felt a coldness wash over him he had not felt in many years. He’d seen more than most in his life, but to this day he’d never seen the same look in any human as he’d seen in Orion Black’s eyes that day. He’d live another two years after that visit. A healing miracle in Lancelot’s opinion. Now, staring in the same blue-grey eyes of his son so many years later, that same coldness seemed to creep into the edges of his being. He only hoped he could heal this one.

-

Sirius woke several hours later. The wafting sounds of muffled voices had impeded on his sleep. He had a stash of dreamless sleep that he had taken one long swig of before crashing into his bed after the emotional ordeal at the dinner table. It had only been enough to keep him numb to the world for a few hours. Now the sounds of the voices below revealed that his aunt, uncle and grandfather had returned. Rather later in fact, especially given their age. Sirius shuffled into his slippers as he pulled a night robe over his body while shuffling down the stairs.

Yawning as he walked, he realized the conversation below was rather heated from the raised nature of the voices, the edge of his mind only barely noting he didn't recognize one of the voices as he continued to walk. His entrance was unnoticed as he saw Lancelot sat in one of the plush chairs with a stern look in his face. The disagreement seemed to be between Lucretia and Arcturus. Both of them facing in a way that he was out of their line of sight. Rubbing the crust of sleep out of his eyes, he squinted at the scene trying to wake his mind from the sleeping potion. There was something different about this scene. His aunt had her arms tensely crossed in front of her and Ignatius rubbed her shoulder. Lancelot was tapping his fingers together watching the scene, and Arcturus stood next to a wiry woman with a tight knot of curled hair streaked with grey on top of her head.

A woman. Sirius’ heart stopped. The woman wasn’t supposed to be there. Sirius jolted forward with shock barely catching himself on the railings before he crashed against the floor. Whomever this woman was, he couldn’t be seen. Likely the reason Lucretia was being so defensive was to try and keep the woman from discovering Sirius, and he had walked right into the room without a care. His hand felt clammy as he turned slowly, and took small steps to return upstairs and lock himself in his room. It had been a good plan, until his slipper caught on the first step and he fell with a clatter and a yelp against the stairs, easily bruising his chin as it caught a step and notifying everyone within hearing distance of his existence.

After his loud fall there was a second of defying silence. A stun that had run through everyone. Then the footsteps of heels running across wood floors as he felt a set of hands on his back. His aunt had run across the room to try and cover him with herself. He could feel her large rings against his robes.

“Lucretia whatever is the meaning —” A woman’s voice shouted before stopping short. Sirius could feel his breathing stop. There was little his aunt could do now, he could feel the eyes on his back. He’d been discovered, he realized it as he slowly turned over to face whomever was behind him. With a shuddering breath, he pushed his hands against the edge of the stairs feeling them pulse into his palms. As the woman came into the edges of his vision, he felt a strange sense of relief mixed with the horror.

“Aunt Cassiopeia.” Sirius whispered. Aunt Lucretia held tight to his shoulder as he brought himself to a more natural position. Cassiopeia’s eyes cascaded over him as they widened at him before narrowing as she turned to face Arcturus. His grandfather had an almost smug look to his face as he twirled his pipe in hand.

“Arcturus…” she began before she took another sweeping look at him clutching her skirt tightly in her hands as she did.

“This was never about my br- him. This was about them, all along. How long have you known?” Cassiopeia questioned with a gasp as her free hand went to her chest, clutching her necklace in her long thin fingers.

“Since he went missing, I suppose.” Arcturus answered casually as he brought his pipe to his mouth and lit the end with his wand. He took a heavy inhale before letting the smoke out the corner of his mouth.

“Since who went missing? Whatever are you talking about?” Lucretia demanded from next to Sirius in a strict tone. Arcturus took another draw of his pipe as Cassiopeia took several steps back, her skirt swirling at his ankles.

“I believe it’s time for the trip I mentioned.” Arcturus replied to the confusion of them all.

-

Regulus sat pulling at grass blades as he stared at the hills just beyond their home. The slight slopes he and Harry had walked when they first came to the home in Switzerland. He chewed on his cheek as his fist yanked up dirt and grass. Cassiopeia had written a few days prior that she’d return on this date, and update everyone on the events from her visit. She hadn’t clarified much in her letter. Then the one Marius sent in reply after Regulus wouldn’t stop pacing the kitchen had gone unanswered as of yet. Now, he waited, staring at the hills and squinting for any sign of movement.

Harry was cheering loudly as he zoomed by on his broom. After staring from the window all day as Harry grew restless being trapped inside on a sunny summer afternoon, Regulus had finally conceded to take him flying in the front yard. After casting the necessary spells to keep any passing Muggles from seeing a child on a flying broomstick, he’d sat down in the middle of the yard and stared into the horizon as he waited for anything to happen. The pounding in his chest rose with each passing hour Cassiopeia didn’t show. There was a darkening suspicion in his head that everything was far from fine.

Harry flew himself tired until Kreacher came hopping out the front door to bring Harry in to wash his hands before supper. Regulus stayed pulling at grass blades a few moments longer until the elf came to stand next to him, staring with his wide eyes full of worry and his wrinkles creasing more than usual. Regulus sighed as he patted Kreacher’s hand and went to wash up for supper as well. Helena and Marius laughed and joked with Harry, as Regulus picked at his food and kept glancing over his shoulder towards the entrance hall. Kreacher tapped at his plate several times to remind him to eat. By the time he made his way to the chicken in front of him, it had long gone cold as he chewed slowly.

“Is Master ok?” Kreacher asked as he cleared Regulus’s half full plate.

“Dinner was lovely, Kreacher.” Regulus half smiled. Kreacher reached out and patted Regulus' hand.

“All will be okay, Master. Mistress Cassiopeia return soon, Kreacher sure of it.” Kreacher croaked as he made his way to the sink. Regulus tried to be as positive as he found himself sitting in a chair, eyes staining out into the dying light of the sun with the noise of Helena telling a story to Harry filling the air. Marius started a cracking fire as the night dawned and Regulus felt a pit in his stomach as the lounge he sat on sunk under new weight.

“Staring outside won’t make her return any faster, Regulus.” Marius mused as he laid his head in his hand and stared into the darkening outside.

“She said she’d return today, it’s nightfall. What if something has happened?” Regulus worried as he messed with his lower lip more.

“A myriad of things could hold her back, and no owl could travel fast enough for her reply till morning. I trust Cassie, she’s made it this long without a fuss. I’m certain we will have news by the morning.” Marius reassured, his eyes flickering back to Helena and Harry, who were playing with socks on their hands on the floors nearby. Regulus cocked an eyebrow at the scene, but didn’t have the energy to question the actions at the time.

“Sock puppets. A game Muggles play, never quite understood it, but children seem to adore the action.” Marius explained with a glance at Regulus’ confused furrowed brows.

“I suppose our traditions would be strange to Muggles.” Regulus muttered as he rubbed his temple. The pulsing in his head had been steadily growing since supper.

“Most certainly, never once has Helena understood the significance of Gobstones on magical children’s upbringing.” Marius chuckled slowly.

“Never my favorite game.” Regulus dryly laughed.

“I could imagine. My brother only ever played it with me to throw the Gobstones in my face to make me smell. Never was kind, even as a child.” Marius hummed as he leaned against the couch more.

“You don’t talk about him often. Grandfather Pollux that is.” Regulus sighed as he leaned away from the window for a moment. Marius shook his head as he stared into the crackling sounds of the fire.

“Pollux was one of those few children I believe was born cruel. Granted with parents like ours, it’s shocking we ever stood a chance, their cruelty was unmatched. I was always envious of Arcturus, at least originally I was. His parents seemed more tolerable on the surface, until their true colors revealed themselves.” Marius remincised with his arms crossed and his dark eyes reflecting the roaring red light.

“How do you mean?” Regulus inquired, tilting his head.

“Well, Arcturus was always the perfect child. The heir, and the pride and joy of the family. He and Regulus could murder an innocent soul and their family would cover the crime. But then, they grew older, and less inclined to follow their families path before them. I’m certain you know, Arcturus was meant to marry someone else. It was arranged when he was still in school, but he committed a crime so great even his parents couldn’t forgive.” Marius sighed as he rubbed his arms almost nervously. Regulus furrowed his brows more as he tilted his head.

“He fell in love.” Marius chuckled. His eyes flashed towards Helena, whose full rosy cheeks were flush in the light of the fire as she pinched Harry’s nose amidst his laughter ringing into the rafters of the old house. Regulus glanced at Harry, who caught his eye and leaned forward to cry and wave at him as Regulus kindly let a smile grow across his face and wave slowly back.

“For all his faults, Arcturus knows more than most Blacks have. He knows what humanity is deep down, Melania brought that out in him.” Marius finished as his eyes glittered as he stood to hold his hand out for Helena, helping her up as she wiped off her skirt. Harry bounced his way over to Regulus, grabbing onto the ends of his shirt as he giggled and rubbed his warm face into Regulus’ side. Marius may have a point, behind it all Grandfather Arcturus had seemed more human than most of his relatives, still it was hard to shake his childhood so easily.

“Hot Chocolate?” Harry asked as he pushed his chin into Regulus’ side and stared up with the brightest green eyes.

“The first cool night at the end of summer and you’re already asking for hot chocolate?” Regulus laughed, but still he pulled Harry up to his side and nuzzled his nose into the warmth of his cheek as he walked towards the kitchen.

“Just one cup, and then we’re off to bed alright?” Regulus stated as Harry popped his head back and forth. Giggling their way into the kitchen, Regulus decided to try and relax for the sake of Harry. At least for one night, if he could.

-

Regulus awoke to the noise bouncing off the window of his bedroom. He’d left the window cracked to let the cool breeze in and the sounds slipped in through the swinging curtains. His arm instinctively reached for his wand. Muggles shouldn’t be able to come close enough to the house, even with his room facing the rolling hills to the front of the home. His hand gripped his wand tightly as his ears strained. The next words he caught perked his ears as he wrapped his other arm around a sleeping Harry.

“Arcturus, we should have been here hours ago, it’s the middle of the night. You’ll scare the whole house.” Cassiopeia’s distinct voice cut through the night. Regulus felt his stomach drop as he shot up in bed with his wand held to his chest. Harry is stirring at the disruption, but not waking. His grandfather was here.

“Kreacher.” Regulus hissed under his breath as a heavy popped signified the elf’s arrival a moment later.

“Master, is everything ok?” Kreacher asked, bouncing from one foot to the next as Regulus shook Harry awake.

“Eggy.” Harry yawned as he balled his hand into a small fist to rub his eyes.

“Harry, you need to go with Kreacher. Ok, and be very quiet. No matter what you stay with Kreacher.” Regulus explained putting his hands firmly on Harry’s side as he brought him beside Kreacher. Regulus could feel his heart racing as the pounding sound of feet grew closer. It sounded like more than two people, the noise beating in his ears.

“Kreacher, take Harry to Marius and Helena. Tell them Arcturus is here with others. Then Kreacher you are to listen to no one but myself understood. Only take my commands for the rest of night, do not come if Arcturus or Cassiopeia call you, understand? And most importantly Kreacher, you do whatever you have to to keep Harry safe. Even if you have to leave, Harry is your responsibility. He has to be safe Kreacher.” Regulus explained as his breathing picked up and he bent down to Kreacher’s level. Kreacher clutched his crooked hand to the cloth over his small body in shock, but he used his other hand to hold into Harry as he used all his weight to drag the confused child out of the room and into the hall and up the stairs.

Regulus took a deep shuddering breath as he heard their feet retreat up the stairs and the sound of lights flickering and shuffling began above. Harry would be safe now. All that mattered was that Harry would be safe. Marius and Helena would watch him and if needed Kreacher would be there as an additional protection. With his heart settled on that matter, Regulus held his wand out as he scooted down the hall in the darkness. He could see the faint light of the moon shining in through the open drapes in the kitchen. A moment later, the sound of a doorknob turning came as he pressed his back against the wall on the other end of the hall, out of sight from those entering the house.

“Really, it’s the middle of the night, Arcturus couldn't we have waited till morning?” Cassiopeia hissed again. The sound of boots striking the wood floor resounded over the dark house.

“Where do you supposed we could have gone, Cassiopeia? A group of witches and wizards would stand out in the Muggle world. I promised untraceable portkeys it’s not my fault we missed one and were hours behind schedule.” Arcturus scoffed, his resounding voice seemed to bounce off the walls as Regulus clung his wand close to his chest.

Why were they here? Why had Cassiopeia brought Arcturus here? And whose other feet were following quietly behind them?

“I for one would like to know why we’ve made this whole ridiculous trip, father? You drag us around travelling all day, without a word of explanation other than to trust you? I take your word strictly, but even I am growing weary.” A voice chimed in that Regulus recognized. His heart seemed to leap with joy for a moment. Aunt Lucretia, she was here, she was in Switzerland. Still his head grew dizzy with questions as felt himself sliding against the wall.

“This has to be done. Cassie dear, could you please go wake him? It's best we just get this done with.” Arcturus murmured as his feet seemed to pace farther away, closer to the door.

“Sirius please, don’t hover. You’re safe here.” Arcturus commanded as his feet stopped. With those simple words, Regulus’ whole world spins into a whirlwind.

His ears roared with noises, and his throat seemed to shrink with each breath as he gasped slightly. His head felt empty as the place behind his eyes seemed to grow wider with shock. His tongue felt dry as he opened his lips a few times to make sure he could still feel it in his mouth. Sirius. He’d just heard his brother’s name. It couldn’t be though, Sirius was in Azkaban. No one escaped from Azkaban.

This had to be some nightmare, a ridiculous and vivid night dream. Any moment now he’d awake in a cold sweat gasping against the air with Harry warm to his side and the breeze cooling his face. His head shook making the view of the floor grow blurry and his balance seemed to go sideways as he thought. Any moment now, he needed to wake up any moment now. He needed to be with Harry again, tucked in his bed safe and soundly sleeping. Blissfully unaware of the dangers he could face outside of their warm home. He bit so hard on his lips and squinted his eyes tightly shut, screwing them around in his head painfully. He tasted blood a moment later as he let out the painfully held breath. His shaking hand touched the small cut at the bottom of his lip.

Maybe his worst nightmare was in fact, reality. His hand caught the edges of moonlight as he could see small daps of the dark liquid at the end of his fingertips. His eyes seemed to cross involuntarily as he caught sight of the blood. He’d always hated the sight of his own blood, the sight made his eyes shuttered and his stomach lurch. He rubbed his fingers together smearing the darkness across more of the ridges against his rough hands. His eyes jumped in his skull as he inhaled deeply. There was only one way to figure the end of this all. Cassiopeia seemed to be moving quickly towards his hiding place as he pushed off the wall as the floor creaked under his feet. One last breath flaring his nostrils with his chest puffing as he took two steps to his side before turning his body towards the door. His wand raised and with one flick of his wand he cast a blinding light across the room, giving him an advantage over the others in the room as they raised their hands to block the light. All but one of them, with his short black hair and hunched shoulders standing still half in the doorway, his eyes staring directly into Regulus’.

“Sirius.” Regulus gasped as he caught sight of his brother. His voice carried over the furniture to reach his brother’s ears. The look of shock is clearer than a summer’s sky. With trembling lips, his mouth seemed to try to form words as his eyes narrowed in on him.

“Regulus.” Sirius croaked, before the lights distinguished around him.

Chapter Text

Wind flew through the still house, rustling any loose papers or drapes on the main floor. No other noise could be heard. The light Regulus had thrown to gain a few seconds for his attack had faded the moment his eyes laid on his brother. His magic sparked inside him before freezing to a halt. For a momentous few seconds, his magic would fail him, he couldn’t light the end of his wand let alone cast a hex across a room. The abandonment of the very emptiamy of his core, felt terribly sinking in his chest. His brother made his whole being feel stalled.

The edges of his vision faded, his mind forgetting the outlying members of his family. He could only stare at the crouched shrunken figure in the doorway. He feared blinking, thinking it was all a trick of his mind and he’d lose his last chance to catch his brother in the glimpses of his sight. With a straining pain, his brother’s face contorted and cascaded against the blackened background lit only by the faded moonlight behind him with one foot still outside the doorway as the other seemed lightly placed on the wooden floors of the Entrance room.

His shoulders were caved in as he held his arms across his chest. The coolness of the night was likely hitting his pale skin under his thin clothes. His hair was shorter than he usually wore it, and his body seemed scattered with more tattoos than he recalled. He looked terribly thin, he’d never been very full, but at Hogwarts he’d gained leaned muscles from his few years on the Quidditch team. Beaters typically had to have a wider build. His face looked shallow and he was clearly older than the eighteen year old boy he’d last seen leaving the halls of Hogwarts years ago. The most haunting difference was in his eyes. He’d had their father’s eyes, a fact he hated, the grey looking blue in the right lights or when he was particularly thrilled. Regulus had always been jealous. He had the dull dark grey eyes of his mother, a boring feature. Now, though, the color had faded and more importantly, there was a lack of spirit behind them. Almost as if Sirius had been defeated.

“Sirius.” He barely breathed as his hand shook to his side with his wand still drawn. His vision clouded until he saw movement to the side. His grandfather had taken a few steps back to lean against one of the lounge chairs, reigniting a sense of panic in his throat. The ever looming question of why circle his thoughts like a loose pixie.

“You’re dead.” Sirius whispered as he clutched his arms tighter around himself in an uncomfortable looking hug.

“You died. You died.” Sirius started to rock in his toes as his eyes darted around the room trying to avoid Regulus’ gaze.

“I watched, I saw them bury you. You are dead, dead.” Sirius stumbled backwards as a looming tall figure trapped him into the doorway behind. His uncle Igantius looked unreadable as his arms pushed Sirius upwards and into the room. Sirius stumbled forward as Lucretia reached out with her arm to hold onto him. Her eyes wide and panicked, but her hand steady as she leaned to Sirius now tucked head whispering to him. Occasionally shooting a confused glance at where Regulus stood awestruck in the hallway. Ignatius' boots rang against the floor as he stepped heavily towards Arcturus, putting a firm hand on the back of the lounge his grandfather leaned on, his face still blank of all expressions. There was another tall leaned figure, with heavy wrinkles and thinning grey hair leaned against the wall, rubbing his worn hand against his temple. Regulus couldn’t place his name at the moment.

“There was not a body.” Arcturus finally broke the tense scene as he felt around in his robes searching. A moment later revealing the antique pipe he always seemed to have on his person. All eyes turned to him as he fiddled with the end of it, casually and undisturbed by the scene unfolding before him. Sirius seemed to catch a fit of coughs as he leaned heavily onto his aunt.

“We lowered an empty casket into the ground. We only agreed to the facade to keep up appearances. No one wanted to admit we had lost one of our own. If that scratchy little Crouch boy hadn’t stumbled into our house one day, we likely would have kept pretending all was well.” Arcturus explained as he put the pipe between his lips and reached for his wand to lit it as the room grew thick with the air of waiting. There was a low cough from their grandfather before he began again.

“But stumble in he did. He said Regulus had been missing for weeks on end, that he was no longer answering his Master's calls for him. They said he ran. Eventually, people started with absurd stories on how they had killed the traitor. Each one more theatrical than the next, but then they called a meeting, those fools of followers that man had garnered. Their Master told them Regulus Black was dead, killed betraying their cause. His body left to rot without any respect given to his death. I don’t know who this man thought he was thinking he could force us not to have our respects paid, but he’d have to hunt me down himself to do so. That’s what I told that beady eyed little Crouch boy, who hissed and snarled about my disrespect and how the mighty Black Family had fallen not to submit to The Dark Lord.” Arcturus nearly growled as his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

“I waited, and waited, but he never came for me. Never did that fraud of a Dark Wizard come knocking on my door. So a funeral we would have, and so we did. Theatrical bit of nonsense, people only there because they felt forced to, or perhaps they wanted to rub their noses in the fact that whether we admitted it ourselves or not, that The Most Noble and Ancient of Houses had met their end.” Arcturus sighed as he took a heavy inhale of his smoke.

“However, I am always suspicious when a body is not found. People have this habit of being alive when they aren’t supposed to be.” Arcturus added as his eyes narrowed into Regulus' frozen form, his wand had nearly slipped out of his sweat soaked hands as his neck felt stiff and cold under the gaze.

In a few moments of time, Regulus' whole world had imploded in front of his eyes. His nature made him want to run, and hide away from this all. To obliviate everyone in the room and make himself forgotten again. Another side of him felt a sense of comfort, a forlorn peace in the moments of silences that followed. He’d lived a decent life recently. Maybe if it all ended here, he could find peace in that. His shoulders were growing tense as his body seemed to suffocate every bit of air out of his muscles in a twisted feeling of fear.

Harry. Regulus' eyes popped in his skull as he remembered, cursing himself internally for a fabric of a second that made him think this could be the end. Harry was upstairs, and he was waiting for him, probably trying to force his small body past an angered house elf and his aunt and uncle, who were ignorant to all the happenings below them. His breath shuddered as he tried to will oxygen into the numbing parts of his body, his feet and arms not wanting to respond to his thoughts.

“You’ve known all this father. You have only now thought it relevant to bring this to our attention.” Lucretia's voice wavered as she pushed off of Sirius’ chest leaving him hunched over himself still as he leaned against his knees to steady his swaying figure.

“It’s a bit more complicated than it may seem.” Arcturus began before he was cut off by a spark flying past his ear.

“A bit more complicated?” Lucretia yelled, with her wand stretched out still warm from the flying sparks she’d sent mere breaths away from her father’s ear.

“First you bring my one nephew from the depths of an inescapable prison, stumbling him into my home, without a wind of an explanation. Now you bring me countries away from my home, in the middle of the night to drag me into an old family manor I haven’t seen since I was a child to reveal my other nephew who had been dead for years, has been alive and well all this time!” Lucretia screamed as her wand pushed closer towards her father. Arcturus raised his hands slowly with the pipe still tightly in between his fingers.

“Daughter.” He tried again.

“No! No, don't do that now! I want explanations Father! I’ve been nothing, but accommodating and understanding and refraining myself and those in my house from asking questions, but I need answers!” Lucretia’s hair was falling from the braid it had been tied back into, causing loose hairs to frizz and flutter around her face making her look somehow that much more unhinged and powerful. Her wild dark waves added to the fiercest of her demeanour.

“Perhaps, if you lowered your wand. We could all have a civil conversation.” A soothing voice added from over Regulus’ shoulder. Regulus felt shards hit his heart as he turned his head to face his Uncle Marius revealing himself from the shadows. A rather peaceful appearance to his figure given the circumstances. Regulus felt a raging swell in his chest to run up the stairs as quickly as possible and get himself and Harry away from all the chaos. Marius seemed to catch the look as he sternly stared down Regulus making a motion with his hand for Regulus to stay.

“Another piece to the puzzle.” Arcturus mused under his breath as he noticed Marius emerging into the dim light.

“Piece to a puzzle? This isn’t a game father.” Lucretia replied, defeatedly.

“Contrary, my daughter, it is all a game. Even the moves I choose to make.” Arcturus replied, his eyes following everyone in the room.

“Well, I for one think we should play this game in the light.” Marius scoffed as he pulled his wand from his sleeve. With three quick taps the three closest lights flickered on, as Arcturus looked on with a bit of surprise. Marius seemed a bit peeved as he crossed his arms and stared down his elder cousin.

“Guess we all have surprises.” Arcturus grumbled, looking off at the information he clearly had garnered.

“Your brother isn’t as coy a spy you think he may be.” Marius snipped. Arcturus let out a dry noise from his throat.

“How’d he get caught? Couldn’t keep his mouth shut I assume?” Arcturus scoffed.

“Contrary, Alphard eventually picked up on his and Lycoris’ little game of sending him around chasing gossip, and came back to find him snooping. He kicked him out of his portrait rather quickly. In fact, he found a way into your very home to overhear your plans. It’s the only reason, I knew you were not a threat.” Marius perked an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorway, Regulus trying to keep up with the conversation that had overtaken the shock of the situation.

“Please, enough of the beguiling!” Cassiopeia snapped as she stepped between her brother and cousin.

“Look at the state of these boys. If we don’t begin to explain, I think their heads may just roll off their necks.” Cassiopeia snipped as she waved an arm between Regulus and Sirius. Sirius still stood shivering and wide eyed and Regulus felt stuck to the floor, as if someone had cursed him with a permanent sticking charm.

A crashing sound rocked his entire being as he stumbled backwards. The noise coming from the end of the hall, the voice of a woman following behind. Regulus’ heart truly stopped. The chattering of an overexcited child filled the hall as a darkness fell over everyone’s looks. Regulus took two steps back and bent down instinctively as Harry threw himself into his arms, muttering sentences that didn’t make sense. Regulus clutching Harry close to his chest with one arm as he stood, defensively with his wand held a bit higher in his arm. Helena appeared a moment later, still in her night robes with her long greying hair flying freely behind her as her eyes creased at the corners as she shook her head apologetically at Regulus.

“Reggie.” Harry sniffed as he buried his head into Regulus’ shoulder. Regulus let out a shuddering breath as his eyes flashed around the newcomers in the room, his wand flickering instinctively in his hand. There was a collective look of shock in everyone’s face, besides his grandfather’s eyes that narrowed and the crevice of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Regulus had a feeling he had known. That he had known it all, all along. They were all always just pieces to his game. Regulus swallowed as he nuzzled his cheek into Harry’s hair for just a moment.

“You were supposed to stay, Harry.” He whispered as his lips brushed the fringe over his forehead.

“Scared Reggie, wanted you Reggie.” Harry muttered as his little hands clutched to the edges of Regulus’ shirt. Regulus could feel a whimper of adoration on his lips as he closed his eyes for only a second. He was so terrified that everything he and Harry had enjoyed for the last few years would be ripped away from them in a matter of seconds. He wanted to soak in every moment he could with him.

When his eyes opened he noticed a burrowing pair of eyes staring back at him with a burning look he’d never seen before. A rage that was palatable in the air around him. Eyes gone a dark color to match the grey clouds surrounded by darkness outside, likely reflecting a turmoil inside. Regulus clutched Harry tightly as he raised his small head placing gentle hands on Regulus face and smiling. Regulus smiled back before he felt a crushing blow to the side of his face.

Regulus had been hit before. Many times in fact, more than he would assume the average person had been. By his mother, his father, his grandparents, and even his school fellows that had on one hand admired everything he stood for, but also had knives behind their back ready to plunge at him at any second. However, there was one strike he would never forget. The first time he recalled his brother hitting him was when he was four years old. Regulus had taken his broom without his permission and Sirius had struck him so hard he fell off it.

Now, dazed and stinging on the side of his head Harry had a hand on just a moment ago, he knew who’s fist had struck his face the moment the impact occurred. He could feel arms wrapping around the small boys center and trying to yank with all his might as Harry cried loudly. Regulus used every bit of instinct he had gotten from his years of fighting. Years of being picked on as the smaller child of the family had some use. He shifted Harry sideways and threw his shoulder forward using the unstable balance to allow himself to drop Harry the few centimeters between him and the ground.

“Harry, go, please go.” Regulus choked out as he stood to full height. Harry looked confused as he stumbled forward with his hands open trying to get back into Regulus’ arms.

“Kreacher.” Regulus whispered. Hearing the pop of noise come from just down the hall, and seeing Harry’s head whip towards the elf. He felt almost a sense of peace for a second. That was until he was pushed against the wall with hands wrapped around his neck so tightly he instantly felt the lack of oxygen and spots flooded in his eyes.

“That’s James’ son! That his son, don’t touch Harry! Don’t you touch him!” Sirius screamed in his face as he pounded Regulus’ head into the wall with each word and his thin cold hands clenched to his throat, pressing on the middle with force and wild abandon. Regulus felt his hands clawing at the fingers as they pinched tighter, feeling his nails dig into bony knuckles and peel away pieces of skin, but the look in his brother’s eyes never wavered. The rage swam in his eyes and across his entire face with ease. A rage built from years of stewing.

Regulus couldn’t even fight anymore as he felt the pressure on his neck never ease. His throat was scratching and heaving one last time. He felt terribly reminded of the last time he’d thought he was taking his last breath. The burning sensation growing in his chest as his mind slowly numbed to the panic, peaceful bits of black entering the corner of his eyesight as his hand slipped coated in blood from his attempted defense. It had only been a minute, maybe a few seconds longer and yet he was fading so quickly. His ears ringing as he tried to distinguish any words as his knees started to buckle and his chin fell into his brother’s grasp.

He truly felt he was going to black out any second now when he felt a heavy force hit Sirius from behind. His brother’s eyes widened momentarily from the shock before he tumbled backwards once and kneeled over involuntarily, his face crashing with a painfully loud thud against wooden floors as Regulus slid the rest of the way down gasping ratchedly for air. His hands shakily touched where a necklace of bruises was forming as he could feel tears sliding down his cheeks, but he was too in shock to think to wipe them away.

“Reggie!” Harry screamed as he flung himself on him. Harry clutching painfully to his neck as Regulus coughed violently from his chest. Regulus' dilated and hazy eyes looked behind his brother's slumped form to see Helena had raised her wand at his brother's back. With firm eyes and a steady hand, she lowered her wand as she methodically stepped over to Sirius bending over him as she turned him onto his back. His eyes were still wide and his face frozen in a state of shock. Her face firmly glanced at him over once her hair now tucked behind her ears. Regulus slowly registered that she’d been the one to stun Sirius while he tried to suffocate the life out of him.

Once her eyes flashed with determination, she tapped Sirius with her wand near his cheek where he had fallen. The light blue light soaking into his skin to heal any underlying causes of pain before she determinedly stepped over him and took quick steps to crouch next to Regulus’ shuddering side. He had his head leaned back painfully, his eyes staring into his brother’s unmoving ones. Harry clutched to him with streaming tears and shaking hands pounding against his chest.

“Reggie.” Harry sniffled as he placed his hands near Regulus’ collarbone.

“Aunt Helena Reggie hurt! Fix him, fix him!” Harry cried as he pointed towards Regulus with his small fingers.

“Sh, Harry. Come here. We need to let Aunt Helena do her job.” Marius cooed as he knelt down next to Regulus and Harry. Regulus slowly moved his eyes, suddenly aware that his neck was so painfully sore he couldn’t move his head. Harry shook his head forcefully as he leaned his body against Regulus’ ignoring Marius’ outstretched arms.

“Harry.” Regulus choked on the words as he weakly lifted a hand. Harry’s large green eyes stared up at him from his warm sun kissed skin.

“Go, Harry. Just for a minute.” Regulus encouraged as his words got absorbed by a shuddering half cough. Harry’s eyes grew wide with worry as he looked defiantly at his Uncle Marius.

“Come, we will sit right next to him. You can watch everything Aunt Helena does.” Marius reassured as he held his half-tanned arms out to Harry. Slowly, he climbed over to his uncle and sat in his lap attentively as he reached out one of his childishly round hands and laid it over Regulus’ limp hand lying dejected to his side. Over Helena’s shoulder he could see the older man holding an old fashioned bag as he kneeled down to check over Sirius.

“I healed the bruising under his cheek already.” Helena called over her shoulder. The older man slyly looked at her from the creases of his worn eyes as his bag snapped open and he pulled his wand.

“Did not check for any concussions though.” His smooth voice replied with a light London accent as his wand touched Sirius' head and a light glow began to circle brightly.

“Think he deserves a bit of sense knocked into him after that stunt he pulled.” Helena shot back with her thinly veiled French sound. Distinctly different from anyone in France, with a hint of the specifics that came from being raised in Swiss French.

“Told you we didn’t do enough of the mind healing.” The older man scoffed as his eyes shot towards Arcturus. His grandfather just rolled his eyes, pipe still casually in hand. Regulus felt a rough sensation on his throat as Magic slowly coursed through this body.

“I’ll need my bag. Kreacher, could you go grab my healing things.” She asked kindly of the elf who looked horrified in the corner. When given a task his body snapped together as he nodded and ran up the stairs quickly.

“I have the supplies you need.” The man rolled his eyes as he lifted a potion to Sirius mouth and held his head back to make it go down his stiff form.

“How can I even trust you're properly trained? I’ll use my own supplies. Thank you.” Helena shot back as she glared over her shoulder until Kreacher came stumbling in with her plaid oversized bag of healing supplies she kept at the house for all of them.

“Not properly trained, spirited aren’t you, must be a thrill with the patients.” The older man chuckled as he dug through the clattering noise of his own supplies.

“Want to have a tongue on you, where do you even heal?” Helena snorted as he pushed her wand gently against the edge of his temple. She clicked her tongue as she shook her head.

“Nearly crushed your trachea, should have reacted faster, but he moved so quickly from the door.” She gushed under her breath as she laid a cold soft hand against his cheek.

“He barely has enough strength to crush a trachea.” The older man scoffed as he lightly applied a bit of a cream to Sirius’ fingers to close the wounds Regulus had scratched into him.

“Excuse me, Mister…” Helena paused as her eyes narrowed at the slender man still bent over his brother.

“Prewett, Lancelot Prewett.” The man sighed as he snapped his bag harshly closed. Helena's eyes grew a bit wider at the revelation. Now that Regulus had a chance to think through the dull thrilling pain and shock of the past half hour, he could see it now. He’d known Lancelot many years ago, during the few summers spent in Wales with his Aunt and Uncle. How many times had he laughed as he’d heal sprains and cuts of the four roughhousing boys? He looked much older now, a darkness under his eyes and less of the cheer in his cheeks from what he recalled from his childhood.

“The Lancelot Prewett? I’d expect a better bedside manner from a world renowned healer.” Helena snipped slightly as she forced Regulus’ head back to make him drink a potion that cooled his entire insides. Lancelot sighed heavily as he put his wand at Sirius’ chest and slowly reversed the stunning spell.

“My apologies Mistress…” Lancelot furrowed his brow as he put a forceful hand on Sirius chest as he tried to scamber up his wand pointed threateningly to him as he glared at him into silence.

“Black. Helena Black.” Helena replied as she patted Regulus’ cheek gently as she cast one last spell which relieved most of the pain in his chest and his skin started to itch slightly with the cream she placed on his neck to heal the bruises. Harry kept squeezing his hand looking on worriedly, never breaking eye contact as he held on. Lancleot’s eyebrow raised as he heard the name, but he asked no questions.

“Well, now seems like a wonderful time for that explanation. Kreacher, could you get some tea ready?” Arcturus stretched to his full height glancing at his daughter and her husband, who seemed to be in their own versions of shock. Cassiopeia had wandered closer to Regulus and slowly stooped to his sitting height once Helena began packing away her supplies to give him a look over.

“Kreacher, serves the heir.” Kreacher croaked with his crooked fingers interlocked as he tottered nervously glancing between Arcturus and Regulus.

“Pardon?” Arcturus stopped his movements as he looked down at the elf.

“M-master Arcturus gave Kreacher to Master Orion, with the command to serve the heir. When Master Orion passed, Kreacher's service went to Master Regulus.” Kreacher stuttered slightly as he looked at Regulus, as his heart swelled with a bit of pride. Kreacher was standing up for himself. He nodded painfully in encouragement as Kreacher cowered slightly.

“Are you denying me?” Arcturus asked a bit abashed at the idea. Kreacher squeaked slightly before he replied.

“Kreacher serves Master Regulus.” Kreacher shuffled as he answered, looking worried he’d be punished as his eyes fell to the floor. Arcturus’ mouth opened in shock a bit before snapping shut again.

“I promise you I know how to work a kettle, Arcturus. Why don’t you and I get started while these two finish up with their patients?” Cassiopeia suggested as she straightened her neck and stared down her cousin with her hands tucked in front of her.

“Very well then, I suppose there are even more surprises than I had predicted.” Arcturus murmured as he slowly made his way into the room, Lucretia clearing her throat as she grabbed her husband’s hand and followed her father and aunt into the kitchen as well. Clearly, she was still trying to grasp the entire situation at hand, while Igantius had remained nearly completely neutral in his expression all night. Giving Regulus an unsettled feeling in his stomach that his uncle wouldn’t remain silent forever.

“Reggie.” Harry mumbled as he climbed back into Regulus’ lap.

“I’ll be okay, Harry. Aunt Helena fixed me all up.” Regulus tried to reassure as his voice cracked still. Harry nuzzled his forehead into Regulus' chest as his little arms tried to reach all the way around to his back. Regulus leaned into the warmth of the hug as he glanced up at his half raised brother. The rage in him sent cold shivers down his spine as his nearly black eyes seemed to threaten him with his entire being, only being held back by the wand still raised at his chest. Regulus closed his eyes to the stare letting his hands slowly rub Harry’s back, willing himself to keep it together for his sake. He and Sirius couldn’t sort themselves out later, but Regulus wasn’t going to allow him to get violent around Harry again. Not without him getting a few good hexes cast back at him.

Chapter Text

Regulus stared out into the dark sky. It had to be nearly morning, but brightness wasn’t cracking through the night sky yet. Maybe it would never come, nothing could surprise him at this point. He sat at one of the wooden chairs at the table, feeling an uncomfortable ache growing in his back. Harry had clung to his side, and sat across his lap with his head buried into Regulus’ chest, his eyes occasionally opening to flutter around at all the people.

They had transfigured more chairs, or at least he supposed they had. There had only ever been one extra chair left when they all sat. Now, everyone was cramped rather suffocatingly together. Though there was a clear divide to the table. Regulus sat just off center, closer towards the exit. He would have felt restricted and out of breath being any farther away from a place of escape. Helena had ended up just next to him, more by accident. She’s been the last one to enter, after she went to put away her supplies. Marius and Cassiopeia sat next to one another, to his other side. All were stiff and unmoving after Cassiopeia had sat the tea in front of everyone.

The other side of the table was particularly cramped. Having more people feeling drawn to one side. His Aunt sat at the end, just across from Helena, her hair fully free and flying wildly at all ends with her curls slowly tightening into a bushy mess. He’d hardly ever seen her hair so untamed, she usually spent ample time to keep her curls neat and without frizzy ends. She had the wild curls that his mother had lacked yet one of his cousins has possessed. Her husband was next to her, making Regulus have an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Since he sat Uncle Ignatius had very purposefully not looked towards him once. Instead keeping his eyes trained on where he and Lucretia’s hands were interlocked together on the table. As if they were keeping one another stable and present in the moment, in another situation, it may have been a sweet action.

His grandfather was next, tall and stately, slowly and quietly sipping tea that was still steaming around his face. His dark eyes swimming with untold words and secrets, Regulus supposed they were waiting for him to speak. Maybe they had all left the Black Family in their own ways, but the idea of not respecting Arcturus Black’s authority would be absurd to any of them still. The hold he held on the family, ran long and strong. Sirius was next, his hands shaking quietly against the table, providing one of the few noises besides the occasional brush of wind through a tree or the rare owl hoot from outside. The rhythmic knocking of knuckles to hard wood ticking in his ears. Lancelot sat smoothly next to him, his eyes sideways as they watched Sirius’ movements, a tense strain to his muscles. As if he was waiting for the next outburst.

Regulus kept one hand on Harry’s back, as he bounced his legs slightly. Just as he had done with Harry was young. Back then he had been trying to fill the room with his coos and laughter of joy as he bounced Harry’s smaller self on his knees making funny faces at the toddler. Maybe subconsciously, he was trying to bring those comforting memories back to Harry’s as well. The slight knocking of his knees could just barely be discerned from under the thick wooden table. He was trying to control his breathing, counting in his head the movements of his legs. It was supposed to help him feel control, in uncontrollable situations. At least that’s what Helena told him when he’d get anxious when they’d visit areas with crowds of people and his hands would start shaking involuntarily.

Never was there a situation he felt more uncontrolled in than now. Not when Dumbledore had taken him to Godric’s Hollow that first night and handed him a small sleeping child, not when he’d been standing on a large rock staring down a dark cave preparing himself for his own death, not when he’d been a child and his mother had use the Cruico on him. No, it was now, now the anxiety rose in his chest and his breathing seemed short as he clutched his hands into Harry’s pyjamas as wide greens eyes looked up at him concerned. No, all those other times paled, because those times it was just him. He was at risk then, now there was Harry and he’d done everything in his power to keep Harry out of danger and risk. Albeit, maybe a bit over the top at times, but all well intentioned.

The air was cold around them now. The only warmth he could feel was from Harry’s body smushed against him. His side against Regulus’s stomach and chest as his head would swivel between the tables and staring up at Regulus every few moments. He tried his best to be confident and steady for Harry’s sake, but he knew Harry could feel the tension in the room. For Merlin’s sake, he had to watch as Regulus was thrown against a wall and choked half to death. He wished he could remove the memory, rewind time and make it so Harry never saw it, but he knew the ethical implications of either was more dangerous than the alternative. He couldn’t keep Harry protected in a bubble forever, he’d just only wished it had been longer. He was only seven.

The tea in front of him swirled lightly with his movements. Kreacher had placed it in front of him, perfectly made, he suspected though he hadn’t had a sip of it yet. The elf had patted Harry’s hand as he went back into the kitchen making a few quiet noises before they died out. Cassiopeia ended up serving the tea for everyone else, before she herself settled in her chair with a creak. The room had been only filled with nuisance noises since then. Regulus’ eyes straining pass the pale green wallpaper across from him and the light translucent curtains into the darkness again. Maybe outside lies answers to all his questions that weren’t getting answered here. He was only drawn back in as a rough throttling noise of a throat clearing, He unwillingly looked back to the long rectangular table and its inhabitants.

“Well, now is the best time to begin as any.” Arcturus grumbled as he placed his tea cup on the small white saucer. Regulus noted he’d nearly finished the whole cup in their tense air of waiting. A few lingering eyes seemed to follow Regulus towards his grandfather’s voice, but not every eye had. He could see his Uncle Ignatius, and Uncle Marius and finally Sirius seemed to keep their sight lines elsewhere purposely.

“I shall begin where I’ve had the most influence I suppose. I was the one to pull Sirius from Azkaban. However, I made certain his removal would go unnoticed. Rabastan Lestrange had lost his mind and was hardly in any state to make proper communications. He looks well enough like Sirius, and with a simple bit of Transfiguration, it was simple enough. Ignatius here helped me file the paperwork to state that he died while in his imprisonment and I left a tombstone behind to seal the story. Considering we’ve heard nothing of an escaped prisoner, the task was successful.” Arcturus started as his fingers tapped light against the wood.

Sirius seemed to stiffen more at his side just at the same time Uncle Ignatius seemed to make a stifling noise from his throat, his face turning further away from the table. Regulus was sensing a feeling of foreboding as his grandfather's eyes shot from one man to the other quickly. Regulus continued to bounce Harry as Harry put his finger to his lip, chewing softly on the end, as Regulus tried to shush him silently as he gently pulled his finger away worried he’d pull his skin to pieces just as Regulus often did. As he did, he could feel the burning stare from across the table. He didn’t have to look to feel the incredible rage radiating from his brother.

“Well I believe the most obvious question is why?” Cassiopeia finally broke the silence, the words ringing in the air for a few moments afterwards.

“Well, did you do it?” Arcturus asked nonchalantly, waving his hand that had been methodically tapping the moment before towards Sirius. With shifting eyes and his hands clasped directly in front of him with a phantom of shake still, he licked his lips once before he spoke.

“No.” Sirius abruptly spat out before quickly clasping his mouth shut as if he was worried of what would come out of it.

“Well who did then?” Lucretia shot out from her end of the table. Her hands still tightly interwound with her husbands as her hair fluttered behind her as she sharply turned her neck towards the opposite end of the table. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his spot as the silence grew.

“I don’t know. I blacked out, I can’t remember anything after… from after I left…” Sirius' face contorted in a way that looked painful and broken.

“The Potters.” Lucretia finished for him, letting her words slide into a whisper. Sirius nodded as he stared at his hands cracking his thumbs. Regulus narrowed his eyes, Sirius had always cracked his thumbs when he was stretching the truth and wasn’t positive in how he would cover it. He’d done it many times when they were children and he was lying to their parents for one action or another. He never thought Sirius could actually commit the crime, but even now, he seemed to be holding back.

“Not that I don’t think it’s a noble cause, Arcturus. However, since when have you been a champion for the ill-accused?” Cassiopeia asked, her tone upturned slightly as if she was trying to restrain herself from asking more.

“Well-spotted. I haven’t often cared who rots in that prison as long as it wasn’t myself. However, a Black, an innocent Black, when so few of us remain, that never sat well with me.” Arcturus answered his hand, circling the edge of his tea cup lazily as he stared at it with a shade of darkness falling over his face.

“Sentimental in your old age.” Marius seemed to nearly snort as his hand found itself tucked under his chin and his eyes burning with a flash of anger, Regulus could just barely see.

“Possibly.” Arcturus stated quietly as his head lolled to the side slightly, taking in his cousin once more with a look of curiosity.

“It’s what Melanie would have wanted me to do.” He replied again a second later, his finger pushing into the tea cup so harshly it went white to the last knuckle. Marius dropped his hand slightly before recovering, his eyes quickly taking in Arcturus once before he glanced away, just a bit rosy in his cheeks. Regulus felt the air change, as if something private had just been exchanged in those words between the two. His mind strained with difficulty to try and discern what the two could be referring to when it had been over fifty years since they’d last seen each other.

“Why wait so long? If you’ve had the means to do this, why wait nearly five years?” Ignatius seemed to pipe up, his accent cutting through harshly in the room full of posh London and French accent inhabitants. Regulus had always found the way Uncle Ignatius, and by default Fabian and Gideon spoke, rough and a bit eccentric to his ear. With a language spoken between all of them that so few understood. He remembers in the depth of his hazy memories, watching his cousins obviously plotting pranks right under professor’s noses, but they were speaking Welsh and there were no Welsh spoken professors at Hogwarts. In a light hearted reflection, they had a bit of an unfair advantage there.

“Simple, Walburga.” Arcturus answered with an arrogance to his voice that implied the singular response was competent enough. A hasty silence befell as there was the obvious tension for Arcturus to continue, instead he still lazily circled his tea cup with his smallest finger as his head tilted at the action. Eventually a throat cleared next to him as many different people descended on the stricken face of Sirius.

“She visited me a few times. Uncle Cygnus brought her to Azkaban to see me.” Sirius explained as he quickly shuttered back down on himself. Regulus gulped instinctively, a pang of sympathy in his stomach. A visit from their mother was never pleasant.

“Indeed, Cygnus may have lost a lot of favor over the years. With his one daughter indisputably commuting one of the most heinous crimes of the century and his other daughter being married to a man caught in the act of Death Eater crimes, he did still have enough pull to sympathize with Walburga and bring her to her only family left. Cygnus always was a bit soft on her, and it pained him to constantly find her roaming the old manor trying to find her husband or other son. One can only explain to someone so many times that all they had is dead before it takes a toll on themselves. I supposed he figured it was the least he could do for her.” Arcturus explained flicking the tea cup with a resounding click before moving his hand to rest on his cheek gently.

“Once she was gone, there was no risk of anyone else trying to visit. Cygnus just wishes to fade into the silence, and his father, while still rather spring, is even coming to the conclusion that it may just be time for the Black name to be one for the history books. Both their wives are ill and they only have Narcissa to look after, what are two old men to do with a nephew that they never cared for?” Arcturus hummed as his hand patted against his chin.

The room slid into a natural silence as the last words posed questions hung heavy in the air. Regulus felt a burning in his throat as his knees finally wore tired of the constant movement. Harry had the petulance enough to remain silent, his eyes constantly moving to whomever was speaking and his hand clutched into Regulus' side continually. Still he observed and listened, remaining silent the entire time as he soaked in the air of the room. He wasn’t an ignorant child, maybe being raised without many other children made him have a greater appreciation for the adult conversations, or maybe the tension was so palpable even a child couldn’t ignore it. Regulus, almost instinctively, brushed his hand against Harry’s cheek to comfort him. There was an immediate growling noise from across the table as his eyes shot up to his brother’s narrowing ones.

“Since we’re being so diplomatic and open, why don’t I ask questions? Why do you have him? Why is he so fond of you?” Sirius snarled as his arm jerked out threateningly. The whole table seemed to bounce as he did with people poised to react, but none of them moved as loudly or as quickly as Harry did as he threw his small hands hard against the table before throwing one finger out to wave back.

“No, my Reggie. Don’t hurt my Reggie.” Harry accosted with his finger wiggling towards Sirius and his body leaned against the table harshly. He looked mighty defiant for a child threatening a full grown adult. His reaction worked though as Sirius’ arm fell limp and his eyes grew wide as he sunk into his seat like someone had released all the air from his lungs. Taking several deep breaths, before he had enough air to respond.

“Harry. Don’t you know who I am, Harry?” Sirius asked with his voice dripping in defeat and sadness as his arms slowly wrapped around him as if he was prepared for a blow to the chest. Harry wagged his finger once more before setting back down in Regulus’ lap with a loud plop as he crossed his arms and settled himself down in his spot.

“Pa’foot.” Harry answered with a strong nod. Sirius’ reaction took a second to set in as flinched at first as if he had expected a completely different answer before he slowly opened his eyes again. They were wide again with a new shine of shock, less hurtful and more off balanced. His elbows cracked as he tightened his arms around himself not defensively anymore, but in a more comforting manner.

“You remember me?” Sirius whispered hoarsely as his eyes barely moved from under his lashes as he flickered them towards Harry momentarily before quickly dodging his head. Harry nodded his head a few times before he replied.

“Pa’foot. Reggie shows me pictures. Pa’foot, Uncle Moony, Auntie Mars, Auntie Dorcas, Auntie Mary, Wormy.” Harry listed as he used his fingers to count out the people. Regulus noted there was a slight shudder at the mention of the last name. Peter seemed to draw a more adverse reaction out of him, maybe because he couldn’t recall how he died. Maybe he felt responsible for another loss, even if he hadn’t killed him.

“Baba and mum.” Harry giggled as he finished pushing up two more fingers proudly as he turned to Regulus with a happy reflection. Regulus tried to smooth his hair unsuccessfully as he flashed him a smile.

“Good, Harry. Very good.” Regulus murmured as he continued to smooth his hair comfortably. Sirius’ eyes stared forward looking at his brother for the first time without any rage in his eyes, only pure unbridled shock written on every corner of his face. His mouth agape and his eyebrows raised, it was one of the few times Regulus could recall his brother being truly speechless. There was a part of his mind that felt proud at the accomplishment, though he quickly smothered it as he shook his head gently to focus on the issues at hand.

“I am curious, myself.” Aunt Lucretia added as she wavered her eyes towards Sirius once before turning back towards Regulus.

“Why do you have Harry? Honestly, how are you even alive? Have you truly been hiding all these years?” She asked her face taunt with distress as she shook slightly as moved her eye’s up and down him searching.

“Ah, I actually believe it best if I start here as well. Let’s say this, I’ll give my part and you fill in any of the blanks?” Arcturus popped up again, his eyes shooting across the way towards Regulus. Regulus could feel his face go flush and his hands go cold from the eye contact. His grandfather had always looked terrifyingly like his father, it was easy to see how they were father and son. With a hard swallow on his burning throat, he managed a few course nods as Arcturus leaned back in his seat.

“Well, I happen to know about Harry coming into the picture. I believe Dumbledore placed him in your care. His exact motives that is a bit of mystery.” Arcturus paused for a moment to glance at Regulus.

“He went to the Muggles, Lily’s family for a bit. Then they passed away too. Harry had to be with family, somehow on that night, somehow Lily cast a blood curse, one that protects Harry, but only one bonded through his family. Apparently, I was the closest one, and the one easier for him to control, honestly.” Regulus sighed after he mumbled over the words. Harry placed his hand on Regulus' chest when he ducked his head from wandering eyes, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he nuzzled his chin into Regulus’ chest and squeezed him gently with the light of a small child, warm and unexpected.

“Yes, and I suppose sometime around nineteen eighty three, you came here. Assuredly with the help of my two cousins, you tried to break free of that control. Escaped here, rather idealistic and brave. Albus is not easily unfitted though. He figured it out eventually, though he couldn’t pinpoint where you had gone. Truthfully, this was one of the best selections, Switzerland was at the end of his list of places to look.” Arcturus mused, his face a bit petulant though slowly growing more tired as the sun finally made a weak appearance behind them. The vague blue colors morphing into the grey though the black still clung tightly to the edges of the sky, not ready to give up its reign to the daylight so easily. Regulus could feel the heaviness in his own eyes and Harry seemed to be snoring quietly into his chest and shaking his head every few minutes to try and fight the slumber.

“Alas, I caught up to him first. Not after he had disturb Andromeda in her home and then my daughter in her’s, while on the hunt for you. Admittedly, I hadn’t ever thought I’d need to divulge the secrets I held onto Albus for so long, but the opportunity presented itself. I must hold more influence than I supposed if the greatest wizard of our age takes me at my word.” Arcturus grumbled through a yawn.

“That’s why Albus came all those years ago.” Lucretia muttered under her breath, shaking out her curls. “I knew he was acting strange, he was snooping.”

“Indeed, and the two of you have been here since living in relative peace I hope. Considering Albus didn’t try and force you back into the Isle of your home.” Arcturus shrugged.

“Until tonight.” Regulus snipped under his breath before he could stop himself from letting the words slip out. His lips clasped tightly together once he registered the tense air he had just created around them.

“I hope we don’t disturb your peace too drastically, truthfully.” Arcturus sighed as his shoulders slumped forward a bit.

“I think we can all agree, while we likely have hundreds more questions, it has been a long night. Cassiopeia, our apologies for overrunning your home, but I suspect you have enough space.” Arcturus snapped up once again as he turned to face his cousin, her face curled behind her emotions and exhaustion. Regulus could swear a new wrinkle had sprouted near her eyes. For her age, she had a rather smooth face minus the edges of her eyes and her mouth crinkled together so, but at this moment, she looked more haggard than he’d ever seen her as she tapped her manicured nail against the wood twice.

“There is the spare room next to mine on the first floor, there is space on the second floor in the two rooms across from our modest library, one is a sewing room but there is a spare bed in the corner still, and the sunroom has the couches if someone doesn’t mind those. It’s here on ground level.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she explained, everyone slowly growing so drowsy it seemed a fog entered the room.

“I believe the biggest bed is near your room, Cassiopeia. Lucretia, why don’t you and Ignatius take that one. I can make myself comfortable on the final floor.” Arcturus suggested.

“I can take the couch.” Sirius pipped up from his slightly shrunken positions. Everyone turned their eyes to him momentarily, as he hid his eyes behind his hair.

“I slept on the floor of a prison for years, a couch in nothing I promise.” He nearly sneered as he jerked his chin away from the glowing eyes pointed at him.

“Settled then. I’ll be in the sewing room, Lancelot can take the spare room next to it, Lucretia and Ignatius near you, Cassiopeia, and Sirius here.” Arcturus drummed as his head slowly turned towards the center of the table. It took a few moments before anyone started to rise. Kreacher padding from the kitchen once they did and clearing the table. Marius and Helena seemed to disappear first, one moment Regulus could see them whispering to one another and the next they were only the flutter of robe as they rounded the corner towards the stairs. Cassiopeia offered to take everyone to their rooms, her hand gently touching Sirius’ unmoving shoulder as she made the suggestion. He pushed from the table roughly as the chair screeched loudly in the floors and tottered slightly before the front end clanged down in the floor again from his rough movement. Regulus flinched at the sound as Harry’s eyes popped open again, but he stayed quiet. Watching with his eyes moving as he followed the small group exiting the kitchen.

Regulus sat for a few moments more letting the silence wash over him as the last few hours caught up to him. Suddenly, he felt like he’d fallen over a cliff and bruised his entire body and worn himself ragged. His neck still hurt now that he had a moment to focus on it, his hand rubbing it gently before pulling away again. His head was pounding with a pulse right behind his eyes, making keeping his eyes up nearly a full-time task. His mouth felt dry and his tongue swollen. Part of him wished he could slap himself across the face and wake again to his same simple life he’d grown so accustomed too. That tomorrow Harry would wake him up, giggles filling the air, and his smile being the first image his eyes would capture. They go to fly, and practice magic, and help Marius with Potions and Cassiopeia with house work. It would be the life he’d tried so hard to carve out for them.

Eventually, he had to push his own chair back with a light scratching sound against the floor as his socked feet touched the slowly warming ground. The sunlight beating in from the opened window. He’d need to cast the perfect charm to keep the light out as he tried to calm his mind and find a bit of rest. Maybe he’d sneak a few sips of the flowery potion Helena had him take for his nerves, it did always give him decent sleep. With a grunt of effort he pulled up the ever growing Harry and placed him warmly on his shoulders, his breath already growing more even as he did. Regulus knew the tomorrow he dreamed of wouldn’t come, whether he could face it or not. When the sun rises again tomorrow as it was just behind his back now, it would be a new day with a world of new challenges. His arms holding Harry closely to his chest as his hair brushed against his cheek, his only pulsating worry in his chest was the impact Harry would have from this night.

Chapter Text

The next day Regulus stayed locked in his room past breakfast, Harry clutched to his chest for as long as he could hold him before he wiggled his way free and with wide green eyes patted Regulus’ cheek before he slowly opened the door and closed it quietly behind. The noises of people greeting the child seeped under the crack at the bottom of the door. He couldn’t distinguish the words, but the emotion of happiness carried with the words. Still, he couldn’t move. A weight held him to the bed, not a crushing pain, more a catastrophic sense of worry. Once, he left his room again, it was all real and he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Not even the growing dryness in his mouth or the stiffness in his back compelled him to move. The bed wasn’t comfortable, but it was safe. Here, he had control. Out there, everyone else seemed to hold control. He’d tried so hard to do his best, to remove Harry and by default himself from the horrors in their past. With all the will he could muster, he’d removed them, and he forged a place for them to be safe and new. A place where they could try again. Now the past waltzed up to the front door with hardly an ache of difficulty, and seemed to crush all his work before him.

He’d left the war behind years ago, and now it had been dragged in, beaten and dying to his feet and forced him to stare it in the eyes. The guilt mounting in his stomach made him wish to disappear, a coward's response. Hadn’t he always been a coward though? Too selfish and cunning and self aware to ever be brave. Isn’t that why he’d done everything in the end? He wanted to save himself. He couldn’t get out of this, his tricks had run out.

His thoughts broke only as he heard the creaking of a door dragging his eye back into focus for the first time in hours. His neck weakly strained against his stiff muscles to glance at the slowly widening opening into his room. A breath of fresh air slipping into the stale room as it did, brushing against the end of his nose and instinctively causing him to breathe in deeply as his eyes hounded into the features of his aunt’s profile. Aunt Lucretia wasn’t his first choice to come and try to drag him from his depressive state.

“You look like shit.” She coughed as she took careful steps towards the window, her long earrings clanking gently causing a ringing sound of metal to fill the room as he winced at the new noise. A moment later the room was flooded with a brilliant glow of the afternoon sun. His eyes squinted painfully in his skull to protect himself from the intrusion into the purposeful darkness. He tried to clear his throat with a painful draw.

“Kreacher.” Lucretia called softly. The resounding pop came quickly as the patterning of bare feet hit the end of the wooden floors. Regulus dared to peek out of a thin opening in his eyelids to see Kreacher place a steaming teacup by the bedside table. The elf paused for a moment as twisted his lips and wrung his hands on the torn sheet he was wearing, offering a small nod of encouragement before he clicked out of the room as quickly as he had arrived.

“You need to drink.” Lucretia nearly commanded as she deepened the bed by sitting at the edge. Her eyes staring ahead with a rigid straight back, her expression unreadable. Regulus had never feared his aunt, she was one of the few kind souls he’d had the honor of knowing. Still, she had the air that commanded respect, and he was in no position to be defiant. Instead, he painfully pushed himself up on popping elbows to lean against his nearly flattened pillow. His hands stretched gently before wrapping around the tea and bringing it to his lips to take a small, slurping sip.

“You know, you and your father both could handle any temperature of tea. I suppose because you both had that unbecoming habit of sticking your tongues out when you were younger. Ended up with the tips of your tongues burnt off before you could even begin school.” Lucretia mused as she shook her head letting her neck fall towards her lap as her fingers flicked against each other, almost nervously.

“I didn’t know he did that too.” Regulus whispered in a dry voice before he took another sip to smooth his itching throat.

“I see him. In both of you, I see him. The boy I grew up with, the brother I practically raised. Neither of you knew that boy, he had sunken into himself too deeply by the time you had been born.” Lucretia mumbled as she twisted her hands once more before letting her hands fall flat against her dark skirt.

“I should blame him, I should blame my father, I should blame generations of fucked up adults who raised fucked up children, but then where would I be?” Lucretia continued her eyes wavering for a moment before she opened her mouth again. “My father, he's to blame partially of course, which begs the question why I continue to play his games.”

Regulus ducked his head closer to his cup. An uncertainty rose in his chest as his aunt continued to speak. The words seem to sting against her lips and pull at the corner of her eyes. There would be a point buried in her words if he only waited, but part of him wanted to jump towards it so he could return to his curled still form.

“It is because who else do I have left? My mother died while I was still a girl, my brother drank himself into such a state I couldn’t recognize anymore. Two of my cousins drank the poison of our family and believed all their words, the other one ran as far as he could from them. Yet I stayed close enough to know it all, but far enough that I could see-through it all. I thought it was safe, I thought it was smart.” Her words struck his ear, causing the continued feeling of pain to rise in his chest.

“I don’t know anything anymore. I can admit that, all I know is that you are here and your brother is here and maybe, none of us are as alone as we thought we were.” She finally tore her eyes off her fidgeting hands and they slowly drew themselves to meet him for a moment before he turned his head away, to avoid guilt in his chest burning through his skin.

“Regulus, look at me please.” She pleaded as a hand gently touched his shaking legs. The touch felt warm and familiar, two feelings he had always kept an arm’s length away for most of his life. With a painful intake of breath, he forced his eyes to meet her for two beats of his racing heart before fluttered down to stare into his own blurred reflection in his tea.

“I can’t pretend that you haven’t done what you have, but you are young, Regulus and you are trying. Sometimes it takes a lifetime to unlearn our own prejudices. I am no different. Merlin, I thought Marius was dead. I thought for certain his parents killed him the moment he turned seventeen, except they didn’t. He’s here, he is in the front room now, reading to Harry Potter of all children, and he has a wand and wife and an entire life I haven’t even begun to wrap my mind around.” Lucretia let out a dry chuckle that cracked her voice, and made the guilt cool in his throat a bit. His aunt knew who he was, and she wasn’t vilifying him. Maybe a bit of hope still survived.

“What I’m trying to say is I know you. Or at least at one time I did, I can’t ignore the years it has been, but the fifteen year old boy I last saw, he wasn’t evil. He wasn’t unforgivable. I would like to believe the man I see now is the same.” She finished as her hand gripped onto the front of his calf with a comforting force. His lips quivered a bit as his fingers clutched to the warm sides of the tea cup with a renewed force.

“You could forgive me?” He croaked with his eyes threatening to release the painful emotions that had been suppressed for a terribly long time. A sniffle rang into his ears as he looked up again to see small tears run down the edges of her face with an unbridled abandon. A glass inside him shattered into pieces of painful striking shards against the inside of him. His chest convulsed under him as he dropped the nearly empty tea cup across his laps, not feeling the liquid drip to the side and onto the floor quietly. The years of training crumbled into dust for at least the moment as he clamored himself across the bed to throw his arms around his aunt with a force. His chest racking harshly with nearly unnatural noises as he heaved his breaths heavily and his eyes burned from the amount of tears dragging from the edges.

Wrapped up in one another until the sun had moved significantly, Regulus' eyes felt swollen against his skull and his heart tired and worn, yet he felt a lightness. He didn’t feel as dragged down by himself. His arms slipped slowly, until they were plopping down against the warm quilt across his bed again. His aunt looked equally as worn and relieved as she pulled her wand from her waist and tapped the stain that had grown from his spilled tea, before glancing at him again.

“I wonder if Ignatius was as emotional with Sirius.” She hiccuped.

“He went to speak to Sirius?” Regulus muttered as he dragged the heels of his hands into his eyes for relief. He could feel the weak nod in reply.

“While I’m fickle to believe an ancient Hat is to tell all of an eleven year old child’s traits, but even so, there is a commardiere between those of the same House and we are severely lacking on any Gryffindor recklessness. Ignatius didn’t have much choice, I don’t think Sirius would respond well to the more methodical reasoning of a Slytherin.” Lucretia murmured as she smoothed out the pleats in her skirt. Her hands slowly gained composure as she repeated the motion several times.

“How has he been?” Regulus dared ask, as his eyes shot elsewhere to avoid any possible negative answers.

“Hadn’t left the sunroom either, and before that, well he’s trying to learn to forgive himself too, Regulus. The two of you have more in common than you may care to believe at the moment, but if you care for the advice of a sibling, who has experienced a bit more. Go to your brother, try, and try again, and don’t stop trying until you’ve given it your all.” Lucretia stated firmly as she stood holding out her hand for Regulus to take. With a bit of hestiants, he grabbed it as she pulled him forward with more strength than he had expected, making his feet stumble slightly. Her hands then shooed him towards the bathroom, where he slowly readied himself. Taking his time to shower and comb his hair and pull new clothes over his shoulders.

His hair left a cold dampness to his neck and brushed against the cotton fabric of his shirt. The sleeves were a bit long from him stretching them out over his fingers, but it brought comfort to him. He had woolen socks on his feet that softened the sound of his arrival as he curbed around the hall, antsy at the idea of seeing people, but pushing through it as best he could. He paused at a window facing the rear of the house, with a view of the Greenhouse. There was slight movement behind the panes windows, as he squinted he could make out the scene. Harry was sitting on one of the benches, his hands flailing around him as he appeared to be talking. Uncle Marius was just next to him carefully cutting one plant or another, occasionally turning to look at Harry as he spoke. Regulus mentally noted to thank Marius later, for keeping Harry, for taking him away from the stiffness of the house even for a bit.

His feet shuffled a bit farther ahead as he saw the three women of the house all curled up and sat in the main room, quiet conversation just missing his ears. A softness and care to each of their faces as they failed to notice him as he slipped past the room into the kitchen unnoticed. A bit of water before he tried to do as he was asked. As he sipped, his eyes caught the color of clothes against the fading blue sky. His grandfather had his back to the house, his hands clasped behind his back and his neck bent slightly as his shoulders moved slightly ever so often. Next to him stood Lancelot, his wide shoulders and thin figure turned to the side as his arms crossed in front of him, a pair of glasses on top of his head as he shook his head slightly. It appeared the two were in a conversation of sorts as the sun slowly faded around them. He didn’t have much longer before everyone began to move for the last meal of the day.

A throat cleared behind him as the glass nearly slipped from his hand. The force with which he turned, nearly twisted his ankle as he gasped before releasing the breath. His Uncle Ignatius stood leaned in the entrance wall of the kitchen, his head hung and his arms crossed in front of him. Regulus paused for a moment until his Uncle lifted his head and pointed with his chin towards the back of the house. Regulus' brows furrowed in confusion until he recalled his Uncle had been the one sent to speak with Sirius.

“He’s on the back steps.” Ignatius finally coughed out as his head turned back towards his feet. Regulus nodded as he placed the glass with a bit of clatter into the sink, thankful no cracks appeared in the fragile material. His feet shuffled towards the only exit of the kitchen past his Uncle, who hadn’t moved. His socks slid to a stop for a second as he took in his uncles leaned form, his strong shoulders dented slightly by the position. Never had he admitted it, but he’d always looked up to Ignatius, even when he was constantly told he was a fool for his work or how society told him his aunt had married down when she married him. The spare, a Welsh, and a Gryffindor to boot, and yet, they seemed happy. A feat Regulus hadn’t been sure he could ever manage.

“Regulus.” Ignatius uttered just as Regulus’ foot touched the wood causing a quiet creak. He paused mid-stepped and turned his head. His uncle only glanced with his barely green eyes before he shook his head again.

“Whatever your aunt told you, it comes from both of us.” He started with a dry voice. Regulus slid his feed together against the worn wood as he clasped his wrist in his opposite hand, waiting.

“She’s better at this, she’s spent her whole life forgiving. I’ll get there, I promise I will. Just not yet.” Ignatius muttered as his eyes flashed ahead again with a fleeting a stare out the window at the older men still standing in the yard, surrounded by the slow flow of grass around them. The wind offers some solace to the quiet ring of the house.

“I understand.” Regulus replied, hoarsely. He did understand, he’d heard. He knew his uncle had showed up where Fabian and Gideon had been attacked. He fought off five Death Eaters alone for some time before Lancelot showed up and offered enough assistance that the Death Eaters fled. It hadn’t been enough though, his cousins took days to die. In excruciating pain and with no known counter curse, he’d read Lancelot had worn himself so horribly he passed out from magical exhaustion. Then Ignatius had taken over, he’d been trained in rediumental healing in order to take care of himself and Lucretia due to their dangerous work. It hadn’t mattered, in the end, nothing had helped and the last of the line of Prewett passed within an hour of each other. Regulus wasn’t sure, if the roles were reversed, he could forgive. Ignatius was trying, and isn’t that what Aunt Lucretia had pleaded him to do.

He nodded more to himself before he left towards the back door. The bottom half of the door was closed shut, but the top half swung lightly in the wind, rhythmically pattering on its hinges. Regulus felt his fingers grow cold as they curled around the knob to push open the bottom half. The cry of the hinges seemed to spook Sirius from where he sat on the bottom step as he jumped from his spot and whirled around quickly. Though the look of surprise quickly evolved into a glare of disdain as he purposefully threw himself forward crouching with his arms across his knees again. Regulus followed his eyeline to see that he was watching Harry giggling behind the glass. Regulus could almost hear the sweet sound from memory alone.

It took a few moments of him encouragingly watching Harry and Marius in the greenhouse before he pulled enough courage to take the few steps down and slowly lowered himself on the smallest corner of step he could to keep from accidentally smacking shoulders with his brother. He wasn’t ignorant to Sirius shuffling away, and how his shoulders hunched closer together to gain as much distance as possible. There was a sting in the back of his throat he forced himself to swallow. Emotional outburst would only hinder the healing.

His eyes fell from Harry’s dying laughter to the ground in front of them, the leaves already turning colors as they fell from the top of the trees and the breeze still swaying the colors in small circles occasionally as the sun hit with a golden glow. A moving sun-ray made him realized there was a dark brown filled glass sitting on the brick pathway towards the greenhouse and potions room. A familiar scent nearly struck his nose even though the bottle was tightly screwed shut. His brother had dragged out a bottle of firewhiskey to set dejected against the pristine backdrop.

“I was going to say fuck it all and try to drown the whole bottle. Orion could do it, why couldn’t I? I like to think I have tenfold the problems he ever had.” Sirius muttered as his eyes stared blankly ahead with his chin resting on his propped knee. His lips taunt as he spoke, as if he was struggling to speak.

“I drank nearly a whole bottle the day I heard everything that had happened. Found one of father’s hidden supplies and drank myself nearly to death.” Regulus blurted out without thinking. Sirius let out a disgusted grunt as he flung his hair back and forced his head to face the opposite direction.

“Mourning all your friends in Azkaban?” Sirius scoffed over his shoulder.

“Mourning my brother.” Regulus snapped as he brought his knees to his chest protectively. Sirius let out a loud sarcastic chuckle.

“Celebrating more like it, wouldn’t have to be bothered by the disappointment anymore, could have their heirhood all to yourself. It’s what you’ve always wanted.” His voice strangled out after the disheartening sound died in the back of his throat.

“I never wanted any of it.” Regulus whispered as he tucked his chin into his knees as well, feeling the ripe age of fifteen again. Shrinking back into himself as he squinted his eyes trying to will himself to be strong and composed.

“Then why did you take it served to you on a silver platter?” Sirius spat as he stomped his feet against the hard ground. This felt terribly like the old fights they’d get into at Hogwarts, the ones that ended with them either in the hospital wing or sitting in the Headmaster’s office. Only this time, they weren’t children, there was no Headmaster or Professors to correct them, and they would have to sort this out for themselves.

“I didn’t feel like I had a choice.” Regulus choked his voice, betraying him slightly as he swallowed hard against the growing pain in his throat. It had been the wrong thing to say.

“Everyone has a choice, Regulus. You made your choice, and while everyone else seems to want to forgive and forget, I can’t. You became everything they ever wanted, you joined him, and by Merlin, you were proud of it! What did dear old Mother say when her son got chosen at sixteen to bow to a Dark Wizard? Did she finally give you the attention you craved so terribly? Did you finally get your satisfaction?” Sirius yelled as he threw himself up and his face turned inflamed with the rage buried under his every word as he tried to cut Regulus with every utterance. Regulus wasn’t going to hold back, maybe they needed one last fight to heal.

“I didn’t get chosen! Mother served me up like a dish, one she made just for him! If I said no I would have died Sirius! He would have killed me without a second thought, and maybe that’s honor to you, but to me it’s a stupid reason to end a life I hadn’t even lived! I’ll be damned if you try and tell me about my choices, you’re the one who sat in Azkaban, not me!” Regulus screamed, his arm reaching for his wand instinctively before he saw Sirius flinch behind his defenses. Regulus paused for a moment, his fingertips touching the edges of the smooth wood and detailed carving before he dropped his arm dead to his side. Sirius didn’t have a wand, they would have snapped it in two when they took him into custody. He was defenseless.

“Fake your death and you suddenly grow a heart.” Sirius spat at Regulus’ feet, as it was Regulus’ turn to flinch. He was supposed to be trying, not screaming.

A throat cleared beside the two of them. The pair of heads whipping to the side as their hair matched rhythm to fly behind them, unknown to the two of them as their eyes widened at the sight before them. Marius stood with a plant wrapped behind one arm and tight to his waist. At the end of his other arm, Harry stood looking curiously at the scene before him, one hand interlocked with Marius’ and the other sticking between his lips as he chewed down meaninglessly. Regulus quickly walked forward and dropped to his knees to pull Harry’s hand out of his mouth as he kissed the ends of his fingertips. An old habit to help him unlearn the habit he’d picked up from watch Regulus intensively.

“Reggie?” Harry questions as his eyes wavered at him. Regulus tried to fake a smile, and felt it falter before it could even pull at his cheek.

“Harry, go see your aunt. She'll help you wash up for dinner.” Marius instructed as he flicked their intertwined hands towards the half open doorway. Harry looked up hesitantly, before he reached forward and faced Regulus with a kiss on the end of his nose nearly causing the older of the two brothers to make a dissatisfied noise from his throat as he ground down in his teeth in frustration. Harry’s pattering feet stumbled into the house as each step died silently into the backdrop until he couldn’t be heard, Regulus still leaned on his knees with his eyes staring at a single piece of grass that hadn’t been flattened by Harry’s shoes a moment ago. Focusing his breath as he watched the light breeze pulling the blade side to side.

“The two of you. None of us expect either of you to be the best of friends. Merlin knows there is too much history there, and history is something nearly all of us can understand. There is one person that can’t though, and that’s Harry. He doesn’t understand, and let’s pray he never does because then we all will have failed him. So the two of you do whatever you have to, scream, fight, hex, but don’t let Harry see it. Maybe, just maybe, the two of you could find common ground in him. Maybe you can try for him.” Marius explained, his voice rising and firm, but never threatening.

His eyes shone in the dark light as the soft curls on the back of his neck floated in the air and his feet firm to the ground. It was one of those rare moments where Regulus could see the training and upbringing of the Black family in his uncle. The type of training that never truly leaves. Regulus stood and stumbled backwards, wrapping his arms around himself as he watched Sirius flare his nostrils a few times before he stepped back as well. Marius cast one last glance, daring either of them to try anything again before he too disappeared inside.

The light was nearly gone outside, the outline of the moon rising in the horizon as Regulus shivered to the cold for a moment. His teeth clashing against each other as he dared to peek upward to try and catch his brother’s eyes. He was never successful. Sirius simply stared at the full bottle of stingy liquid encapsulated in an ornate glass bottle with a pinpoint screwed into the top. He stared for a long minute, never blinking once. Until his leg jerked from under him and clattered into the bottle with force that threw it back against the step, instantly staining the stones surrounding it with the dark brown liquid and the noise of glass scratching in his ears as his face twitched.

“I don’t know if we will ever be brothers, but for Harry, this is me trying.” Sirius grumbled out as he took a half a second look at Regulus before stomping on the glass with a crunch of his thick boots and tracking a few small pieces up the steps with him and into the doorway before the crunching finally dissolved. Regulus felt his lips quivering against his teeth again before he sucked in a steadying breath and pulled his wand to clean the mess from the ground. He might not have a brother, but he had Harry. Harry who was worth giving this all a chance, he thought as he slide into the warmth of the home, feeling equal amounts comforted and dejected.

Chapter Text

Regulus tried to keep his head low and his hands busy for the next few days. He’d spent a whole afternoon deep cleaning the kitchen with Kreacher. The elf was a bit shocked at the assurances, but thrilled nonetheless when he listed off all tasks while throwing in a clatter of pots in pans into steaming soapy water. Regulus had pulled his wand and nodded halfheartedly, happy for any reason to escape from his own mind for a few hours. Briefly, from the window letting in the crisp air to his sweating brow, he had caught a glimpse of his brother in the front lawn. Sitting and pulling at grass blades as a few stray Muggles wandered by, they couldn’t see in, but Sirius could see them. His head had hung almost mournfully as the group of young friends passed laughing and shoving one another on the autumn day.

Regulus leaned over the counter, sighing at his brother when he noticed a glint of movement in the corner of his eye. His grandfather stood several beats away. His pipe lit as he watched from behind heavy eyes every move Sirius made. Regulus could almost feel the cold intrusion of the Legilimency spell in his own mind just from the glance alone. He was practical with the spell, though he didn’t prefer to use it unless necessary, but he was nowhere near the talent of his grandfather or his father. They could creep into the edges of a mind nearly undetected if not careful, and both were known to do so. From the brief glances of concentration on his grandfather’s face, it appeared he was racking through the never silent mind of his eldest grandchild. Regulus shook his head before he crouched down again to reorganize the lower cabinets. His brother and their grandfather could sort out their issues themselves, he was just trying to stay out of the way.

His next chance to avoid as much human contact as possible found him trimming plants in the greenhouse after supper, listening to quiet hums buzz in his ears as Marius went in and out between the greenhouse and the potions shed. Regulus felt the tone was familiar, something he had played before, but he couldn’t put the name to the sound. He concentrated on the slicing in front of him as his ears rang with the hum trying to slither through his thoughts with recollection of how the noise was so familiar. The fleeting motion of his hands moving in time with the noise as his eyes fluttered slightly in the warm temperatures of the greenhouse. His mind floating above him swarmed in thoughts. Until the humming came to an abrupt pause.

“If you cut much more we will barely have enough for this month’s batch.” Marius commented as he shoved his hands into a worn pair of dragon hide gloves. The brown color cracking in more than a few places as he dropped his hands into the chomping cabbages they kept on hand for the Skele-gro potion.

Regulus stared down at where he had been working on the aconite. He’d been meaning to only cut the weeds around it, but in his distraction he’d cut a few of the precious flower petals off. He let out a drawn defeated sigh as he put his wand down and leaned against his arms on the squeaking table, hanging his head as he shook his hair out. Aconite was extremely rare and hard to maintain, and an absolutely necessary ingredient in Wolfsbane potion. As well, the leaves were horridly dangerous to be so careless with. Internally, he dragged at himself for messing up, more so than he usually would.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Marius chimed in as he pushed down on the cabbage, slicing quickly before the plant could wrangle out of his grasp. Regulus shot him a quick confused glance.

“It’s a Muggle saying, essentially you pay someone for your thoughts because they look bothered.” Marius explained a moment later as the plant laid cut into many pieces in front of him.

“Sounds like what you would do with a concubine.” Regulus grunted as he pushed off the table with a noise before loudly brushing his hands against one another.

“Never particularly had a need for one.” Marius chuckled dryly as he gathered the ingredients into a basket with a scraping sound.

“Are you brewing Skele-Gro?” Regulus asked as he dug his hip into the side of the table where Marius worked, crossing his arms as he tried to change the subject.

“Indeed. You’d be shocked how many witches and wizards tend to disappear their own bones. Helena said the last batch was going bad.” He explained as he hoisted the basket and headed towards the dark coolness of the potion shed.

“How many people supply the potions for the hospital?” Regulus inquired, following behind Marius a bit like Harry did. Asking questions and fluttering his eyes around as he did.

“Three, including myself. The Wizarding Community is small here as you know. Ingredients can be hard to come by and shortages happen often, meaning the Healers have to use a mix of magical and Muggle healing on occasion.” Marius explained as he set down the cabbage near an already boiling cauldron.

“Could that be why the witches and wizards here are more open to Muggles and Muggleborns?” Regulus asked as his hand wandered aimlessly over the labeled supplies in one corner. He was trying to keep his mind from settling on anything of importance.

“Likely helps. Besides, if Muggles were not included the wizarding population would have died out ages ago.” Marius added as his brows furrowed together as he carefully pinched an ingredient to place gently on top of the potions. His eyes swirling as it slowly sank beneath the bubbling liquid.

“Do they teach Muggle Studies here?” Regulus queried as he pulled forward a bottle of Dreamless Sleep. He tinkered with it between his hands, wagering if he should ask to have it. He hadn’t slept well in the last few days, the constant headache and puffy eyes reminded him constantly.

“They do. Though from the conversations I’ve heard, much more practically than Hogwarts. Instead of peering at Muggle objects through a glass of amusement, they actively teach them how Muggles have adapted. With electricity and telephones and all matters of modern technology. Though if you wish to inquire about the schooling methods in Switzerland, I will have to refer you to your Aunt Helena. I am, after all not formally trained in magic.” Marius mused as he peered at Regulus over the smoke. Regulus gripped into the vial still in his hand as he sighed.

“I think you’re just as good as any wizard. I would hardly think of you as a Squib.” Regulus muttered as he slumped down into one of the chairs across from his uncle, resigning himself to watching him complete the concoction.

“Oh, but I am Squib through and through.” Marius added as he squinted at the potion, mouthing words to himself as he turned around to search for the final pieces of ingredients.

“I’ve always been told Squibs can’t do any magic. Clearly, you can.” Regulus pointed out, waving his free hand at the plethora of supplies around them and the wand sitting besides the cauldron.

“Squibs cannot all fit into one box, Regulus. I may have an aptitude towards Potions and Herbology, but I’d be helpless to throw a shield charm even if my life depended on it. Other Squibs may be able to, others may read the History of Magic text and never be able to do more than so. It isn’t the amount of Magic we possess that matters, it’s with what respects we are given in this community we are born into. Unfortunately for many of us, respect is the last thing given.” Marius sighed as a small splash echoed from the colliding of ingredients in the potion. Regulus felt his heart being tugged. He’d been prejudiced against many people in his life, prejudices he had to unlearn and work toward overriding. Nearly universally though, Squibs were looked down upon. Even Muggle-born Students had snickered under their breath at the apparent Squib status of the Caretaker of the school.

“It’s not fair.” Regulus mumbled as he tightened his grip on the vial, rolling it faintly against his skin causing a rivet of pain in his palm. Marius glanced at the paling color of his knuckles before settling on his eyes.

“It isn’t, but over the years, I’ve had to do as I must to survive. There will be a time and place for Squibs to have their voices heard, and I’ll support it if I’m alive to see it, but for now, I have my own silent reckoning, and it is what has brought me peace.” Marius explained. Regulus swallowed slowly, he was in no place to tell his uncle how to handle his own life. Still he felt an anger rising in his chest from all the bias that had been put in front of him. Shaking his head slightly, he put his chin in his free hand and watched as Uncle Marius did what he had learned he was good at.

Eventually, his uncle eyed the potion and rolled his eyes, but didn’t make him put it up as he locked up the potions shed. He slid the vial in his pockets gratefully. After all he had done to exhaust himself, he knew he would stare at the ceiling counting the seconds down in his head as he listened for the crinkling of life outside his window. The light chirp of a bug, the occasional hoot of an owl, and if he was lucky the gentle drops of rain against the window pane to try and lull him to a world of less worries. At least with the vial in hand, he wouldn’t have to plead with the stars in the night sky, for him to find some solace in their domain.

Marius and he walked shoulder to shoulder, shuffling the crunching leaves under foot and letting silence wash over them. The air was getting cooler by the moment as fall settled heavily in the air. The scents of dying shrubs and the inklings of fallen flowers casting into his nose as they walked. The house was a starch warmth against the outsides and was a stark contrast. A crackling sound of fire could faintly be heard over the stomping of boots as they removed their light coats and shoes at the back door. Harry’s distinct voice broke through the older thin walls of the home.

“I want a story.” Harry’s clear inquiry struck his ears. Regulus smirked. Harry had a thirst for stories and questions and learning. Now that he was slowly learning to read the room of the new arrivals, he was getting more comfortable in himself once again. His normal requests returned with vigor.

“What kind of story, Harry?” Cassiopeia’s voice broke through as both men stopped by the kitchen to wash hands and grab tea before joining the group.

An awkward sort of nightly tradition had formulated over the days. An hour or so after supper was finished and cleaned, a congregation began around the fireplace under the large picture windows that showed the dark outlines of rolling hills to the front of the house lit by the twinkling stars and the grey light of the moon. The invitation was open to anyone for tea and companionship, but not required. Regulus was second only to Sirius in lack of attendance. His brother typically retired to the sunroom immediately after dinner and wasn’t seen again until breakfast the next morning. He made little effort to speak to anyone, and spent most of the time looking longingly at Harry, grumbling whenever Regulus and Harry interacted.

Regulus glanced out the open curtains of the kitchen to note the moon was half seen. They had only a few more days to get the next batch completely brewed and sent out for Remus. Regulus swallowed the burning in his throat with a sip of tea. Certainly, he wanted to bring up Remus, but with Sirius skirting around him like he had Dragon Pox, it hadn't been raised naturally. Besides, it had been years since he’d seen the two interact, war was rough on the toughest of souls. He couldn’t be sure what terms they had been on before the incident of Halloween years prior. It might not be best to bring it up as the holiday was only several weeks ahead.

Regulus shuffled in behind Marius, the room was surprisingly full. Sirius was the only one absent. Regulus sighed, and promised himself he’d stay for Harry’s sake. The young boy sitting in the middle of the room with a few toys laid before him. His wizarding chess set was half played to one corner and his broom lopsided on the end of the couch. They had spent the morning together in Regulus’ room going over his book collections and laughing on his floor playing Gobstones. After midday though, Harry had dragged Ignatius out to the backyard to have him give pointers on his broom and Regulus had begun his adventure cleaning the kitchen. With Ignatius’ guidance, Harry might actually end up a Chaser after all. Harry was just thrilled to have someone else besides Regulus to talk about Quidditch passionately with, and Harry seemed to soften the hard look in Ignatius’ eyes at least temporarily.

Harry turned his head to see Regulus settling into the armchair closest to the exit. Harry smiled and waved at him from his spot on the plush rug before turning his attention back to the rest of the room. Regulus curled around his teacup tighter as he breathed in the familiar scent. He did feel with so many people in the home now he was lacking in his time with Harry. They used to spend time together constantly, but now with so many ways to divide his attention, Harry was bouncing around continuously. Regulus couldn’t help, but feel a bit lonely. He knew it was good for Harry to have a chance to socialize more, but he still missed the quiet between the two of them.

“A new story, Aunt Cassie.” Harry finally replied as he looked at his aunt determinedly.

“A new story, any particular category?” Cassiopeia inquired. She sat next to Aunt Helena and Marius, Helena leaned against her husband comfortingly as they held tea and watched Harry warmly. Lucretia and Ignatius were curled into themselves across the way, Lucretia casually flipping through a book that Igantius occasionally glanced at. Neither of them said much most nights, but they did typically attend. Lancelot had taken the armchair across from where Regulus sat, his legs stretched out and his hands in his lap. His eyes were occasionally fluttering with sleep as he tilted his head vaguely. Regulus hadn’t been around him often, but Harry had taken a liking to him. Regulus found him practicing Healing spells with a stick in the yard one day, declaring he wanted to be a Healer like Uncle Lancelot and Aunt Helena. Regulus had laughed, Harry would figure his path out soon enough, and if Healing was his way then he’d be fully supported.

“A special story? One I haven’t heard before.” Harry chimed in as he fell back onto the rug clutching his two stuffed toys to his chest. He was already dressed in his pyjamas for the night, the little nifflers covering his green button down glittered every few moments. A feature Harry had always adored since Cassiopeia had returned with the clothes some months ago. A throat cleared across the room from where Arcturus sat in an armchair he had moved close to the fireplace. His nightly ritual of his pipe covered in the light haze of smoke was likely the only reason he was a frequent visitor.

“May I offer a suggestion?” Arcturus pined after a moment of shocked silence cascaded through the room. Harry looked around briefly before enthusiastically nodding his head. Harry wasn’t naive, he could feel the tension in the house, even as it eased out of the palatable stages and into a more nuisance silence, Harry understood subtly. Most of all, he knew the way people walked and spoke and mannered themselves around Arcturus. He was skeptical of being near the older man, and to Regulus’ knowledge the two hadn’t spent any time alone together, contrary to everyone else present in the room. In a twist, Sirius and Arcturus were the only ones the young Harry didn’t seek out.

“Have you heard of the story of your family, The Potters and the Peverells?” Arcturus asked, lazily letting his pipe fall to his side of the armchair. His eyes seemed to hold secrets as he watched Harry carefully for a response. For a brief moment, Harry glanced over his shoulder taking in Regulus for only a second before his hair flashed around his neck and he turned back to Arcturus shaking his head gently. Arcturus leaned back in his chair making a small flick of his wrist to have Harry come closer. Harry stumbled to his feet a bit clutching his toys tightly in his grip as he walked closer to the spreading warmth of the fire, the color causing a glowing red to shine on his brown cheeks.

“May I?” Acturus asked, as he popped his pipe away with a click of his hands before leaning forward to reach for Harry. Regulus could feel the awe radiating off of Harry as he scrambled up into Arcturus’ arms, his eyes wide and bright at where the pipe had just been for a moment.

“You’re good at magic.” Harry mused as he pushed his smaller hand towards Arcturus’, confirming the pipe was indeed gone.

“I’ve been practicing for a very long time.” Arcturus replied as he shuffled Harry to one side of his lap before leaning them both back. Regulus could feel his legs clenching as his hand strained against his tea cup. The ringing noise of worry buzzed in his head from the moment his grandfather spoke, and only heightened as Harry drew closer until reaching a catalyst as Harry leaned into his grandfather’s arms with his toys gently to his side. His tongue stuck out slightly as he licked his lips as they cracked with worry. He could see his Aunt Cassiopeia eyeing him from the corner of his eye, imploring him to allow this moment to happen. Still Regulus’ every fiber made him want to snatch Harry back and retreat to their room, but he didn’t. He stayed in his tense silence as the two continued to converse, his edge of vision blurring as he strained not to react.

“How long?” Harry asked his head turning upwards catching the shadows and lights in all different angles from the cracking fire.

“Well, I was just about your age when I could practice magic purposefully, so nearly eighty years now.” Arcturus answered as he turned his head to the side in thought before tilting it back towards Harry’s shocked face.

“That’s really long.” Harry gapped, his mouth held open in surprise.

“Well now Harry, no need to be theatrical, your Uncle Lancelot has been practicing since before even I.” Arcturus chuckled as he poked under Harry’s chin to have the boy close his mouth. Regulus’ eye twitched as he watched the action, analyzing every second for any notice of malice.

Harry was fine though. His head whipping around a second later as his hand braces himself against his grandfather to gape his mouth again at his Uncle Lancelot. His green eyes surveyed Lancelot’s form with renewed interest as his eyes whirled with curiosity. The older man chuckled a bit as he straightened himself only slightly to meet Harry’s eyes.

“It’ll be a hundred years next summer.” Lancelot winked after Harry’s eyes slowed their movements and he was focused again. Harry’s expression grew ostentatiously. His small hand went to his cheek with a thud as his eyes flashed between the two older men momentarily, gathering small laughs from around the room. Even Regulus felt himself loosen one shoulder as the hint of smile pulled on the corner of his lips. Harry’s eyes bugged out of his skull as he turned his head to Arcturus again.

“Will I practice magic that long?” Harry drew out his words in his shock. Arcturus tucked a tuft of Harry’s unruly hair under his thumb as he tilted his head glancing curiously.

“If you’re smart, you could outlast us all I gather.” Arcturus replied lowly as his pointer finger glanced over where the scar was hidden by his bangs.

“You have great power, Harry. You come from a long line of powerful witches and wizards.” Arcturus continued, his hand tracing down Harry’s face gently.

“Il y a du pouvoir caché.” Arcturus whispered, the noise barely surging over the sound of whipping wind and burning fire. Harry caught it though. His head leaned forward as he narrowed his eyes.

“Où est?” Harry snipped as interest slipped into his eyes. Arcturus smirked slightly as his hand moved to push down on Harry’s mess of hair. His eyes wandered across the room and buried themselves into Regulus. Regulus shocked himself, he felt a jolt of energy run up his spine and he met his grandfather’s eye.

“Alors il t'apprend comme il était.” Arcturus murmured as he broke the tense eye contact. His grey eyes darkened by the fire reflected in them. His hand pulled Harry closer to his side.

“Where is it Harry? It is in you.” Arcturus answered, as Harry wrangled his hand out of Arcturus’ grasp to peer upward, his chin digging in slightly to the older man’s side.

“Let me begin my story, it began long ago. With a man, who would be known as Linfred Potter, a great potioneer and a man of eclectic taste.” Arcturus hummed as he settled in again making his pipe reappear in his free hand. He took a long inhale as he adjusted Harry comfortably to his side, letting the smoke hang in the air for a moment before he dove into the long history of how the Potters and the Peverells came to be one line, and the story of an ancient invisibility cloak that had long been rumored to be a secret possession of theirs. A secret not even many of those to pureblood history knew of, but Arcturus knew. He always knew.

The story went on for nearly an hour, Harry hanging onto every word. He learned quickly with Arcturus’ sharp intakes of breath to limit his questions, yet the words still slipped from his mouth a time or two after. His curiosity peaked as he leaned into Regulus’ grandfather clung to every movement as if it could be the last. Regulus never calmed as he had Kreacher refill tea after tea as he sat there never wavering in his glare. If Arcturus raised one finger the wrong way, Regulus would dare react. It never came though, minus a few careful touches to his head and a few harsh silencing sounds, Arcturus left Harry unscathed. He looked almost gently holding him closely, and letting his head rest on his chest as the night grew darker and his eyes began to drop, his arm tenderly around his shoulders.

Eventually, Harry couldn't keep his eyes open any longer even as he whimpered while Regulus collected him from his grandfather’s lap. Harry yawned tightly as he asked Arcturus if he could hear more of the story later while Regulus clutched him tightly to his chest. His grandfather’s lips pushed together as he nodded and wished Harry a good sleep. Regulus was hesitant, but steady as he nodded his way out of the room. Everyone shuffled slightly as they prepared to retire as well. He passed the darkness of the sunroom, pausing only for a moment to peer his ears, no sound came for the few seconds he’d risk standing there until he finally continued down the hall to place Harry gently in his bed.

After he’d made certain Harry was restfully sleeping. He slipped into his own room, worn and tired and eyeing the vial by his bed. He ran a hand through his hair as he vowed to tidy his desk for just a moment before downing the contents to reprieve himself to necessary rest. The desk was cluttered with the mementos of Harry’s parents and their friends. He typically tucked them into the first drawer safe from any harm, but Harry had pulled them out and laid them spread across the desk haphazardly, a few abounded teacups edging the corners and risking stain as Regulus collected them in his hand and laid them gently in the emptied drawer.

He paused for a moment on a letter in Lily’s looped clean handwriting. The letter she’d written to Sirius, wanting them all to get together soon before summer ended. His eyes glanced at the one beneath it to see the words of the last meeting before Lily and James went away as it stated so vaguely, postmarked only a month after the prior letter. He knew enough to know they just had gone to Godric’s Hollow, into hiding from the Dark Lord. They had tried to keep Harry safe, he folded up the letter. Until he felt a pull in his mind, a thought he couldn’t quite place. He placed the letter down. His eyes scanned the words, and his mind counted backwards. He had heard rumors, whispers in between news lines and brief moments of broken recluse when he’d been hiding in the shoreside home. The Potter’s had stopped fighting.

They were already in the shadows. Well before these letters were written, so why try so hard to see everyone again, almost as if for the last time? His head itches as he tries to piece together the vague implications in between the lines. Why would she write to Sirius specifically a month prior to their last meeting? Why Lily and not James? Why did they want to see Sirius and Remus when they’d see them in a month’s time later? There had to be a missing piece. A secret he wasn’t discovering. His mind tried to recall the timelines of nineteen eighty one. It had been a chaotic one. The McKinnon’s died first, in early August. His cousins died last before the Potter’s in the early weeks of October. Many died in between those days. It was dark times and even he, hidden away as he was, worried the Dark Lord was on the verge of victory.

Then his mind wandered to the story Harry had just been told. He knew James had the invisibility cloak, he had confirmation as clear as day on the rumours. The four Gryffindors would only be able to get around undetected so easily with powerful magic beyond them. The Peverell’s cloak of invisibility would work. It was said to hold some of the strongest magic, and for it to have lasted centuries, he was inclined to agree. Then why didn’t James use it? Why didn’t he use it to save them all?

His head shook as he stared at the letters with light yellowing spots and a few dark tea stains and the edges a bit frayed. He pulled his wand to cast another preservation charm onto it. He wanted the words safe for as long as he could manage, he wanted Harry to have his mementos. His pieces of his parents he could hold onto. He placed them in the back corner of the drawer farthest from any peeking sunlight. With a sigh he picked up the final photo, tucked under a stray book that he closed and placed onto the windowsill just above. The shimmering smiling face of James in the corner. The cursed photo of quiet afternoon tea with Peter. He flipped it around to see the scrawled date in the corner, few of the other photos were dated. It was Lily’s handwriting, why would she feel the need to date such a mundane photo?

Regulus flicked it over again, staring his eyes into the photo with the blurry edges of sleep creeping in. It had to be the middle of October, there was a calendar in the corner. More days than not had been crossed through, though the last corner was cut out of the photo. The first few days of the second to last week had been crossed off, but the final days weren't visible. The last few weeks of peace had descended on the Potter household and the occupants had been completely ignorant to it. It was disheartening to see the faces of two men who’d be dead in a matter of weeks enjoying a casual cup of tea together.

With a bit of force, he shoved the photo on top of the others and screeched the drawer closed. His mind aching as he leaned on his elbows and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have all the details, and the one person who might wasn’t speaking to him. Something had gone wrong, horribly wrong. The Potters had been safe, they had gone into hiding, they were likely being overly cautionious. Betrayal made sense, someone betrayed them. He wouldn’t believe it to be Sirius, no matter how withdrawn and off putting he was being. He knew his brother, it wouldn't be him.

He sighed as he undressed and made his way to the bed. Uncapping the vial with a pop as he plopped down with a squeak on the edge of the bed. The cold liquid brushed lightly against his lips as his thoughts still raged like an angry ocean in his head. He needed just a moment to control them before downing the liquid as he held it tightly in his hand pushed up against his lips. Sirius hadn’t, and Remus didn’t sound as if he had even been around much; the letters implied people hardly saw him anymore. He was likely in the dark half the time as well. Why hadn’t James saved them? He had the means, and James was more intelligent than he ever let on. Him dying could be feasible, but he would die a thousand times before letting Lily or Harry be at risk. It wasn’t in his character.

Unless, he didn’t know. Unless, he had been duped as well. Unless, he put his trust in the wrong person. If he had been approached by a friend, James wouldn’t have ever mistrusted a friend. He’d come out unarmed and defenseless. He’d be dead before he’d realized he was being betrayed. He’d have no time to save Lily and Harry. Who though? Who would he trust so willingly? Sirius obviously, it is what made it so easy to take him without a trial.

His mind swirled with dates. The McKinnons were dead in August, his cousins were gone before the end of October. They wrote to their remaining friends in early September. Lily wrote Sirius in August. The timeline seemed so rushed, the dates all mixing together. Dorcas had met her end on the last day of August. The Bones had died in September. Fenwick and Caradoc would have met their fate days after the letter inviting them would have been sent. The Death Eaters were going through the Order Members so quickly and precisely. It was attacks he couldn’t have even fathomed when he had been a part of the organization. It almost seemed targeted, as if they were trying to trap a mouse in a corner. A mouse.

Then his hand fell loose, the dark liquid splashing all over the edges of his bed and quilt and the crash of pieces of glass never hitting his ears. The world had gone so silent a rhythmic buzz was all he could hear. Animagus forms took a part of the person's character into account. Sirius was a dog, loyal. James as a deer, prideful. Peter, Peter was a rat. Peter was there in late October, when no one else was. How had Peter Pettigrew survived when greater witches and wizards had died? There was only one answer.

The traitor was Peter.

Chapter Text

Sirius felt a stirring in his stomach. An ache that wouldn’t subside until he gathered the knowledge he needed. Bells rang in between his ears as he slammed the door behind him slipping into a worn leather jacket. A foggy haze had already descended on the city, making a brief cool touch hit his wrist as he pushed up his sleeves to grip onto the studded padding of his motorbike. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realized he’d never locked the door. His thoughts were more cloudy than a London rainy sky though. He couldn’t place it, but something was wrong. Deadly wrong. He had known it from the moment Dumbledore’s Patronus warned the few remaining Order Members to stay put and be on guard.

The crack of his motorbike roared to life and blasted the air behind him. The pressure in his chest barely registered and he shot towards the end of the darken street and lifted into the early morning hazy. Originally, his plans were to be there around noon, he had tea at noon. In his mind, he’d sit across from a nervous, but careful sandy blonde haired man. He’d likely drop one of his four sugar cubes before it made it to the steaming tea. His eyes would twitch constantly to the doors, to the windows, to Sirius, but that was expected. Peter was never as brave. He was never as honest, but he was their friend. He was James and Lily’s friend.

They’d sit until the afternoon sun would burn the back of Sirius' neck from the window behind him. The rattling noise of the Muggle street below would be festive and eager from the relief of a holiday. A Saturday holiday nonetheless, with no responsibilities on the early Sunday morning after. Peter would talk quietly, tapping his hands to a rhythm no one else understood. He’d scitter around his one room flat that he had only a block from the Ministry of Magic. Tinkering with his work case and double checking all his papers before Sirius wished him a good week and made his way back to the flat he had inherited. Peter did remedial work for the Department of Magical Transportation and he’d go to work the next day and all would be well.

Peter’s mother had always wanted him to have a steady career unlike his father. When she died the year prior, Peter was a wreck. She had been his rock. Now he was like all of them. Missing the part of childhood that shouldn’t die so soon, the first real sign that you’re on your own. They had all lost some of them. Sirius had lost the chance at parents the moment he’d been born. Lily’s parents died first, a car accident she’d explained through tears only a week after Hogwarts had let them free of the walls that had held them for years. James parent’s were next, they caught Dragon Pox just after Christmas that year. They made it till the end January until they couldn’t hold on any longer. Remus' mother had died just four weeks prior in September, and immediately he came storming into their flat screaming and throwing his possessions in a bag saying he needed to leave again. She had been sick for over two years, it wasn’t a shock, but with the strained relationship with his father, Remus at times felt he only had his mother. He hadn’t been back yet. The excuse? Dumbledore’s orders, always Dumbledore’s orders.

The cold air broke against his eyelashes and caused tears to pull at the corner of his eyes down the back of his cheeks. When he looked back, it was a terribly foreboding detail to how the next twenty four hours would go. In the sky with only the birds of prey as company, the trip to Peter’s was five minutes. It had felt like five hours as Sirius leaned hard against the bars pressing markings into his palms that would last for hours. The clouds rushing by as a mist of dew and the occasional squawk of an upset bird were the only sounds he could hear. The city was too far below.

Until he began to descend, the city lights like dots of stars in the sky, the air wetting his face and drenching his hair as he broke through at speeds that could kill. The broken roof of Peter’s flat came into sight as he rushed towards the barren alley behind. The screech of a cat touched his ears just as the jerk of him hitting the ground shocked his body. His feet were rushing up the steps before he’d even stopped, the motorbike crashing metal to metal as bins fell to the ground. He couldn’t care.

His heart felt like it was pulsing in his throat and in his feet on alternating beats, his cheeks warm and wet from the exertion as he took flight after flight cursing Peter for choosing the final landing. The peeling paint and smell of cigarettes flooded his senses as Muggle telly’s cracked through the thin doors and poor ventilations. The final step creeped so loudly as his boots clanged against it, anyone else would have worried it would fall right though, taking Sirius’s left leg with it. He couldn’t focus on the mundane.

No, because when he hit that final step with wet black boots squeaking loudly, that was when he caught a glimpse of Peter’s off-white door, yellowed with age and chips around the door handle. The hinges popping every few seconds from an unknown draft the wafted by, the door was open. Sirius stumbled on that last step as he popped his arm on the green walls trying to keep himself upright. Peter’s door was open. A shudder started in his chin and went to his knees as they buckle and he nearly crawled the two steps to the fluttering door. His pale bruised hand flattened next to the knob as he pushed gently; the eerie whimper of the door revealed a shadowy room empty of all possessions.

Sirius was on his knees as the moon lit the room from a reflected square of the window. The torn curtain from the party they had six months ago waving weakly at him with defeat. There should have been a table to his right, a small two seater table from a broken down store two blocks east. They had tried to paint it white and forgotten to paint the bottom, but Peter never fixed it. The kitchen should have the kettle on the stove, shiny and red and reflecting the moonlight. Lily gave it to Peter as a congratulations when he’d gotten his job. The cabinets should hold a chipped blue tea cup that Sirius had dropped one night after drinking too many pints at the pub across the street only last year. If he strained, he could hear the whispers of his friends' laughter. It had been one of the few times any of them had laughed in months. The war truly hit them for the first time last year. James would stop fighting two weeks later when they realized Lily was expecting.

Instead, Sirius faced an empty room. A few stray pieces of paper rustled in the distance. The furniture was gone, the dust of where they rested still holding its shape. A hurry, the place had the memories of being vacated in a hurry. There was no broken furniture, there was no shattered glass, there were no drops of blood, there was no sign of force. Peter had left on his own accord. The realization struck like a thunderbolt, Sirius fell to the rough floor on his hands and knees. His breath ragged and burning. Peter. Little tiny Peter, who didn’t lose his baby fat until sixth year, who had a chip in his tooth from a punch from Rosier their fifth year, the same Peter they guided through every step of the Animagus process. It couldn’t be Peter.

His heart burning as he pounded against the ground harshly, the splinters shocking his system and causing him to bleed lightly into the floor. Peter couldn’t be the spy. It was Remus. It had to be Remus. Sirius had been distant and off-putting to him for months. Remus spent night after night on the couch, and the silence that radiated from their flat could be felt outside the door. Remus knew. Maybe he’d known since the beginning. He knew they would lose trust in him, he’d been against the world nearly his whole life. Maybe he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sirius had played right into it, believing the whispers of people as they stared at him, the comments his friends had brushed off, the constant travel with no expectation. The chips in the foundation until it eroded away in the sea of their lives. Remus knew he wasn’t trusted. Maybe that’s why he chose to be away, maybe it was easier for him. Sirius had been cruel and unforgiving and most importantly he’d been wrong.

A wretched sob pulled from his lips as he brought his bloodied hand to his face and pushed back his hair. The blood streaks across his forehead as he shook in his spot. Frozen and terrified, he couldn’t think. The information exploded in his mind again and again causing his eyes to pulse and his thoughts to shut down. The constant course of Remus and Peter’s names circle again and again until he couldn’t hear it anymore and covered his ears as he let out a wail from so deep in his stomach it caused physical pain. He’d been wrong. It was his fault. James and Lily had trusted him.

James.

Sirius shot up with speed that made the floor feel tilted as he stumbled towards the stairs taking the them two at a time with a clattering noise that caused people to bang on their walls and yell at him from open doors as he disturbed their slumber. It was numb to his ears as he slammed his whole body against the rear door and found his clattered motorbike with a cat sitting in the seat as he shoved it away and it backfired twice before he roared away into the night. He had to get to James, Lily, and Harry. Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe he could stop it. Maybe he could throw himself in front of them to allow them time to run. He’d die for them, anyone of them and he’d die for them. His life had always meant so little, he’d always been told he meant so little. Maybe in death, he could mean something.

The ride to Godric’s Hollow was painstaking as his motorbike whined and cried under his force as he pushed it to limits so harsh it shook constantly causing his legs to feel unhinged. He didn’t care. Every second was another second wasted. Every moment was a moment that James didn’t have. Lily didn’t have. Little Harry didn’t have. His mind was a mess of emotions as tears continued to stream down his face, his chest burning into the bars as he willed the travel to be quicker. He couldn’t think straight and he could not breathe evenly. His eyes narrowed as he felt the air turn warmer as the sun dared to shine on a day such as this.

The first impact to the ground on the edges of the little typically quiet village of Godric’s Hollow had Sirius jumping to the soft dirt so forcefully he felt his ankle snap with anger, still he ran. The lights of houses flooded into the early morning street and the voices of people floated around him. Godric’s Hollow was not a town to be awake before the sun, the worry that sat painfully in his chest dropped to his stomach as he gasped for breath, the air scratching at the edges of his skin as he ran as quickly as he could. His shoulder pushing passed a couple staring down the end of the street, the woman had yelled at him but he never wavered.

There were sparks in the air, familiar magic. Sirius had grown up in a house full of Dark Magic. He could taste it in his mouth as he continued to shove and push his way past a group of Muggles that had gathered at the edge of the row of small cottages, curses and hands were thrown towards him, but he didn’t stop. Not even when the Muggle policeman tried to push him back and sharply whistled so loudly his ear drum went numb for a moment, he only pushed harder until the man was on the ground groaning at his shoulder. Sirius wasn’t sure what the Muggles could see, but he nearly lost the empty contents of his stomach as he saw the wavering magic fade away at him. A wizard must have cast a powerful Allusion charm that only wavered when he was facing it.

The house was smoking and missing nearly the entire second level. The cold air must have been creeping through the whole house by now, trapped under the smoke of dark magic. His eyes were stinging with tears as he pushed past the charm. The front gate was torn to pieces and shards of wood and plasters littered to shrubs surrounding the house. An explosion, the house looked like it had been through an explosion. He could see a few wizards scattered behind him. Aurors trying to push back the Muggles. They were too preoccupied and spread out to notice him. Their attention turned forward, convinced their protective charms were enough to preserve the scene. Muggles were the pressing issues, not a stray torn wizard that slowly approached a doorway that once held a strong wooden door with a knocker that Sirius had helped install himself.

His hands pushed to either side as he crunched shards under his feet, a mixture of the outside drawn in from the swirling wind and the broken pieces of the house collected by the entrance. He nearly fell to his knees staring at the broken debris of a happy home. Frames fallen off the wall, a coat fuming under a broken shelf, the paint scarred with black, he took another step as he let his eye fall forward towards the end of the short hall. Slippers, he could see slippers. Not slippers thrown apart in the struggle, or burning in the smoke, slippers attached to feet, attached to legs that were covered in blue patterned pants. The minutes were a haze.

His ankles twisted and turned over the rubble as he made his way down the hall. His knees were scratched as he fell beside James. His eyes were still wide and his mouth parted slightly. Not a mark or bruise anywhere to be seen, he looked like he’d just fallen. Sirius’ hand on his chest only confirmed after a few moments his breath was never going to come. His own breath trapped in his lungs raging to burst out as tears hit the floor with near silent taps. He was too late. James was dead. It was his fault and James was dead.

His lips forced him to breath as he shook with the loud gasp that ached his heart in his ribs with pain. He’d never felt this pain before. He’d be sad, depressed even. The angry ripples of grief had torn at him again and again. His parents and their mania and the pain they inflicted on him. James’ parents, his parents truly, their death ravaged him. His brother’s disappearance had caught him off guard and caused him to fall into a deep darkness for a long night. This pain, this pain was unexplainable, the mixture of grief and anger and nauseous. Staring into the vacant brown eyes of the man who had been his rock, his supporter, his brother and knowing he’d been the cause of his end. The sinking feeling swarming his body and made him feel like he was gone too. His soul had left his body the moment he’d seen the slippers and pieced it together. He was a shell, a body with no purpose.

He may have leaned there, sobbing to himself for days had he gotten the chance. Only when a piece of debris clicked down the steps quietly and crashed into a piece of porcelain did his mind register any thought besides the overwhelming grief inside him. Harry and Lily, he needs to find them. Or what remained of them more likely. James was here, by the front hall, he’d ran ahead. He’d likely tried to save them, but even in all the rumble, Sirius didn’t see a wand. Had James truly tried to face him wandless? He never stood a chance.

His legs felt loose from his body. The cold rush of blood brings life statically back to his numb feet. He clutched to the finished barrister that had bent in the struggle and used all his strength to pull himself to the second level. His hands grow clammy with each squish of wood under his feet. With a choked breath he garnered any remaining will and forced himself to turn the corner towards where Harry’s room was. His breath seemed to get stuck in his throat as the early breaks of daylight shined in through the gaping hole where the roof should be.

The door was held together only by the bottom hinge, half pushed into the room as he could already see remnants of destruction. Furniture torn and clattered against the corners and straggling out into the hallway as if it had been pushed against the door and blasted away. Lily had tried. She was the brightest witch of their age, but Voldemort was ruthless. She’d been taken by surprise, likely only mere seconds between hearing James fall and the door blasted to pieces. He leaned heavily against the weakened door as she saw her laid directly in front of the crib. His breath came in short gasp as he leaned down next to her pale body.

Her hair was as vibrant as when he first saw her all those years ago when she strutted into the Great Hall with her hair bouncing against her shoulder and her green eyes as bright as the candles above. The warmth in her smile spread across the table at Sirius nearly instantly. His lips quiver as he slowly closed her green eyes for the final time, mourning every bit of her including the smile he’d never feel again. He steadied himself to brace for the scene in the crib. Harry, little Harry with his mother’s eyes and his father’s hair. His godson was gone before he could even live. He pushed his arms, pinching them against the crib keeping his eyes averted for as long as possible.

Finally with extreme effort he turned his eyes up. His eyelash caught a single tear that blurred his vision as he quickly wiped it away. Still, the scene didn’t change. The crib was a mess with sheets pulled off the corners and an abandoned toy stuck between the rails, but no Harry. His hands clutched to the crib wide as he frantically whipped his head around, searching. No tuft of black hair anywhere, no warm brown skin peaking through the debris. Panic rose in his throat, worse than before, the grief and sadness squashed beneath a weight of harsh dread. His teeth clashed against his cheek as he turned and rushed to the doorway again. After a more thorough look, it revealed no Harry.

His feet scrambled down the stairs, avoiding James’ body as he tried to slip towards the back where the kitchen would be. Of all the rooms, it was the most intact one, there still sat an abandoned platter of cookies on the edge of the counter. Besides a pair of Harry’s shoes by the back door he found no trace of the boy. His whole body being forced into the rear door as he stumbled over the small steps into the garden. The frost had started to take a few of the plants as he scanned the browning ground for any trace of a child. His eyes landed on an overly large figure tucked by the garden gate with his back turned.

Thundering sniffling caught his attention as the shoulders covered in matted fur shook with each sharp intake of breath, Sirius knew it could only be one person. Sirius knew Hagrid from anyone with his staueous figure and sensitive demeanor. He slowly took soft steps on the damp ground, the heel of his boot sinking slightly as he rounded Hagrid. He held out his arms in innocence as Hagrid whipped his thick burly face towards him.

“Sirius?” Hagrid racked out of a dry mouth. His monstrous hands whipping at the corner of his crinkled eye. Sirius scanned the large man to notice that he had a thick bundle of blankets tightly in one arm.

“Hagrid, what is that?” Sirius dared as each word shook out of his mouth. The flicker of hope in his chest as he held out an unsteady arm.

“Little Harry, he survived by some miracle. Dumbledore sent me to gather him and bring him to him.” Hagrid struggled to say as he pulled apart the blankets to reveal Harry’s small gentle face, his eyes swollen and red looking as if he’d been crying harshly. Sirius nearly lost his balance as stepped forward to Harry’s bright, alive eyes. He’d survived.

“Harry.” Sirius whispered as he reached a hand over Hagrid’s to place on the blankets and pulled gently to reveal more of his radiating face. He was alive, whatever Lily and James had done, they had saved their precious son.

“It’s ok Hagrid. I’ll take him. I’ll take Harry. He’s my godson. Let me, please.” Sirius pleaded as he held out his quivering hands. Hagrid pulled Harry further away closer to his heaving chest.

“Can’t, Sirius. Dumbledore’s orders. I’m waiting for him to send for Harry.” Hagrid replied, coughing slightly. Sirius felt his legs grow weaker. Harry was so close and he couldn’t have him yet.

He slowly retreated his hands as they clasped in front of him. Wringing his fingers out and cracking each knuckles, he thought hard for the first time since he'd taken off from his flat hours earlier. He couldn’t have Harry yet, not when Peter was still at large. Peter, who’d betrayed his friends and ran like a coward, leaving no trace of himself behind. He’d sold out the Potters to Voldemort and if he heard Harry had survived, he wouldn’t rest until the mission was complete.

Sirius needed to keep Harry safe. Sirius needed to avenge the deaths of his friend. His world had crashed around him and Harry was all that remained. If he didn’t make the world safe for Harry, he would have completely failed his godson. Peter needed to be found, and he needed to pay for the suffering he had caused. His old friend was a creature of habit, he’d want to lie low in a place familiar. He didn’t have enough bravery to fly away. Especially, if he had any inkling that his plan had failed. He’d hide. It was the type of person he was.

“Peter, where would you go?” Sirius mumbled under his breath. Hagrid was sniffling so loudly he couldn’t hear Sirius. The noise was distracting, making thoughts hard to stick in his mind. A breath of fresh air and a moment alone would allow him to try and deduct where Peter had gone.

“Hagrid, I have to go. I need to go. Take Harry, my motorbike, it’s at the end of the street. Get Harry to safety. I’ll be back.” Sirius explained as he stepped farther away towards the gate of the garden turning the gate outward. Hagrid sniffled again as he watched Sirius curiously.

“The motorbike?” Hagrid asked.

“Down the path, and towards the back of the village. I must go, take Harry and keep him safe. I’ll come back for him.” Sirius added as he nearly tripped over a rock.

“Harry, yes. I’ll take Harry to Dumbledore on it.” Hagrid mumbled as he tucked the blankets against Harry’s form again. Sirius weakly smiled as he caught one last glimpse of Harry’s eyes, an eerie feeling shot up his spine. As if he’d not see those eyes again for a long time.

With Harry safe in Hagrid’s arms, Sirius took off down the path. Getting away from the flood of Dark Magic and burning wood in his nostrils, he leaned over the next fence he passed, breathing deeply as he could. His weight leaned on his tired wrist as he searched for his wand in his jacket. The Blackthorn wood had engravings he’d made on it throughout the years, the words of his own to create a wand of his own. The unicorn hair inside contradicted the power of the wood. He gripped the wand close to his chest as he racked his mind for anywhere Peter would go. His flat was cleared out, and he wouldn’t dare be out in the open with the ruckus that would onslaught soon.

He’d want to stay close to the magic. Peter was a pureblood still and had always been uncomfortable with Muggle experiences. He remembered Lily taking them to a Muggle shopping center and showing them all the sights of Muggle London. The streets Sirius had grown up on, but never had a chance to wander. Peter had been uneasy the entire time, struggling with the money and the overwhelming sights. He’d left early to check on his mother anyways. With that thought, his mind clicked. Peter would want to be close to his mother.

Peter’s father had died when he was still young, his mother had worked in Diagon Alley after he died. They moved from the country to a small flat within walking distance of Diagon Alley. Peter said he never moved in after his mother died because of the pain it brought him. Now, it seemed the only reasonable place to hide. Sirius stared into the sunlight, his eyes narrowing in the glare. He held his wand tight to his side as he used all of his energy to center himself before he felt the taunt pull of apparition to his middle. The sickening spin rushed his ears before he felt solid ground beneath his feet. The concrete hurt his soles as he gained his balance.

There he stood, in the early hours of a Sunday glaring at the third level window of a flat. He pulled his wand straight ahead, not caring for the few Muggles in the area, who had stopped and stared at him for a moment. A few lingering as they whisper with one another. Sirius stepped back into the road over the drain pipes as he flashed red sparks into the window causing a crashing shutter to splash into the flat. His eyes twitched as he watched the glass shatter and fall with satisfaction pulling at his lips. Peter couldn’t hide now.

“Peter, come out, come out. I just want to talk, Peter!” Sirius yelled as he shot more sparks towards the broken pane of glass. A shadowy figure crossed just out of eyeline, Sirius feeling the rage nearly bulge out of his skull.

“Come on, Peter! Too scared to face what you’ve done, you’ve always been a coward Peter! They were your friends! They trusted you!” Sirius screamed as his voice scratched with effort. Now there was a solid group of Muggles staring and pointing obviously at the man in the middle of the streets shouting at a broken window. A moment passed with no other movement as Sirius waited gripping the wand between two fingers as he went to shoot more sparks before a shadow of movement caught his eye. The alley next to the flat creaked with a noise and his head bolted as he saw a frozen figure trying to sneak down the street. Peter stood staring as the ringing bin cap continued to turn on its top.

Sirius flashed a hex before he could even think to make Peter fall flat into his back, his wand a hand's length away from where he fell. Sirius rushed his boots clicking with each step to lean over Peter. His wand pushed towards the man’s chest as he stared down the eyes of the man, who a few hours ago he trusted more than his own partner. With a feigned innocence, Peter put his hands above his head with a small smile on his lips.

“Sirius, let’s just talk. This is all just a misunderstanding.” Peter stuttered. His eyes flashing to his wand before fluttering back to Sirius’ wand pressed close to him.

“They trusted you, I trusted you. We made you Secret Keeper because we trusted you!” Sirius spat in his face. Peter bit on his lip as he clutched his hands into fist.

“Your mistake, Sirius. Wasn’t it you who made the choice? Wasn't it you they trusted with their lives? You got them killed, Sirius. I was merely a messenger.” Peter smirked as he spoke, lolling his head side to side almost in a laugh. Sirius growled from deep in his chest as he pushed his wand into the layer of exposed skin above his collar. Pinching the skin pink as he thought of what hex to use.

“Enough, Sirius. Enough.” Peter gasped as the pain radiated from his chest.

“I had nothing to do with this. This is all your fault.” Sirius roared as he stepped a boot onto Peter’s stomach. He only needed to hold him until the Ministry showed up. With the magic he’d done, it would only be a matter of minutes. Peter started laughing under the pained expression. Sirius scrunched his nose as he stared, certain Peter had lost his sanity.

“What’s so funny?” Sirius grumbled as he put more pressure on his boot. Peter broke his laughter with a rough cough as he spat slightly to the side.

“The last time you had someone down like this, it was your brother wasn’t it? Regulus, right? Remember how you’d go on and on about the lot of them, how you'd never be like them?” Peter croaked as his breath came in rough moments. Sirius grunted again as he pushed his wand closer to Peter’s neck.

“Look at you now, the dark look in your eye. You’re no better than your dear dead brother.” Peter gasped with his mouth salivating as Sirius felt unbalanced for a moment. His eyes crossed as black flashed before his eyes for a second from the rage and exhaustion of it all. A second was all Peter needed as he pushed forward hard and rolled out from under Sirius grasp jumping back with his wand in hand.

There they stood across from one another surrounded by Muggles now. The few who chose to be out this early on a Sunday. People gasping and pointing at the two men confronting each other so strangely. Both men’s hands were shaking against the stress in the air that seemed to dry their mouths and ache their bones. They had been friends only hours ago. At least Sirius supposed, maybe they had never truly been friends. What friend could betray their friends so easily?

“Peter.” Sirius whispered. His wand wavering slightly, he knew the curse. His grandfather had taught him. His father’s father when he was only still a child. He sat down and was taught each Unforgivable Curse with vigor. His arms had ached for days after and his eyes had burned with tears. He hated the whole moment, he’d only gone along with it out of fear. He never wanted to admit it, but he feared his grandfather with his firm lips and strained hair pulled tight to his head. He’d only been thirteen at the time, but he could do it then. He knew he could if he needed too and if ever was a time it was now. He licked his lips and a nod forced his concentration at Peter.

“Oh, Sirius. You won’t be able to.” Peter laughed as he pushed back on his heels, steadying himself.

“I will, Peter. For James, I will.” Sirius growled under his breath. Peter let out a strained chuckle as he glanced around them.

“No, you won’t Sirius because I won’t let you.” Peter smirked again as he threw his arm over his shoulder and the loudest sound Sirius had ever heard rebounded off the walls surrounding them as Sirius felt himself fall sideways into the street. He could feel a trickle of blood down his temple, his eyes covered in smoke and debris as screams filled the air. He couldn’t move, he felt as if he’d been painted into the streets as the air cleared for a moment. A fat bleeding rat scrambled past him and to the drain pipe, looking over its shoulder once before he flicked his tail menacingly and dove underground. Sirius had been bested. He’d been bested by Peter Pettigrew of all people. It seemed comical.

His throat burned as he let out a dry chuckle. The smoke clinging to the top of his mouth as he did. The Muggles ran around their shoes clattering against the concrete as they scattered yelling in all directions. A few of them lay motionless on the ground across from him, their eyes wide and unseeing. Peter had killed them. He’d killed them without a second thought. Little Peter Pettigrew outsmarted them all. He’d been misjudged his entire life and proved it in one night.

Sirius couldn’t help, but laugh as he felt arms grasp him from the ground and drag him away from the rubble. He could see the edges of robes and the corner of wands as he was yanked further and further away. The Aurors had arrived one minute too late. Peter was gone, and Sirius was surrounded by dead Muggles with a wand to his side. It looked terribly foreboding if he had thought for more than a second, but he couldn’t. His cheeks moved with maniacal laughter as he was pulled, his legs scraped against the gravel and bleeding lightly, his hair tangled in a mess of knots as someone yanked his head up. His eyes couldn’t see anymore, the edges were black and the world glassy.

“They should have never trusted a Black.” A gruff voice growled as he felt his wand ripped from his hand.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” A more high pitched voice asked. Sirius could only hear a mess of sounds, and a roar of pain inside and outside his body. James was gone. Lily was gone. Harry was all alone. He had been unable to muster the courage to bring them to justice. His mind jumbled with a shake as he felt hair ripped from his skull.

“It’s all my fault.” Sirius whispered.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sirius shot up. Running his hand through his hair searching for the hand that had a hold on it only a moment before. Once he realized there was no one else in the room, he tried to steady his breathing. He’d been having the same nightmare over and over. Everything that had happened that day, everything he’d done wrong to lead up to it. The regret still sunk into his stomach and down to his back. With a shudder, he pushed himself off from the bed.

His Aunt Cassiopeia had forced him to allow her to transfigure him one after the first night. The sunroom wasn’t his favorite place to sleep, but it was far from the worst. The room was warm, and let in the moonlight that could disturb his sleep, but he’d done enough sleeping in dark rooms that he didn’t mind. He wanted a breath of fresh air though, and he slipped out towards the back door, hoping the light creaking wouldn’t wake anyone. His eyes shooting up to the stars as he pulled his arms around his chest. The chill in the air felt refreshing in his lungs as he breathed deeply. He’d kill for a smoke right now. Anything to calm his mind.

He heard the soft steps of someone taking the stairs down to the ground where he sat with his feet dug into the misty grass. He never had any privacy anymore. It seemed everyone hovered over him constantly. He heard a groan as his grandfather sat next to him. His knees popped as he did, while he pushed his palm into his thigh to balance himself.

“Here.” Arcturus offered a small cardboard box, a familiar sight to Sirius. Sirius grabbed at it gratefully as he pulled out a cylindrical stick from inside and out it through his lips instinctively, going to grab his wand before he remembered. His heart sank as he recalled the brutal snapping sound when his wand had been broken in front of him.

“Let me.” Arcturus stated, holding out his own wand with the end already aflame as he cupped his hand over the edge of the cigarette. Sirius felt himself blush, but took the offering anyway.

“Snuck away from your aunt to get them. Don’t tell her.” Arcturus coughed as he put a cigarette between his mouth too.

“Aunt Cassiopeia or Aunt Lucretia?” Sirius asked as he breathed out of the corner of his mouth letting his hand fall softly to his knee as the warmth of the lit cigarette spread over his hand. Arcturus let out a low dry laugh.

“Either of them are more than likely to hex me.” He answered as he let out a breathy sigh filled with smoke.

“Nightmares still?” Arcturus dared to ask as the cold washed over him again as he brought the smoke to his lips again. Sirius just nodded as he inhaled deeply, letting the taste burn his tongue.

“You could have Marius give you Dreamless Sleep, he brews some of the best potions I’ve ever seen. A shock.” Arcturus grumbled as he held out the cigarette, spinning it in his hand slightly. Sirius shook his head.

“I deserve them.” He whispered. Arcturus just signed.

“Most of us, this family that is. We deserve to be plagued by all manner of evil. There are few of us who have been innocent enough to deserve peace. Most of those few are in this very house right now. You and your brother, you’re a part of those few.” Arcturus pointed out as he waved his hand back towards the house ashes floating alit to the ground as he did.

“Regulus is a Death Eater.” Sirius growled. He couldn’t believe how many people were willing to forgo his brother’s past so easily.

“Regulus was a Death Eater.” Arcturus corrected. Sirius just inhaled deeper, making a cough rip from his throat.

“Think what you may, but Regulus was a sixteen year old child then. The man in the house is a very different person.” Arcturus stated, firmly. Sirius grunted again.

“I was sixteen when I made my choice. I left and he could have too. You don’t get to test the waters with a hate group before deciding it isn’t your scene.” Sirius mocked. His head turned to the side as he let out more smoke from his cheeks.

“You made your choice as did he, I don’t deny that. Let me wager you this, what would have happened if he left? You know your mother, would she have truly let an heir escape her after she spent her whole life building up to birthing one?” Arcturus replied, his eyes staring into the darkness. A longing to his eyes as the wrinkles in his forehead become more pronounced.

“We would have been fine; she was mad.” Sirius scoffed. His mother was cruel, but he never truly feared her as he grew older. She made him hurt, but he refused to allow her to see fear grow in his eyes.

“You say that because you never truly knew Walburga. I did. I watched her grow, I watched her change, I watched her become a monster before my very eyes and with her she took my only son.” Arcturus murmured as he lifted the cigarette to his face again, the blurred lines of his lips seemed to be shaking.

“She would have stopped at nothing. Little as you may want to admit it. Your brother saved you by staying, he had a dying father and a manic mother and he did his best to appease them. Ask yourself this, why? Why would he do that? Certainly, he may have believed our rhetoric for a time, but even I could see the cracks in his faith from a young age. Self-preservation may be the most faithful trait, but who's to say we cannot extend it to others.” Arcturus wagered as he flicked the half smoked cigarette to the ground extinguishing it with a click of his fingers. Sirius only inhaled again.

“Think about that. Then speak with your brother again.” Arcturus commanded as he stood his bones creaking as he did. His covered feet stomped twice before he turned and left Sirius to his solace. The night sky above the only witness to the first crack in his defenses.

Chapter Text

“Harry, don’t squirm.” Regulus chidded as he gently pushed back on Harry’s shoulders.

“I want to go fly.” Harry grumbled as he crossed his arms in front of him, pouting.

“Harry, you are running into walls, Uncle Lancelot just needs to look at your eyes and get you a pair of glasses. You can’t fly if you can’t see.” Regulus explained, blowing warm air out of mouth as he placed himself gently in the place next to Harry, sinking the couch as Harry turned his body the other way to continue to pout. Regulus vaguely misses the days when Harry would stare up wide eyed and give Regulus a look that made it seemed he had hung the stars himself.

Helena has said his eyesight was poor, but had hoped he’d age out of it or it would correct with age. However, the eyes slowly grew worse, and Harry did in fact get caught several times catching his shoulder on corners or beginning to miss The Snitch while practicing. Helena, while still a bit snippy after their initial encounter, handed the reins over to Lancelot for this exam. She admitted under her breath to Regulus that eye care, particularly the Transfiguration of proper eyewear, was not her specialty. She’d even gone to say she’d ended up giving her own husband a two day headache after trying to adjust his readers.

Harry was trying to avoid the new additional staunchly, as his behavior conveyed. Trying his best to convince anyone with ears his eyes were fine and going as far as to release The Snitch in the house to prove he could catch it. In fact, he could not and the small Golden sphere bounced around causing destruction for ten minutes before Regulus mustered all the energy and concentration he had spent years honing into his center. Then his ankles clicked as he jumped onto a table and ran to the end, his toes sliding off as one hand jerked forward to clutching the edge of a wing between his thumb and pointer finger. A bit of pride sparked in his chest as he did, he still had it in him.

“Harry, Harry, how is my favorite little patient?” Lancelot hummed as he entered the room, his bag clankling slightly with supplies. Harry let his pout falter for a moment as he smiled, before remembering he was supposed to be upset and correcting his lips to their originally puffed out look. Regulus only rolled his eyes as he pushed a bit of hair behind Harry’s ear.

“I can see fine, Uncle Lancelot. Glasses are for old people.” Harry muttered as his feet kicked gently against the couch.

“Well I can partially agree, Harry. Older witches and wizards are more common to be seen wearing glasses, eyes are sensitive even for magic. One can only correct their eyes so often without risk of losing some sight, hence why older witches and wizards can be seen with glasses, to preserve their sight.” Lancelot explained as he pulled his wand and a small selection of glasses from his bag. Regulus furrowed his brows tightly together.

“However, my dear boy, you are too young to correct your sight. Much like your father.” Lancelot continued to him as he sat on the opposite side of Harry placing his bag on the table. Harry’s ears nearly moved; he perked up so much.

“My baba wore glasses?” He asked excitedly, tottering his hands in his knees with little smacks.

“Oh yes, the Potter’s were old friends. Euphemia, your grandmother, she worked with me for a very long time. I remember when she first showed up as a trainee healer. Bright eyed and fierce, just before the Global war started, she was fully trained the year it began. Her and I spent time overseas together, in the thick of the war. You learn about someone that way whether you wish to or not.” Lancelot nodded as he tinkered with a pair of rectangle spectacles. His wand tapped as the glass shimmered occasionally.

“There was another war?” Harry asked, leaning forward, his tantrum already forgotten. His eyes blinked as he put a hand just next to Lancelot’s leg trying to get him to elaborate. Lancelot looked from his own spectacles at Regulus, his eyes seeking permission before he spoke. Regulus enjoyed the respect Lancelot gave him, always asking permission before sharing anything with Harry. Regulus sighed, but nodded. Harry was growing, and he needed to know the history of his world. He was in the position to be surrounded by people who had lived it and could give himself first hand account, Regulus could not avoid the thrill it gave the bit of history buff in him. He loved learning even just for the sake of it, if he could pass some of that onto Harry, he’d be content.

“Yes, Harry. Before the war that took your parents, there was another war. Only there wasn’t much fighting in Britain, it was mainly abroad. France got hit terribly hard, they even had to close the school there for several years in fear of it being attacked. Your grandmother and I didn’t end up there. Gratefully, in retrospect, many lives were lost in France. Many healers and before this it has been considered a great taboo to kill a healer. Your Grandfather Arcturus, he lost his wife in the war when she went to France, right into the thick of it to try and heal.” Lancelot shook his head as he tried to put glasses on Harry. The thick frames and glass made his eyes look larger than life and his eyebrows nearly completely covered.

“Here Harry, can you read it?” Lancelot said, holding up a paper with letters printed on it. Lancelot’s finger was pointed to the middle one gently ruffling the paper. Harry’s face squinted and shrines as he tried to read it.

“A, B, C, D?” Harry tired as he lifted his eyebrows above the frame. Lancelot chuckled as he set the paper down and pulled the glasses from his face.

“Not quite, Harry.” Lancelot clicked his tongue as he held up another pair and began to tape against the glass rhythmically.

“How did Grandfather Arcturus’ wife die?” Harry asked, his head tilting and shuffling his hair.

“Oh that is a story for Grandfather Arcturus, Harry. He and Melanie had a very special relationship, they cared for one another very deeply. You will need to ask him, but don’t be upset if he doesn’t want to speak of it.” Lancelot chidded as he placed large circle lenses with thin wire frames on Harry's nose. The glasses were a bit large, but Harry could grow into them at least.

“Now?” Lancelot asked again, as he pointed to the row of letters.

“P, E, F, C, D.” Harry smiled as he clapped his hands and whipped around to look at Regulus.

“Good, Reggie?” Harry asked, tilting his head.

“Very handsome, Harry.” Regulus smiled as he bent down and squeezed Harry’s face in his hand. Harry twisted in his seat back to Lancelot.

“Good, Uncle Lancelot?” Harry asked as the glass bounced on his nose a bit. Lancelot removed them gently.

“Let me just adjust them, Harry.” Lancelot advised as he used his wand to tighten the ends. Harry nodded as his eyebrows tightened and he rubbed his head gently, just next to where the scar was.

“Does that hurt, Harry?” Regulus asked a bit of gasp in his breath as he pulled at Harry’s hand. The scar was a center of worry, a small ache in the back of his head. Helena checked it every year, the magic behind it had stopped fading. It never disappeared completely. She dragged every book she could find, researched every crevice of information. No had ever survived a killing curse, they could find nothing to help them.

“Headache.” Harry shook his head. Regulus could feel his heart slowly rising in his chest. Harry was wasn’t necessarily lying, but he knew how tense the home was. He enjoyed the semblance of peace that had recently struck. Harry was suppressing the truth, for the benefit of others.

“Can I take a look? I know your Aunt Helena has done a wonderful job and tried all she can, but a second look could help.” Lancelot offered as he took Harry’s free hand and squeezed it. Harry squeezed back as he pushed back his hair to reveal the faded scar. The pink and purple colors of his skin stretched as he aged, but the mark was there clear as day. The movement of a killing curse, cut into his head till the day he would perish. A horrid reminder of the suffering his life had already entailed.

“May sting a bit, squeeze my hand real hard if it hurts too much.” Lancelot explained as he gently placed the tip of his wand at the end of the scar. His aged face smiled as he did so, trying to ease the tense shoulder Harry now had. With a curt nod, as a few loose hair fell from Harry’s grasp there was a flicker of light. Soothing yellow light with warmth radiating from it, a diagnostic spell covered in comfort and warmth. A magic that only came from years of practice. A few moments passed, as Lancelot’s eyes read the different waves of the light, his eyebrows raising occasionally and his lips pressing hard together. Regulus rubbed a comforting, slow hand on Harry’s back as he watched intently. Only when Harry winced did Lancelot slowly retreat the comforting glow from his wand.

“Any pain, Harry?” Lancelot asked as he placed his wand in his lap and ran his thumb over the scar, causing a few hairs to raise on Regulus’ own arm in worry. Harry shook his head as he bowed his head, Lancelot’s cold hands removed from his head.

“Anything at all, Harry? I need to know everything in order to help.” Lancelot stated a bit firmly as he pressed a hand onto Harry’s knee.

“Hear voices, can’t hear the words, the words are blurry.” Harry mumbled as he picked a spot on his shorts, not daring to raise his head. Regulus felt a cold sweat drip down his back, feeling as it slowly trickled down his spine. Hearing voices wasn’t a good sign, not in any community that he could think of.

“The voices are muffled then? It’s hard to hear them?” Lancelot leaned forward, tucking a finger under Harry’s chin to bring his head up slightly. Harry stuck out his lower lip as he shook gently and nodded his head again. Regulus could feel a pit growing in his stomach, as more sweat trailed down his back.

“You need to see into his mind.” A voice called from the hall, causing Regulus to jump in his spot and grip onto Harry’s shirt with cracking knuckles, ready to throw Harry behind himself if needed. His grip eased as he landed on his grandfather, a tea cup in his hand and his long greying hair for once freed from the right knot he usually kept it in. Even from here, Regulus could smell the faint hints of smoke, he’d know the smell anywhere. Sirius' room had been just next to his and even when he cracked the window, the smell had still seeped under the opening in his door and filled his room. He didn’t think his grandfather smoked cigarettes, but he could be incorrect, or his grandfather had just come from seeing Sirius. He’d smelt the smoke a few times passing the sunroom and by the back door when he would walk out early in the morning. He wasn’t sure how Sirius had gotten his hands on a pack, but he wasn’t surprised.

“No.” Regulus said firmly. His grip tightened on Harry again, pulling him closer.

“I wouldn’t hurt him, Regulus.” Arcturus stated as he walked closer to them, his socks softening his steps.

“It’s Harry’s mind. He deserves to feel safe in his own mind.” Regulus' words wavered only slightly as he pulled Harry to his chest. The small boy gulped and stared at Regulus, but didn’t say anything.

Regulus knew what his grandfather was implying. He wanted to use his Legilimency on Harry to see what he was seeing. Regulus couldn’t let that happen. He was going to teach Harry Occlumency, he’d even figured he’d begin next year. That would be gentle and soft and kind though. Regulus would enter his mind slowly and carefully and they’d take breaks and discuss the spell and if Harry said no more, Regulus would stop, even if it would worry him not having the protection. Arcturus was not gentle, nor kind, nor soft. He and his father had taught Regulus Occlumency through harsh trial and error. He could still feel the restraint magic on his arms, the exploding pain in his mind, the screams he’d released.

His grandfather and father had spent hours the summer after his first year forcing him to work harder. He’d known the basics, but everyone could see where Sirius was heading by then. He’d never be the heir, their line would fall to Regulus, and they’d needed him to be harder and less skittish. So he’d been dragged from his bed one night and strapped down to a chair, and stripped of his wand. His grandfather and father taking turns entering his mind, forcefully and invasive leaving nothing untouched.

Pulling every memory they could find and yelling and hitting him when he couldn’t block them out. He had no privacy from them after those nights. Trial by fire, and it had taken a week. Seven long nights spent in the drawing room, covered in sweat and tears and blood. He’d been begging and thrashing around for them to stop, and they wouldn’t. It was one of the few times he ever saw the two of them work well together. It continued until they were finally satisfied with the results, his grandfather whispered to him gently that he was proud of him after it was done as he took the magical restraints off and Regulus had fallen nearly limp to the floor. A single cool touch to burning fire. He couldn’t keep them out if they truly wanted in, but it was satisfactory enough. In the end, he had been bitterly thankful for the lessons. If not, The Dark Lord would have seen through him in a minute, and he would have been dead on the floor the next.

“Ask him then.” Arcturus nodded towards the wide eyed boy in a regulus lap.

“No.” Regulus commanded, he could feel his eyes turning darker. He’d never defied his grandfather like this. He hardly directly defied anyone. He was weak like that, but not with Harry. Never with his Harry.

“Reggie.” Harry whispered, his green eyes a bit watery and he turned his neck upward. Regulus tried to smile, the tug on his cheeks faltering as he placed his hand on Harry’s head.

“Can Grandfather Acturus see? Can he see in my mind like you told me about?” Harry asked, his eyes flickering between the standoff between the two men.

“He can, Harry, but we don’t have to do that. We can find out another way.” Regulus explained, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he spoke. Harry looked thoughtfully at Regulus before turning to Grandfather Arcturus.

“It won’t hurt?” Harry asked, as Regulus loudly sucked in cold air through his teeth. Grandfather Arcturus set down his tea cup and bent down on his knees to be on Harry’s level. He placed his large, slightly wrinkled hands to Harry’s knees as he spoke.

“It may sting, maybe burn a bit. It shouldn’t be very painful.” Arcturus answered softly, his grey eyes flicking to Regulus for a moment, but he defiantly kept his eyes upward avoiding the glance. He had to swallow a scoff as he felt his face heat up. A bit was an understatement, the pain Regulus had felt was nearly as bad as the times he’d been Cruico.

“It was wrong.” Arcturus broke the silence. His voice wavering slightly.

“It was wrong what your father and I did. We were worried and we were scared. It’s an excuse, and not even a good one, but we were trying to protect you. You can’t say it didn’t help you, you can’t say it didn’t save you.” Arcturus’ voice was floating with guilt, but his eyes remained steady. Regulus felt a heat of guilt in his own throat as he petted Harry’s hair to keep him safe. His eyes flickered to where Lancelot leaned himself back into the corner of the couch, the oldest man shaking his head, but there was sympathy in his face. Lancelot knew Arcturus was right. They needed to see into Harry’s mind.

“Fine.” Regulus spat out quickly as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. “But I’m holding him, and if he seems he’s in any pain, you have to let go. No matter how close you think you might be, you let go.” Regulus demanded. His eyes warm and heavy, but still conveying his message. Arcturus nodded, resigning quietly as a man of his status does.

“Harry, I want you to relax. Lean back into Regulus, good boy. Now, try your hardest to think about what you just heard. Just the voices, clear your mind of anything else. Like when you're chasing the Snitch and you can only focus on it.” Arcturus explained, his voice taking a tone so soft. Regulus had never heard him speak that way before, he’d only heard the gruff deep sounds he usually spoke with. Harry shuffled himself back into Regulus' chest, closing his eyes gently as he hummed to himself. Regulus wrapped his arms tightly around Harry’s middle, keeping him as close as he could.

“Now, open your eyes, and stay relaxed.” Arcturus commanded as he put his hands on either side of Harry's face gently. Harry’s eyes opened for a moment, just a single moment before Regulus heard the light gasp. The sharp intake of breath. Regulus himself flinched even though it wasn’t him at the other end of the spell. Harry didn’t thrash or plead though, only stiffened slightly as silence surrounded them. Regulus felt his teeth clashing in his skull as he kept his grasp on Harry, carefully waiting for any sign of pain. The seconds passed and he did not waver. The only sign of the intrusion was his heavy breathing. Till the cry broke out.

A sob over calm Harry as he threw his head down and pushed harshly into his eyes with his fist. All three men quickly grappled onto the young boy, as he sniffled. The initial cries died in the corners of the room, as Harry pushed his head into his hands more. Regulus gapping as pushed Harry sideways on his lap to get a better look at him.

“Harry, you’re fine. I’m here, I’m here Harry. What hurts, tell us what hurts?” Regulus pleaded as Lancelot started to dig through his bag. Quickly pulling out a small vial of a potion.

“Harry, tilt back. Wonderful, yes drink it all, it will help.” Lancelot advises as cool liquid slipped into Harry’s mouth. A pain relieving potion Regulus noted.

“What happened?” Regulus snapped as he jerked his head to his grandfather. His anger faltered though, once he caught the look in his eyes. Fear, his eyes looked fearful, and his grandfather not once in his entire life had a look so dark and lost across his face. His defenses had never fallen so greatly. Regulus clutched Harry closer, rocking him in his arms. His chest pounding into Harry’s ear as Harry leaned into him whimpering slightly before he closed his eyes, relaxing as the potion took effect. Regulus pushed his lips to Harry’s head, as a few more sniffles escaped before he fell silent and with a few more moments his breath evened out and his hand went limp. He’d fallen asleep so quickly, Regulus was almost more worried. As he pushed his hair aside as watched every breath Harry took, counting the seconds between him.

“Those were not Harry’s memories.” His grandfather finally spoke from where he was knelt on the floor, shoulders bent and face hung. A vague look of shock seemed to cross his eyes for a moment.

“What do you mean?” Regulus asked, his voice cracking with every word as with all his will he held onto Harry.

“Those memories, the voices, they aren’t his.” Arcturus shook his head as his mouth gapped and his tongue licked his lip nervously. Regulus was unnerved by how shaken his grandfather was, the man was a rock in the worst of times, and now he leaned on the floor clearly broken by the pieces of memories he’d seen in Harry’s mind.

“Those were the Dark Lord’s memories.” Arcturus breathed out a second later.

-

Albus paced his office. A habit he’d never break after all these years, he’d begun it when he was but a mere Professor shoved in a water closet sized office and could take two steps forward before having to turn. The thoughts in his mind seemed collectively more precise when he moved. Professor Trewanley would say the movement gave one clear sight into the beyond from
kinetic energy flowing forward. He chuckled to himself, he did love his imitations of the fellow Professors that floated around in his head.

A sharp rapt on his large wooden door broke his thoughts as he drifted to wondering how Professor Flitwick would explain his eccentric behavior, likely with plenty of sputtering noises. He cleared his throat loudly, waking some of the closer portraits as he noted shuffling movements out of the corner of his small eyes. The scratchy sound of his voice was met with the swishing sound of air being pushed around as the door flung open with some force. Dumbledore wasn't stunned to see drooping black robes enter the room attached to a brooding young face. Severus was a frequent nighttime visitor.

“Severus, how delightful. I was just beginning to think we had a falling out with how long it has been since you’ve trudged up from your dungeons.” Dumbledore smirked as he flared his robes behind him with a fluttering sound and turned to stand behind the large cluttered desk in his office. The chaos is a product of an earlier adventure, where he emptied his desk drawers in the pursuit of answers. He did not find any.

“Headmaster, my apologies, but the present term seems rather precarious. Why you’ve allowed that Weasley boy to become Prefect, I’ll never understand. I know he and his brother were the ones to set off dungbombs in my supply closet. Miss Tonks was in detention and for once, it couldn’t have been her.” Severus snapped as his boots hit stone. Dumbledore chuckled to himself, he was rather fond of the two eldest Weasley children. William was daring and intellectual and Charles was wild and adventurous, they both reminded him of two fellow red headed boys who had once wandered these halls causing chaos. That was before the war truly began, and before those boys would become men who would die a valiant death.

“Come sit Severus, ignore the mess I was searching for answers that seem to escape me”. Dumbledore answered, as he waved to the free seat across from him.

“Answers to what exactly?” Severus inquired, the bridge of his nose scrunching just slightly.

“Time will tell Severus, let us hope we both make it to see.” Dumbledore answered, purposely being vague.

“More to do with the Dark Lord, sir?” Services asked cashing his eyes to narrow. Not much could pass the young Professor.

“He will return, Severus and when he does I must ask too much of you again.” Dumbledore answered solemnly as he finally took his seat with a creak of the old wood. Sererus nearly floated into his own seat.

“I am in your debt, Headmaster.” He answered methodically. Dumbledore chuckled as he removed his glasses.

“I don’t take repayments for my favors Severus, but once the time comes. I must ask you to return to him. We will need an inside look at his workings more than ever.” Dumbledore hummed.

“And young Mister Potter? Does he play a role in this?” Severus asked, his eyes flicking a bit, giving away a bit of his stoic demeanor.

“More than he could ever know.” Dumbledore whispered, his hands clasping onto one another. After many years, this had to be one of the hardest tasks he had to prepare for. Harry had to be so carefully handled once he returned to Dumbledore’s graces, everything had to be precariously lied out. Harry would have to willingly accept his fate, or they may never see the end of this war.

“He will be safe, you gave me your word.” Severus interrupted Dumbledore’s thoughts.

“Indeed, I will do my best to keep him from harm.” Dumbledore nodded. Until the time is right, those were the words left unspoken.

“And now, he’s safe wherever you have hidden him.” Severus scoffed, his words bitter at his lack of inclusion.

“He is being cared for and raised in the way that is best for him.” Dumbledore replied tactfully. Dedalus had reported promptly four times a year. Harry was healthy and growing though sometimes a bit stiff. All which seemed to play into the raising in a Black Family Household. A bit of pain would only add the character needed.

“I found this, tucked away in the dungeons when the Weasley brothers blew up the closet; it must have come loose. Slughorn’s most likely, made me recall, is he also still within his bounds?” Severus scoffed as he pulled a tattered, slightly burned photo from his robes pushing it towards Dumbledore. The old wizard placed his glasses on the end of his nose as he held the picture and arm’s length away. A small smile pulling at his lips.

It was a photo of the Slytherin Quidditch team, cheering and celebrating silently. Slughorn was holding his vest and a drink in his hands. In the middle with the Quidditch Cup in hand, was no other than young Mister Regulus Black. It must have been his sixth year, the tautness to his face had gotten worse that year. If his information was correct, he’d gotten the Dark Mark just the summer prior. Voldemort used Mister Black as a chance to funnel information out of Hogwarts, and to try and spy on Albus himself. The youngest marked Death Eater Dumbledore had ever known, his mother’s doing most likely. She’d been infatuated with Tom while they were at school together. He would not have put it past Walburga to offer her heir up to Voldemort with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, Severus. Regulus is still within his bounds.” Dumbledore replied.

“May I keep this?” He asked, lifting the photo back into view, Severus only grunted in reply. Dumbledore tucked the photo into one of his desk drawers. One day, it may prove most useful.

“Now tell me about these Weasley boys, I had in mind to make the second one perfect as well.” Dumbledore changed the subject with a twinkle in his eye as Severus dejectedly sighed and threw his hands to his side. Dumbledore knew how to distract Severus, after all it never was very difficult.

Chapter Text

The brisk wind broke against his nose, the first signs of fall dangling in the air like a slowly fallen leaf. The cracked sidewalk rustled with rubbish and weeds, the third block from the flat had a crack so sideways he had to sidestep to the left to avoid tripping. Some days when lost in thought the habit would forsake him and his ankle would pulse the rest of the trip home. Today was nearly one of those days as his foot paused only a moment before his loafers struck against the raised concrete. With a dejected sigh, he stepped wide over it to the lopsided other end before continuing his walk.

He used to enjoy fall. It was one of his favorite seasons, the brutal heat fading away and the air getting clear again. Before the biting cold and light whiffs of snow would cover the rooftops, and he’d be left alone in the shivering cold once a month confused and shuttering behind raised fur. The wolf hated the cold of winter, despised the raging heat of summer, and growled at all the disorienting scents of spring. Even from a young age, fall had been his one reprieve in his monthly horrors. A gentle caress to his nightmare, allowing a few months to breathe before he was stuck in an endless cycle of terrors again. Fall didn’t bring peace anymore.

Remus sighed as he jingled for his key in his worn out pocket. There was a hole in the lining they sometimes caught on if he didn’t shake them around to free them first. His feet hit the first steps with vigor as he shook his shoulder before using it to push open the door with it. The full moon had been a week prior, but he couldn’t seem to shake it as his shoulder smarted and his feet pulse from the effort. As he paused a moment before scaling the stairs inside to reach the level with his flat, his hands rested on the wall as he took a deep breath before slowly taking one step at a time.

Typically, now his moons were bearable. Granted the pain of transforming still raged his body and caused miserable pain. At least, once the change was over, he could force himself to cower in a corner whimpering pathetically as the wolf would lick the few wounds. His mind was the dominant one now, and the wolf only a background noise, thanks to the potion he’d been receiving steadily every month for several years now. When the letter had first arrived he worried about taking a mysterious potion, even avoiding it the first month. When he came back racked with scratches over his chest and across his face worse than many of the years before, he’d swallowed his pride and chugged the disgusting goblet full of liquid every day for a week the next month. Then he chained himself to a tree and waited, barely optimistic the potion would work. Only it did.

After the pain had subsided, he realized he was still there in his own head. He, Remus Lupin, had control over the wolf for the first time in his life. He let out a crazed howl for most of the night in celebration, until he changed again at the first inkling of sunrise, to fall to the ground naked and slightly wet from rain as he sobbed into the dirt not worrying about the mess of his face. His cheeks smarted and damp and covered in dirt as he raised his face and thanked with all his might whomever had sent it to him. He didn’t even know who knew or cared about him enough to register him from a program to receive such a rare and expensive potion, but he’d kiss them if he could. He suspected it was Dumbledore if he had to guess, the Headmaster had always taken a liking to him. He couldn’t care to hunt him down though, they weren’t quite on speaking turns yet.

The door to his flat pushed open with a crack as he immediately flopped his shoes off his feet. The flat was in an older building, made at the turn of the century with a few flaws that came with such. Still it was well maintained and the flat itself was rather open and airy with sound structure and a decent view of the park on the other side of the street. He dropped his keys on the old rickety front table he’d picked enough pounds together to purchase after he broke the original one in a fit of rage. They had bought it together, the two of them searched all day and high and low for that front table. No one could blame him after what he’d been through for taking a bat to it and letting out built up frustrations.

His coat slipped off his shoulders as he shrugged it across one of the dining chairs as he passed by the kitchen. The main area was indisputably his favorite room, the large picture windows with cream colored drapes and the bright sunlight that would on the rare occasion flood the room made it seem even larger. He shuffled his feet over the soft wool rug, a remnant of the prior owner. He’d only met Alphard Black once, in passing really. One year he had come to collect Regulus and Sirius from King’s Cross before the Christmas holidays. He’d been sick even then, bundled in a thick coat and layered with scarves and mittens against a chill it seemed only he could feel as he smiled at his nephews. That’s what had struck him most peculiar about Alphard, not the fur-lined coat or the eccentric mix of patterns in his clothes or the way his hands waved around when he spoke, but that he smiled. As far as Remus had ever known, Blacks weren’t supposed to smile.

He’d certainly never seen either Orion or Walburga smile all the times they stood stiff as rods waiting for their sons. Regulus had a near always frown plastered on his face with his eyes hidden behind heavy bangs and his sunken cheeks. The few years he’d spotted Narcissa at Hogwarts, her lips were always pinched and poised, but never turned upward. He once caught a glimpse of an aunt with the hint of happiness on her lips. Sirius had said she was alright. A bit distant, but never cruel. She was the Prewetts aunt as well, Remus never could wrap his head around how interconnected all the family’s of pureblood were. His father had been considered pure blooded enough, but they never spoke much on it and he’d gone and married Muggle. Ruining a perfectly good line as the Slytherins had sneered at him often, he vaguely remembers James, Sirius, and even occasionally Peter snapping back at them. Three pureblood friends with a pisspoor half-blood.

His eyes dropped as he watched the sun begin to sink below the edges of the buildings. Many of them were taller than his own, but he liked the quaintness of this place. He hadn’t been sure he was going to stay, in fact, he’d abandoned it mere days after that night so few yet so many years ago. He’d gone home. His father was still in mourning over his wife, and when his son showed up sobbing and pathetic at his doorway, even he couldn’t turn him away. That’s how it was for a few weeks, the two of them still distant and hardly speaking. Every morning though, his father would fry up eggs and every evening Remus would make tea. His father didn’t ask questions, one of his few redeeming traits, and Remus was thankful. He had spent weeks on edge feeling as if he was tottering on the end of the cliffs out in the seasides of Wales, daring himself to jump off. He’d lived in pain for so long, what was a few mere seconds of pain before it all ended?

He’d returned to London only to gather a few items. The dust had filled his lungs when he opened the door, and a storm had been raging outside the thunder shaking the old windows. His breath had been short and his chest tight as he moved like a ghost around the past surrounding him. Feeling as if any moment the head of thick black hair would pop around the corner to spook him. To tell him it had all been one horrid nightmare. A final ill advised prank. No noise ever came except for his shuffling and packing, until he came across an old stuffed toy shoved between the seat cushions. His hand had shook as he lifted it to eye level before he found himself curled over his knees sobbing into the dirt cover black cloth of a dog stuffed toy.

His eyes had burned by the time he finally finished sobbing like a child. His throat was scratchy and his hands unsteady as he began to collect the rest of Harry’s loose items from the flat. Harry hadn’t been there in awhile, but still small pieces of him remained behind, causing a burning so deep in Remus’ chest he felt he might explode as he placed small toy figurines on top of half used crayons. Maybe he was crazy, the box may never even find him, he had thought as he placed the last few memories he had tucked safely into the box. The few pictures and letters he had to spare, Harry may never even see them. Dumbledore had said he was safe, given to family to care for him. He hadn’t said it, but his eyes had. Remus wasn’t fit to take him, and he needed to let Harry go.

James didn’t have any family left that he spoke of. It left only Lily’s family, her Muggle sister and that thick husband of hers. Remus didn’t like the idea of Harry being with them, but Dumbledore was right. How could he ever properly care for Harry? He’d finished boxing up the items and had shaken a few spare knuts from his pocket to send two owls on their way to find the Muggle family. Maybe with a bit of grace, they’d at least give Harry the few memories he could have of his parents and the family they had made. Before it had all been ripped out from under their feet. Remus and Harry both left abandoned and scarred.

Remus kicked slightly at the fraying edge of the rug as he shrugged off the memories. Halloween was next week, and he’d been dreading it since the first cool breeze hit his face. The painful ache in his stomach that made it hard to digest even toast had been twisting for days now. Maybe it is why the moon had impacted him so much, he’d read an article once when he was a teenager, written by one I. Prewett, that emotions played a vital role in the transformation of a werewolf. Remus had clung to the words of that article like they were holy, it was one of the first ones he had read that didn’t make him out to be a monster. That didn’t destroy him between every line of phrase, instead it had gone into deep detail and explained observations made up to and following the full moon on a pack not far from his family’s home. I. Prewett had cared enough to study the unstudiedable and defied the majority by doing so. It wasn’t a popular article by any means, but it had meant the world to Remus.

His father had found him studying it one day when he came home oddly early from work. His father typically left with the sun and returned with the dusk. There had been a hollow look under his eyes as he picked up the pieces of paper and flipped through them. A tug to his lips that may have been a sneer. His eyes flickering over the name again and again. His chest puffing with some effort as he threw the papers to the ground splashing them all throughout the floor and dangerously close to the fire.

“Ignatius, always a right fool. All prim and proper once he made his marriage, had the freedom and funds to do everything he wanted unchallenged all of the sudden.” Lyall Lupin had grunted as his work boots stopped over the papers tearing a few of the pages. Remus had nearly whimpered under his breath as picked up each page carefully. Using delicate magic to bind the pages back together before he stuffed them hidden away in his school trunk, never daring to take them out at home again.

He sighed again as he plopped down on his bed. It was a small wire frame that leaned to the side a bit, he’d gotten it second hand. When he decided he’d stay after a letter from Sirius’ distant relative had implored him too, he’d gone out of his way to replace any and all objects that were too painful to look at. The bed had been first. Though his aching muscles missed the perfectly coordinated and plush feather mattress and the overly large sleeping space, the bed had needed to go. The memories ingrained in the sheets, the sleepless nights on the pillows, and the emptiness of the one side were too painful to bear. He’d burned it in the end.

His aching wrist snapped as he pulled the drawer open at the bedside table. Another remnant of the previous owner with its stately black stained wood and brass fixtures. It looked terribly out of place next to the sunken mattress and gaudy gold painted frame, but he hadn’t felt the urge to replace it when it held less memories and was so rich to look at. Tucked in the back corner was the rough edged corner of a picture frame he had to pull out from under some papers. He didn’t reach this far back often for a reason. With heavy guilt in his lungs, he turned the frame over to stare at the barely moving picture.

He looked so much younger there. Only a few months out of his teens with light chestnut hair still, his hair now already had a few streaks of grey at the temples. He wasn’t even thirty. The patterned sweater had been a bit inappropriate for the weather of summer, but he’d worn it to cover an ugly gash on his arm. The photo was taken only days after the full moon. It had just been him and Sirius and the wolf had been thrown off by the lack of its other friends. They had forced James to stay behind. It was too close to Lily’s due date, Remus would never let himself live it down if James missed the birth of his son. Peter had excused himself, saying he needed to work late. Peter worked late often back then. He didn’t want the gash to make James feel responsible, not when Harry was born only a few days later. His hair was already showing from the moment he was born and the bright green eyes opened to the world with unbridled joy. It’s how he looked in the photo, wrapped in Remus’ arms as Lily had cooed behind the camera. It had been so peaceful then. If only they had known. Remus never saw another one of Harry’s birthdays again.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I should have seen it. I should have saved them.” Remus whispered as gentle tears struck the glass frame with a light ring. His hand caressed the chubby cheek as he allowed himself to sob for a few moments. Halloween was only a week away.

-

“What in Merlin are you saying, Arcturus?” Cassiopeia’s voice rang as she stood with her night robes on and her hair pinned up tapping her foot against the floors in the middle of the kitchen.

“I’m saying unless one year old Harry yielded a wand and murdered his own parents, the memories are not his!” Arcturus replied forcefully from where he leaned heavily on the kitchen sink. Regulus flinched at the abrasive words, but kept his hands gently folded in front of him. It had been on like this for nearly an hour now. After the discovery earlier that day, Regulus had swallowed guilt and shame as he took Harry out to play on his broom. The weight of the situation was not lost on him, but trying to keep his face light and happy as Harry zoomed around with new glasses tight on his nose chasing after the Snitch. It was only after dinner and tea, when Regulus laid Harry down in his bed that he found the kitchen full of tense adults. All with differing views on the situation.

“You don’t need to be so harsh, father. It’s hard for anyone to understand.” Lucretia snapped from where she was leaning in the doorway, her husband ever towering behind her with a tight look to his face.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me either, and I was the one who saw it.” Arcturus grumbled back, but still reigned in his tone.

“It must be magic. We’ve all known there was magic trapped behind it for years, magic that stopped fading some time ago.” Cassiopeia offered. There was a tense moment of silence.

“You two are the healers, certainly you must have some professional opinion?” Arcturus scoffed as his arms crossed and his eyes stared out the window. Helena and Lancelot sat across from one another, Marius to Helena’s side as tea steamed in front of them.

“I may have been alive for sometime now, but I just like everyone in this room have only ever known one person to survive a killing curse.” Lancelot added with a tint of bitterness to his words. Arcturus only shuffled closer to the window. Regulus was chewing on his inner cheek as his hands fidgeted in his grasp. He leaned against a wall opposite his grandfather and he could feel the emotion radiating from him. His grandfather didn’t like to be surprised, nor did he like to feel out of control. Both he was feeling since he’d looked into Harry’s mind.

“Could it just be remnants of the magic trapped in the wound? The Dark Lord, as he liked to be called, practiced all types of dark arts, dare I say even more than our family. His magic could have imploded within him when he died. Parts of it could have gotten sucked into Harry, since he was the aim of the last spell.” Lucretia offered, leaning her head back against her husband's chest, her eyes looking tired and her cheeks puffy with exhaustion. Ignatius wrapped his arms around her waist to support her as she fell comfortably into them.

“It would make sense, the last memories he had trapped in what would have been his last victim.” Helena mumbled as her hands gripped the tea. Her eyes were thoughtful as her husband put a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Her eyes flickering gratefully at him for a moment.

“Do you know anymore?” A voice rang in Regulus' direction as he worked not to flinch again. He could feel his grandfather’s eyes looking at him. Regulus swallowed as Cassiopeia's foot stopped tapping. She knew he knew more, but she hadn’t told a soul.

“Blood magic.” Regulus swallowed again trying to clear his throat.

“Dumbledore said Lily cast a spell that caused Harry to be protected by blood magic.” Regulus muttered as his cheeks flushed, his only hope that his bowed head covered it.

“Blood magic? Blood magic is ancient, and dark, and it isn’t taught at Hogwarts any longer. Headmaster Dippet removed most of the collections and I’m certain Albus removed the rest. How could a Mud—” Arcturus made a sharp pause as Regulus and several others stared the older man down.

“My apologies, how could a Muggleborn have any access to information on blood magic, let alone learn to cast it without any proper teachings?” Arcturus posed. Regulus supposed he had a point. Even he would be wary casting any magic that dealt with blood. It was dangerous even thinking about it for the way one's blood would boil at the idea.

“Well, do you have any ideas, Arcturus? Of the lot of us you’d be the one to know if any blood magic prevents someone from dying.” Cassiopeia pointed her chin at her cousin as Arcturus crumpled under his breath.

“That seems to go against the very nature of blood magic, it’s typically used to kill someone, not save them.” Arcturus mumbled as his hand reached through his hair raking at a few knots in the back of the thick grey and black color.

“However?” Cassiopeia posed. When he didn’t respond instantly she continued.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t dabbled in blood magic, Arcturus. I know the marks, I know the signs. It wasn’t just once either, cousin. There must be more information.” She accused her foot tapping harshly against the floor with each word. Arcturus looked at her through thick eyelashes before he let out a sputtering breath.

“I haven’t dealt in blood magic in many years.” Arcturus admitted. There was ferreting silence as the words sunk in. Regulus shouldn’t have been surprised, his grandfather was a maestro of the Dark Arts, still blood magic was another breed.

“When I did, it always meant death. If this Muggleborn was messing with blood magic she was lucky to live as long as she did. More than likely, she cast a spell to kill the Dark Lord, rather than to prevent her son from dying.” Acturus sighed as his shoulders caved slightly.

“No!” A cry came from the hall, all the eyes turning to the doorway where Lucretia and Ignatius leaned. Sirius had appeared with his hands balled up into fists and his eyes glittering. A stark scene against his nearly white pyjamas and the black shadowy background.

“Lily was a light witch, she’d never even consider dabbling in such Dark Arts like blood magic.” Sirius accused, his nose flaring after each syllable.

“You would be surprised at the lengths people will go to for their children.” Arcturus pointed out as Sirius scoffed loudly.

“As if you would know.” Sirius snorted, his eyes rolling.

“Sirius!” Lucretia hissed as she pushed forward to swat at his behavior. Sirius stepped longways to avoid her.

“Why was I not consulted for this meeting? Harry is my godson, or have you all conveniently forgotten?” Sirius accused as he stared down each of them for a moment,

“Some godfather you are, always locking yourself away. Muttering and cursing at us under your breath, while we take care of Harry.” Arcturus scoffed as he pushed off the counter to stare down his grandson with darkened eyes and a heavy demeanor that demanded respect. Sirius didn’t shrink away as was expected of him, but he didn’t retort either.

“Now, what could the blood magic be, it would have had to be powerful. The Dark Lord wasn’t going to die easily.” Arcturus stated as the stare down between him and Sirius continued. Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his place, there was a piece of him that knew he should admit it. A nagging voice in his head that implored him that his information was important to the situation at hand. He chewed on his lip as no one dared respond to Arcturus' question. Eventually his grandfather stepped away from Sirius, Regulus fidgeting more as he felt his grandfather hone in on him, Regulus shuddered slightly. There was no point in hiding any longer, if he didn’t speak soon his grandfather would only force it out of him in a moment.

“What if he made a horcrux?” Regulus squeezed barely above an audible level. There was a silence so loud it rang in his ears and alerted every internal alarm he had.

“Pardon?” Lancelot breathed out nearly instantly, but Regulus couldn’t bother to answer. His grandfather’s face had turned ashen, a pale color so weak, it reminded him of when his father had gotten so terribly sick he could no longer leave bed without assistance. It was a deathly pale color.

“No.” Arcturus whispered as his head shook. His eyes knocked around quickly in his skull, flickering over every space in the room as his shoulder tenses. He was deep in thought, and racing with worry at the same time. Regulus couldn’t swallow anymore as his hands began to shake. He turned his head downward, which ended up being an error on his part. He didn’t see him coming until his slippers were just next to him and his hands were pushed against his shoulder so rough they’d leave bruises that lasted for days.

“What?” Sirius screamed in his face with spit striking Regulus' cheek as his head struck the back wall with a dizzying force. He tried to thrash his hands, but his brother's grip was painfully burning into his skin and holding him into place.

“You knew, you knew he’d done that and you still joined him anyways?” Sirius continued to scream as his hot breath caught Regulus' nose as he twisted his head side to side trying to catch the breath that had been half-knocked out of him.

“What kind of low-life useless waste of a wizard joins a man who is dark enough to create such a vile object? Were you that desperate for power? Were you so weak you couldn’t resist him?” Sirius’ voice cracked with emotion as he shook Regulus' shoulder, hammering his back into the wall with each movement as Regulus felt his head going empty and sideways. He could hear voices yelling in the background, but they were muffled and distant. He needed to calm Sirius down or he’d be flat out on the floor in a moment again.

“I destroyed it.” Regulus gasped out as dots of lights crossed his vision. Sirius didn’t seem to hear over his labored breathing and constant shaking.

“I destroyed it!” Regulus yelled this time as he brought his knee up to kick his brother in the middle of his stomach. Sirius’ gripped slipped instantly as he doubled over grabbing at his side and shaking with wracking coughs. Regulus felt himself slide down the wall tucking his hands around his knees when he felt the floor touch his bottom. He could feel his shoulders shuddering and his heart racing in his throat, but he needed to finish his words as Sirius turned up to look at him behind his wild hair before another fit of coughing took over.

“I found out after I joined him. When I did, I dug through every book and paper and theory I could find. Then I had to gather the horcrux and I thought I was going to die. I was ready to die, but I didn’t. I lived and when I had the chance, I destroyed it. It’s why I ran away, it's why I hid. If he ever knew, if any of his Death Eaters knew.” Regulus shook his head as he leaned his forehead into his knees. He felt childish, but it worried him even now. The war was long gone and over, but he was still worried if anyone were to figure it out. There were so many Death Eaters roaming free. Anyone of them would be more than happy to kill a traitor like him. His head would be a prize among all prizes. His breath came in shudders as he felt a hand rubbing his back. He could tell without looking, Cassiopeia had come to comfort him. He squeezed his eyes tight as a few salty tears escaped down his cheeks to his lips. There was a tapping of feet crossing the kitchen and a heavy sigh released.

“The two of you, always fighting. Reminds me of my own brother and I, our sister used to say we could only get along when we had a common goal in mind. Maybe the two of you should take that advice.” Arcturus sighed, Regulus could hear his fingers rubbing at his temples. Regulus gasped a few more times before he was able to glance upwards at where his grandfather stood. Briefly he noted Lucretia leaned down over Sirius, rubbing his back and whispering for him the breath slowly in his ear. His brothers sat defeated on the floor with his legs outstretched and his back hunched. Another voice sighed as he saw Lancelot leaned down to check Sirius as Helena patted over with her thick legs peeking out from under her night dress to check Regulus.

“Well, a horcrux would make this a difficult and very sensitive matter.” Lancelot sighed as he pulled his wand from his side. Arcturus only nodded in agreement as he turned his back on them and went to stare out the window with his arms spread wide against the counter.

“It makes this almost impossible.” He said to himself, his lips barely moving and no one behind him heard the words he uttered as they dolled over the two young men on the floor. He had met many matches in his life, but never one so desperate as this maniac wizard. Difficult and sensitive were mere drops in the lake of darkness they had yet to cross over.

Chapter Text

Sirius sat out on the back steps staring into the moon. A cigarette warm at his fingertips as he let out smoke from the corner of his lips. He found packs left on the table in the sunroom every week now, his grandfather supplying him with at least one comfort. Not that it made his situation any better, only more tolerable. It had to be nearing midnight as he breathed in again, Halloween was only a few days away.

Apparently the guests would need to vacate for a few hours. A trip of sorts that his Aunt Lucretia was having a joy planning. He supposed she thought Sirius would be excited to get out of the home for a few hours, even under Polyjuice Potion and surrounded like a prisoner by his family as he was escorted around a village, never alone. His back shuddered just thinking of it, like he was a child unable to control his own actions.

Dedalus was coming. He’d been coming four times a year to check on Harry on Dumbledore’s behalf. A part of Sirius wanted to try and slip away from his family, run over the hills and find Dedalus. They had been Order members together, allies once. He could plead his case and beg to be taken away from here, to go to Dumbledore. Explain his side of the story, have Dumbledore help him track down Pettigrew. Bring justice to James and Lily, clear his name once and for all. Maybe he could rightfully take Harry, fly back to London on his motorbike with Harry’s broom in tow and if the stars aligned, he could plead for forgiveness from the one person he had left. Maybe Remus would take them both back, if he only knew the truth.

Maybe he was spending too much time surrounded by Slytherins, usually he’d jump at a wild chance of freedom. Hadn’t he been the one to pack his bags and run at the first break of light when he was living with his parents. Hadn’t he been the one to come up with the idea to hex all the Slytherins brooms under Madam Hooch's nose. Now, he could only see the flaws. What if Dedalus went to the dementors first? What if he was dragged before the Wizengamot and demanded to know how he had escaped?

He had no qualms ratting on his grandfather, but even he couldn’t deny the safety that Arcturus Black guaranteed. If he exposed him, he’d eventually expose Harry by default. There were plenty of Death Eaters that had slithered their way out of prison sentences, wasn’t his own cousin and her husband one? What would stop any of them from hunting down Harry if they knew? Arcturus was one of the few wizards left that people truly feared, and if he was trapped in Azkaban, could Sirius keep Harry safe? At one point, he would take a hundred Death Eaters to save Harry. That was before he was betrayed, before he was proven wrong. Before he’d gotten his best mate killed and nearly Harry as well. No, he couldn’t stand up to Death Eaters any longer, maybe he needed his grandfather and his status to keep them safe and hidden. The thought left a burnt taste in his mouth as he shook his head and breathed more smoke into his lungs.

“Padfoot?” A small voice called from behind him. Sirius whipped around, nearly losing his grasp on his cigarette as he did. Harry was standing in his pyjamas with his old dog toy clutched in his fist as his other arm rubbed his eyes.

“Harry, it’s late. You should be in bed.” Sirius mumbled as he pushed the end of the cigarette into the stone steps watching as a few pieces of ash floated away.

“You come out here a lot. I wanted to see what you do.” Harry shrugged as he bounced down the steps. He sat his small figure on the edges of the step Sirius sat on and tucked his legs under one another as he sat his stuffed Padfoot onto his lap humming lightly.

“There’s Cassiopeia.” Harry pointed to a far corner of the dark lit sky. His hands made a light tracing movement. Sirius looked at the stars, and true enough, Harry was pointing to the correct constellation.

“Arcturus is visible in the spring, and Sirius in the summer. Regulus is best seen in winter, but I think you can see it right there if you look really close.” Harry continued pointing farther away and squinting his eyes. Sirius didn’t need to look, he’d caught a glimpse of the star earlier.

“Andromeda is next to Cassiopeia. Reggie said that Lucretia is a comet.” Harry rambled a bit as he swung his arm back towards the Cassiopeia constellation. Sirius swallowed as he glanced at the swirling glowing light barely seen next to Cassiopeia. Regulus had taught Harry about Andromeda. Even if only her place in the sky.

“Do you know where Bellatrix is?” Sirius whispered under his breath. A small test hidden in a simple question.

“Um it’s in Orion’s constellation, you can’t see that quite yet. I know Pollux and Castor are on the belt though!” Harry answered excitedly. Sirius ticked his tongue as he thought, Harry knew where Andromeda was without a second thought, but Regulus hadn’t hounded in the idea of Bellatrix, his fellow Death Eater.

“You should do well in Astronomy, Harry. You’re very smart.” Sirius whispered as he leaned slightly closer to his godson. A small voice inside him said it shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t be anxious around his own godson, he shouldn’t be looking at him through a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. They should be best friends. Sirius should have taught him the stars, and how to fly, and how to joke.

In a perfect world, James and Sirius would be arguing over whether Harry would be a chaser or a beater, not him being a natural Seeker, not him being like Regulus. Harry should look at the stars with disdain after Sirius told him nearly all the awful people named after them, not look at them with glory. He should be good at potions because his mother and father were, and they taught him. Not because some distant uncle brought him out to a shed to be taught every potion under the sun. He should love to read because Remus would shove every book he ever owned in his little hands, not because Cassiopeia Black had a library of envy and the two spent time there together. Harry’s life should have been so different.

“Padfoot?” Harry asked as he drew his eyes downward from the glow of the skies. Sirius turned to look at him leaning his chin into his shoulder.

“Do you hate Reggie?” Harry asked bluntly as he tucked his toy close to his chest and his feet wiggled in his dragon socks. Sirius felt all color drain from his face. There was an emptiness in his stomach that no food could ever quell. A quiver to his lips as he blinked against his eyes heavily, unsure why tears were forming as he opened his mouth twice before shutting it being unable to speak. His head shook slightly.

“Harry, it’s complicated.” Sirius stuttered out after several awkward moments of staring.

“He says he’s done bad things. Very bad things, he says he’ll tell me one day, when I’m older. But even if he’s done bad things, he’s still my Reggie.” Harry shook his head as he tightened the grip on his Padfoot toy even more, one ear was broken off and one of the eyes looked loose, but it was still the toy Sirius had gifted him when he was only a few days old. He could almost hear Lily’s giggles and James’ booming laughter when he pulled the toy out as Remus sighed into his hand. How simple it had all been then. When brothers were dead and friends weren’t traitors.

“He’s your brother.” Harry whispered as he pouted into his knees, pulling them close to his chest.

“If I had a brother, I’d want to be his best friend.” Harry mumbled as one foot loosely kicked at the end of the stone step. Somehow those words cut like a knife to his chest and submerged him in frozen water with pain. Hadn’t he and Regulus been best friends? Back when they were so small they could barely walk, and their mother kicked him down the stairs and Regulus had screamed loud enough for their father to hear. Hadn’t Orion pushed his own wife so hard against the wall her head cracked, and Sirius had gripped his little brother’s hand and they ran. Hadn’t they always used that little abandoned closet to hide together? Didn’t they have toys stashed there and spare pieces of food in case they needed to hide away from the yelling for days? Hadn’t they been best friends before?

That was before. Before Sirius started to rebel, before he was sorted in Gryffindor and Regulus in Slytherin. Before Sirius ran away and Regulus stayed. Before Sirius joined the Order and Regulus the Death Eaters. They weren’t the same people they had been before. There was too much history there, they couldn’t be friends any longer. He could hardly imagine speaking without getting into a fight.

“Harry?” A person called from behind them, just inside the door.

“Reggie!” Harry uncurled himself as his eyes lit up and his body turned to face the door. A part of Sirius ached as he watched, Harry should be that excited to see him. Regulus didn’t deserve Harry’s adoration.

“Harry, it’s midnight! Why are you out of bed?” Regulus asked as the door lightly pushed open, creaking some of the way. He could feel his brother still as he noticed Sirius sitting on the steps next to Harry.

“Was showing Padfoot the stars!” Harry jumped up as he climbed up the stairs to Regulus.

“Oh, well very good Harry, but you should get some sleep. Uncle Ignatius promised to show you a new way to degnome the garden, remember? You’ll need to be well rested to catch them.” Regulus sighed as he bent down and picked up Harry. He was getting too large to be picked up anymore. It seemed everyone in the house babied him too much. James wouldn’t want his son babied. Spoiled? Maybe, but not babied.

“The stars, Regulus. I have to find my own names.” Harry pointed upward as he spoke. Sirius' ear twitched as he tried to listen closer.

“I’ve told you Harry. Choose your own names, they don’t have to be the stars.” Regulus signed as he pushed Harry up with some effort.

“But I want to, Reggie! I want lots of babies, and I want to name them all after stars!” Harry whined as he leaned his head sleepily against Regulus' chest.

“Well, you’re a long time from having babies, Harry. You could always change your mind. Now come on, I can tuck you in again.” Regulus offered dejectedly advice Harry started to squirm.

“No, I need to find a star!” Harry demanded as he tried to push himself out of Regulus’ grip.

“Harry, no. Come on, we can find a star another night.” Regulus mumbled as he looked at Sirius, who was staring him down with dark eyes.

“What if all three of us found you a star? Would you like that? Me, you and Padfoot?” Regulus offered his face going grey as he said Sirius’ nickname. Sirius didn’t hate how it sounded though. Harry stopped squirming as he looked excitedly between the two men. Sirius' eyes narrowed as his jaw tensed while he looked at his brother above him.

“Find a common goal, isn’t that what grandfather said?” Regulus mumbled as he finally let Harry down. Sirius was thoughtful for a moment as a breeze hit his back and ruffled the yard around them. He could bear it for Harry.

“Yeah, Harry. If you go to sleep now. After Halloween, one night we will stay up as late as you want looking at the stars.” Sirius gritted trying to disguise the distaste in his mouth as he did.

Harry bounced excitedly on the tips of his toes as he eyed the two men, too distracted to read the tense nature of the air surrounding them. He was still a child, one that wanted them to get along, and if they couldn’t try for Harry, then who could they try for? Regulus bowed his head as he nodded along, unable to say any words for the threat of his voice failing him. His heart was pounding in between his ears and he reached out and rubbed the mess of Harry’s hair.

“For now, you need to be in bed, Harry. Uncle Ignatius isn’t going to go easy on you just because you want a lie in.” Regulus sighed as the silence began to creep into the conversation. Harry bounced up on his toes once more before he stopped halfway and glanced at Sirius' slumped form. His bright green eyes contemplated for a moment as he licked his lips nervously. Then with one swift movement he climbed down the few steps between him and Sirius and stood for a moment with shock hanging around them as he faced the older man, before his arms reached out and with as far as they would stretch, he crushed Sirius into a warm hug. Regulus froze, as did his brother, only for a moment before his instincts took over and he was scooping Harry into his arms and shuffling his nose in his hair. Twirling together lightly, the hug lasted several moments until it was nearly suffocating. Regulus watched, careful not to even shift his weight for fear the light movement would cause the moment to break.

Harry pulled away first, keeping his hands on Sirius for a few seconds longer before he took a step back. The look on Sirius's face was neatly indescribable. Shock wasn’t enough, joy was clear, mixed with that bit of fear when you aren’t sure a moment was true. His eyes glistened in the moonlight as his face flushed and Regulus felt the need to look away as Harry gave him one last deep smile. The kind of smile that hurts his cheeks. He pulled away to stand next to Regulus brushing his hands against his arms as he stared up with wide opened eyes.

“Harry, go wash your hands and I’ll be in to tuck you in again alright?” Regulus said with a weak smile. The emotions seemed to be draining him physically as he could feel knots in his shoulder tightening. Harry bopped his head up and down as he hummed while he went up the stairs, the door catching slightly as it closed behind him.

Regulus chewed on his lip as he pushed back a bit of his hair that was falling into his face. His eyes grew blurry with sleep as his legs ached beneath him. Now was as good a time as any, better to bring up the issue when Sirius was in a good mood. He hoped his chances of being thrown against a wall would lessen.

“Sirius.” Regulus began with only a breath of air escaping him.

“You don’t get to call me Padfoot.” Sirius snapped as he pulled out the box of cigarettes, the click of a lighter snapped through the crisp air as he drew in a breath before Regulus gathered the courage to speak again.

“Sirius.” He tried again, a bit louder.

“My friends call me Padfoot, my loved ones can call me Padfoot. Need I remind you, you are neither of those.” Sirius scoffed as he blew the smoke over his shoulder towards where Regulus stood. The hit shouldn’t have stung as harsh as it did, like his mother’s old slaps against his cheek with all her force. The stinging afterwards hurt more than the initial smack. So did these words as they sink into Regulus' soul and sting more after they had been said and settled.

“Sirius.” Regulus gave one last effort with his heart beating in his chest painfully.

“First you take Harry from me, make me out to be the villain. Then you try to make friends. I thought you couldn’t be any more pathetic, Regulus.” Sirius snipped, his head shaking with each word.

“I didn’t make you the villain!” Regulus snapped, his eyes narrowing at Sirius.

“Didn’t you? Harry has barely even looked at me since I arrived, and he walks around like I’m about to explode. You’ve made him see me how you see me.” Sirius gritted as he brushed himself up to a stand. Regulus toes curled over the edge of the stone.

“I didn’t do that Sirius. I told him every good memory, and showed him all of your happy photos. I made you out like a hero, Sirius and I didn’t even know the truth! I didn’t even know if you were innocent! I was trusting you!” Regulus’ words shook as he fought to keep his balance on the step as Sirius stepped back, every muscle in his neck pulsing.

“Why does he hate me then?” Sirius nearly screamed as he threw out a hand in the air, swirling it around as smoke still curled from the cigarette on the other.

“He doesn’t hate you Sirius! He’s scared of you! The first time he saw you in years and your hands were around my throat! I’ve raised him, I taught him how to fly a broom and tie his shoes and hold a wand and all he saw was you trying to choke the bloody hell out of me!” Regulus' voice did scream, the anger and emotion pent up as he stepped down the stairs making his way closer to his brother. His intentions weren’t clear yet, maybe he just needed to see the look in his brother’s eyes, but Sirius stumbled farther back as he seemed to slink into himself.

“He’s scared of me?” Sirius stiffened as his eyes seemed to shake in his skull. His arms catching around him, ash burning the edge of his shirt. Regulus stopped his approach with a jolt as his heels dug into hard dry dirt. The pebbles on the ground rolled with a clink for a few more turns before they fell silent. Sirius was scared. Scared that Harry was scared.

“I’d rather him hate me.” Sirius whispered as he shook and brought the smoke to his lips, them quivering with every intake of breath as he calmed himself.

“Sirius, he still cares for you, but it’s been years. You can’t expect it to be the same as it was.” Regulus shook his head as his body nearly deflated under him as he exhaled heavily.

“Don’t tell me how to take care of my godson. You aren’t his father, no matter what anyone else may tell you.” Sirius whispered, the anger not quite reaching his words.

“I’ve never said I was his father. James was and always will be his father.” Regulus mumbled as he brought one arm to rub the other against the cool breeze filtering through his hair and onto his skin.

A moment of silence fell around them. Regulus should have expected it. James was an unspoken vow between them, they didn’t speak of James, or Lily, or Remus, or of anyone from Sirius’ life before. In general, they didn’t speak of the before. There was only the after, the now. The Sirius who stood before him with crooked hair and constantly shaking hands and a broken look in his eyes. At times, Regulus didn’t recognize the man before him, how could the boy he’d known turn into this man. The boy he had admired became a man he couldn’t believe.

“Sirius.” Regulus weakly spoke. For once, he only got silence in return. He bit his lip, doubting his own courage.

“Why haven’t you told anyone it was Peter?” Regulus breathed out. The air seemed to freeze. Time did not exist for the few moments of silence. The only notice of change was the cigarette that fell in slow motion to the ground. Sirius' stance didn’t change, but it seemed like a part of him exploded behind his eyes as soon as the word Peter was spoken.

Regulus could feel his legs shaking as he waited and waited. His eyes strained as the end of the cigarette’s light before it began to slowly fade. He supposed it was proof time was passing around them even if he didn’t feel it. Eventually, he had to clear his throat. The dry air and slight gap to his mouth made it impossible for him to breathe. The noise seemed to spook Sirius back to life, his eyes darting upwards as his arms shook.

“How do you know about Peter?” Sirius’ voice would have been missed if Regulus hadn’t been vying for his brother to speak.

“The photos, there was a dated one. September nineteen eighty-one, Peter was with James. I pieced it together, the letters and the other photos, no one should have been visiting the Potters. Unless that person was the one checking on them.” Regulus muttered, the explanation was jumbled and messy, but he hoped the word made sense. Another tense silence followed for a moment before Sirius sucked in a deep breath.

“It’s my fault. They died because of me.” Sirius shook his head as if he was disagreeing. His eyes vacant and unseeing as he seemed to stare right through Regulus.

“Sirius, you didn’t kill them.” Regulus tried before he was brutally cut off.

“It was me! I suggested Peter be the Secret Keeper! James wanted it to be me, but I said it was too obvious. The Death Eaters would have found me, I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust myself, I suggested Peter. We knew we had a spy, too many of us were dying too closely together. Missions were being blown wide open and families close to us started going missing. I thought… I thought it was someone else, I thought I knew who it was. I never suspected… I thought Peter was the safe choice, who’d expect little shy nervous Peter. It should have been me, I should have died. I should have died for them.” Sirius shook as small tears fell down his cheeks without any attempt to clear them. He simply let them strike the ground once they rolled off his chin.

“Sirius.” Regulus croaked the words dying on his lips. He’d never been good at comforting people, and he never knew how to react as his hands fidgeted. He could only think of one reaction that seemed appropriate as he pulled his wand, he conjured one of the handkerchiefs from the house into his hand. His feet shuffled forward crunching in the leaves and rolling over a pebble as did. His hand shook slightly as he held out the handkerchief, Sirius’ hand seemed to move automatically as he grabbed the handkerchief and brought it to blow his nose. The loud noise was the only sound for a moment.

“It's a bit ironic isn’t it?” Sirius sniffled a moment later as Regulus tilted his head.

“Called you pathetic, but I’m the one that’s sobbing in the garden.” Sirius shook his head rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands once. Regulus let out a weak cough-like chuckle. Sirius seemed to have a laugh caught in his chest.

“Sirius.” Regulus called as his brother looked away up at the moonlight.

“Trying to make up for all those years you weren’t allowed to say my name in one go?” Sirius joked with a twitch to his lips as the moonlight shone against his face brightly.

“I suppose. Always thought your name was more interesting.” Regulus shrugged.

“Is it because it’s the Dog Star? Or is it because your star is the heart of the lion?” Sirius croaked as he cleared his throat.

“Bit of both, speaking of irony, is it your name or your unruly hair that made you a dog?” Regulus snipped as he folded his arms around himself and stomped his feet for a bit of warmth. Realization slowly dawned on Sirius’ face as his eyes seemed to glow in appreciation.

“Bloody hell, always we’re smarter than your own good.” Sirius snipped as he shook his head. Regulus ducked his head so his brother wouldn’t see the small smile growing on his face. It felt normal this way. The arguing and then the snide remarks afterwards, it almost felt like how it did when they were younger.

“You better go, Harry is waiting for you and I haven’t had a chance to finish a cigarette without getting interrupted.” Sirius shook his head as he pulled out the square box again. His hands cupping around his mouth again. Regulus nodded slowly as turned around and walked up the stairs pausing at the door for a moment with his hands on the frame.

“Good night, Siri.” Regulus called over his shoulders, unable to look in case he had overstepped his bounds. The silence that followed seemed to rebound off the walls of the house with a pulse for a moment.

“Good night, Reg.” Sirius whispered before the click of a lighter took over his voice. Regulus let himself smile for a moment before he let the door close behind him.

Chapter Text

“Alphard, truly this type of grudge is unbecoming.” Arcturus' voice sounded around the corner. Regulus was fiddling with a button on his sweater as he made his way to the sunroom.

“Well my trust has been betrayed and you expect me to just allow Regulus to waltz back into my portrait unchallenged.” Alphard said, firmly. Regulus smirked under his breath. He could nearly see the smirk on Alphard’s face and the way he’d dramatically cross his arms as he made that statement.

“Alphard, we are on a tight schedule. If you could please, for me dear cousin.” Lucretia cut through the tense air. Regulus rolled his eyes, Uncle Alphard always had a weak spot for Aunt Lucretia.

“Oh Lucy, you tug at my heartstrings. Fine, I’ll allow it. I want it to be known that I’m doing this for you.” Alphard replied with a bit of huff. Regulus finally entered the sunroom to find nearly the whole family there with tea set out at the edge of the room. He stopped and poured a cup as he watched Alphard disappear for a second before he returned, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Regulus glanced around the room. Arcturus was standing with his arms crossed and his hair tied to the nape of his neck directly in front of Alphard’s portrait, Lucretia stood beside him with her hair braided to one side and wearing athletic pants for once. He was so used to seeing her in ankle-length skirts that it nearly took him aback. Cassiopeia and Helena were drinking tea in two chairs directly in the sunlight as they talked in hushed voices. Sirius was even there, tucked in the bed they had made him with a sketch pad propped on his knees and his hair pinned to the top of his head as his eyes distinctly avoided the glances of the room.

“Truly, Alphard can’t we be over this little disagreement.” Regulus I scoffed as he stepped into the portrait.

“You abused my trust, you and your sister both.” Alphard sputtered exasperatedly.

“What exactly about this family made you think any of us was trustworthy?” Regulus snipped as he pointed his nose towards Alphard.

“Please, please some of us do in fact have a limited time left to breathe, if we could put this aside.” Arcturus sighed as he raised his hands towards the two men in the painting. The two of them sighed and grunted, but no more arguments came.

“Regulus, any information on your end?” Arcturus asked. It had been like this since Arcturus had arrived. Every few weeks he’d send his brother and sister to snoop on the rest of the family to concur they were all still acting within reason.

“The Manor is a bore. Druella held tea with a few old friends and Cygnus blackmailed some Ministry officials to keep a werewolf reform from going through.” Regulus sighed as he rubbed his temple.

“Best not tell Ignatius about that, he was vying for the reform to go through.” Lucretia whispered under her breath. Regulus felt a bit upset at the news. He’d also been vying for the reform, it would have allowed werewolves land to safely transform once a month. A spare drop of dignity denied again.

“Not that Cygnus cared whom he was blackmailing, he only likes to feel he still has control.” Alphard chimed in bitterly from the background. Regulus rolled his eyes before he continued.

“Pollux is certainly scheming, he’s got the peculiar twitch to his eye he gets when he thinks too much. Though I don’t believe it's anything you need to worry about, besides the fact that he’s withdrawn nearly five thousand galleons.” Regulus casually mentioned.

“Five thousand galleons?” Arcturus gapped as his eyes bulged.

“I am supposed to be informed if anyone tries to make that large of a withdrawal without my written permission, what exactly does he need five thousand galleons for?” Arcturus breathed out in shock. Cassiopeia had even turned to stare at the interaction, sipping her tea quietly with her lips tugging at a humorous smile.

“Oh yes he did mention killing a few goblins to Irma, she seemed rather bored at the idea. Rather messy, he could have just obviated them, but you know Pollux, always is one for the bloodshed.” Regulus continued, waving his hands as he spoke.

“Oh brother, you only say that because Pollux still hasn’t forgiven you for the time you poisoned him.” A high pitched voice called a moment before an extravagantly dressed woman stepped into frame. Aunt Lycoris was never one to be understated, though Regulus’ had only a few memories of her other than her strong perfume and penance for wine.

“Well if we had just let the poison do its job, we could be in an entirely different predicament.” Regulus muttered as he held out his hand to assist his sister through the grassy yard of Alphard’s portrait.

“Yes, the bloodline would have ended with us because I’m certain Cyngus would have murdered us all if I didn’t shove the bezoar down his heirs throat.” Arcturus gruffed as he wrung his hands. A sign he was growing inpatient.

“I could have held my own in a duel.” Regulus shrugged. Alphard was shaking his head at the comment.

“At fourteen?” Arcturus scoffed. “Please Lycoris tell me you’ve been more useful.”

“A pity, the Malfoy’s were a bit of a bore as well. Narcissa had to take over tutoring Draco, he cast a nasty hex that will leave his prior one incapacitated for sometimes. Lucius got tied up covering that mess, you know for a supposed Death Eater, he certainly is weak on his threats.” Lycoris scoffed. Regulus could feel a tension building in his lower back as his arm twitched nearly involuntarily at the mention of the name.

“Lucius has always been more money than threat. I hardly see him taking Abraxas’ role wholeheartedly.” Arcturus scoffed. “Now Bellatrix, she was the devil of them all. Pollux passed his bloodshed onto her.

The name made his spine tingle. Bellatrix Lestrange, the devoted follower of The Dark Lord. His estranged and maniacal cousin locked away in Azkaban for a crime she gloated over. Her large dark grey eyes and massive head of black hair had always added to her rather petite figure. Her sharp cheekbones and bony fingers could be a cartoonish nightmare for a child. She had been for Regulus. She was ten years older than him and by the time he had memories of her, they were all gruesome acts. The cats she would torture behind the house, the dead birds she would use for potion ingredients, the way she would make his fingers twist unnaturally for her own amusement.

Her husband and his younger brother were no better. Rodolphus Lestrange was three years older than his wife. He had dark black eyes that were barely a shade lighter than his own pupils. His hair was perpetually wind swept and brushing at the ends of his ears. The paleness of his skin made him look forever sickly, which was only exasperated by his rail thin figure. Bellatrix’s marriage was the perfect arrangement of wildly inbred purebloods with tendencies forinsanity. Her husband found Regulus to be too soft and gentle for his liking, constantly grabbing at his throat and throwing him against walls to strengthen him, as he had hissed in his ears.

Rabastan Lestrange had been, prior to him apparently losing his mind, a shade more like Regulus. The spare, only with a brother more than willing to fulfill his duties. He lurked in shadows, hiding behind the bangs that grew past his eyebrows and he had a near permanent sneer on his face. He preferred a hands off method to his teachings. The Crucio had been his specialty, Regulus had heard of his many recounts of him driving Muggles insane through the pain simply to watch the life snap behind their eyes. The Longbottoms had only been the last of his victims.

Then there were the Malfoys. His cousin Narcissa, she had been his rock when Sirius had left him. Her pale blue eyes always had a gentler glint when she would look at him. Since they were young, the two had always been close. She’d been the one to teach him piano. The instrument is one of many talents they shared. She was a studious person, preferring the recluse of books and gardening to her sister’s wild ways. Her intelligence had saved them on more than one occasion. Between her and her father, whom she’d always been extremely close with, they had been the ones to first use the idea of the Imperius Curse. Narcissa was never a Marked Death Eater, a fact the Bellatrix thought shameful, but Regulus had revered her for standing against the idea. A fact even he couldn’t esteem.

Lucius had been stately in all the worse ways. With perfectly straight white blonde hair that never seemed to have a hair out of place, he’d on more than one occasion made a snide remark on Regulus’ untameable long hair. He’d slashed it in second year with his wand and paid terribly for it with his mother. Ever since then it had grown back with messier waves that he’d only barely been able to contain. A part of him had been envious of Lucius. He’d taken the role of the perfect pureblood son as if it was water. He’d taken the role of Death Eater and made it synonymous with music. He was everything Regulus was supposed to be and yet he’d always fallen short of it. Never vicious enough, never cutthroat enough, never handsome enough, he was never enough.

Even when he’d taken The Dark Mark. He’d been told he hadn’t taken it well enough. Roldphous had laughed at him and Lucius had sniffed behind him. He’d been quiet and still during the painful ceremony, surrounded by the few Death Eaters he knew. They told him he needed to be gracious and thankful, the pain was glory. The Dark Lord had chosen him. He was to be the youngest Death Eater, the spy within Hogwarts itself. He had grunted and shut his eyes and tried to brave through it.

The Dark Lord had always been so cold and distant.
He’d been to Grimmauld Place more than once. His mother gladly held frequent visits for him. The gold she’d been given by her father feeding into the most noble cause as she called it. It was an unspoken law that when her sons were old enough, they would be expected to serve him. Only Sirius had run away the night she had tried to force it on him. The screeching had been so horrible that Regulus had hid. His mother was torturing his brother within an inch of his life, and he had hid.

Then it was Regulus. He turned sixteen and his mother had shown up to his door the very next day in her best dress with his cousins and their husbands waiting for him downstairs. He remembers shaking under his robes as they apparated to some dark dingy cave like place. He had wanted to cry, to scream, to run. He had wanted to do anything, but kneel before The Dark Lord and swear his eternal servitude. The moment the cold end of a wand had poked harshly into his skin, he had known it was all too late. Regulus had always been so unsure why he had been chosen for the honor so young. Until The Dark Lord wrapped his cold thin hands around his wrist and pulled him close and whispered into his ear.

“The Heir to The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, my own little servant, your mother promised you to me so long ago.” The Dark Lord had hissed. He wasn’t special, he was expected.

He shook his head with force, the mangy bit of curls hitting his cheeks as he did. He’d been distant from the conversation at hand for several minutes, missing important details as he’d blinked his eyes to bring the room into focus. He could feel a bit of nausea growing in the pits of his stomach at the memories. Horrid and vivid memories of his short stint as an active Death Eater. Even in his limited time, he’d seen horrors that he couldn’t remove from his mind. They knew no moral bounds.

He took deep even breaths as he tried to focus on the day at hand. Dedalus was coming in a few hours. It’s why Arcturus was in a rush to gather the information. They had to leave in a short time. Aunt Lucretia had planned a day in the nearby village and had been excited to share it with them all. Sirius would be under Polyjuice Potion of a Muggle Aunt Helena had snuck a hair off of when she had to heal him after he came across a cursed cauldron. He was young and tall and as Sirius had scoffed, blonde. It would be a simple day.

Regulus heard a light ridicule under breath as he pulled himself back to the conversation at hand. Sirius had popped his head above the sketch papers for a brief moment before hiding behind it again. Regulus restrained rolling his eyes. Sirius and him had only barely begun to make progress and he wasn’t going to take bait so easily. Instead, he tried to focus on whatever was being said by the portraits.

“Well if they are anything like Grindelwald’s old followers, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was rather easy to take them out. They put too much faith in that man to protect them.” Regulus muttered towards his sister’s comment. There was a story behind those words, but it didn’t seem like the time to ask. Besides, Sirius’ crackling laughter broke any chance at thought. The eyes of the room turned to him with varying degrees of disagreement.

“At least Grindelwald respected his followers as people. Not faceless minions that submitted to him on hand and knee to be branded like a common animal.” Sirius snapped. His eyes not lifting from the paper in front of him, his hand still moving in a repetitive striking motion. He didn’t even care to look as he threw his insults. He thought so lowly of Regulus, he couldn’t even look at him.

It hadn’t been like that, it’s what Regulus wanted to say. He wanted to defend himself as the burning sense of rage built up. The words frozen on the edge of his lips. The grisly truth hitting him like an old Quidditch fall. Sirius was right. Regulus' eyes stung as the memories flashed in his mind without him having any control.

The burning that hadn’t ceased for days. The realization of what he had done as he laid alone in his room, his mouth dry and the massive heartache that grew as he’d stared at the brand permanently sewed into his skin. It hadn’t come free. Even for him it hadn’t come free, a memory he’d buried with his strongest might and year of practice diluting and compartmentalization abuse. He knew how to bury the worst of himself under layers. How to justify his actions and swallow the guilt until he’d nearly forgotten it. Until his own memories had been written over with a more digestible version. This one secret, this one horrid truth revealed more about who he truly was. Where his soul was damned to be down to its last moment of existence.

The fear of anyone finding out, of people knowing, had made him believe he'd never be free. It had been the point after all of the act, collective culpability. Proof from the very beginning he’d be damned before he’d even sworn his allegiance. He’d swallowed it then knowing that if he hadn’t done it, he’d be dead. His mother wasn’t going to let another son be a disappointment. He’d half think she’d cast the killing curse herself just to be certain the second weak son she’d birthed was dead.

Sirius could get away because there was a spare. Sirius was allowed freedom if Regulus stayed bound to the family duty. One son was a tragic loss, two was an egregious error that Walburga Black would have spent the rest of her life forcing into correction. Didn’t Sirius know what she was capable of? Didn’t he know she had no limits? What would keep her from Imperio and torturing her sons back to her feet? Hadn’t she done it their whole lives? The Black line was all she lived for, and she would have been damned if it died without her hand in grasping at the last chance for it to continue.

Even after Regulus’ death, he’d heard rumors of her trying to find anyone to carry an heir. Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if when she visited Sirius she hadn’t tried to coax him into siring an heir. If he showed a hint of interest, she would have taken the dementors on herself to drag him out and pair him with the first suitable woman she could find. A son, she only needed one son. Hadn’t she said that to Regulus so many times, hadn’t she whispered that into his ears at dinner tables and parties? Only one son and she would force the Black line forward. He nearly wants to spit on her name now. There was no Black line left, the bloodline ended here.

“Well I suppose they had one commonality, they were all willing to betray even their own family to further their cause.” Sirius sneered as his head shook.

He could feel his face growing hot. Suddenly, his sweater felt too tight around his chest. His lips parted to offer a refute. He was a traitor, but not to them. Not to Sirius, and Merlin forbid not to Harry. A weak noise was all he could manage as he watched Marius and Ignatius come into the room laughing as Harry held onto Ignatius' hand. He could see Marius had the Polyjuice Potion for the day tucked under his arm. Harry smiled as he scanned the room surrounded by the only family he’d ever known. His eyes landed on Regulus, and somehow that was his breaking point.

The room was a blur as he muttered weak apologies as he passed the small group. Before he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, his breath came in rough gasp as he closed the door and slowly lowered himself to the cool tile floor. He felt overheated and overwhelmed. His knees pulled close to his chest as he rested his forearms in his thighs. He picked at the edges of his sweater for several moments, raggedly catching his breath before he could manage to slip two fingers under the hem and pull it slowly down to the crook of his elbow. There it was still. Faded and pinkish like an old scar, but it was indisputably The Dark Mark. The sign of his eternal devotion burned into his own skin.

He let out a strangled sob as he bent his head forward. Desperately trying to burn out the memories of the moment the wand touched his soft unstained skin. To forget the way blood had flowed in his mouth when he hit down so hard on his tongue he nearly took off the tip. The pain, the searing pain worse than when Pollux had pushed his hand on an oven flame when he found him trying to sneak an apple out of the kitchen.

To this day, he has never found the right words to describe the pain. The pain he felt when The Dark Lord called for him day after day when he disappeared. The sounds of his own cries and screams as he contemplated cutting his own arm off to avoid the chaos beneath his skin. Until finally, it had stopped. The calls stopped and it was just a disgusting mark. Then it began to fade after that day in October. It never went away completely, it truly was an eternal reminder.

He lifted his head with cheeks damp with tears as he stared weakly at the pale inner arm. If he could have made any other choice. If he could have been able to live any other way. He shook his head as he bowed it again, nearly sick. He’d been weak. He’d been a coward. He’d been a self-preserving cunning little twat. He’d joined them under his own violation and he regretted it every day since. Sirius might blame himself for Harry’s parents death, but wasn’t Regulus just as at fault? He’d sworn his allegiance to the man that would kill him. The guilt was enough to eat him up alive.

A knock on the door dragged his attention from his internal depreciation. He sniffled loudly as he covered his arm as quickly as he could. Using the end of his sweater to try and wipe away the tears. His throat hurt from his crying as he tried to clear it as the door slowly creaked open.

“Reggie?” Harry asked as his tuft of dark hair poked around the corner.

“Harry.” Regulus croaked as he tried desperately to keep his voice even.

“Are you hurt, Reggie? You’re crying.” Harry asked as his bare brown feet patted across the small bathroom and he knelt down in front of Regulus.

“No, Harry. I’m fine, I just got upset.” Regulus replied, shaking his head as he wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eyes.

“Why were you upset?” Harry asked, as he folded his legs under him and tilted his head curiously. Regulus felt a fresh pain form in his throat. Harry was still too young, he told himself. He was only seven. He couldn’t possibly understand. Though Regulus wasn’t certain he’d understand even when he got older. It was his greatest fear that when he told Harry the truth, the little boy he adored would turn on him. The child he’d raised would look at him with disgust and rage. He feared he’d lose Harry.

“Harry, I need you to understand. I wasn’t a good person. When I was younger, I made very bad decisions. Decisions that hurt people and in a few years, I’ll tell you everything. You’ll be able to decide for yourself then, but please know Harry, I don’t ever want to be that person again. I’m so sorry I was ever a bad person.” Regulus stumbled over a few words as he grabbed Harry’s hands in his, squeezing them a few times to comfort himself. Harry’s eyes shone up at him, the green reflecting in the bright bathroom light.

“Reggie, it’s okay. You’re a good person now. No matter what, Reggie, I’ll always love you.” Harry smiled, infectiously as he squeezed back at their intertwined hands. Regulus' heart had to be pounding against his rib cage as he tried desperately to swallow the guilt of it all. It was easy for Harry to say now, but once he knew. Once he knew, everything could change.

“Oh Harry, I love you more than I could ever say. I’ll love you until I take my final breath and then I’ll keep loving you even more after that.” Regulus couldn’t help the tears that escaped as he sat crouched on the bathroom floor. A small child kneeled in front of him, that was his entire world. Not Death Eaters, or family spats, or the entanglement of the Wizarding World, it was Harry. Bright, smart, sassy Harry, who could see a Snitch from the corner of his eyes and catch it a moment later. Who could quote potion ingredients without a second glance, and who could love so purely without a second thought. His Harry, he might not truly be his son, but he was as close as Regulus was ever going to get. It was his blessing to raise him, a cosmic explosion that had brought them together. Regulus would spend his entire life thanking his lucky stars that out of all the people Harry could have been left with, it had been him. He’d never have a greater joy than this.

Chapter Text

The angle of the sunray striking into the main room was captivating. Likely because it offered one of the few distractions in the room. Regulus felt a bit strung up as he sat curled at the end of the sofa with his knees tucked up to his chest and his teeth chipping at a bit of loose skin at the edge of his nail. He’d agreed to this, and Harry had agreed to this. Sirius had protested, but had quickly been outnumbered. This was what was best for Harry in the end. Still, Regulus could feel anxiety shaking inside him.

Harry was flipping through a book, one much more mature than most children his age read, but Harry wasn’t most children. His voice made a quiet hum as his fingers flipped the pages with a loud swish every few moments. He wasn’t even worried, why should he be? He’d never known betrayal or worry or even much pain. His worst memories were from when he was little and he couldn't recall them with much clarity. Regulus almost worried he was too sheltered. Harry would be exposed to an entirely different world when he left here in a few short years. One that would idolize him and be filled to the brim with expectations of him.

He let out a shuddering breath as he forced his hands down in his lap. The finger had started bleeding and if Aunt Helena found him with torn to pieces cuticles, she’d make him start taking those daily potions again until he could manage his anxiety on his own. He’d just gotten off them and for his own selfish reasons, he wanted to prove he didn’t need them anymore. He wanted to outdo himself, they had helped when he needed them, but now he wanted to manage his own stressors as best he could.

Harry would be told one day. Regulus would have to sit down and explain the full story to him. Hopefully, he and Sirius were on better terms by then. Support would be useful as he had to explain a war and betrayal and sacrifice. Harry had only heard them told as stories of the war before. Arcturus and Lancelot gave him details of the war they had watched unfold before their eyes. Lucretia and Ignatius explained how it had been to be raised with a war raging just out their borders and the loss they had experienced. Harry knew there was a war, he knew his parents died, but as of yet he’d asked little other questions. Maybe he could sense the uncertainty that exuded through Regulus’ voice when he spoke of it.

“Reggie.” Harry interrupted his train of thought. Regulus had to shake his head before he could attempt to smile as Harry waited patiently on the floor.

“Yes Harry?” Regulus gritted through his teeth.

“Did Grandfather teach you this too?” He asked, tilting his head curiously.

“He did. He and my father both taught me.” Regulus sighed as he rubbed a ringer against his temple.

“Are you good at it?” Harry questioned as he marked his page and closed his book to turn his attention towards Regulus.

“I’m good at it. They were better.” Regulus swished his lips around feeling a bit strained. He didn’t enjoy the way speaking about his parents made him feel. There was a growing weight in his chest and it would make it difficult to breathe.

“So Grandfather Acturus taught your father and they both taught you?” Harry asked, his eyes lighting up as he spoke.

“Yes, Harry.” He answered, stifling a cough.

“Did my father know?” Harry inquired, his teeth hitting a bit on his lower lip.

“I’m sure he knew some, Harry. Your father was immensely talented. Your mother too, though I don’t believe she ever was taught this magic.” Regulus answered, breathing a little easier as the subject shifted.

“Why not?” Harry seemed to pout slightly.

“Well it’s not a type of magic taught at Hogwarts. It’s very complex and a bit invasive, so traditionally it is taught by families. Your mother had muggles as family, I’m sure they were clever people, but they just wouldn’t know magic. I don’t doubt your mother could have learned if she was taught. She was brilliant.” Regulus explained. Harry grasped onto every word like he was starving.

“She was brilliant.” Harry whispered back. His voice held a hint of want and need. Regulus felt a small whimper forming on his lips. Harry deserved Lily, to be held by her, and sung to by her. For her to be there for every moment on his journey as he found himself and his magic. Regulus felt he was lacking.

“Harry, how are we today?” Arcturus asked as he sauntered into the room slowly. He was dressed more casually for once, his robes over a simple plain collared white shirt and black trousers. He was intending to work today.

“Grandfather Arcturus! I have a new book!” Harry chirped up as he pulled the book over his face to show Arcturus. Regulus tensed a bit, the book was a Muggle story, he couldn’t assume how his grandfather would react. His grandfather squinted slightly as he read the small lettering of the book.

“Oh Sherlock Holmes, my dear Melanie loved his stories. She read them so frequently the bindings started to fall apart. I had to wander out to Muggle London to get her a new collection one Christmas.” Arcturus explained with a glint to his eye that only seemed to come over him when he spoke of his late wife.

“He’s so smart!” Harry nodded as he pulled the book down to smile at the cover. Regulus let out a slow breath as his eyebrow crooked. He’d never seen a single Muggle story in the family library. If any was ever found he’d assume it would be readily burned, yet he was hearing his grandmother had her own collection.

“How about this, Harry? We start with Sherlock Holmes.” Arcturus stated as he sat on a chair across from Harry pulling up the edges of his sleeves. Harry pulled himself up onto the sofa pushing himself back until he was comfortable with his feet only barely able to scrap the floor.

“You think of Sherlock Holmes, anything about him. Try to keep it to the front of your mind and don't let anything distract you. We will start easy, I want you to just get used to how this feels.” Arcturus explained. His eyes were hard, but his position was lax as he put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. Harry nodded as he listened with his ears twitched.

“This is complex magic, very powerful. We will go slow and try not to get frustrated, Harry. It will take time, but once we’re finished, you’ll be able to control your own mind and anyone who may try to invade it.” Arcturus continued, carefully speaking each word.

“Yes, Grandfather Arcturus.” Harry smiled as he tucked his hands under his legs.

“Good, now again, Sherlock Holmes. You’re favorite part of his story.” Arcturus murmured as he leaned forward. Regulus felt his fingers touching the edge of his lip as he tried desperately not to panic. He could see the moment it happened. Harry’s brow furrowed for a second as he felt the spell enter his mind. It lasted only a short time as he watched Arcturus’ eyes search. The slight swish as his eyes went back and forth quickly.

“Sherlock and Watson.” Arcturus sighed as he leaned back for a moment. His lips pulled at a smile. Harry responded with his own smile.

“They are best friends and they solve crimes. It’s an adventure.” Harry explained. Regulus sighed a bit of relief filling his chest.

“They do have wonderful adventures. This is like your own bit of an adventure. Learning magic not nearly anyone else will know, special isn’t it?” Arcturus winked as he spoke.

“A magical adventure.” Harry added with a laugh. Arcturus chuckled under his breath.

“Yes, Harry. Now, this time think of Sherlock and Watson, but I’m going to try and find something else. I need you to understand it will be a bit different from the first time, I’ll be searching. You may feel a bit strange.” Arcturus explained as his hands clasped in front of him. Regulus shook in his spot for a moment. The years of past abuse, the way he had been taught pulling on the strings of emotion inside him. Harry nodded his face a bit more firm. Arcturus nodded as his face concentrated again.

This dive into his thoughts made Harry take an open mouth breath as his eyes got a bit glassy. It lasted longer, the searching look in Arcturus’ eyes as he pushed past what Harry was thinking. The feeling of having his own thoughts overran and the world around him would be muting. The Legilimency felt vaguely similar to the Imperio Curse. The way the mind would be taken over and the lack of control of your own thoughts. He waited, his tongue sticking out against the finger pushed onto his lips for the moment the click would happen. The moment Harry would be able to have his own thoughts again.

“Regulus.” Acturus called, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes flickered over to his grandfather as he had to blink tears out of his eyes, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“You need to breathe. You’re holding your breath.” Arcturus pointed out nodding his head towards him. His words rang true as he took a shuddering deep breath. His lungs were burning with a bit of pain.

“Reggie.” Harry said as he reached a hand out to Regulus. Regulus tried to smile as he pushed the tears back into his eyes. Harry didn’t need to see him cry. He’d only ask why and Regulus didn’t need to explain his full past to Harry. Not yet, maybe not ever. Harry didn’t need to hear all those horrors.

“Why don’t you go gather some tea, Regulus.” Arcturus suggested with the tone that informed Regulus didn’t truly have a choice. He licked his lips as he unfolded his legs from the seat as he ruffled Harry’s hair as he passed trying to convey his own faith in his abilities. Harry smiled as he looked up from under his dark hair.

Regulus exited the room, trying not to think too much. Once out of eye sight, he leaned against the wall with his head far back as he controlled his breathing. Harry would be fine. Arcturus for one reason or another had turned a new leaf. He wouldn’t harm Harry.

“Feels pretty shite doesn’t it?” Someone called from the side as Regulus jumped and grasped for his wand. His eyes fell down the hall and had to search down towards the floor before he saw Sirius crouched against the wall. In his hands, he was fussing with a single cigarette as his head was bowed, his hair covering his face.

“I almost hexed you.” Regulus sighed as he leaned his head against the wall again loosening his grip on the end of his wand.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Sirius scoffed as he shook his hair out with small sounds as it struck the drywall.

“Wouldn’t be fair.” Regulus explained as he let his hand loose of his wand. Sirius was still unarmed. He had never gotten his wand replaced.

“When has that ever stopped you?” Sirius poised as he pushed himself with a scratching noise up.

“Maybe I’ve changed.” Regulus muttered under his breath. Sirius held onto such an old version of him. In his head, Regulus was still a bloody tosser. A child and impulsive teenager, and that’s not who they were. They were approaching their thirties with speed Regulus didn’t want to admit. They couldn’t be children with their petty spats forever.

“Come along, I was going out.” Sirius nodded towards the back of the house.

“I was getting tea.” Regulus explained simply as he folded his hands.

“Don’t we still have that batty old elf. Kreacher!” Sirius called as a moment later a pop rang out in the hall as Kreacher came wiping his hands on a rag.

“Master Sirius.” Kreacher grumbled. Of everyone in the family, Sirius was obviously his least favorite.

“Tea the front room.” Sirius nodded roughly before he stomped off. Regulus rolled his eyes, but now wasn’t the time to fight.

“Kreacher, could you please get tea for Grandfather Arcturus and Harry?” Regulus asked. Kreacher flipped his ears around for a moment.

“Of course, Master Regulus. Kreacher like to be helping Master Regulus.” He nodded.

“Thank you, Kreacher. Don’t forget to take time for yourself.” Regulus reminded as he started towards the back door.

“Yes Kreacher be making his own tea too, Master.” Kreacher replied with a bit more cheer to his tone as he disappeared to the kitchen. Regulus smiled under his breath as he walked out the door. The quiet slam of the wood as he saw Sirius already smoking at the end of the step.

Regulus slowly made his way to sit on the end of the step. Their shoulders were nearly touching. There was silence surrounding them for a moment. The vague sounds of wildlife rustling in the grass a while away. The shadows of the clouds passing overhead casting onto the ground as Regulus followed with his eyes.

“A drag?” Sirius asked, his hand loosely swinging closer to Regulus. His eyes were unfocused staring out at the horizon. Regulus took the cigarette in between two fingers as he brought it almost naturally to his lips. It felt strange to feel his lungs fill as he inhaled, he’d never smoked much and rarely cigarettes. He knew well enough to keep from coughing as he pushed his hand back towards Sirius, who looked vaguely impressed.

“They smoke down in the dungeon? You can’t even crack a window.” Sirius half joked as he let smoke filter out of his breath.

“It was usually drugs.” Regulus answered quickly. Strangely enough, he’d surrounded himself with people who heavily self medicated. Though the weed seemed less harmful than the alcohol his father drowned himself in. He was less fearful to indulge.

“Hanging with Puffs?” Sirius laughed, his eyes widening with shock.

“We had a cousin in Hufflepuff.” Regulus pointed out.

“We’re cousins, Reg.” Sirius leaned back as he rolled his eyes. Regulus let out a huff as he leaned back on his elbows.

“You don’t have to bring it up every chance you get.” Regulus pointed out. Sirius just shrugged his shoulders as he let the cigarette tetter on his lips thoughtfully.

“You really tell Harry about his parents.” He said to the wind as his lips barely moved. Regulus paused a beat.

“They are his parents. He deserves to know them to the best of my abilities.” He replied carefully.

“You said Lily was brilliant even though she was a Muggleborn.” Sirius answered after a pause. Regulus felt a crack in the air around them. As if there was a change around them he could nearly feel.

“She was brilliant. Her blood never mattered, I feel sorry to ever think otherwise.” Regulus mumbled as his lips felt numb.

“Why did you do it? No yelling, no judgment, why did you join him?” Sirius asked, dryly. There was no anger in his voice. Just the flat plateau of his tone, his best effort. Regulus pulled his knees close to him as he thought for a moment. The eternally damned question finally posed.

“Have you ever met him?” Regulus asked.

“Voldemort? Never got the pleasure, mother was busy trying to blend me into the carpet.” Sirius scoffed. Regulus lips twitched. He could nearly hear the breathy gasps in between Sirius’ screams when he refused their mother’s command to bear The Dark Mark.

“He’s terrifying. Not in the sense that he’s formidable and savage even though he is, but in the blink of an eye he could remove all you hold precious and he wouldn’t have to lift a finger. They were looking at him like an old god.” Regulus paused to shake his head.

“So you were scared of him?” Sirius asked, his tone still so flat as if he was restraining himself. Regulus continued to shake his head.

“It wasn’t just that. There were so many levels to it. He’d take away everything I held dear to me if I said no. I’d likely already be dead, but it wouldn’t matter. He’d still do it. It was what he did. If he was defied he would go out of his way to make sure everyone paid. He killed so many people more than I believe your side even realized. He’d kill people on his own side if he deemed it necessary.” Regulus sighed, there were so many layers to this answer. He feared he wasn’t making sense, that it wouldn’t be enough.

“He wouldn’t just kill me. He’d kill you, he’d kill Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius, because they were holding on by a pin to their safety. He’d likely kill father just for the hell of it. Mother would only be safe because she was like his own personal lap dog. He may have even sent people here to kill everyone in this house. It wasn’t just my life on the line, Sirius. Mother promised him her son, her heir. The only reason you got to leave was because she could replace you. She had her spare and it spared you and so many others. I didn’t want to be one, I hated every moment, every act I committed. It weighed on me, it still weighs on me. I didn’t see any way out, except to disappear. Except to die and I promise you, I didn’t intend to live. I expected my death to be my redemption cold and dark and alone, but a redemption nonetheless. Everyday since that day I survived, since Kreacher for the first time in his life defied my order. I’ve been stumbling. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a good person, or if I’m raising Harry right, or if this is all some big cosmic fuck up and I should lying dead in dark cave surronded by an army of Inferi. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m here and I’m trying. That's all I have left.” Regulus sighed, his voice cracking near the end as emotions creeped up his throat. Too many to name in a reasonable span of time, but regret was heavy and shame behind it. Sirius stayed silent for a long time, finishing his cigarette in a dragged space. The light rustling chirps a strange backdrop to the conversation at hand. It felt like the type of conversation one had at night under barely glittering stars and cold breaths. Or one had over heavy drinks with a crackling fire and frost edging the corner of the windows. Not one spoke at the early afternoon hours on a rather warm fall day with bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds. He supposed conversations didn’t require specific backdrops though, only meaning behind them.

“You were brave.” Sirius whispered, the hum of a passing bee nearly loud enough to drown him out. Regulus stiffened. He wasn’t described as brave. He was intelligent. He was reserved. He was calculated. He was not brave. He was not Sirius.

“You made the wrong choice for the right reasons.” Sirius hummed hardly louder than before. Regulus felt warm patches form on his cheeks as the corners of his eyes dampened.

“Grandfather told me to ask you. To hear you out, I wanted nothing to do with it. Then I heard you call Lily Evan’s brilliant and I heard the awe in Harry’s voice when you said it. His mum, his darling mum being presented to him how she lived by a man who should take every chance to tear her to pieces.” Sirius shuddered, his shoulders began to shake as he flicked the last of the cigarette to the ground.

“I’d never. She was lovely. She was brave and brilliant and more intelligent than I could ever hope to be. And James was adventurous and nurturing and clever, and everyday he’s been with me, I’ve made certain Harry has known.” Regulus reassured him. Sirius picked at his hand a bit as he contemplated. His lips quivering in the same way they used to after he’d had a long discussion with their parents.

“You’re good with him. I hate to admit it, it pains me. I’m not going to lie about it. He adores you, and part of me knows him getting left with you was a blessing. I’m not perfect, but I want a chance to be Harry’s godfather and I will never get that chance if he sees me disrespecting the man he adores. For Harry, I’m willing to give us another shot.” Sirius bowed his head as he spiked rubbing at the back of his knuckles as he cracked them. Regulus felt a throbbing sensation in his chest as he heard those words. His brother. He could get another shot with his brother.

“I’d give the world to Harry, including trying to get along with my shite brother.” Regulus laughed as he tried to dry the edge of his eyes with the back of his hand. Sirius let out a dry barking laugh, but as he turned Regulus could see the small tears spilling over his long eyelashes.

“Piss off, look at us two sad sods crying in the middle of the afternoon.” Sirius choked in his words a bit as he pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“You’re the one that chose the time.” Regulus pointed out. Sirius just grunted as he pushed their shoulders together.

“It’s nice to have a little brother again.” He joked. Regulus shook his head.

“You never really lost me, not truly.” He added as he leaned his side into Sirius.

“I deserved to.” Sirius grunted as he leaned his tousled hair towards Regulus’ head. Regulus shook his head lightly as he watched the cloud cover the sun again. He supposed sunny afternoons weren’t the worst conversation backgrounds.

-

Smoke filled the air, the old place only had windows that were sealed shut from years old paint likely laden with lead and pesticides. This wasn’t the type of establishment to boast their fresh air and open floor plan. It never had been. Remus sat at the end of the bar, his finger trailing over the line of condensation from his drink. He'd already felt the heat of the room wrapping around his head and making him feel a bit dizzy. A few drinks in and the room would go sideways. He deserved a drink or two or five though.

“Remus.” A breathy accent called as a bag plopped into the counter, the contents rattling inside.

“I’m late.” Mary pointed out as she hoisted her small frame up on the bar chair. All the chairs here squeaked no matter how much anyone worked on them.

“I only just got here, it’s fine.” Remus mumbled as his hand brushed against unfinished wood as he ran out of condensation to follow.

“A draught of lager, cheapest you got.” Mary chided when the barman nodded her way. He grunted as he went to pull the pint glass. The pub wasn’t the coziest of establishments teetering on the edge of the old workmen's quarters of London. He and Mary didn’t have many options.

“Sorry I missed Halloween this year. Work you know?” She shrugged off her coat as she shook out her tight curls.

“It’s fine.” Remus mutters, his eyes watching the way a single drop of water trailed slowly down the edge of the warm glass. The barman clanked the pint against the chipped stained wood as he disappeared around the corner into shadows filled with coughs and mumbles of the patrons hidden behind smoke.

“Remus.” Mary whispered as she placed a gentle hand on his arm. His eyes travelled up to the deep bronze blush across her button nose. She had the type of dark brown eyes that reflected the slightest of light.

“Are you alright?” Mary asked. Her full lips pushed together harshly. Remus could only shake his head as he stared back at the floating dark liquid in his own glass. He’d never been a big drinker, he’d fill his lungs with smoke and down himself in self deprecation. Drinking wasn’t his demon, and after he’d heard Sirius in passing mention his father’s habit and the way it made the man’s eyes glass over and time pass before him without him ever moving. He’d never want to be that way. Ever since Sirius had first glanced over the issue in second year, Remus had sworn he would never abuse the drink. Sirius was gone though so was his father for that matter.

“Remus, I love you. You know that, I don’t say it often but I mean it. You need to move on though. I have this mate, he’s not real out about it, but I know. I could give him your address.” Mary offered. She’d been doing this for a few years now. Trying to get Remus out on dates with one or another of her coworkers or acquaintances. Remus had taken up a few, but never once had it made it to a second date. They had all been Muggles, and sure his mum was a Muggle and he’d grown up away from magic. He felt a pull to magic though, even if the world around it expelled and trodden on him. At night, when he was alone, he’d pull out his old wand and the books he’d scrap together the knuts and sickles to buy from the secondhand store in Diagon Alley when he’d wander there for the few times a year just to smell the magic and the old scents of home. He’d practice and practice the old spells and memorize them until they were nearly written in his mind. A part of him couldn’t let go of the magic like Mary had and fancying a Muggle only meant he’d have to let go off the only good times he had.

“Not in the scene right now, Mary.” Remus shook his head out as he pulled the drink to his lips letting the flavor dance over the tip of his tongue as he took the smallest of sips.

“It was a life sentence for him, Remus. It doesn’t have to be a life sentence for you.” Mary sighed as her hand went lax and slid into her own lap as she took a strong swing of her own drink. Remus grunted as he felt his eyes burn with the past. Why hadn’t he gotten over it? It had been years and he still couldn’t do it, so he made excuses. He couldn’t date a Muggle, he couldn’t date a woman, he couldn’t date a man, but it was all lies. He couldn’t be with anyone that wasn’t him.

“Have you ever thought they got it wrong? That he wasn’t guilty.” Remus whispered as he held his drink out, swishing the liquid barely audible to his ears as he did. Mary let out a heavy breath.

“At first, I didn’t want to believe it. Sirius betray the Potters? He and James were brothers. I couldn’t see him pull a hair from his tousled hair without profusely apologizing. It has been years though Remus, and no one has come to his aid or brought any other proof. He was found at the scene where Peter and twelve Muggles died, laughing with his head thrown back.” Mary uttered as her forearms leaned against the sticky counter.

Remus sat still and silent for a moment. The moment seemed to freeze in the air. The droplets of water seemed to move slower as he breathed on count. His eyes felt heavy in his head. He’d lied earlier, he hadn’t been there for a few moments. He’d been there nearly an hour before she had arrived. Forty-five minutes before they were even supposed to meet. He’d lost count of the drinks by the time she sat down. Maybe two, possibly three, no more than six, he was certain of that.

“I still can’t swallow it, Mary. I can’t believe it.” Remus muttered. His eyes swimming with different flashes of color.

“I know, Remus.” She whispered, her eyes flicking weakly over him. A look mixed with pity and pain.

“So how’s the new job? Grocery stocking right?” Mary smiled in the way only she could change the subject. She’d spent years surrounded by tough situations and avoiding hard conversations.

She had five younger brothers and baby sister and parents who’d spent their last coin leaving their home full of sunny days and sand filled beaches to try and make their life better filled with rainy days and smog. A small two bedroom apartment with no central heating and filled with children and noise. There was no time for conflict when you couldn’t escape it. She was different from her old friends, the ones filled with magic and allowed to be free, they could leave their Muggle world behind and dive into the powers bestowed on them. Even the others with the Muggle family, Lily, Remus, Dorcas, they could let go. Mary never could, she was always pulled back to the world she came from. She’d let Remus go on about his job. Another in a long list of remedial work until his absences became too much for them to bear. He’d be polite and ask about her family and she’d lie and he’d know she was. It was too much to tell the truth, one brother was sick and her mother had to quit her job and another brother ran his nose to the ground. Her father was on the brink of breaking down and her little sister was still too young.

This is how it went. Every time they met now, holding onto the little bit of themselves they still had from them. From their friends who were all buried six feet under, or who’s bodies had never even been found. From the time when they fought a war they could barely understand because neither of them had been raised in the world they were expected to save. From when their own youth was ripped from themselves and they were the two left alive and somehow that was freedom. Somehow that was lucky.

Mary threw her coat back on as she stepped onto the cracked walkway, her nose turning up as she breathed in cold damp air. Remus was only a few steps behind her. They said quick goodbyes. She never felt very lucky, but she supposed she was. When her heels touched ground she wandered her way into the dark as she watched Remus stumble the opposite way, clearly trying to not appear drunk. She supposed compared to him she was lucky, because she could let go.

Chapter Text

The Christmas tree was glistening in the corner of the room shining small dots along the walls that danced to the quiet music that filled the home. Scents of different teas filled the air as the smoke drifted in from the fire cracking in the hearth. Harry ripped through his presents filling the room with the sounds of scrunched up paper and laughter. The joy of cheer spread across the older adults' faces as they all watched, Harry basking in being the center of attention. Regulus couldn’t recall a time he’d ever seen his grandfather smile for so long as he did while sitting with a cup of tea in his night robes and slippers as the break of dawn barely peaked through the hills. Maybe Harry would do more good for all of them, Regulus thought. His grandfather, free from societal expectations, looked happy and was gracious enough to have gotten Harry some of the most expensive gifts he’d ever been given, including a freshly rebound first edition of all the Sherlock Holmes novels.

Harry’s little mouth gaped so largely as his fingers went over the spines gingerly. Then he’d bounced up so quickly and threw his entire weight against Arcturus, smothering him in a hug. Regulus and Sirius had both stiffened from their places on the rug next to Harry, where they were controlling the destruction of the wrappings. There was an unspoken rule, hugs were completely out of the question. Regulus wasn’t sure his father had ever once hugged or held him, and his mother had only done so forced and weakly with no weight in her arms when she was trying to convince Regulus of one of her diabolical plans. Her hugs were just another tactic in her arsenal to control her children.

To their very surprise, after a moment of shock that had quieted the room, Arcturus wrapped his pale wrinkled hands around Harry’s bright red and green pyjamas and hugged him back. Not politely or carefully, but with force that strained his forearms and flexed around his elbow as the two stayed embraced for several moments as Harry whispered in the older man’s ears. Words that would stay between the two as Regulus’ ears couldn’t pick up the exchange. Once Harry let go, the air to the room visibly relaxed as Lucretia knocked her father’s shoulder gently when Harry went back to his presents from where she sat next to him with her husband shyly smiling to her side. She’d begun to egg Harry on to open their presents first. As Cassiopeia joined in on the fun to try and coax Harry towards her silver wrapped presents. It became a game for them all.

Harry laughed and started trying to open two presents at a time so as not to displease anyone. Regulus had never once seen so many gifts bestowed on a child. The pile was nearly as tall as the tree. Filled with books, clothes, and toys both wizarding and Muggle alike. Harry would have entertainment for years to come as he pulled open a present from Uncle Marius and Aunt Helena, a small colorful Muggle puzzle where one had to line up all the colors on the same side. Marius had chuckled and said he’d give Harry his own table in the potion room if he could solve it within a few days' time. Harry’s brows were knitted together as he stared at the small cube, determined to win the challenge as he shuffled it a few times before setting it aside to open a present from Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius. His very own copy of Fantastic Beast and Where to Find them, Cassiopeia had her own copy that Harry enjoyed to flip through, but now he could have his own, and in the margins were scribbles and notes from years of research between his aunt and uncle. Knowledge beyond the words of the most acclaimed magizoologist made it a priceless gift.

“He’s rather humorous in person, but I’ve made my own discoveries throughout the years. Newt and I still disagree on whether a kettle is an effective tool against magical creatures. He swears it was effective for him, but I’ve had less luck.” Igantius chimed as he tapped a scar across his palm. His work was in anything that interested him, whether magical creatures or magical beings or anything that fell between. That scar was from an angered Augurey he’d come across on his sister’s family farm, the cry was suspected to cause death meaning the Fawleys wanted such a creature removed from the rafters of their building. Ignatius, always willing to help his sister, had tried to remove it carefully, only to find his hand in the sharp beak of the creature. The closest weapon was a kettle his sister had brought to the barn to pour him tea while he studied the creature. It hadn’t been effective like he’d read in Newt’s book. He found himself soaked in warm water with an even angrier birdlike creature trying to take all his fingers.

“You’ve met Newt Scammander?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. Ignatius and Lucretia laughed lightly under their breath as they nodded.

“Several times, he lives in Dorset now with his wife. Writes to me occasionally to offer a bit of friendly advice whenever I publish anything new on magical creatures. I took my great nephew to meet him once. Charlie's dream is to be to dragons what Newt was to all creatures. I swear Newt nearly lost his voice answering his questions and I’ve never seen Charlie take such detailed notes, he looked like Bill with his quill moving so fast.” Ignatius chuckled as Harry’s smile grew with each word.

“I’d like to meet him. I can’t wait to take Care of Magical Creatures! And Charms and Transfiguration and Potions and everything Hogwarts has to offer.” Harry chimed as he raised a finger for each class he listed. There was a rumble of amusement that passed through the room.

“I’m certain you’ll excel at them all, Harry. Until then we will teach you everything we can, a thirst for knowledge is admirable.” Cassiopeia noted as she pulled her own cup of tea closer to her. The steam fogging up her spectacles at the edges as she did. Harry nodded as he let the pages flutter quietly for a moment, his fingers letting them slide from his grasp, his eyes nearly glassy as he watched with vigor. Before he returned his attention to his final presents under the tree.

Regulus and Sirius even had a few presents tucked at the back of the tree. Under dangling ornaments and fresh garland with a few pine needles that needed to be brushed off as they pulled the boxes from the back and opened them a bit bashful as Harry enthusiastically threw his hands in the mix to help rip off the paper making the exchange less methodical. Fresh clothes and books abound in their collection until only one small slim box remained with Sirius’ name perfectly written on it.

“Be careful with that one, you may find it a bit volatile.” Arcturus warned with a wink that was barely discernible as he brought his steaming tea to his thin lips. Sirius scrunched his nose as the light sounds of ripping paper filled the air. Regulus craned his neck with a crack as he stared down at the thin velvet box. It looked nearly familiar as he squinted his eyes causing the edges of his sight to go blurry. Sirius’ hand flicked under the edge of the top as it came open with a pop. Inside were four distinct carved pieces of wood in various shapes and colors. Wands.

“Oh.” Sirius gasped as his hand nearly shook as he touched the first one, a pale light wood, as the sparks of magic were nearly visible to Regulus as he let out a relieved breath. Sirius hadn’t had a wand in years.

“They are no Ollivanders wands, but I gave the local wand maker the specifics of your prior wand and he gave those four as the best possible matches. A wizard shouldn’t be apart from a wand for as long as you have.” Arcturus explained as he slowly nodded his head. Sirius let out a small gasp as his fingers gently wrapped his hand around the first one. His eyes had grown wide and Regulus swore he looked happier than Harry had with the new present in front of him.

He swished his wrist once with the first one, almost hesitantly as if he was worried he’d lost his magic and the wand would not respond at all. Respond it did though, not well however. The crack of several ornaments shattered the air as Regulus ducked his head instinctively. The clattering of pieces striking the floors several times resounded off the room. Sirius quickly flushed across his cheeks as he looked at the wand apprehensively.

“Not that one.” Cassiopeia chuckled as she waved her own wand and cleaned the mess. Sirius gingerly set that one aside to keep any other destruction at bay. His hand wrapped around a nearly white one as he lifted it and swirled it around, a gust of wind so forceful it nearly knocked Harry from where he was kneeled and filled the whole room with a swishing noise that made their ears ring. Regulus had to shake his head to clear them and even then the ringing still tingled his ear.

“No, Padfoot.” Harry shook his head as his black hair stuck at all ends as he checked to make sure his new book collection was intact. Thankfully the pages hadn’t been ruffled. Sirius let out a small chuckle as he set the second one down, Regulus feeling a bit antsy as he saw the only other two left. He feared Sirius wouldn’t find a right match, and his brother deserved to have a loyal wand to his side again. He pulled a dark wooden wand with twisting accents from one end to near the middle and the handle end was chiseled to four sides in an even square. Eccentric, just as Sirius was as he raised it, his eyes lightening up as he did. With a strong swish, the wand lit up brightly, but well controlled as the light flooded and warmed the room. A clear match.

“Ebony, Dragon heartstring, rather rigid. Seems fitting enough.” Arcturus commented from his place. Regulus turned his head to watch his brother as his eyes widened with the light above him and his cheeks seemed to fill out before him. He looked younger and unbridled. A part of Regulus felt as if, for a few moments, he was seeing the brother he had known when he was much younger, before the world had torn them apart.

“A strong wand for a strong wizard. Good for transfiguration and combat, ebony wands are made for warrior wizards.” Lucretia chimed in. Sirius smiled showing his teeth and the one tooth that had the chip on his lower row, his mother had done that the summer before he ran away when she hexed him into the barristers on the stairs. He must have never gotten it fixed. Harry’s eyes grew wide as he leaned forward to look closer at the wand, Sirius smiled as he leaned forward and held it out in his hands balancing it on one palm.

“Take a look, Harry. It’s a bit different from my first wand.” Sirius nodded, his smile not faltering.

“What was your first wand?” Harry asked, bringing his glasses a mere breath away from where the wand was. His eyes looked unnaturally large behind the circle frames.

“Blackthorn, Dragon heartstring, Springy.” Sirius nearly quoted.

“What happened to it?” Harry asked, turning his eyes upward. Sirius paused his smile twitching down for a moment. They hadn’t explained to Harry what had happened to Sirius for all those years.

“It broke.” Sirius whispered as he extinguished the light. Harry licked his lips and nodded unaware at how much deeper the explanation truly was.

“I want a wand.” Harry stated whimsically as he eyed the two rejected wands to the side.

“You’ll get one, Harry. When you turn eleven just before you go to Hogwarts. You’ll get to go to Ollivanders in Diagon Alley and you’ll get your very own wand.” Regulus explained trying to divert the attention. Keep the spirits of the season alive without being bogged down by all the dark history of the family.

“I can’t wait to have a wand and study magic and make friends.” Harry explained as he fiddled with a loose bow hanging on the edge of a torn piece of silver wrapping paper. Regulus felt his heart twinge. Harry would be leaving in a few short years and while Regulus was thrilled a part of him didn’t want him to leave. He’d spend nearly all his time at Hogwarts, only returning for a few holidays and the summers.

Regulus would have to watch him grow through letters and short bursts of him returning taller and stronger and he wouldn’t be there to see him cast his first Transfiguration spell or brew his first Potion. He wasn't sure what he’d do with his new free time without Harry. He’d wake up one day and Harry’s messy black hair wouldn’t be sitting at the kitchen table or flying through the garden chasing after a Snitch. Regulus tried not to think too much about it, he didn’t want to dampen Harry’s spirit. Hogwarts had been Regulus’ favorite place, though he had a home life worth running away from. With Harry, he had done everything in his power to assure he’d not once feel that way.

Sirius let him fumble with his wand for a while as Regulus helped to sweep the rubbish away. Kreacher brought forth a warm breakfast to the room for everyone to casually eat as Harry dug through his pile of toys to bring out each one and rotate it in his hands a few times as he showed a different toy to each adult in the room. Marius laughed as Harry tried to mess with a brightly colored Muggle puzzle toy. A contraption he learned was called a Rubik’s Cube. Harry could easily be occupied for hours with the toy as he sat on his bottom with his tongue stuck out while Kreacher encouraged him to try and eat a few pieces of toast and not be so distracted.

The quiet tunes of Christmas music filled the room as they settled into the place, the gentle warmth of the sun reflecting on the open windows as the day dawned. They’d spend nearly all day there letting Harry tinker and awe at his toys. Opening the front door to let in the brisk cool air when the room grew overly warm and Harry bundled in sweaters and thick trousers would run out into the snow insisting Regulus and Sirius teach him how to make snowballs and they would end up in a slosh covered mess of ice and half melted snow before dinner as all three of them fell into the crisp ground. The smell of the house wafting out to combine with the scents of fresh fallen snow and their breaths filling the air with frost. Harry screamed with laughter as Sirius began to tickle him and Regulus laid back to watch. He caught his brother’s eye for a moment, the subtle happiness as he smiled for a moment directly at him. They may not have solved all their issues, but they were working on it for Harry. Harry deserved their effort.

-

“Harry, come take my wand. Let’s show you how to light the candle.” Regulus bent down as he held his wand to Harry. Harry’s eyes went wide as he grasped onto the wand and stared at the table where the silver Hanukkah Menorah was placed, near the center of the room by the window to be seen from outside. Kreacher had shined the silver so harshly he could see Harry’s bright green eyes clear as if he was looking at them as he pulled the first candle down to his eye level.

“Alright, the incantation is Incendio. However, it can be used for anything from lighting a simple candle to burning a house down, so we must be careful how we cast it. A light grip for a weaker flame and the force behind the word needs only to be gentle.” Regulus explained as he held out the candle carefully to keep his hand low and his face to the side.

“Once without the wand, can you practice the incantation?” Regulus asked.

“Incendio.” Harry called with a loud voice. Regulus felt a bit wary with the amount of force behind the words.

“A bit quieter and up and down like this as the motion. Even on each side and it will come to a point at the top.” Regulus explained. He felt a bit worried as he smiled with only half his face as he watched Harry practice the motion a few times. He got the motion nearly instantly. The worry was in how powerful the spell would be.

“Alright gentle Harry.” Regulus eased as he cupped his hand around the Shamash in the center, just as a precaution.

“Incendio!” Harry called as he swung his hand in the flowing motion. The fire cascaded to the end of the candle, Regulus feeling warmth spread across his face as Harry quickly pulled the magic away and the fire went out. Regulus let out a sigh of relief, no singed eyebrows or burnt curtains. Only the faint flicker of a candle wick begining to burn as it popped a few times before the flame settled.

“Good job, Harry.” Regulus let out a huff air. "Do you remember the blessings for the first night?"

Harry nodded as he took a deep breath before reciting the blessings only stumbling over a few parts. Regulus nodded approvingly as he helped guide Harry's hand to light the second candle with the first. His hand pointed softly to the spot to place it down gently.

“Now we put it just here and then Aunt Helena is making you the sufganiyot.” Regulus explained as he pointed to the end candle spot. Harry smiled as he placed the candle in the holder, wobbling with the movement. The warmth caused a bit of pink to start at the tip of his nose.

“Can I go help Aunt Helena?” Harry asked as he bounced on his toes. Helping in his mind likely meant getting to eat the leftover jam out of the bowl, but she’d indulge him. Regulus chuckled as he nodded, brushing Harry’s hair down as he passed. The sound of rescinding feet pounded for a moment as he went to the kitchen, Regulus watched as light reflected off the dark window and bounced shadows over the table. He waved his hand absentmindly in front of the window morphing the shadows even further as his palm warmed up from the small flame.

“How’d you know Lily was Jewish?” Sirius asked as he sauntered in, pulling his wand to light the fireplace filling the room with a vibrant smell and crackling noise. He had his wand for only a day and had found nearly every excuse to use it.

“It was in one of her letters, she was wishing a Happy Hanukkah and I did my best to find everything I could about it.” Regulus explained as he started to clean up the mess of the room, careful not to mention Remus. Over the past month, it has been easier to mention Lily or James, but Sirius never mentions Remus or Peter. Regulus was allowing him to take his time to come to peace with the entire situation and he wouldn’t push. Instead he cleaned as his brother stood watching the log slowly be engulfed in the flames, Harry had toys and books lying all over the place, his attention jumping from one to the other all day as he tried to enjoy everything at once. He left a mess in his wake.

“She didn’t practice much after she found out she was a witch. She found it a bit hard to balance the two, but she still celebrated Hanukkah and Passover. She had the elves make Kosher food for a few years, though I don’t know if she continued the tradition. I never thought to ask.” Sirius’ voice tapered into a whisper the red flames were reflecting in the black pupils in his eyes as he nervously rolled his wand between his hands.

“We don’t keep Kosher. Though I told Harry the rules, he has a Torah among his books. The whole idea of religion confuses me though. The most we have is Helena, but she was raised Protestant Christian. I didn’t even know there were different versions of the Christians.” Regulus brows furrowed together. Learning a religion later in life seemed to leave gaps in the information and not having anyone familiar with Judaism left him with only his books to read. He tried to give Harry the best experience he could with the bits of information he could find.

“We were raised that we were gods, how could we ever understand religion.” Sirius posed as he shrugged his shoulders and bent down to pick up a few of Harry’s belongings closer to the fireplace. They cleaned for a few moments in silence until all the toys had been piled in a box and the books piled into the table next to the flickering single flame on the Menorah. Harry would still have seven more nights of candles to light.

“It was thoughtful of you to even try and research Lily’s history. Holding on to some of her old life before she crossed over into our world was important to her. She tried to teach all of us, but we were stupid kids. We only half listened, no one else had been particularly religious growing up.” Sirius sighed as he sunk into a seat messing with the Rubik’s cube Harry had yet to solve. The clicking noises hit the air a few times as Sirius tried to move the colors the correct way before dropping it on the sofa beside him.

“Frustrating toy.” Sirius grumbled as he kicked his feet up.

“It’s meant to be a challenge.” Regulus pointed out as he swiped at Sirius’ feet. Aunt Cassiopeia would not appreciate her furniture being scuffed.

“James’ family was Hindus. Not his parents particularly, they were never the religious types, but a few distant cousins were. They had festivals and bright colors and wonderful food. James wanted to take Harry to this festival at least once in India, Diwali. Said it was an important holiday to them that he went once as a child and it was the time of his life. He should have gotten to take him.” Sirius folded his arms with his hands tucked in. His eyes seemed to be going far away the more he talked about his old friends. As if memories were playing out just behind his eyes that only he could see. He went silent for a few moments as he squinted his eyes and his forehead creased as if thinking had become painful.

“We could tell Harry about it. Or just you if you wanted.” Regulus suggested when it seemed his brother’s eyes had begun to water. Sirius sniffed loudly as he abruptly turned his head towards the hearth again. Shaking his head for a few moments as he continued to sniffle. Regulus sat with his hands in his lap waiting patiently. If he knew anything about Sirius any longer it was to not try and help him when he was hurting. He’d only lash out, he had to wait until he was at a calmer place before he could dare speak.

“James deserves to tell him and Lily deserves to tell him. I can’t help, but feel inadequate. As if anything I try to teach him will fall short of what he could have had.” Sirius mumbled, his words barely louder than the cracks of breaking wood in the fire with his back still turned to Regulus.

“We can’t change what happened, Siri. Harry deserves his parents, but they aren’t here. We can only do our best to keep their spirits alive.” Regulus muttered, feeling his own eyes growing warm and blurred. He’d wrangled with the same guilt Sirius was feeling for years. At every holiday and birthday and monumental occasion that passed without James and Lily there. Harry hardly understood what he was missing, he was still too young to completely wrap his head around it. One day though, he’d understand. When he was surrounded by other children with parents and siblings, he could notice the subtle differences. He could only hope he did enough to fill the gaps and left Harry with enough happy memories that the ache he’d feel would only be minuscule. His family may not be traditional, but he had one, and they cared.

“I miss them Reg. Everyday I miss them and it’s like I can hear them still. Trying to speak to me, but it’s all muffled and the harder I strain the farther they get from me. Harry is all I have left of them and it hurts sometimes to see so much of them in him, but he doesn’t deserve that burden.” Sirius' breath hitched as he spoke, shaking his head but finally relaxing himself into the couch. Staring into the dark window ahead of them instead of at the burning flames. At least Regulus could see most of his face now. The tense set of his jaw and the tears just holding onto the waterline of his eyes and the way his arms flexed in his hold.

“Maybe, the people we love don’t truly leave us. Maybe, they stay alive in us.” Regulus whispered as his brother dropped his stare to look at him. Not with anger or pain, but with a broken look that only came from the years of pain that had mounted to one final destructive act.

“I got a wise brother you know? If only you’d let that damn hat put you into Ravenclaw.” Sirius joked as a single tear escaped his eyes as he didn’t bother to wipe it away. Regulus swallowed the lump in his throat as he picked at a nail.

“Well, if I had truly been smart I would have let it.” Regulus replied with a dry tone. Sirius let out a choked sound.

“You’ve done your best, Reg.” Sirius whispered as he turned his head back to the window, his eyes falling into memories again as he let himself slip into the sofa more.

“Thanks, Siri.” Regulus whispered back. The silence for once wasn’t uncomfortable between them. The progress was slow and painful, but it was progress nonetheless.

Chapter Text

“Would it truly be so terrible if we just happen to forget one holiday season?” Ignatius sighed as he waved his wand to collect the various objects that lay around the room. The swishing sounds of them flying into a dark chest drowned out any response for a moment until the objects settled in the wooden trunk. Regulus was stiff as a tree as he sat and watched it all unfold.

“Dear, it is only for a few days. Besides, you have been saying you need to return to Wales for some time now. Our work is still to be done.” Lucretia responded as she tapped her wand against the trunk to shrink the objects that had been collected in order to fit all they needed for their travels back.

“I agree with Uncle Ignatius, you should stay!” Harry chirped from where he was reading on the rug.

“Oh well, Harry has spoken, we simply can never leave now.” Uncle Ignatius chuckled as he bent down to ruffle Harry’s hair. Harry’s cheeks pulled as he smiled as wide as he could.

“A peaceful quiet life in Switzerland? Tuft, Ignatius I would not consider you one to retire so easily.” Lancelot smirked as he walked into the room with a pile of books he was placing into his own trunk. They were returning to Wales. They had left their estate for quite some time with only Ignatius occasionally popping in to make appearances at The Ministry and confirm the house was still standing. Their elf had essentially been running the home with his sister going over once a week to maintain the estate. They had to tell her they were out for a long bit of work in another country. Considering it was not the first time, Tessie Fawley had simply sent some strong Welsh words, but readily agreed.

“Forty-three years of working is not prideful enough? Must we all work till a hundred and five?” Ignatius shot back with a glint of humor in his eye. He may be in his sixties, but Regulus always thought he looked younger. There was a youthful appearance to his face, in his eyes and his smile, that helped keep him young even as wrinkles formed and hair grew slowly grey.

“Y wraidd o phob drygioni yw diogi.” Lancelot snipped as he put on his glasses to inspect a book before placing it aside.

“Oh now you remember Welsh, hen bastard budr.” Ignatius laughed from deep in his stomach afterwards. There was comfort in the sound. When he was younger, Regulus had always found comfort when his aunt and uncle would visit. Ignatius commanded the room with his loud tone and strange accent, and Lucretia tight to his side had an air to her that she could commit unspeakable sins and no one would be allowed to say a word. Which was likely true, given that her father and her brother would challenge anyone who spoke ill of her, family or foe. Even after the siblings falling out, if his mother dared speak a poor word of her cousin it would send Orion into a tailspin. Sick or not, he’d never hesitate to put his own wife at the end of his wand and Walburga may be powerful, but Orion was intelligent. A war of brawn versus wit never had a righteous ending.

“Merlin, can we please hold off on the snipping until after we survive the holidays? There will be enough animosity in the air these next few days to fill an entire manor.” Lucretia sighed as she placed the clothes into the trunk. She was likely right, many of the house were leaving a mere few days after Christmas to make the annual visit around the spread out Black family. Cassiopeia and Lucretia balanced carefully between the two sides of the family, strategically visiting everyone without the others being privy to the knowledge and careful to keep their words close to their tongue so as not to let any unnecessary information slip to one side or the other.

“See, I need to not visit these manors. I make my polite stop to The Burrow and then I get the privilege to wait for the two of you to return from the other homes. It’s a wonderful position I’ve placed myself in.” Lancelot smiled to one side of his mouth as he spoke as Ignatius scoffed.

“How wonderful it must be cousin, here we have a meticulous schedule that must be followed purposefully or we dare raise unnecessary questions.” Ignatius sighed as he rolled his eyes for a moment before closing the trunk that had been filled with a light snap.

“At least this year Andromeda has agreed to meet at The Burrow. We can see her, Cedrella and Molly and all her children in one visit. Speaking of, we need to make sure we pack all the presents separately. I will carry Draco’s if we can store the ones for Molly’s children in the spare trunk.” Lucretia pointed out as she tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“You know Molly is going to throw a fit about these presents. I’ll get an earful and at least two letters threatening to return them because they are too expensive.” Ignatius sighed sadly as his eyes turned to the corner where the presents lay against the wall, wrapped securely and neatly.

“Gryffindor pride can be an obstacle, but I will hear nothing of it. I understand her reservations about us and about her not wanting handouts, but these are the children. They’ve done nothing, and if we dare spoil them once a year, she should swallow it.” Lucretia huffed as she started to gather the presents in her hands. Regulus had never gotten the full story as to why the Weasleys wouldn’t take assistance when needed. It was well known they weren’t well-off and seven children seemed a handful and larger than most the families were known for. Ignatius worked hard. He and Lucretia never could have children, he couldn’t understand not allowing him to help provide for the family if he was willing. Instead, they could only manage presents on birthdays and holidays gifted to the children with a fuss from their mother to follow.

“Still, a new broomstick for Charlie, a top of the line broomstick nonetheless, this rare collection of curse breaking books for Bill, and Percy has gotten a whole new potion set. I doubt she’ll even allow Fred and George to use this collection from Zonko’s Shop, they get into enough trouble without any assistance. Then Ron gets new sets of robes and Ginny a quidditch set. She’ll be furious, Lucy. This is more expensive than in past years.” Ignatius rubbed his temple as Lucretia called down the spare set of trunks and began to fiddle with the gifts to make them fit.

“Charlie is an easy choice for the Quidditch Captain. For his fifth year, he needs something more reliable than the old Cleansweep. Bill was made prefect, and Percy starts his first year soon. I’m certain Fred and George will find a way to get their hands on the products and Ron can hardly fit into Bill’s old clothes and I think it’s rubbish Molly won’t allow Ginny a broom. So at the least she deserves to familiarize herself with the other aspects of the game. I think she could knock Charlie off if she’s given the tools.” Lucretia explained with a high pitched tone that she only used when she was on the brink of annoyance. One shouldn’t reply except to agree with her when her voice had that squeaky edge to it.

“I suppose I will make Molly see reason, love.” Ignatius shook his head, but there was still a faint smile on his lips. He stepped over to gently take the broomstick from her hands and turn it sideways to fit it into the trunk without it needing to be shrunk. Shrinking a broom could cause issues later on, Regulus recalled from his years obsessing over Quidditch knowledge.

“Merlin almighty, Narcissa has sent a full letter with instructions on this year's ball. Can’t old women be exempt from such folly nonsense.” Cassiopeia cried as she entered the room, her bag over her shoulder and Arcturus just behind with his cane shining in his hand.

They’d be leaving as well, the only ones that would be left behind would be Marius, Helena, Regulus, Harry, and Sirius. There had been much debate on whether Sirius should stay, trust was fickle in this house. Until Aunt Helena very loudly reminded them that it was her who hexed Sirius when everyone else watched as he strangled Regulus. She wasn’t scared of him, and he had been on his best behavior as of late. He stayed up to enjoy tea after dinner most days, he spent afternoons in the garden with his sketchbook watching Harry fly, and he’d even tried to help Marius with a potion. Except Sirius was awful at potions and he ended up melting the cauldron when he added an ingredient in the wrong order. Marius had effectively banned him from the Potions shed and honestly, Sirius hadn’t minded. He’d burnt the end of his leather jacket because of the mess and he didn’t want to risk any of his other favorite clothes.

“Tell me she’s not making us all take photos with the peacocks again. I absolutely cannot stand those creatures.” Lucretia dramatically sighed before throwing herself on the sofa eyeing the half packed truck with a bit of annoyance.

“Goodness, I hope not. One pecked a hole in my favorite pair of robes one year and I’ve never forgiven them since then.” Cassiopeia clicked her tongue as she pulled her spectacles off and sat daintily on a chair not far from where Regulus sat as he continued to be still and listen to his surroundings. It was stunning what one could learn just by being quiet.

“Cassie, it’s just a theme. Narcissa enjoys her parties and with Draco growing up she has more time to plan these events. She is her mother’s daughter and appearance is everything. I’m certain you can live up to a simple theme.” Arcturus grumbled as he pulled the cane to his eyes and rubbed with the end of his robes at a spot that Regulsu couldn’t even see.

“Oh, but Arcturus even you must see the thinly veiled insults. The winter moon and stars theme after she named her son Draco, I bet my last galleon her father put her up to this. He’s trying to pressure you to leave the inheritance to Draco and you can’t deny that fact.” Cassiopeia eyed him pointedly from the end of her sharp nose. Arcturus continued to huff at his cane before he responded.

“He can use every tactic he wishes, but until I am buried into the ground this House is still mine. Though you do remind me, Ignatius, I need a favor from you when we return if you can spare a few hours. I need a witness for paperwork I need to complete with Gringotts.” Arcturus added as he finally lowered his cane, striking it ever so slightly on the wood floor with a sharp clink. Ignatius narrowed his eyes, but never asked any questions. Regulus had always supposed the relationship between the two older men had been formed on exchanges that occurred well before his birth. The two had a type of trust that Regulus never saw his grandfather exude. Whether that relationship was from shared experiences or mutual destruction, when Arcturus needed a favor, he skipped over many of his own family and would write to Ignatius. Who in return would show up with promptness to the Black Family home as soon as available and the two would secretly go on their way.

“I don’t trust my brother, Arcturus. Tread carefully, he is getting deranged and desperate in his older years, his letters have lost sense to even me and I would wager losing Walburga hasn’t helped. It’s unnatural for a parent to outlive one child, but to outlive two. Both Irma and Pollux, even in their soulless hearts, have had difficulties coming to terms with their predicament. Add on that Cygnus is preoccupied keeping his own wife in the best health he can manage, and well they are both left unchecked for much too long.” Cassiopeia warned as she settled her long fingers on the caps of her knees. Arcturus listened attentively and nodded to her words, but didn’t seem particularly concerned. Regulus only chewed on his lips, nervously. The memories of the screaming matches and physical fights rebounding in his head. To say his two grandfather’s never got along would be a grossly negligent understatement. He was truly surprised they hadn’t killed each other over the years.

“Merlin, we have to be gone in an hour. Ignatius, love can you help me get the rest of it together? It’ll be a long few months until we return.” Lucretia sighed as she kicked her feet to the floor and stood holding out her hand. At her words, Harry grumbled under his breath and twisted his lips frustratingly.

“Yes, Harry?” Ignatius asked as he grabbed Lucretia’s hand bringing it to his lips before he dropped to one knee to be closer to Harry’s level.

“Why do you have to go? Can’t you come right back like Aunt Cassie and Grandfather Arcturus?” Harry pleaded, leaning on his hands closer to his uncle.

“Oh, we have work to do, Harry. If the werewolves don’t see me soon I may lose all my progress, and I promised an old friend I would help him replenish the wards at the dragon sanctuary in Romania, but we promise we will return before your birthday. Then we will stay all the way to the holidays again, trust me the time will fly. When I get back we can practice formation looping again, maybe knock some Chaser into you after all.” Ignatius said, pushing into Harry’s nose made Harry lose his grim appearance and made him roll his eyes and let out a dry chuckle.

“I want to practice The Wronski Feint.” Harry responded determinedly as he held up his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages he had been flipping through.

“Most certainly not.” Regulus responded instantly, breaking his long held silence. Everyone whipped around to look at him, a few confused glances as if they had forgotten he was there.

“But, Reggie—” Harry started before he stopped when Regulus shot him an intimidating look and opened his mouth.

“No, Harry. It is dangerous and you need more practice before you even attempt such a dangerous move.” Regulus warned, keeping his tone even but his face firm.

“Haven’t you done it?” Harry lamented as he threw his arms to his side in exaggeration.

“That is not the point.” Regulus replied.

“You have, haven't you? What’s it like? Did it work?” Harry immediately perked up. He discarded the book to the side as he stared directly at Regulus. Regulus let out a heavy sigh before he responded.

“Later, shouldn’t you be enjoying your last few moments with everyone here? The house will be quiet soon and then what will you do?” Regulus pointed out trying to redirect the energy.

“Make noise.” Harry shrugged, as Regulus felt a bit taken aback by the blunt answer, but Harry did turn his attention back. He volunteered to help Aunt Lucretia with the packing if she would show him how to do the spell on her wand. She laughed, but gladly agreed. There was a bit of clattering upstairs for a while, but it didn’t sound as if anything was irreparably broken.

An hour later the group gathered in the front of the house. Harry held up on Regulus' side as he waved at the retreating figures. They had to be at The Burrow that evening and had two portkeys to catch making goodbyes brief. Sirius stood just next to them, his arms wrapped around himself against the cold. He’d ignored the comment from Aunt Lucretia that he should put a coat on, and likely was trying to avoid proving her right until she was over the hill and out of sight. Aunt Helena and Uncle Marius were behind them, leaning on each other in the doorway watching the scene quietly. It would be the first time in months the house would be so empty and still. Maybe, Harry making noise wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

-

Malfoy Manor was a spectacle. Even on a typical day the windows would gleam and all the silver was polished to perfection, throw in an artificial season of celebration and it was down right obnoxious. The tinsel that hovered on every spare piece of furniture, the lights charmed to glow with the shadows of snowflakes on the walls, and the ice sculptures of peacocks twirling around the room. It was a farce anyone could see through, the Malfoys doing damage control to win over the favor of the Wizarding Community even years later. Fancy parties with luscious food and overflowing drinks and a few galleons and threats given in shadows would do it.

Severus found the affair disgusting, but he was nearly obligated to attend. The Malfoys were the closest to friends in his existence. A replacement, he reminded himself when they lost the person that should be in his place. He’d known it the moment Draco had been revealed. He’d been asked so graciously at an exuberant tea party to be his godfather. His lips had snarled as he tried to cover it with a sip of tea as the feeling of distaste filled his mouth. Hadn’t he overheard the conversation himself so many years ago?

On a rainy cold evening with the darkness seeming to grow around him as he desperately scurried over notes with the fading Lumos behind him. He was tucked alone behind his long hair in a corner of the Slytherin common room when he heard footsteps crossing the stone floors towards him. He was covered in another layer of darkness as their shadows casted over him. He looked up to bark them away, but their backs were turned and he knew the moment he caught the sight of the obnoxious hair tied into a small knot on the top of his head, it best he be silent.

“How were your holidays, Regulus? Heard you were able to stay at Malfoy Manor, is that true?” Bartimus asked in his wheezy tone. His eyes constantly moved side to side in his head, watching for something only he could see.

“They were fine, father convinced mother it would be good for me to spend time with my cousin for the latter half of the holiday. Narcissa was a bit emotional and sentimental, she said she had wanted me to be the godfather of their child. Pity they lost the baby just as they discovered they were expecting. Her husband was hardly even around to be with his wife. Lucius Malfoy has never impressed me.” Regulus had scoffed using that pretentious accent and slow drawl he took occasionally when he didn’t truly want to be speaking. Barty never seemed to catch onto the tell and continued to probe.

“Yes, but he’s a loyal follower isn’t he? I’ve heard he’s made himself rather important.” Barty egged on as he obsessively licked his lips for nearly the fifth time in a span of a few moments. Severus found it an unbecoming habit.

“His money is important. The Malfoys are a small family, they do not have to handle trusts or distant family’s inheritances. Hence, Lucius can throw his fortune away much easier than other families. We take care of our own first in the House of Black.” Regulus explained, sniffing loudly another tell he wanted the conversation to end.

“But you provide funds, don’t you?” Barty inquired.

“Our services are a bit priceless. You see, we deal in the world of secrets. You’ll find in time, Barty, that secrets win wars that others fund. Now I need rest, are you coming or are you going to work on the Divination scroll?” Regulus asked as he brushed his hands against his robes loudly, turning before the words were even completely out of his mouth, exuding the arrogance of kings.

“I need to work, I’ll be up later.” Barty grunted as he took the bag off his shoulder and smacked it obnoxiously on the stone floors. The sounds of books shuffling and potion bottles hitting one another. Severus hated to admit it, but Barty was a rather intelligent swine. In line to be one of the few people to successfully sit all the O.W.L.s. Regulus was nearly to the stairs by the time Barty answered, glancing over his shoulder with a nonchalant shrug before he left the room. Severus had stayed trapped in his corner, never acknowledged by the other two, though he was likely noticed. He found it annoyingly hard to not be seen by Regulus. His years of living in his home made him rather astute in his observation skills and keeping track of where anyone was at any given hour. Severus thought he’d been good from the acts of his father, but he supposed Tobias Snape was little match for Walburga Black.

Severus scuffed under his breath as he pulled a glass from a passing house elf. Always second best to the pureblood sons of old, but look at where they were compared to him. Barty was locked in Azkaban tormented by dementors, Evan Rosier got himself blasted into pieces, and Regulus, well Regulus was trapped under Dumbledore’s thumb thanks to Severus. Even if it wasn’t the fate he hoped for an old classmate, it couldn’t be the most comfortable position. Still, he’d taken the gesture of being a godfather with pride and now he had a haughty cretin for a godson. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it did make him proud to have someone. Since his mother’s death, he’d felt terribly alone and there was something in Draco’s wide eyes that pulled at his heartstrings ever so softly.

The ball was nearly in full swing as he kept to the edges of the crowd, only occasionally saying a necessary word or two to old acquaintances. Fellow former Death Eaters mostly, ones who’d been able to plead or buy their way out of a cell. Cowards, all of them as they laughed and lauded with the crowds, even though under all their robes laid the same mark. Each of them had run and hide, but they could never truly be rid of the commitment. Severus found a slight smirk pulling at his lips at that thought as he scanned through the murmuring crowd. His eyes narrowed as he noted a group of people enter together, slowly but proudly.

The last of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black had finally arrived nearly late to their own daughter’s event. Granted, not a soul would dare utter a word about it above a whisper tone and even then some wouldn’t dare. Severus had never truly been introduced to the Blacks, but he’d heard plenty. He watched as Arcturus Black led the group with a tall thin woman to his side, one Cassiopeia Black. Severus found it a bit ridiculous, considering he knew that Arcturus Black had run from his engagement to his own cousin to marry a woman from a lesser family. Now, there they stood, arms interlocked and necks stretched as they paused to greet Narcissa.

Pollux and Irma were openly scowling behind them. Likely because they’d been forced behind the two, anyone who was anyone knew Pollux was vying for the day Arcturus finally passed. He’d be the coveted heir at last, though to what means considering there was no one to pass the name onto. Pride made men folly though, and to even hold the title by default for a few years was enough to fuel the man’s anger. His only living child was behind him with a woman on his arm as well. Cygnus’ wife was pale and fanning herself as she leaned heavily into his side. No healer could figure what was making her ill, but Severus could assume. Stress could take lives and Druella Black had plenty of it. From her old family of the Rosiers to her married family of the Blacks, stress was abundant. Narcissa rushed to her and helped her father find her a place to sit as she weakly nodded when Narcissa leaned closer. Severus assumed he should feel a twinge of sympathy, it was likely Narcissa would lose her mother in the coming years, but it took too much effort to think on at any length.

His eyes fell in the final of the group to enter, two steps farther back from all. Clustered close together with their lips moving rapidly in hushed whispers, Severus' eyes twitched as he watched the Prewetts speak. He’d never found their secret out, other than Lucretia Black should have married someone else, but after he went missing during the first war, she was quickly engaged again. Only this time to the spare of House Prewett, people had been sympathetic, but Severus had always felt there was more to the story that had been buried. The Prewetts didn’t matter much any more though, not with Fabian and Gideon getting themselves blasted fighting for a losing war. They had taken one of his own out while they went down, and the fight had been a bit of an embarrassment. Dolohov had gotten them in the end though.

The Blacks didn’t boast for attention, but they still received it. Followed by looks of pity and disdain that followed hidden behind lifted glasses and unfolded fans. The House would fall and soon. People were torn on the matter, but for the most, they were grateful to fight over the pieces that would remain when the final male died. Nearly every pureblood family had some claim to the Black family and the bloodbath they hoped for over the fortune would be unlikely. Severus may not know them, but he knew of them. Arcturus Black did not seem the man to die without a plan in place. There was also the pesky issue of Regulus being alive. The heir lived and if Merlin forbid he happened to sire an heir. Well, the entire social circle would have a fit. Severus almost wouldn’t put it past Regulus to have already had a few children hidden away to save the line, but Dumbledore would never confirm such.

Instead, he kept his eyes following the family and the words that came in their wake. Trying to pick up any piece of information he could. Any scrap of knowledge, any suspicious glances, any bit of power he could hold. Any inclination of where Regulus Black could be hidden away. They were cool as stone though and Severus could feel his grip tightening on the single drink he nurtured all night. They never let their appearance slip for even a second as his robes floated around person after person in his pursuit. He wouldn’t get anything from them, not tonight. His lungs burned as he breathed deeply through his nose, he wouldn’t give up. Dumbledore may be willing to let Regulus slide through the cracks, but Severus was willing to wait. He’d have the upper hand at last.

Chapter Text

Freshly shined boots struck the marble floor with loud raps as a cane quickly followed with dull smacks. This continued down the long hall past many goblins busing themselves with the loud shuffle of papers and occasional cough. He could feel their eyes on his back as they walked down, following the two of them until they reached their final destination. He’d occasionally throw a menacing glance over his shoulder to send them into a quick frenzy of making a show of pretending they hadn’t been staring. Arcturus had dealt with goblins long enough to know them as well as anyone could.

“What secrets are we keeping from the family now, Arcturus?” Igantius whispered out of the corner of his mouth as they came to pause at the final table under the watchful eye of the Head Goblin. Arcturus shot him a glance with a raised eyebrow as he glanced around the room. Ignatius' eyes shifted side to side before he gave a single curt nod. Too many ears around to discuss the matter at hand.

“Mister Black, always a pleasure, come to make a withdrawal?” The Head Goblin asked with his pointed smile.

“Actually, I need to update the succession of the Black family vault at once.” Arcturus said firmly as he brought both hands to a tight grip on the head of his cane using his eyes to stare at the Head Goblin. The wrinkled head twitched once before he grunted and nodded as he brought himself down from his high post.

“This way.” He pointed with a crooked finger to the rooms hidden in the back of the main hall, where business could be conducted more privately. Arcturus followed the goblin with his son by law over his shoulder. He could nearly hear the questions buzzing off Ignatius, but he asked none. The many acts that had transpired between the two men left them with a deep silent understanding of each other.

The door opened silently for such a wide metal contraption as the Goblin paused to allow them to enter first before he disappeared in a different direction for the paperwork. Arcturus leaned his cane against the gold minted table and took a seat in the cold chair. The room was bare of any decorations, but still grand. The walls and floors were marble and the room shone of decadence with a large crystal light hanging, swaying above, from the movement of the carts. Gringotts loved to boast about their wealth without words.

Ignatius took a stiff seat next to him keeping his hands straight to his side, his mouth twitched, but never opened. Sometimes when Arcturus looked at him he could still see the wide eyed eighteen year old, who’d come to him terrified. Then to watch him grow into the nineteen year old man that would stand at the end of an ornate aisle and make his daughter an honest woman once again. As he grew into the wild yet reserved man he’d become, who could conquer anything before him and love his wife till his dying day. Until the fateful day where he couldn’t be the conqueror he’d been. That day he’d come to Arcturus with his eyes burning and his chest filled with vengeance. The day he lost the boys he’d considered his sons, and had nearly demanded Arcturus help him find those responsible and enact the revenge he seeked. They’d gotten two before the war ended, then one had died in the fight, and the last two, including the man Igantius truly wanted, sat locked away in Azkaban.

“Yes, here is the account. It appears the last adjustment was made in spring of 1982 by one Walburga Irma Black, leaving her inheritance to one Sirius Orion Black III, should he ever be released from his prison sentence, if not it is to be given to her niece Narcissa Minette Black, signed with her signature and witnessed by one Irma Black. Before then, the prior change was made by yourself, Mister Black. Changing the succession from Orion Alioth Black to Regulus Arcturus Black in lieu of an unexpected death. I have been wondering when you’d come to name a benefactor, am I right to assume it shall be left to the Malfoy heir?” The Head Goblin asked as he removed his spectacles after he finished reading the paperwork. Arcturus inhaled through her nose before replying.

“Draco will be left with plenty in the Malfoy name, no I wish to change it to another, but first I must insist on a binding oath of secrecy.” Arcturus demanded pushing his shoulders back, the Goblin squinted his eyes at him.

“If you insist, how would you like it drafted?” The Goblin inquired as he made a quill appear in his left hand posed to a piece of parchment.

“The discussion will not be divulged to anyone, but myself, the witness, the benefactor and two absent confidantes that will be listed.” He replied with force. He had dealt with the politics of money for too long to dance around the subject.

“Who are the two absent?” The goblin asked methodically as the quill began to scribble with scratches on the fresh parchment.

“Lucretia Melanie Prewett and Cassiopeia Violetta Black.” Arcturus answered shortly.

“Then the benefactor?” The goblin drew out the words as his eyes narrowed, waiting intensely for the reply.

“Harry James Potter.” He answered smoothly. Careful to keep his face absent of any emotion. The Head Goblin was not so careful as he let shock spread across his face for several seconds before he shook his head and took his typical grim appearance.

“As you wish.” The goblin replied, quickly scrolling on the parchment.

“As well, I need not have Regulus Arcturus Black removed from the vault access.” Arcturus added, his lips twitching before he forced a frown. The Head Goblin froze completely for a moment as his pupils widened.

“Mister Black, are you aware it is typically policy to remove deceased members of the family from vault access?” He asked carefully, keeping his eyes trained on the parchment.

“Indeed, but I believe it is the account holders prerogative on who remains with access to the family vaults.” Arcturus inhaled deeply as he spoke, enunciating his words purposely. The Head Goblin shot a suspicious look before he took very short notes on the parchment.

“Anything else I may assist with?” He asked gruffly a moment later.

“Only to remind you that any changes made under an oath of secrecy requires the Head Goblin to also keep the secret and magically binds them to only be able to convey the information in the event of his replacement.” Arcturus pointedly stated. The Head Goblin’s face went tense as he clicked his tongue.

“I am aware of my own bindings, Mister Black.” He spat as he pushed the parchment across the table.

“As is protocol, I will review those with access and once the parchment is signed and witnessed all will be enacted including the oath of secrecy that restricts the requested information.” He continued as his hand slammed towards the end of the parchment. “As stands, Arcturus Sirius Black, Lucretia Melanie Prewett, Pollux Cygnus Black, Irma Black, Cassiopeia Violetta Black, Narcissa Minnette Malfoy, Sirius Orion Black III, Regulus Arcturus Black, and Harry James Potter shall be allowed access to their inheritances within the vault and allowed withdrawal within the stated limits without permission from the account holder with Harry James Potter being the benefactor at the death of Arcturus Sirius Black. The information of the addition of Harry James Potter and the continued inclusion of Regulus Arcturus Black shall henceforth be kept under an oath of secrecy, is this information true and correct?”

“Yes.” Arcturus answered as he picked up the quill and signed his signature before passing the parchment to Ignatius, the other man gave him a disbelieving look but took the quill and quickly wrote his own name down.

“Very well, the change is immediate, was there anything else you needed assistance with?” The Head Goblin sniffed as he signed his own name and sealed the paperwork a moment later.

“No, thank you for your generous assistance today. We will be on our way.” Arcturus replied, grabbing his cane and making an immediate exit. He could hear the goblin muttering under his breath, but didn’t bother a response as he took long strides to the exit. He could hear Igantius’ breath behind him as he kept pace. It wasn’t until they were in the nearly deserted Diagon Alley due to the early hours that he dared to speak.

“Harry? You’ve made Harry your heir?” Ignatius hissed as he turned himself in front of Arcturus.

“Indeed, I believe you were the one to witness the change.” Arcturus replied as he pushed his way past Ignatius’ stunned stop and made his way down the alley..

“Arcturus, do you not plan to tell anyone?” He answered as he jogged to catch up a moment later.

“He will be told at the time of my death with official Gringotts correspondence. You’re allowed to explain it to him then, a Gringotts oath of secrecy only restrains the goblins from running their mouths. It’s more a strong suggestion to the wizards and witches privy to the information.” Arcturus added as he paused near The Leaky Cauldron, contemplating stopping in for a drink. They had promised the rest of their day to be spent at Malfoy Manor, and a stiff drink would make it more bearable.

“Arcturus, I don’t understand though, how will I explain it to Harry? Or to Sirius or Regulus, who you’ve just passed over as heirs?” Ignatius sighed as he threw his hands up in a defeated motion.

“I don’t believe either Sirius or Regulus will find themselves upset at the arrangement. You heard, Sirius has Walburga’s inheritance and I believe Alphard left his inheritance as well, both are significant enough to live a long life on, and Regulus will still have access to the vault, I doubt Harry will have any objections to either of them using the funds.” Arcturus explained as he tore his eyes from the leaning sign of the pub to look at the exhausted brown eyes next to him.

“And of Harry? Do you not think he’ll have questions?” Ignatius asked, meekly.

“He’ll understand in time, I promise you so.” Arcturus confirmed. “Now come along, Narcissa despises tardiness.”

A quick snap later and they found themselves at the end of the long winding walkway to Malfoy Manor. Ignatius took heavy steps, but challenged no more as they made a casual stroll down the dusty path. The looming manor cast a faint shadow over them as they approached with the gleaming reflection of the silver touches sparkled throughout the outside of the property. Arcturus merely tapped his cane loudly twice before the wide set doors opened to the bright entrance hall. Down the way, the sounds of people speaking faintly floated around the room as the two men followed the sounds silently side by side.

The group had gathered in front of a burning hearth that cracked every few moments and only barely filled the wide room with warmth. The distant family sat stiffly in different places very particularly. Narcissa purposely placed herself on the side of the Malfoys. Next to Lucius, and just to the side of Abraxas, who sat in his own lone chair. She’d been distancing herself for years from her family, even using her charm talent to reflect the wintery blonde color of the Malfoys. Her hair had always been fair, but now she kept it a stark white color. A calling card to the family she was truly loyal to.

Pollux was staring into the hearth with his dark eyes burning as his wife seemed preoccupied staring at the more attractive portraits of the Malfoys passed. Cygnus sat tucked next to them, Druella was too ill to leave her bed today, and she was left at home with the elf to look after her. Draco was at their feet, shuffling through a collection of Chocolate Frog cards. Cassiopeia sat stiffly next to Lucretia, occasionally giving each other sympathetic glances as Lucius' pompous voice filled the room. Arcturus paused just out of sight as he held his hand up to stop Ignatius from entering as well so he could listened.

“Honestly, he should know better, it’s been years that certain people have been trying to gain access to the manor for these little searches, and yet they never occur. You would think after such efforts someone so low within the Ministry would pick up that no one will take him seriously, I mean who would believe that we of all families would have illegally bewitched Muggle Artefacts? A few galleons exchanged to the right hands of people who matter and the little whispers of unimportant men are disregarded.” Lucius boasted as he laughed at his own self-importance. Arcturus had never liked Lucius, he was a fraction of the man his father was. If Arcturus were to wager, Abraxas likely could only handle his son in pieces considering he spent so much time abroad when his son was younger and even more vain. Arcturus cleared his throat loudly as he smacked his cane purposely on his entrance, drawing the room to him as he wanted.

“Well Lucius, if you ever used the mind behind your small eyes, you would realize that instead of wasting your fortune paying off men to squander the complaints of someone you deem unimportant, the proper way to handle it would be to allow the raids to happen. You need only properly hide any incriminating evidence and allow the Ministry in with a smile and warm cup of tea. Once they find nothing of interest, you’ve effectively discredited the initial complainant and would not need to waste galleons paying off other men to do it. Alas, you’ve never been one for finesse in your plans.” Arcturus articulated as he took slow, self assured steps to the empty chair next to Abraxas. Said man let out a dry chuckle at his own son’s expense as he risked a wink towards Arcturus. The darker haired of the two older men snorted under his breath as he took his seat slowly, noting Ignatius had already silently taken his place next to his wife. His eyes were staring at the floor.

“Good morning, Acturus.” Lucius sniffled as he grimaced towards him. Arcturus only flashed him the most conceited of smiles.

“I see you’ve returned from your errands, anything we need to be informed of?” Lucius brazenly asked as he tucked a bit of his obnoxiously loud hair behind his ear.

“On the contrary Lucius, it has not even a speck of importance towards someone like yourself.” Arcturus replied as he turned his attention elsewhere purposefully. Lucius adjusted himself to reply, but Narcissa quickly grasped his arm and pulled him back into his place. A smart move, Arcturus was feeling twitchy and he likely would have hexed him without a second thought.

“Draco, what do you have there?” Arcturus asked as moved his cane aside to beckon towards the young boy. Draco popped up his purposefully laid hair from where his hands had been shuffling the cards.

“I'm sorting the cards to burn those who aren’t worthy.” He explained with the drawn accent of his father slipping into his every word. Arcturus made a small noise as he used his hand to command Draco to approach. The young boy twisted his lips as he stood in his long draping winter robes carrying his collection in his hand. Arcturus pulled him into the chair next to him as motioned for him to lay the cards across his lap. Draco did so meticulously as he did most things. Arcturus could see the distinct divide. Anyone deemed a blood traitor or even worse Muggleborn were on one side and those of pureblood or worthy enough half-blood on another. The last card paused for a moment in the pale thin hands before Draco added it to the first pile for disposal. Arcturus looked at it with interest as he placed it between his fingers and brought it up to where both of them could see it better. Albus Dumbledore’s reflection stared back at them.

“You know Draco, I hope you get your mother’s mind because it is good to know that even those considered beneath you must not be underestimated. People as this, should not be burned and forgotten, but instead studied and acknowledged for their power. Less we find ourselves blindside by their attack.” Arcturus explained as he rightfully moved Dumbledore’s card to the other pile. Draco looked at him with a confused gaze, but Arcturus only stared forward into the burning eyes of Lucius Malfoy, daring the man to give him a reason to pull his wand and make a fool of him in front of his only son.

-

“Harry, come play with me.” Regulus offered to the depressed child staring longingly out the window. An unprecedented snow storm had coated the hills with thick white and currently made the wind whip so harshly the windows shook. Harry had been trapped inside for two days now and he felt it was terribly unfair. He wanted to fly his broom and after all day spent with everyone trying to find ways to distract him, his attention had run thin and he’d spent the better part of the second morning staring outside the window trying to use sheer will to wish the storm away. Regulus had sat at the piano and thought he might as well try to get Harry out of his fit.

“Reggie if we’re magic, why can’t we just make the storm go away?” Harry sighed as he sunk into the seat he’d pushed next to the window. Regulus shook his head and laughed to himself.

“It would take an exceptional amount of power to change the weather. There are certain parts of this world that shouldn’t be intervened with.” Regulus explained as he patted the bench again to try and get Harry to move. Harry let out a dramatic huff of air as he slid off the chair nearly to the ground before dragging his feet to the bench and slumping into the seat. Regulus restrained a roll of his eyes, Harry’s personality grew every day and at this rate Regulus was unprepared for the years to come.

“Can we play Swan Lake ?” Harry sighed as he touched the ends of the keys gently making then piano sing.

“You want to play Swan Lake?” Regulus inquired. Harry didn’t often make requests.

“You always played it during the holidays back in England.” Harry shrugged, but there was a spark to his eye.

“You remember that?” Regulus smiled. Harry had been so young when they left, he wasn’t sure he could recall anything from their time there. Harry nodded.

“So we shall play it, you take those keys.” Regulus nodded before the soft sounds of song drifted through the air. Harry eventually let the tension out of his shoulders and even let his lips turn into a smile after a while. Regulus considered it a success. Eventually they made their way through all of Harry’s favorite songs and broke apart as Harry caught the attention of one of the books he’d been reading over the past few days. He grabbed it as Regulus made his way to the sunroom. Sirius was there lounging over a sofa staring at the ceiling as Regulus took a place in the corner watching the snow finally slow as it became less sleet and more individual snowflakes. Within the next day or two, Harry should be able to go back outside. Until then they’d need to run through every idea to keep him entertained.

Harry nestled into his own place with the large book covering his face as he propped it on his knees bent in front of him. Quiet descended on them for a time as they sat simply enjoying being in the same room with one another. However, it wasn’t meant to last. Harry started to squirm and glance over the pages before he’d quickly duck his head again and try to casually flip a few pages before repeating. Regulus chuckled to himself as he turned to face Harry.

“Yes, Harry?” Regulus asked when he caught him popping his head above the pages again.

“Can I ask a question?” Harry replied, lowering the book to expose the top half of his face.

“Of course, did you come across something in your reading?” Regulus smiled as he could hear Sirius struggling to push himself up. It looked as if he’d dozed off at one point from the way he cracked his neck and rubbed his eyes.

“Sort of, some of the books from Grandfather Arcturus have these notes written in them, like how Uncle Ignatius did in my Fantastic Beast copy, but I don’t know the initials.” Harry asked, waving the book in his hand. Regulus squinted at the moving words trying to read the title. It looked like an old charms text.

“What are the initials?” Sirius asked as he raised his hands above his head, losing the last word in a yawn.

“O.A.B.” Harry replied as he brought the book to his eyes to confirm the letters. Regulus felt as if he’d been thrust into the snow storm with how cold he went. The tingling sensation creeped down his spine and into his feet. He didn’t have to look to know Sirius had frozen with his hands still above his head.

“I just want to know because whoever it is, they are really smart, and I wanted to ask them questions. It looks like they invented their own charms and everything!” Harry continued excitedly, ignorant to the way the rest of the room had gone deadly silent.

Harry was right. The note taker had made their own charms, a plethora of them. Orion Black was revered as highly intelligent, though wasteful of his talent. His name was forever immortalized in texts and papers everywhere. He never had needed the money or acclaim he’d gotten for his creations, but it came anyway. Granted, most of his charms were listed in books that leaned towards the morally grey side of magical arts. Regulus had been on the receiving end of more than one of them, the charm that broke bones that couldn’t be healed by conventional magic and instead had to wait to wear off for whatever amount of time the caster had determined had been a favorite of his father’s.

Regulus glanced at Sirius, who’s eyes had filled with cloudy mist as his arms wrapped around his middle. If Regulus had been on the receiving end more than once, Sirius had been exposed double that. Sirius was brash and quick. Orion was thoughtful and slow. Sirius would believe he could get one over their father and be basking in the glory only to be caught off guard days or even weeks later. Dragging Sirius down from his high horse was Orion’s speciality. He’d managed to break his spirit in ways that Walburga’s Crucio never seemed to do. Turning Sirius' own magic against him and deflating the parts of him he prided on.

Hadn’t their father been the one to drag Sirius out of the house and apparated him out to Wales. Hadn’t he been the one to release wild laughter in Sirius's face as he realized they were heading in the opposite direction of his Aunt’s home. Wasn’t he the one who held Sirius against a tree, hexing him until he deemed it appropriate to stop, and mocking him with the hints of what Sirius was up to at school. The company he kept and the beds he found himself in. Hadn’t their father only let him go weakened and emotionally drained to point towards the sky just as a cloud cleared and the bright white full moon cast them into a circle of light. Yes, he had. Then to top it off, just as the howls of werewolves could be heard in the distance and Sirius could piece together where their father had taken him. Hadn’t their father, just before he disappeared with a snap, leaving Sirius wandless and exposed just at the line of where the Welsh werewolf pack lived, opened his mouth for one last insult.

“You like fucking with monsters don’t you, son?”

Regulus only knew these details because Sirius had survived. He’d turned into a dog and ran as fast as his weak legs could carry him to Prewett Hall, sliding in the mud from the rains that had only just cleared. He’d shown up shivering and crying and with blood coming from unknown wounds as he fell into his aunt’s arms. He’d been told Lucretia had screamed at the sight, and fallen to the cold kitchen floors as Sirius’ begged her to save him. Ignatius had found them a moment later, and managed to calm Sirius enough to at least allow Lancelot to Floo over and heal him.

They had to bring him home. Of all the awfulness that had occurred, Regulus figured that was the biggest sting to Sirius. He had to be returned home. Regulus had been sitting in the drawing room listening to Cygnus and Orion talk when Lucretia had stormed in with fire in her eyes and her wand pulled to her side. She screamed— no she screeched at Cygnus and Regulus to leave her with her brother, her wand raised right at his face. Regulus had scrambled out of the room and nearly ran straight into the soaked pitiful form of his brother. Sirius was pleading, on his knees, for Ignatius to let him leave. To let him come home with him and Aunt Lucretia, pleading that he wouldn’t be burden and he’d be as quiet as a mouse and they’d never see him. Ignatius’ lips had quivered and he looked close to tears as he glanced at Regulus and pulled Sirius to a more private corner.

Regulus couldn’t hear the words exchanged between the two, but he saw Ignatius put his hands on Sirius cheeks and bring his lips to his ear whispering in rapid speed as Sirius sobbed and choked on tears. Igantius rubbed calming circles as he continued to speak. Sirius slowly calmed himself, rocking slowly as his mouth stood agape and his eyes went blank and distant as he weakly nodded a few times when Ignatius would squeeze his shoulders. Regulus knew it wasn’t possible. Sirius had tried to run away to their aunt and uncle’s a few times now, and Ministry officials always showed up at their door and dragged him away. When Sirius tried to plead his case with them, they’d only throw him at their parent’s feet as they waited at The Ministry, stating very firmly they did not meddle in family affairs, and as long as he was underage, he was his parent’s responsibility. Each time he left only made his punishments grow.

What he did hear that evening was the most atrocious fight he’d ever been privy to. Regulus only took a few steps down the stairs before he crouched in a corner away from anyone's sight as the screaming began. Lucretia threw out words Regulus had never even heard before and Orion let her for nearly twenty minutes before the walls stopped shaking with the sound. Then there was silence for a long while, before he could hear the distinct mumbling of his father saying a few short words that no matter how hard he strained he could not hear.

“Orion, you wouldn’t dare.” Lucretia had said. Her words trembled as if she was truly fearful.

“Test me, sister. See how long that beloved husband of yours lasts in Azkaban.” Orion had growled back only barely loud enough.

“Let me have them, Orion. I can raise them, Fabian and Gideon are grown, they have left. Let me take your sons, you never wanted children.” Lucretia pleaded in a voice that sounded truly desperate.

“They are my children, Lucretia. I raise them how I see fit, now let me by. I have a disgraceful son to see.” Orion demanded as Regulus heard feet push towards the exit. He stood quickly and slid down a few more steps, careful to stay away from the step that squeaked to avoid being caught and dragged into this mess.

“Orion!” Lucretia said as he could hear her slam the door close from the bit it had been opened. There was an extended pause.

“Out of my way, sister. I won’t ask again.” Orion had said in a strained tone.

“Orion, please.” Lucretia pleaded one final time before Regulus could hear the door being thrown open. He instinctively fell backwards and covered his face. There was a rumble of noise as Sirius let out a loud squeak of pain.

“Orion, I swear to Merlin. You do this and I’ll never come back.” Lucretia had screamed. The shuffling stopped.

“Why would I care?” Orion scoffed. Regulus flattened himself to the wall as he flicked his head away from the voices. They were too close for him to run away, they’d hear his steps, but he didn’t want to hear it anymore as he scrunched his face up and took short breaths trying to tune out the noise.

“Fine, then so be it. Goodbye, brother.” Lucretia had whispered as she knocked her boots on the wood floor twice before the sound of feet retreating down the stairs clicked in his head. Regulus felt his chest tightening as he shook his head trying to find a place to hide. Before he could move, he was no longer alone. The couple paused for a moment, jumping slightly at seeing him. Then Lucretia continued forward as she leaned into Regulus for only a moment.

“Go, get your brother. He doesn’t have the energy to take the two of you. Get him to rest, and be strong Regulus. You’re almost free of this place.” She whispered quickly, barely pausing as her feet continued down. Ignatius flashed him a pressuring look as he nodded his head upward when Regulus didn’t move as Lucretia passed him. He swallowed and forced himself up. True to her word, his father looked winded already as he had a grip on Sirius wrist. He flashed his eyes towards Regulus, his arm flicking to his wand before he stopped and sighed.

“Get him out of my sight.” Orion had said as he pushed Sirius into the wall again before shaking the entire house with how harshly he slammed the drawing room door. Regulus had whimpered, but got a faint Sirius to his bed at least. Lucretia never did return, and the next Christmas Sirius ran away for the final time. His parents didn’t send The Ministry after him that time, he got away.

“You can’t talk to them.” Sirius snapped, dragging Regulus from his memory. Regulus shot a look at Sirius to silence him. Harry didn’t deserve the resentment Sirius held against their father. Most certainly, he did not deserve to be snapped at. Sirius licked his lips, but said no more. Harry had shrunk into himself a bit.

“It’s alright, Harry. What Sirius meant is that person isn’t around anymore, he can’t answer your question, but you’re right. He was successful at Charms and he did create his own.” Regulus explained, having to fight against the knot on his throat.

“Oh.” Harry replied as he looked a bit sad. He closed the book and set it to the side, a bit of color still flush against his cheek. He deserved a better explanation.

“O.A.B was Orion Alioth Black, Harry. He was our father, but he wasn’t a good father.” Regulus sighed as he suppressed his own emotions to cross the room and kneel in front of Harry, grabbing his hands in his own.

“He wasn’t a good father.” Harry repeated, turning his face back to Regulus. Regulus nodded.

“Some people don’t have good fathers, it’s not our fault. It’s nothing we did, our father chose to be the way he was. He’s gone now though, and he can’t hurt any of us ever again.” Regulus reassured, speaking to both Harry and Sirius even if his eyes were focused on Harry still. He could hear Sirius let out a thready breath.

“So he didn’t read you stories?” Harry asked, furrowing his brows in thought.

“No, he most definitely didn’t read us stories.” Regulus muttered. The idea was nearly comical, Orion Black tucked into bed reading to his children.

“I could read you a story! Padfoot has a bed, go, go. Sit, I’ll read you a story.” Harry perked up.

“Oh, Harry you don’t have too. We’re fine really.” Regulus offered.

“No, I want to!” Harry jumped up as he searched the room.

“Reg, come on. We can sit next to each other for a bit.” Sirius sighed as he motioned towards where his bed was shoved in the corner. Harry continued to scurry about until he found the book he deemed appropriate enough and bounced towards the side of the bed. Regulus sighed as he sat against the pillows and Harry climbed in between the two of them propping a book opened as he cleared his throat. Before he dived into his theatrical storytelling, Regulus looked over his head to catch his brother’s eye. Sirius looked a bit down trodden, but when they met eyes, he gave him a weak nod before running his hand through Harry’s head. Regulus chewed his lower lip, but let out a relieved sigh. He tried to convince himself of his own words, his father was dead. They were safe and no one was coming to hurt them anymore. Yet, the words never quite stuck how they were supposed to.

Chapter Text

He opened the curtains with care to not make too much of a ruckus. The fire crackling behind him already sounded more distributive than he’d like, but the cold winter air was still biting bitterly as he cracked the window. He slunk down in a chair just beside it as he pulled the packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He’d casually smoked most his life, though he was told the pipe was more dignified and the choice of his father and so it naturally became his own choice. However, his brother never could do as their father wanted and he’d proudly keep a cigarette in between his lips for as long as he could whenever he was in his father’s sight.

He pulled the hand-rolled cigarette with two fingers as he brought it to his mouth. This had been his brother’s favorite kind, and finding them was difficult in this new era. It wasn’t the nineteen twenties anymore. His wand switched with the sound of a quick blaze as he hazily took in a breath. The ache in his lungs had become as familiar as his own name after nearly eighty years. These quiet moments he escaped to brought him back to his youth. To times long lived and with very few left to reminisce with him.

It was past midnight, but the stars lit the skies out here as they never could in his childhood home. He remembers many times sneaking to the attic and staring out the window with his younger brother and sister in tow. They’d sit there and squint their eyes past the lights of the city to try and see the stars their family so adored. He wasn’t certained when they’d stopped, though he supposed it was when he left for school. His father had ingrained in him that turning eleven meant he was no longer being a boy, but instead a man with a heavy reputation to uphold. He’d never cared for the man, but now in his older years he could respect the burden he too had carried.

“Grandfather Arcturus.” A voice whispered as he turned his head slowly to Harry. The young boy stood in the hallway, just outside the front room with a book under his arm.

“Harry, it’s awfully late to be up.” Arcturus commented as he took on last inhale before putting out his smoke.

“I know, but I wanted to talk to you.” Harry responded sheepishly, staring down at his socked feet.

“It couldn’t be done in the morning?” Arcturus commented, but still he patted the chair as Harry stumbled into the room and climbed into Arcturus’ lap. It reminded him of a time long past, when he had small children who, against the family wishes, he did allow to curl into him while he read them stories.

“No, I don’t want Padfoot or Reggie to hear. They seemed upset last time they talked about it.” Harry sighed as he pulled the book forward.

“About what?” Arcturus asked, furrowing his brow at the book. It looked terribly familiar, but he’d read so many books in his lifetime.

“Their father.” Harry continued as he cracked the spine open. Arcturus recalled now. The book had been one of his son’s favorites. He’d excelled at anything he put his mind to, the only issue was he hardly cared to put his mind to much.

“I asked them about the writings in the book and they told me they were by their father. They didn’t get along with him, but I thought maybe because he was your son. I could ask.” Harry sighed as he looked up at Arcturus with those eyes that Harry knew got him what he wanted.

“He was my son, and that was one of his favorite books to read. He poured hours over it, even went as far as to make his own charms. People always told me I was so lucky to have such an intelligent son and a beautiful daughter. I suppose luck runs out though, people said less kind words as time went on.” Arcturus sighed as he pulled up the book to glance at the small writing he’d known so well at one point. The words got less senscially the more Orion thought, at times his handwriting was nearly illegible.

“Do you know what that one does?” Harry asked, pointing to a word circled several times. Arcturus had to swallow down any bit of pride he once held. He knew that spell, he knew it well.

“Confratium. It breaks bones, Harry. It’s a very dangerous and dark spell, if the caster is powerful enough no magic can heal the effects, only a counter curse that no one else has wagered correctly on.” Arcturus explained as his finger trailed over the word for a moment. It had been one of Orion’s specialties, he’d terrorize people with it and leave them begging for the counter curse. He never revealed it, he was talented enough to reverse the curse nonverbally and wandless. Yes, people had praised him for having such an intelligent son, until they knew Orion’s true nature. His son, his little boy hadn’t always been that way and in truth, Arcturus thought he was the majority to blame for the change in Orion’s temperament.

“Oh, were all his spells dark?” Harry asked, a look of disappointment casting over his face. Arcturus grapped the young boy’s chin and brought his eyes upward.

“Now, Harry, listen carefully. Dark spells are not innately evil. In fact, to know dark magic can be some of your best protection, if you know the dark arts people must be much more clever in using them against you.” Arcturus explained. He never had believed that dark magic was characteristically evil. Not that it couldn’t be used for evil, he was not innocent of such. He’d used his fair share of dark magic for evil purposes, but that’s exactly why Harry should know it. Had he not been sought by the darkest wizard in recent history?

“I don’t know any dark magic.” Harry pointed out with concern. Arcturus patted his cheek twice to calm him.

“You will, I will teach you. Only if you promise me this, Harry. Dark magic is not a toy, or trick to play on a person. Dark magic takes from you, it is only to be used when it is needed, otherwise you dare risk falling into the intoxication of power. Many great witches and wizards have fallen to the temptation, and it would hurt my heart very much if you did as well.” Arcturus explained firmly, his hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s eyes filled with questions so obvious, but so numerous his young mind couldn’t wrap around which was most important to ask. He only nodded and gave his confirmation as he licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Grandfather?” Harry asked a moment later with his head still upturned. Arcturus smiled at him softly.

“Is that what the wars were about? Wizards and witches that fell into dark magic?” Harry asked curiously. Arcturus shifted the boy’s weight as he thought over his answer.

“War is a complicated matter. They brought up the dark arts often, but the reasons for war are never simple or single minded. Power and fear are common reasons, both of which the dark arts can help bring. So I suppose, yes many of the wizards and witches in the wars fell to the dark arts.” Arcturus explained.

“Did you fight in any of the wars?” Harry chirped as he scouted closer. Arcturus had to take a moment to himself.

“No, I did not. I knew many people in both wars, but I did not serve other men and their agendas. The first war took much from me. Left a horrid taste in my mouth for such pursuits.” Arcturus explained carefully. Harry was still a child.

“Like I did?” Harry muttered under his breath after a moment. Arcturus felt a warmth spread across his chest as he pulled Harry closer.

“Yes, like you. I lost someone I cared very deeply for, and for no reason. The people who took her from me wanted only to scare and were killing for the sake of killing.” Arcturus explained as he could feel the familiar ache in his chest. He didn’t speak of his wife often, even less did he speak of her death. It was his greatest guilt, and he did not let such an emotion in easily. This one ate him alive inside if he indulged too deeply.

“You were married, right?” Harry asked, innocently enough. He did like stories and even more if they were true.

“I was. I married the most wonderful woman. She loved me with all she had, even if I could never promise her the same. A day with her was worth a lifetime with anyone else, but I suppose that is why she had to leave me so early. She’d lived her life.” Arcturus could feel the swelling in the back of his throat beginning to creep upward as he spoke.

“I hope to find someone like that. I want to marry a wonderful woman.” Harry mumbled as he tried to stifle a yawn behind his hand.

“You marry whomever you please, Harry as long as they bring you joy. Now, I believe it is enough speaking. Let me get you to bed.” Arcturus said as he brought Harry to stand on the floor. The boy sighed, but another yawn later and he was holding onto Arcturus’ hand as he led him to his room, tucking him in before closing the door slowly. He could see Harry’s eyes already flicking close before the door even shut completely.

Arcturus made his way down the hall. A bit too riled to sleep still, he was determined to finish a full cigarette before going to bed. He settled back into his place as he had been before Harry had arrived. Now he was a bit more sentimental than he had been. The steady ache of the cigarette only grounding him into the seat as he stared out into the stars. He couldn’t see the Regulus star yet, but he knew exactly where it would rise in a few short weeks. He memorized it like the back of his own hand and his mind drifted back to a time long forgotten.

He and his brother had a difficult relationship. Most first sons and second sons did especially in the older families. Arcturus was the heir and Regulus was the spare, creating a divide before his younger brother had ever been born. It had been easier with his sister, there were less expectations on the women. Marry well and stay quiet, even if she was the heiress until he married. Lycoris Black had a presence to her no one could deny, even if many did criticize her. She’d stayed with her brother for as long as she could, but her years of partying and indulging caught up to her, and she left him alone some twenty years ago now.

His baby brother had died six years before her in a way no one ever wanted to admit. He’d died honorably, and there wasn’t an honorable bone in Regulus Black’s body to the public. It is why Arcturus was given the Order of the Merlin. The Ministry did not want it in Regulus’ name, so they gave it to him to appease the family. He’d always felt fraudulent having his name go down in history like that. His brother would likely accuse him of stealing yet another of his accomplishments and for once Arcturus wouldn’t argue with him. He did care for his brother though, and Regulus had cared for him. They just had unconventional ways of showing their care. When it had come down to the darkest day of his life, his brother had been there for him in ways no one else could have been. He’d been there to hold Melania when Arcturus couldn’t. Regulus had seen her take her last breath and never left her side as she did. His eyes burned at the memory, he could still remember as clearly as yesterday.

The war had been raging in France for some time now. Arcturus had commanded Regulus to stay put, a feat not easy for his brother. He enjoyed frolicking across the world making a mockery of their family name. Their father had committed an act so treasonous when Regulus was only a boy and he’d never forgiven their father. He’d been hellbent on making him as ashamed as possible, he would have considered it an honor to have been blasted off the tapestry, but Arcturus didn’t allow it. He couldn’t lose his brother.

Instead, his brother listened, more for the sake of their sister, who found herself in the advantageous position to hold the family name in France. She had a large manor she filled with noise and people. Her joy was found in entertaining and the occasional beautiful companion. Women had been her preference, hence why she found her situation perfect. She had forgo a marriage to take the role her little brother should have fulfilled as the spare. For those tumultuous years, the two ruled together. Their parties were legendary and the tales that came from them even more ostentatious.

France grew darker as the years went by and even the two of them reined in their lavish lifestyle. Arcturus hadn’t wanted her to go, but she felt it was her duty. She took an oath as a healer and when France sent out the call for help; she had answered. She wasn’t supposed to be in direct danger. She specialized in midwifery in her later years, her acts in the war were to help birth children and care for babies. Melania shouldn’t have been anywhere close to danger or fighting. It hadn’t been the case though, Grindelwald’s people were ruthless.

They attacked a hospital. Anyone with respect, knew to leave hospitals unscathed, particularly ones that were filled with the elderly and young. She should have been safe. The building shouldn’t have fallen and even more they should not have charged with curses into the chaos. He’d heard the news likely as one of the first people in Britain and he’d paid triple the amount of a normal portkey to travel into France immediately. He never forgot the look on his sister’s face as he ran up to their manor, begging any greater power for his wife to be there. For her to be safe from harm, but the moment he saw his sister’s eyes drop his gaze he’d known. She wasn’t there.

They traveled to the hospital with heavy weights on their chest. His sister took his arm, not trusting him. She’d barely been able to explain that Regulus had gone instantly at the first word of danger before they popped away. It had given Arcturus hope. Regulus was a force, he was a sort of fixer of problems for the family. He may not like them all, but he’d kill for them without a thought and kill he had. He could keep her safe, if anyone could it was his brother and no matter their issues with each other Regulus had always cared for Melania. She was kind to him and sympathetic to the life he had lived and the choices he did not have.

He’ll never forget the smell of smoke. It wasn’t normal smoke, it burned the lungs and eyes, but it smelt almost sweet. Like the burning of sugar in a pot before the holidays. There was chaos all around them, people screaming, smells of blood and disinfectant, the crisp static of magic overwhelming one’s senses. Lycoris never let go of his arm as he nearly dragged her over bodies, whether living or dead. He choked on dark smoke and tears blurred his eyes, but he scanned and he scanned. He turned over rubble and pushed bodies with shaking hands when he caught any sight of bloodied blonde hair. It wasn’t until his ears perked up and he heard the sound he’d never forgotten and that trailed in his nightmares even now. He’d only heard those screams once before. His brother’s screams.

He and Lycoris moved as one, yelling and shoving and climbing towards the sound. The only thing he could hear was the ringing in his ears at the high pitched wallowing sound that had died moments ago. They knew where it had come from though, he’d track it until the end of time to find it. The sliding of their feet made their journey painful as he felt bruising forming around his body, but in his life he’d learned to swallow pain. All three of the siblings had done so out of sheer survival. His hands were on the ground as he nearly crawled on the upheaved floor of the blasted hospital wing. People were moaning around him, pleading for help as he passed them undisturbed. His focus was singular.

He’d caught the sounds first, but his mind had blocked them out. He’d known from the first scream, but his mind wouldn’t let him process it. The mind drags at hope until it can hope no longer. His brother’s word wouldn’t slice into him until hours later when he digested together what they had truly meant. The second round of grief had felt like being shoved into a frozen lake, numbing and shocking all at once.

“Melania! No, not here, not with me! He will be here, I swear to you please hold on. You are all he cares about. It cannot be me, please Melania it cannot be me! You cannot die with only me!” Regulus was screaming. Repeating the words over and over again, Arcturus hadn’t processed them. He’d only seen his brother’s crouched form, his long hair tied to the top of his head as he cradled a small person in his arms. His voice cracking and openly sobbing as Arcturus had used every last bit of will he had to throw himself across a crack in the floor. His chin had hit the ground roughly, leaving a scar that would never truly heal.

He’d ignored the warm wash of blood down his throat as he clawed at his brother’s arms. His nails had dug lines across the shoulder, but Regulus hadn’t noticed. His lips were quivering and he looked as if he was going to be ill when he met his brother’s eyes. He had known. Arcturus had maybe known before he’d even left England, like a snap within him had broken and pulled any decent part of him away. Like a tension that had built finally swallowed him whole. He doesn’t recall falling to the ground as he caught her open empty eyes and the wand still drawn to her side, but he must have. His hands had pulled at the ends of her hair, and he’d been told he’d made a sound so horrifying it could not be described. He couldn’t recall. He could only recall the darkest gnaw at his soul. As he stared at the most bewitching soul that he’d ever had the pleasure to call his own and watched it slip through his fingers and into the next life. He’d missed her. He’d missed her last moment by seconds. She had died being held by his brother and it was a ghost that would haunt them both.

He felt the earth had eaten him alive and spat him onto the ground. As if his entire existence was a cosmical joke to the gods above. She’d been a better person than him. She was the true definition of a better half. He never once deserved her and yet she had indulged him and his pursuits. For some forsaken reason, Melania MacMillian with the kindest smile in all of Hufflepuff and if he were to say, in all of Hogwarts, had given Arcturus Black the time of day. No matter how they grew, it never ceased to amaze him. Until it did. Until they ceased to be, until his heart broke in a way no magic could ever repair. Until his greatest penance for all his crimes was the gift of time. The time to see person after person after person taken from him, and yet he was never granted the same reprieve. His punishment was he had to continue on. Everyone else was allowed to die, and yet he lived.

His cigarette had finished as he held the edge of a nub in his fingers. His eyes felt damp, but he hadn’t allowed himself to cry. Deep in his heart he knew she would not want him to cry over her life. He’d never listened well though, it was a flaw of his. She’d say he should have lived on without her, raised their children, made their home. He’d felt he’d failed all three. He’d forever ponder if everything could have been different had he been in her place. Yet at the same time, there was peace in knowing she had not seen the fall of their family, because there were some parts of their story that never could have been rewritten and would have broken her heart.

He missed her smile. Everyday he missed the warmth it would bring him as he woke for the day. People did not smile in his family. It was an unspoken rule. She’d never been fond of rules. She had liked to say they were meant for breaking. He could nearly hear her laughter as he rose from his seat and wandered away from the warmth of the front room. Sirius had moved from the sunroom to one of the spare rooms once they had freed up the space. The portrait remained though.

Alphard was snoozing on the short grass in his painting. His arms acting as a pillow as his eyes moved under his eyelids in his sleep. Arcturus swayed the portrait lightly, wondering only for a moment what he would think when he was left alive only in partial form. Alphard snorted awake as he jumped on his forearms in fright before narrowing his eyes at Arcturus.

“I know I’m not quite as sentient as I once was, but disturbing one’s sleep is still considered rude.” Alphard snapped as he pulled his robes tight around his chest in frustration.

“My apologies, Alphard. I did have a request for you though.” Arcturus tried to keep his voice steady, but the cracks of sadness creeped in and Alphard seemed to soften visibly as he noticed the man’s state.

“I’ve been known to be so kind on occasion.” Alphard sighed, as he stood.

“Could you ask my brother to get her for me? I wish to see her.” Arcturus barely could hold the rasp back from his voice. It would hurt what he was about to do. He hardly asked for her. It was too painful and she had learned to stay hidden from his sight rather early. Her portrait was behind a thick curtain in France, but even if the curtain was drawn she often wasn’t found there. Though he could swear he heard her giggling when he’d pace the halls talking to himself. She used to joke about when they’d be old together, that she would love him even as his mind went. He supposed she kept that promise in her own way. Alphard gave him a confused glance, but left either way as Arcturus made himself comfy on the sofa across from the portrait. He cracked his knuckles as he waited, ticking the time off in his head. Until he heard the rustling just above.

His eyes glanced up at the most breathtaking sight. Her portrait had been painted on the morning of their secret wedding. She’d worn her family's colors so wonderfully as they brought out each wonderful shade in her eyes and hair. She also had the glow of an unrevealed blessing growing in her stomach quite scandalously. They hadn’t meant for it to happen, but they were pleased nonetheless. The prospect of a child cast out any doubts. Arcturus would break the rules, and with it his engagement to his younger cousin. They’d run to France to marry with only his brother and sister as witness. They had been young and foolish, but at the time they did not know the consequences of their actions and were only absorbed in their own happiness.

“Love, it has been some time.” Her sweet accent rang out. He’d been captivated by the first word she spoke with her Scottish accent. He’d grown surrounded by the King’s English and had barely caught the dialects of any other. Until he walked through the doors of Hogwarts, she’d been one of the first people to speak to him away from the friends he knew as a child. Waiting in the room adjacent to The Great Hall, he’d not been looking and had stepped on her toe. She’d properly cursed him out in Scots. From that moment on, he’d swore to get to know her. No other woman had ever caught his attention as she had.

“My apologies, my dear. Much has happened, I have plenty to tell you.” He replied with tears beginning to gloss his eyes as he took her in.

“Well, let me get comfortable and I will be your most captive audience.” She smiled as she smoothed out her skirt. His lips pulled at a smile, a forbidden act only she had known for so long. For it was his truest expression of love.

Chapter Text

“Keep this up, Harry and you’ll be better at Potions than even me.” Marius laughed as he handed the ingredients to Harry, who was standing on a stool mixing a potion.

“I could never, Uncle Marius. You’re the best at Potions.” Harry replied as he squinted his eyes while very carefully adding the ingredients to the popping liquid.

“I wouldn’t say that, you’ll meet many people who are better than I, but I do thank you for your belief.” Marius smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back before he looked intently back at the brewing potion, careful not to overstir the mixture.

“Well bloody better than I.” Sirius scoffed as he tapped at a metal spoon hanging on the wall.

“Sirius.” Regulus snipped as he readjusted the spoon correctly, following after his brother.

“What? Harry’s heard it before.” Sirius sighed as he came to ruffle Harry’s hair from behind, messing it even more than it already was from the humid room.

“He’s right, Reggie. You say it under your breath all the time, bloody this, bloody that.” Harry shrugged as he picked up another ingredient from Marius’ hand.

“See Reggie don’t pretend like Harry hasn’t heard worse.” Sirius pointed out as he wrinkled his nose while leaning over the potion. Harry eyed Sirius quite noticeably to Sirius’ confusion.

“Yes, Harry?” Sirius asked, leaning backwards at the glare.

“You melted a cauldron.” Harry replied as he nodded his head before going back to his stirring. Regulus had to stifle a laugh as Sirius’ face spread with shock while Marius covered his mouth with a hand to avoid laughing.

“You melt a single cauldron and now no one trusts you with a potion. I’ll let you know I passed with an Acceptable in my Potion O.W.L., I am not completely incompetent.” Sirius sighed as he pushed his hand against the bench, leaning away from the brewing.

“Couldn’t take the N.E.W.T level.” Regulus pointed out as he circled behind the table. Sirius let out a strangled sound as he tried to swat at Regulus, but missed.

“Alright mister, I’ll bring home ten O.W.L.s. I had more important things to focus on.” Sirius rolled his eyes as he leaned back again once Regulus was out of reach.

“Too busy dog sitting?” Regulus snipped as he raised an eyebrow. Sirius twisted his head around and gave Regulus an insulting look. Marius looked between the two, but only twitched his lips as he ignored their squabble.

“How many O.W.L.s can one get?” Harry asked.

“Well, technically twelve, though it isn’t common since one must take all the classes and it’s rare a schedule can accommodate such.” Regulus explained as he pulled a potion book from a shelf to flip through casually.

“Has anyone ever gotten twelve?” Harry asked excitedly. Regulus froze for a moment, his finger posed on the edge of a thin old paper and the noise of popping liquid filling the space for a moment. He knew one person who had gotten twelve. It felt like a lifetime ago, the late nights spent studying over notes and the jokes behind teacups at the Slytherin fireplace as he filled in the notes of the classes not taken by the other boy. Regulus had remembered how he’d been so curious and more than once had taken in the Muggle Studies book when it was left to the side. It was a class he never would have been allowed to take, his friend, well his family was a bit too preoccupied. A part of the reason he was going for all the exams was to gather his father’s attention.

“One of Ignatius' nephews just did it. He wrote about in his last letter, he was taking Bill out to celebrate the accomplishment.” Sirius jumped in when his face had fallen on Regulus’ frozen form. Harry smiled at Sirius as he covered the potion to stew for a while.

“I’d like to get twelve O.W.L.s.” Harry commented as he climbed off his stool. Marius took off the apron Harry wore as he glanced at Regulus, a look of worry in his eyes.

“Well you’ll need to study plenty, Harry. Why don’t we refresh your knowledge on plants?” Marius suggested, clapping one hand on Harry’s shoulder as his other arm nudged Sirius towards his brother. Sirius stumbled with his boots clattering on the floor, but he got the message as Harry and Marius left the room. Harry’s light easy-going chatter was heard for a moment as they walked away behind the thick door. Sirius scuffed his boots on the floor gently as he stared down. Regulus could feel the tension rising as he closed the book with a snap.

“Want to go for a drive?” Regulus said barely over a whisper. Sirius's head snapped up at the sound.

“A drive?“ Sirius asked with a curious expression. Regulus ducked his head again.

“I just thought, I mean I heard about your motorbike so I figured you might enjoy it.” Regulus mumbled as he mindlessly caressed the spine of the book. Sirius balked for a moment. He wasn’t used to Regulus so blatantly thinking of him.

“I’d love to.” Sirius replied. Regulus looked up at him with a half grin on his face as he scratched against the floors when he stood up.

“Come along then, Helena let’s me take the car.” Regulus explained as he passed Sirius.

“I didn’t even know there was a car.” Sirius whispered over his shoulder before turning astutely and following his brother out.

The next few moments found him pushing an old shed open and revealing a well worn car, but it turned over when Regulus put in the keys and shifted into gear. Sirius couldn’t lie. He was pleasantly surprised as his brother tumbled over the grass with the wheels to the road out in front of the home. Sirius cranked down the window to let the cool air in as he leaned his head out slightly. There was something so freeing in old Muggle transportation. With the wind whipping through his hair, it gave him the slightest bit of nostalgia for his old motorbike. He wondered if Hagrid had kept it all these years later.

Regulus traveled down the near empty roads in silence for a few moments before he pushed a button that turned on the static sounds of the radio, cranking it to life. It took a bit of tuning, but eventually the sounds became more music than static, and Sirius could not help, but let out a chuckle as he leaned against the seat the sounds of an unknown rock song playing through the nearly burnt out speakers. He felt free. For just a moment, he felt truly free as they drove past low hills and even a small apple orchard that filled the air with the fresh scent as Sirius breathed deeply.

Regulus drove only a few minutes further until he pulled off onto a dirt road that made the drive particularly bumpy and rough. The car grinded but didn’t halt until Regulus stopped just at the edge of the hill, the warm sun rays reflecting off the hood as they sat overlooking the small grouping of apple trees. The radio and the sound of chirping birds were the only noises as Regulus jiggled the key out of the ignition. He rolled his window down as he leaned his seat back a hair. His eyes didn’t tear away from the top of the muted colored trees. The few humble fruits barely hanging onto low branches. Sirius swallowed and let a few tense moments continue by them before he dared to speak.

“You could talk about him, you know? I mean if you needed to. He was your friend.” Sirius muttered as his eyes darted to Regulus’ still form.

“Yeah, well he’s dead. Even if he wasn’t, he’d never want to speak to me again. I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed me at first glance.” Regulus snapped back a bit tensely as his hands gripped into the steering wheel roughly. Sirius took in a short breath. He didn’t know how to help Regulus. They’d stopped being able to speak years prior, and this tentative peace hadn’t been pressed with more difficult topics yet. It was mainly the few good memories, a fair bit of teasing, and a lot of Harry.

“You could talk about your friends too, you know.” Regulus sighed as he sunk back into the seat letting his bare white knuckles fall into his lap.

“I do.” Sirius mumbled.

“You talk about James and Lily. You had other friends.” Regulus pointed out his eyes peeking at Sirius for only a second before he stared back at the tops of the trees, the light catching the dark specks of grey in his eyes. A tense moment wrapped around the car as a light breeze came through the open windows only adding to the chilling mood. They were already here, they may as well push the boundaries.

“I don’t want to talk about Peter. I can’t talk about him yet, Reg. I— he is my failure. I mean you want me to talk about Marlene? She liked to beat my head in with her beater’s bat when we played together. She snorted when she laughed too hard and she died, surrounded by her four brothers and her parents. Maybe about Dorcas? How she had been the one to find the McKinnons. Then she went mad, tracked down the Death Eaters herself and was dragged in front of You-Know-Who to be killed by him personally. I bet she spat at the grown before he did it. She wouldn’t let him get the last laugh. Of Frank and Alice? Their son is Harry’s age and they likely can’t even process it. I don’t even know if they can speak anymore. All my friends are tragedies, Reg. There isn’t much to say.” Sirius sighed as he wrapped his arms across his chest, glancing his eyes out his open window to the retreating sunlight.

“And mine are any better? Evan got blasted to pieces. Mulciber and Avery? They didn’t want to be my friend, they wanted an alliance with the Heir of the House of Black. And—” Regulus' voice died in his throat as he shook his head staring out the window.

“And we’ll he’s dead too, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Regulus whispered with a rasp to his voice. Sirius didn’t have to ask. Regulus really only had one friend at school. The person he’d been seen with nearly always, the two were always whispering and wandering the long way to classes together. Bartemius Crouch Junior, the son of the infamous Bartemius Crouch Senior. Sirius hadn’t enjoyed their friendship, Barty always seemed a bit sleazy. Then after what he’d done to the Longbottoms, Sirius could hardly even swallow that his brother had been the boy’s best friend.

“He was your best friend, Reg. I mean if you need to talk—” Sirius tried to finish.

“I don’t bother you about Remus, can’t you just let Barty go.” Regulus snapped, before his voice turned into a hard sniff. Sirius felt himself grow pale and an ill feeling rotted hard in his stomach. Remus was a subject he never wanted to breach. If he began to speak about him then he risked his fragile peace he had formed in his mind about Remus. It had been rocky and messy the last year or so before Halloween had happened. If he didn’t talk about it, he could block out those memories. The fights and the ugly words and mean snaps at each other as the war grew. Instead, he could pretend their only memories were good and warm and filled with innocence.

“It’s different.” Sirius answered shakily. He licked his lips repeatedly as he rubbed his arms with his hands against a chill he suddenly felt.

“It’s not as different as you think.” Regulus muttered as he continued to sniffle. Sirius felt the tension pull in his forehead. Regulus certainly couldn’t mean what he supposed he meant.

“I don’t think you understand.” Sirius said as he shook his head. Regulus let out a sputtering sound that seemed to fade into a dry chuckle.

“You really think I didn’t notice? Did you think I was bloody blind? We may not have been close anymore Sirius, but you were always my brother to me and I knew what it looked like when you were in love.” Regulus stuttered out as his head kept distinctly turned away as Sirius was left to openly gape. He didn’t think Regulus had thought anymore than to what hex he'd try on Sirius next in their Hogwarts years.

“So you— you and Barty?” Sirius stumbled over his words.

“I didn’t love him. I was just lonely and he gave me attention. Father was sick and Mother was gone a lot. Barty filled a void I suppose, he was more infatuated with the idea of what I would be. What I would be allowed to achieve, but I could pretend and maybe sometimes we weren’t pretending. It was nice to have someone to care for me, I never thought he was capable of what he did. I didn’t think he’d ever go so far, but he always wanted to be the greatest. I just didn’t realize what he meant.” Regulus explained as his hands slowly slid down towards his knees. Sirius could see the shake that started in his wrist and made its way up to his elbow that he was trying with difficulty to control.

“Reg. I didn’t know.” Sirius whispered as he turned to face his brother. “If I had known.”

“You’d probably just hold it over me.” Regulus scoffed as his head turned back towards his own window.

“No, Reg. Not that I would never hold that over you.” Sirius shook his head so hard he could feel his hair whipping at the edge of his ears.

“It’s not quite like that, Siri.” Regulus sighed, Sirius could see the deep indent he was forming on his lips from biting down so hard. He’d draw blood soon.

“What is it like? I mean you can like both that’s possible.” Sirius tried to encourage. He wasn’t great at this. Remus had been better at this. He didn’t even like how the words had sounded coming out of his mouth. It felt thick and heavy to give it a proper name.

“Can you like none of them?” Regulus mumbled as he leaned his head into his arm resting on the open window. Sirius blinked. He hadn’t heard that one before.

“I mean, sure. It must be possible.” Sirius mumbled as his eyes flickered back and forth.

“That’s how it is, Siri. I don’t think I like anyone, certainly not in a physical sense. I’ve never once felt it, trust me I tried. It would be easier if I could. I wouldn’t feel so broken.” Regulus whispered. Sirius felt a heaviness grown in his chest. Those sentiments were relatable. He knew what it was like to feel broken. The feeling as if maybe there was a mistake in his mind.

“You aren’t broken, Reg. It might feel like it, it might feel like it for a while. I still feel wrong, like maybe I was just made wrong. You aren’t though and neither am I.” Sirius explained as he dared reach his hands out across the seat to steady one of Regulus’ shaking ones. Regulus went rigid. Sirius held his breath, as he shielded his eyes away. Until he felt the warmth of a hand covering his. He looked up to see Regulus look just under his damp eyelids. Sirius could feel his own eyes growing a bit glassy. Regulus smiled slowly. The smile that takes time to be recognized as Sirius returned with his own upturn of lips. He felt in his heart the warmth spread deep behind his ribs in an nearly unfamiliar way. He hadn’t felt this type of bonded brotherly love in years. He knew Regulus could feel it too.

“We really need to stop crying together. It’s almost as bad as all the hexing.” Sirius sniffled as he pulled his arm across his eyes. Regulus let out a short burst of laughter. Sirius could almost close his eyes and imagine they were children hiding in the attic again while their parents quarreled downstairs. Regulus used to laugh at Sirius then. When they had only been children, Sirius had only wanted to protect his little wide-eyed brother.

“The hexing was at least good practice.” Regulus shrugged as he inhaled deeply.

“I did in fact get a question on the O.W.L.s because I remembered a hex you cast.” Sirius laughed.

“Probably the only question you got right.” Regulus snorted as he cast a humorous glance at Sirius, who pushed Regulus back at the jibe.

“Do you still care for him?” Regulus asked quietly, swaying in his seat slightly.

“I don’t think I could stop if I tried.” Sirius sighed as he gripped tighter onto his brother’s hand.

“The potion, the one Harry was making, did you recognize it?” Regulus asked. Sirius truthfully hadn’t been paying much attention nor did he believe in his ability to name a potion from ingredients alone, so he shook his head.

“It's a wolfsbane potion.” Regulus said. Sirius felt a flash of confusion before there was a sinking realization.

“Why would you—” Sirius’ words trailed off.

“I knew, I mean it was simple to me. We’re named after stars, that moon is just a step away and we had the same uncle, Sirius. I remember those summers in Wales too and I spent most of my time inside with Aunt Lucretia and Uncle Ignatius. I mean I never learned how to swim, so I let you and Fabian and Gideon have your fun in the sea. I got to sit and listen to Uncle Ignatius though, and he spent so much time obsessing over the werewolves. I probably had more knowledge than most people, it wasn’t hard to see the signs.” Regulus explained with a shrug.

“And you’ve been brewing wolfsbane potion? To send it? It’s so expensive and difficult.” Sirius babbled as he couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea.

“It was hard to get right, Uncle Marius and I almost burnt the shed down by accident, but once you’ve made it a few dozen times, it gets easier. The funds aren’t hard to obtain, no one questions Aunt Cassiopeia making withdrawals from the vault. The most difficult part is keeping it safe in transport honestly. Getting it sent internationally safely can be a bit difficult, but we have found a few trusted owls.” Regulus continued with his explanation as Sirius felt his eyes growing wider and wider in admiration. His brother had done many acts to slowly gain Sirius trust back, but any doubt was being banished with each word. One of Sirius deepest regrets was Remus being left alone on his moons. Trapped and terrified without his friends to guide him and without Madam Pompfrey to heal him. He didn’t even have his mother to comfort him any longer.

Here sat his brother though, explaining in detail how he’d gone out of his way. How he had done something he had no obligation to do to ease the suffering of a person he barely even knew. Regulus had taken care of Remus when Sirius couldn’t, when Remus was abandoned and alone. His little brother, who he had called an idiot fool more than once to his friends. He’d cared for Remus, and maybe it wasn’t just that act. Maybe this was just the moment that it clicked in Sirius’ head. The Regulus before him now was not the same smug sixteen year old boy, who he had confronted in The Great Hall after Christmas holidays with his wand drawn after hearing whispers all feast long. From the accidental slip of a sleeve, Sirius had seen all he needed to ever know about his brother. From that moment on, he’d sworn he never had a brother. Only a shame. Before his eyes, that idea of the old Regulus seemed to dissolve in his mind as he threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around a shocked Regulus.

“Um, I’m not sure what about the growing properties of aconite prompted this.” Regulus muttered as he sat still in the embrace.

“Bloody hell, Reg. Just hug me back, little brother.” Sirius whispered as tears fell against his brother’s sweater.

“Okay.” Regulus whispered even quieter as Sirius felt the thin arms embrace against his back. It took a moment, but eventually he felt the warmth of a head leaning into his shoulder. Sirius squeezed tighter trying to convey what words never could. He had his little brother back, and maybe he’d never really lost him.

-

Remus sat with tea in his hand by an open window. The owls arrived nearly like clockwork now. There were always two of them, rather strong brawny characters that stayed to rest and drink a while on his window sill before flying away. It seemed to be the same rotation of owls from whomever sent it. He’d debated for a time on whether to send anything back with them. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to send it this time. He may never even get a response, but at least he had tried. He’d spent months and wasted more parchment than he had wanted by scrunching it into the bin.

He had it balanced precariously on his knees. The plain black seal staring back at him. He blinked a few times before sipping his tea again staring into the horizon, willing the birds to arrive a few minutes early so as not to lose his will. The sounds of the city offering a quiet distraction. It was the hour before evening truly began, when people were rushing about to finish their final errand or to make their dinner reservations. He could hear laughter one moment, and the quick raps of heels against cement the next. He leaned his head on the old exposed wood of the window sill as he took a deep breath of the air filled with the smells of smoke and smog.

He’d been raised in the country. Where the smells were of fresh grass and blooming flowers, but somehow he was hard to miss the countryside. His childhood hadn’t been particularly awful, but it hadn’t been peaceful either. His father was rarely around and his mother looked perpetually stressed. He couldn’t help, but felt it had been his fault. Even when he was only a child the guilt had weighed on him. It felt his responsibility, the stress that wove it’s way into the edges of his parents eyes and lips. The way their hair had grown thin and grey. If he hadn’t been who he was then maybe they could have stayed young and carefree. Maybe they could have stayed in love, instead they stayed together for convenience. He had seen it even as a child. His trauma was the glue that forced them together.

The city felt freeing. He’d heard Sirius speak of it when they were only eleven. About the busy streets and the constant sound and lights that he could see from the window in his room. The stimulation over there never being enough as opposed to the quiet surrounding one with their own thoughts and tribulations. He’d been thrilled to listen to every word Sirius spoke. Even as they grew older and Remus began to realize the house Sirius talked of was no sanctuary, but instead a prison of lost souls. The city didn’t lose its appeal. The chance for a change.

He’d been depressed on the idea of finding housing after Hogwarts. The idea of returning home left a sour taste in his mouth as everyone else spoke of flats and old family homes they would inherit or even James and Sirius who planned to live together with James’ parents and help them as they aged. Remus had remained mute at all those conversations. Wishing for a miracle to occur as he gazed into the air. It had come, just not in the way Remus had expected or hoped. His miracle came wrapped in tragedy as most of his life had been.

A letter in large official stationary had dropped in front of Sirius one breakfast when they were discussing flat prices with Peter. The small boy was concerned about the cost with the job he’d expected to gain after the term ended. Sirius had looked befuddled at the letter as he picked it up gingerly. Since he’d left home his mail had slowed expenetionay without the constant barrage of letters from his family expressing their disdain and disappointment. He got a weekly letter from the Potters, a few mementoes from an aunt from her travels, the occasional letter from his cousin, Andy and wrote to an uncle he was close to every few weeks. The owl had arrived before the typical mail, dropping just as breakfast began versus near the end.

Sirius had looked it over a few times, his brows furrowing at the seal, but Remus was across from him. He couldn’t see what was confusing Sirius. He tried to catch the other boy's attention, but Sirius was captivated. Remus remembers the distinct crack of the seal and the shuffling of many different papers. James was peering over Sirius’ shoulder as he removed them.

“Gringotts, mate? What have they got to say to you?” James had questioned before shoving a mouthful of eggs. Sirius had snorted as he shrugged his shoulders, the confusion not lessening as he brought the papers right way up and close to his face. Remus will never forget the sudden shadow that was cast on Sirius' face. The way his eyes went pale and his lip had quivered slightly as he spoke.

“No, no it can’t be. He said he was feeling better, the last time we wrote he said he was feeling better.” Sirius' head had shook in disbelief before he clattered up with a rustle that shook the table and had several people catching his eyes.

“Mate?” James had asked as he pushed his glasses up and stared at Sirius with concern.

“I need to go, I have to be alone. He said he was feeling better.” Sirius had mumbled as he threw the papers scattered across the table and practically ran out the Great Hall. Remus had barely been able to process what happened before Sirius went whipping past a few fourth years who he nearly knocked over. His mouth went dry and he blinked quite a bit as James shuffled the papers together to read them. He watched carefully as James' eyes darted over the words multiple times before he seemed to understand them. Remus wanted anyone to say anything, he hated the feeling that he was missing something that clearly impacted Sirius. He’d nearly opened his mouth to ask before the hoot of owls rang above him. Mail had arrived.

Remus set down his fork as he waited for The Daily Prophet to drop in front of him. His friends had called him an old man when he’d gotten a subscription in second year, but now with the war brewing, nearly everyone at their end of the table had their own copy. Even with its reputation for spotty reporting it was the only reliable news source they had available. People were going missing daily and even The Prophet couldn’t ignore it.

He could hear a few gasps fill the hall as others got their papers first. There were a few glances towards their group of friends quickly followed by sharp whispers. Remus swallowed as he waited tensely for his own copy. It had dropped down in front of him and he noticed another ruckus across the hall. His eyes couldn’t read the headline before they were torn upwards to see the back of Regulus Black storming from The Great Hall just as his brother had done. Now the whispers were nearly full blown conversations as people pointed at their papers and towards the exit of the room. Remus couldn’t bear it, he ripped the string off his copy and flipped it over immediately.

He was greeted with a sight he hadn’t expected. The full set of straight white teeth and black hair pinned high on top of the head. The robes were clearly the best money could buy and the jewelry tastefully placed to show every shine of the jewels. The face of Alphard Black was looking back at him. It appeared to be from a few years prior, his hair wasn’t streaked with grey and he wasn’t as bundled as Sirius usually described him. The headline was in the boldest font the paper used.

Shock to The House of Black: Alphard Black Dead!

In the early hours this morning, The Daily Prophet was informed of the untimely demise of Alphard Black. The eldest son of Pollux and Irma Black has passed after a battle with a mysterious illness he’d hidden from the public. The loss is a devastating blow to The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, who have for years been struggling to produce male heirs. Alphard himself suspiciously never wed or sired any children for his line. It continues now in the only son of his sister, Walburga Black and the family heir, Orion Black. For more details on the infamously powerful family, turn to page four.

Remus let the paper slide out of his hands as he caught James’ eyes. James was staring at the moving photo with shock as he gripped tightly onto the parchments from Gringotts. Remus pleaded for answers from James, who could only shake his head. He held up the papers in disbelief.

“He left Sirius everything. His home, his inheritance.” James sighed as he set the papers down orderly. Remus swallowed again as he stood carefully, not to draw much attention and made his way out of the room by the edges of the wall. He figured where Sirius would be.

He was correct. Sirius was on the edge of The Black Lake, skipping stones on the water with force. Remus stood behind him a moment taking in his tense stance. In any other conditions, the ripples of his back as he threw the stones would be a pleasing sight. Now they just meant Remus would be facing an emotional situation.

“Sirius.” Remus whispered as he came up behind him. Sirius continued to throw the stones.

“He said he was feeling better. He wrote to me not even a week ago to say he was feeling well enough that he’d even gone for a walk in Diagon Alley. He’d been bedridden for over a week, and I thought maybe he was getting better. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, Remus.” Sirius' shoulders shook as he spoke, but his arm kept swinging the stones forward.

“I know, Sirius. He cared for you though.” Remus stood shoulder to shoulder with Sirius as he counted the skips before the rocks would sink beneath the rippling surface.

“He left me his flat and all his money. My father — Orion — he never had any brothers, so Alphard was named the spare. That amount of money, I don’t even know what to do with it.” Sirius sighed as he flicked his wrist with the final stone. It only hopped twice before disappearing. Sirius stumbled backwards a few steps as his shoulders shrunk.

“You could live in it, or sell it. I mean I’m not sure exactly.” Remus suggested, trying to be gentle with Sirius. Sirius went very still and quiet for a long few moments. His feet kicked up dirt and his eyes never really met Remus’ as he waited patiently.

“We could live in it.” Sirius whispered as he turned his head towards the side. Remus sucked in a breath as shook his head, thinking he hadn’t heard correctly.

“Pardon?” Remus asked, taking a step closer.

“We could live in his flat. I know you don’t want to go home, and James and Lily are getting pretty serious, so I feel like I might end up intruding. We could give it a go, living together.” Sirius repeated as he looked up a bit sheepishly under his long hair. Remus could feel his lips almost smile involuntary before he caught himself.

“We don’t have to make any decisions now. You’re mourning and —” He was cut off by Sirius stepping forward to grab onto Remus’ shoulders.

“Moony, I want to live with you. Make this a proper affair.” Sirius had said with a smile that could break the world. Remus felt his face flush like a giddy schoolgirl.

“Alright.” Remus said shortly.

“Alright.” Sirius had repeated. It had been that, when they left Hogwarts they’d spent the whole summer making the flat their home.

Now he is in the same flat. It didn’t feel the same any longer, but he could push aside most of the bad memories. The coldness had faded to the dark corners of the room and Remus didn’t have any place else to go really. He hadn’t kept a job for more than a year, and Alphard’s gold was the only thing keeping his stomach full most days. He let out a sigh as he turned his head to see the sun setting outside and with it the outline of two flapping owls. Remus set his tea aside as he cleared the window to allow them to land only a moment later. They hooted at him kindly as he placed a bowl of water in front of them.

He unwrapped the package carefully and placed it aside as he picked up the letter that had fallen to the ground. He took one last deep breath before he tied the letter to the closest owl's leg. He rummaged through his pocket to pull a galleon out. He didn’t know where the owls came from, so he wanted to make sure the letter was covered. When he tried to place the letter into the pouch he got a sharp bite to his knuckles as he pulled his hand back harshly. Remus blinked and he swore the owl shook his head at him.

“But the letter.” Remus pointed out as he held the coin up. The owl blinked at him twice and then nudged the letter with his beak and seemed to nod his head. It appeared whoever was paying them to send the potion was also covering any return postage. Or at least that’s what he gathered from the bit of owl language. He dropped the galleon back into his pocket as he smiled.

“Well let’s get you a bit more water before you head off at least.” He smiled as he pulled his wand to refill the bowl of water. There was a flutter of wings and a few more hoots of appreciation. The owls finished the water and pecked at their feathers for a bit before they flew off into the twinkling sky. Remus watched as long as his eyes could see. Hopefully for once his appreciations had been adequately conveyed.

Chapter Text

Lucretia considered herself a smart woman. She may not have been top of her class during her years at Hogwarts, but intelligence is not always gauged by school levels. She’s lived a long life full of many secrets and she learned to balance them well. When her father had dragged her nephew from the depths of the darkest prison and into her household, it had only been another notch on her belt. She found herself the keeper of secrets for many men in her life. Her father, her brother, her husband, as well as many others. Secrets that would be best to die with her.

Her husband was stirring about his family home, they had many busy days ahead. He was preparing the house to be empty for several long months. His sister had agreed to watch the Hall once again, Lancelot would be joining them for several months in Switzerland. He’d spent many months studying dark magic and ancient healing methods looking for any information on the magic trapped behind Harry’s scar. He’d leave again to return in August to assist at St. Mungo's research they were completing and return again in November for the holidays. She’d tried to chaistes him about portkey travel at his age, but he wouldn’t hear it. He’d been this way since they had first met so many years ago. He cared more for the health of others over himself. He’d rather work himself to the bone at even over a hundred years of age than try and take time to relax.

She supposed it ran in the Prewett blood. She could never see Ignatius ceding his work as he aged, and his sister still worked heavily on her farm even with many younger generations able to take over. Even Muriel found herself busy most days bouncing around collecting gossip and critiquing others. She herself knew how exhausting keeping up with high society could be. It had nearly been her entire existence prior to a rather abrupt change of plans.

Plans that she would forever be grateful had been ruined. For it allowed her a life she thought she could only dream of. A husband that loves her, a job that allowed her to travel and learn, and a family no matter how unconventional. All good things must come to an end though, a tragic and abrupt end. It had been a long few years scattered with loss.

Alphard went first. He’d been sick for years, but it didn’t make it any less painful. She knew one was not supposed to have favorites in the family, but he was by and far her favorite cousin. Cygnus was too stiff and Merlin knew Walburga was indigestible as a cousin, it only became worse when she became her sister by law. Alphard was kind, and funny, and he did not confirm to the family in nearly enough ways to please them. He’d never done anything to truly defy them until the end. He’d left all he had to Sirius, he’d been deemed the spare when her father had no other sons. There was a substantial amount of money left for Sirius, and a rather nice flat. Not the most expensive of their houses, but still rather large and easily accommodated. His own sister burned him off the tapestry for that. Even at the protest of her other brother and her husband, she felt betrayed. One did not cross Walburga Black and not have hell to pay.

Her brother was next. She’d never known a heartache like losing him. Their entire lives and she’d always thought she’d never see a world without her brother. She’d spent so many years in their youth protecting him and keeping him safe from their family, only to find that in the end none of it had mattered. He’d been forced to marry a woman he could never care for and take a role he had never wanted. She knew he had been ill, but she had left him behind after his last antic with Sirius and she wouldn’t go back on her word. Her pride was too great a price. She regretted it. Once the owl landed in her kitchen through an open window and she had known just from a glance at the letter. She’d fallen to her knees in a sob. Her baby brother, not even fifty-five and gone from her when he should have had at least fifty more. Though what was his life when all he cared to do was cause pain and drink sorrows away.

She’d not even recovered from her recent losses when Regulus disappeared a few months later. Her heart couldn’t handle it, she’d refused to even leave the house in case he came to their doorstep. She did not give a damn about a Dark Lord, if her nephew returned to her she’d fight every dark wizard that came her way to keep him safe. He never showed, and at the end of the year, they lowered an empty casket into the ground and she could barely bring herself to look at the numbers etched into the stone to tell her he’d never made it past eighteen. Ignatius had to nearly drag her out of the house after his funeral. She could hardly see the point as he pulled her to the shoreline and made her take a few steps more each day.

Then Fabian and Gideon, she was certain she wouldn’t survive. The rush to St. Mungo’s as she pushed past people and couldn’t be bothered to listen to their complaints. She could hear them. The screams they made from the pain as she could hear Lancelot’s voice screaming over them as he instructed different healers. Even years later, she’d still hear those screams deep in the night. By the time she made it to the doorway, he’d pushed nearly everyone else aside as he tried every spell and potion known to him. The marks, the deep purple marks on their chest as pains unknown to anyone worn on them. Deep in her soul, she’d wished the Death Eaters had just used a killing curse. It would have gotten them the same results with so much less pain. She’d never cried as much as she did over those days.

She’d fallen into Cassiopeia’s arms and her eyes had burned from how deeply she cried. Not a soul could figure out what was causing their pain, only that their insides were slowly being destroyed. Nearly melting away in a slow excruciating way as the boys she had raised as her own sons did their best to fight through it. She’d remember the look in their eyes when she could force herself to their side. They wanted to die. Their pain was so horrid and never ending that they wanted to die. She’d shook horridly from the helplessness as the ragged breaths were so hard she could feel the muscles pulling in her chest. They weren’t going to survive this, she could see it.

Lancelot refused to give up. He’d cured so many of the incurable and he’d worked himself nonstop without more than a moment to breathe until he’d fallen over. Magical exhaustion had taken him and Fabian and Gideon had lied their writhing endlessly. Ignatius had tried, but it was fruitless. They died within moments of each other, Gideon had gone first. She swore Fabian held on for only long enough to let his little brother not be alone. Fabian had been born first, he knew a world without his brother even if for only a few moments, but Gideon had never known a world without his brother. Fabian was an older brother until the very end. The worst of it all was once they were gone, the pain went on. Molly had arrived only a few hours before, and she was always a proud and strong headed woman. Traits Lucretia admired until they were turned against her.

Molly had not taken to Ignatius and Lucretia being their guardians as well as her younger brothers. Her brothers hadn’t even gone to Hogwarts yet, they were young and in their grief at the loss of their parents they latched onto their aunt and uncle. Molly’s grief made her resentful that her parents were taken while she was still so young, and Lucretia could understand her pain. She'd lost her mother while she was still at school. She didn’t have the time with them her brothers had and she’d married right out of school. They had a cordial relationship though, and she’d even given one of her son’s Ignatius' name. Yet in her grief again, she reacted adversely.

She’d blamed Lucretia, she blamed her for her family, for her maiden name. She said it was her fault her brothers had been targeted, because of her family’s associations. Ignatius and her being the proud strong headed people they were got into a disagreement there in the halls of the hospital surrounded by their grief. It was an emotional fueled spat, where words weren’t meant but they were said, because they were hurting and they wanted the hurt to stop. Their relationship was never the same after, and Molly kept her cold shoulder to Lucretia to this day, but Lucretia smiled and bared it. She had other nephews and a niece she cared to see. She and Molly came to a quiet agreement. The two women may not get along, but they would not bring those feelings to the children.

It is where they would go now. As her husband finally calmed and collected his belongings to kiss her head where she sat in the kitchen. She gave him a small smile as she pushed out her seat. Molly would be waiting for them. They had agreed to visit. The entire Weasley family would be there, the many uncles, aunts and cousins and even her own cousin Cedrella. Lucretia was silently thrilled when she’d married and could reconnect with the family she had thought she’d lost. She’d only been eight when Cedrella had run off with her husband, and she’d always wanted to know more than the secret whispers about her. She’d been wary at first, and for several years they only exchanged letters until finally they had the confidence to meet in person. Now it was nearly tradition to meet a few times a year.

Bill and Charlie had returned from Hogwarts a few weeks prior and the Weasleys were all reunited. She’d be happy for a chance to be surrounded by people for a change. The quiet of Wales had almost been jarring after so many months spent in Switzerland. She often wrote to her entire family there, but it wasn’t the same as having Harry run into their room swearing he’d seen a dragon and dragging them by their hands into the dawn. Or to walk into a mid-argument between Sirius and Regulus in the kitchen trying to get a cup of tea. Even quietly sitting with a cousin she’d never truly known, and hearing the stories of the life he got to live once he’d been freed of their family. Marius had a wealth of intellect and the afternoon tea and biscuit with him, Helena, and Cassiopeia had been some of her favorite times as Harry flew past them in the windows. She even missed her father, though she’d grown used to his absence since he had secluded himself to France.

The walk to The Burrow was dusty and windy. She could hear the sounds of the chickens from their far distances. It tugged at her ears as she felt her boots sink into the ground slightly before she took Ignatius’ arm and walked forward. The next noise was the striking sound of conversation sung by the passing wind and she could already feel her cheeks begin to pull into a smile. It was long overdue for a visit.

The burning fire and the abundance of people that overflowed into every room of The Burrow filled the room with such a warmth she could feel her cheeks go flush immediately. Nearly instantly, the youngest of Septimus' brothers caught their eye as he clamoured between people with a drink in his hand to pull Ignatius into one conversation or another. They had been old quidditch mates and prefects during their Hogwarts years. From the booming sound of her husband's warm laughter, she knew he’d be fine on his own for a while. She’d made her way to the kitchens, the scents of a cooking hen leading her way.

The kitchen was bustling with noise. The sounds of cracking fire and clashing pans and a kettle that went off as Lucretia passed it. She paused to pick it up as women all around her turned to the sound. A small chuckle escaped her lips as she placed the kettle on a tray that was floating it’s way into the living room. Once the warmed metal passed from her hand she felt herself turned into a warm embrace of wild black waves, only slightly less knotted than her own.

“Cedrella.” Lucretia sighed as she sunk into the embrace before they parted. Cedrella patted her cheeks with cool damp hands before she moved her hands to her wrist.

“Lucretia, it’s been too long.” She smiled.

“It was just the holidays it would seem.” Lucretia replied as she flashed a greeting around the room to the many wives of Weasley men and the few neighbors in these parts of England. It wasn’t many, but it was a tight knit group. They had each other’s backs during the war. One flash of sparks in the air would have each neighbor popping to the home with wands at the ready. Thankfully, now the sparks were only signs of a bit of overindulgence.

“Time grows more precious as one ages, come, you can watch the drying while you tell me about your newest travels. You know how the stories thrill me.” She said as she led them to the sink that was half full of dishes and floating soap suds.

“Oh Cedrella it wasn’t much this time, Ignatius and I went to Brazil more to relax. He’s been visiting since he was a boy.” Lucretia shrugged as she tapped the plates with her wand as they shook off loose water and floated back to their place in the cabinets.

“There is never relaxing with you and Ignatius.” Cedrella joked as pushed a bubble towards Lucretia. The tip of her wand popped it as she shook her head.

“Aunt Lucretia.” A voice from the entrance of the room. Her head swiveled to the side to see a mass of brown curls piled high onto a very familiar face. She could feel her eyes squint from the effort of her smile.

“Andromeda, I didn’t know you’d be here.” She greeted. Andromeda stepped closer into the tight room.

“Tonks, her and Charlie are nearly stitched at the hip. Ted is here as well, he went off somewhere.” She shook her hand over her shoulder as she made her way around the kitchen as people continued to flow in and out. Supper wasn’t for a few more hours and people were still getting their socialization in so the three women were left rather undisturbed in the corner by the sink.

“How is everyone?” Andromeda asked, her eyes flicking everywhere, but at Lucretia at the moment. Lucretia took a deep inhale as she slowly nodded her head. These few moments when the three women, who had once shared the same last name, could join together and speak in hushed tones covered by the bustle around them. It weighed heavily on her chest. A burden she’d gladly bare for them though.

“They are doing relatively well. Druella was feeling better last I visited, she was able to make it to the garden for tea. Cygnus had to help her the whole way, but she enjoys the sun on her skin. Pollux is still Pollux, spewing hatred and bigotry everywhere he goes and Irma seems to have found another bed to reside in for the time being.” She explained as Cedrella patted her hand in encouragement.

“Cissa is well. She’s very at home at Malfoy Manor. Draco on the other hand is a bit too much like his father for anyone's liking. He’ll be a handful that child. My father tries to give him a bit of wisdom the few times he comes to visit, but when he’s surrounded by the likes of Pollux, Abraxas, and Lucius, little pieces of wisdom only go so far.” Lucretia gave a half smile as Andromeda's eyes grew at the mention of her younger sister and the tension was visible as she swallowed. She didn’t ask any questions though.

“How is your father? Is he still in France?” Cedrella asked. Lucretia turned to her for a moment.

“He’s been visiting Cassiopeia. He says the air is better in Switzerland as he ages.” Lucretia licked her lips after the words. There were so many secrets buried there, but it was for the best. The less people that know about Regulus and Sirius, the better.

“Cassiopeia will probably care for him as he ages. The two of them, they’ve always had a special bond. Despite everything, your father does what he believes is best for the family. He wasn’t as unforgiving as his father nor as cruel as his son. I think it is best if the family name dies with him, at least it will hold some honor.” Cedrella sighed as she turned back to the washing. Lucretia felt a pull in her chest as she turned her head. She knew many held the same sentiments, Arcturus Black, the last great heir of the House of Black. Her brother had never risen to the challenge, the family only stayed together because of the work of Cygnus. Her nephews had never stood a chance. Lines were always meant to fall. Nothing lasts forever.

“Aunt Lucy!” The warm voice and sound of fast feet bounced into the kitchen as she caught the bright brown eyes of a teenage boy.

“Charlie!” She laughed as she turned to face him. He already stood taller than her, not that was saying much. She’d always been a short woman.

“Did you hear, did Uncle Ig tell you?” Charlie asked as his broad arms crossed the narrow way between the counters.

“He has not, don’t keep me waiting, what is it?” She asked as she gestured at him gladly.

“I did it! I made Quidditch captain.” Charlie flung his hands wide in excitement. She clapped instantly.

“I never doubted you for a moment, Charlie. You must be one of the youngest captains yet!” She said with cheer in her tone.

“Professor McGongall says I'm one of the best seekers she’s ever seen! I’ve nearly made the record for the most Wronski Feints completed.” Charlie smiled as his eyes caught a passing tray of biscuits that he quickly snatched before it left the kitchen.

“I’m certain your mother must love that.” Lucretia laughed as she tapped a new pile of dishes Cedrella had cleaned to clatter into the cabinet.

“She doesn’t know. Don’t plan to tell her either, she says Quidditch is a nasty game. I disagree of course, Uncle Bilius even wagers I could play professionally.” Charlie smirked as he bit into his biscuit.

“I don’t agree with your Uncle Bilius often, but I’ll concede here. Now where are all your siblings, I have not had a chance to say hello.” She laughed as she put her arm around his arm and he grandly took it with all the smugness of a teenage boy, but all the politeness of a gentleman.

“Percy is yelling at the twins for throwing gnomes in the garden. Bill is showing Ginny how to pick a lock the Muggle way so she can break into the shed to get the brooms since Mum won’t let her fly, and I went into the kitchen to distract everyone so Ron could steal a tray of biscuits for us.” Charlie smirked as he pointed out the window at a retreating small red headed figure carrying an overflowing tray much too large for him out into the garden towards his siblings.

“Your mother is going to lose her wits with you all.” Lucretia burst out laughing as she walked towards the exit of the house to see her niece and nephews.

“Maybe, but she’s the one who raised us!” Charlie laughed back as he twirled out of her arms before dramatically bowing to hold her hand as she took the few small steps. She could only shake her head as the laughter continued.

-

The weather had turned warm, but on nights like these the breeze could caress one’s face and bring back the recent memories of the cool months. Regulus had never been overly joyed by the warm months of summer and the weeks as it approached. For many years it meant to return home, a house that could get rather stuffy and would ache and settle constantly in the new temperatures. The only reprieve to the summers were when they’d be away from the house. The trips to France and Wales to the large manors and the open ground. There he could fly and feel the air rush around him. Maybe that’s why he enjoyed the feeling of a night’s breeze, the connection to a few decent childhood memories.

He inhaled the air for a moment before he pushed himself off the back steps. He could feel the edge of tiredness creeping into his mind as he walked through the kitchen. He grabbed an apple as he passed through the kitchen, tossing it a few times before he finally took a crisp bite. He’d meant to pass the sunroom and go down the hall into his own room. The voices had caught his attention. The hushed whispers as he paused just out the entrance of the room, straining his ears.

“Have you been able to convince him to come out of his hiding?” He heard Arcturus' hushed voice.

“He’s picked on what we want, he’s refusing to help.” Regulus' voice whispered back to his older brother.

“Where has he run off to anyway?” Arcturus sighed.

“The Italian Villa. Melanie went to speak to him, but I doubt even she will be successful. You know Orion, he was done with this family before he was even seventeen. He’d rather watch us burn than be of any use.” Regulus I spat back the creeping tone of judgement in his voice.

“Well you’re the one who gave him this book, and from him Regulus must have gotten his hand on it. If anyone knows it as well as he does, it would be you.” Arcturus said with a challenge rising in his tone.

“Even I would not stoop to this level, brother. A horcrux! I would rather die the way I did a thousand times over than even think of splitting my soul. I damned myself enough with my actions.” Regulus I scuffed.

Regulus felt he was intruding, but at the same time he felt the urge to know what the conversation was about. As the silence fell for a moment, he took his chance and entered the room. His grandfather’s back was to him, his hair loose down his back as he hunched over an object hidden from Regulus’ sight. His namesake caught him first, his eyes narrowing as he grunted towards his brother and jabbed his chin in Regulus' direction. Arcturus barely stirred.

“Up late I see, Regulus.” Arcturus said, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped.

“How’d you know it was me?” Regulus asked as he came around to his grandfather’s side catching a glimpse of a book tucked in his hands.

“Sirius would never enter a room so silently, and everyone else is more of a morning person than night.” He observed as he moved himself to the side to allow Regulus to sit. He did so slowly as he tried to read between his grandfather's wrinkled fingers at the title of the book. Arcturus caught on as he always did as he closed the book and handed it to Regulus. Once he saw the cover, he knew. He could feel the skip of his heart beat as he took it in.

“Reckon you're familiar with it.” Arcturus sighed as he brought his hand to his chin. Regulus was. Not by his wishes, but from necessity. The Secrets of the Darkest Arts , he had scoured every page of it in frantic abandon in his youth. The information here was impossible to rid from his brain once he’d read it. The most vile of magic and the cruelest of punishments, so evil there were hardly even laws banning them because no one truly thought anyone would practice them.

“I am.” Regulus replied weakly as he gingerly touched the cover. “Why do you have it?”

“I own my own copy. The copy you read was your father’s, Regulus here gave it to him when he was only a teenager.” Arcturus said as shot a nasty glance at his brother’s painted form in Alphard’s portrait. Regulus only snorted back.

“Why would he need it then?” Regulus whispered as his finger trailed the edges of the worn leather. Even holding such a book made his pulse thumbed in his head as the words seemed to float across his vision.

“He wanted to hurt someone.” Arcturus replied, dejectedly.

“In my defense, he never told me how he planned to use it.” Regulus I interrupted from his place on the wall. Regulus glanced up at his uncle with his hard set jaw and painfully striking cheekbones. He looked nearly intimidating as he’d been described, even as a portrait he felt it best not to cross him.

“Who did he want to hurt?” Regulus dared to ask as let out a long breath.

“Me.” Arcturus replied as he pulled the book sadly from Regulus’ grasp. He shot his grandfather a discreet look as he watched the book leave his hands. The magic within the folds of those pages were for one’s worst enemy, someone that could be truly despised and even then Regulus still wouldn’t consider uttering a single incantation found within.

“We had a complicated relationship, but it is a story for another time.” Arcturus replied. “I’ve brought this book for a reason, since this Dark Lord truly did make a horcrux and yet he was still defeated by a single witch when hundreds had stood against him. The answer may lie within here. With them, the answers to Harry’s scar may lie.”

Regulus stiffened at the mention of Harry. He didn’t want whatever was afflicting the scar to be of anything that came from that book. He felt an ache in his bones though that his grandfather may have truth to his word. The fear gnawed at his stomach and suddenly the apple seemed to be unsettling. His eyes stared into the book with every bit of disdain he had. Harry didn’t deserve this.

“We will not get answers tonight, Regulus.” His grandfather prompted as he put a firm hand on Regulus’ shoulder and slipped the book from sight. It took several deep breaths, but regained his senses.

“Brother, if anyone can get through to Orion, let me know at once. I’ll travel to Italy if I must just to appease him, I don’t doubt he has information we can use.” Arcturus said to his brother as he rose, pulling Regulus up with him. Regulus I leaned back disgruntled, but nodded his agreement. Arcturus led him into the hall and away from the vile text left in the sunroom.

“Get some rest, Regulus. We have time to gather the answers we need.” Arcturus commanded before he left to climb the stairs to his own room. Regulus glanced back at the sunroom, and the distant muttering of his dead uncle that slipped into the hall. His grandfather had a point, they wouldn’t get answers tonight. He sighed as he headed towards his own room, but paused again before deciding to push open the door across from his own.

Harry was sleeping soundly tucked under his covers and cuddling with his old dragon and dog toys. Regulus crept in quietly as he slowly closed the door. He pushed his hand onto the bed to quiet it as he sat at the edge. Harry looked peaceful while he slept, as Regulus tucked a bit of hair away from his eyes. He used to watch him sleep often when he was younger, out of both admiration and worry. It had been awhile since he had. He felt warmth grow in his cheeks as he sat listening to the steady breathing as the moonlight cast onto Harry’s sleeping form. An ache in the back of his mind sat there pulsing at him as he watched the young boy stir only slightly. His grandfather may be right that they would not find answers tonight, but Regulus had this growing suspicion that they were running out of time. Time that Harry didn’t have.

Chapter Text

The fire hadn’t been lit for months now. There was no need when the weather seemed to grow hotter by the day and the nights offered little reprieve. The windows would be opened in the evening hoping for the slightest of breezes to take the invitation. More often than not there were cooling charms cast over whatever room people inhabited and warm teas had been switched for iced cold juices. At least that’s how Regulus was approaching these warm months. July was only still half way through and the days would only grow warmer.

He laid out on the sofa floating a book above him with his wand beneath a window that faded away from the evening sun. He’d read the story before but the lazy haze of the heat made him want to only skim words he’d already digested. The house around him sparkled and gleamed from the constant cleaning over the last week. Cassiopeia had thought the middle of a heat wave the perfect time to divide the house into sections and have everyone lift every piece of furniture and find every lonesome fuzz of dust. Her reason was the return of guests that had already seen the house in it’s more natural state. Regulus assumed it was the constant flying of brooms into sheds and broken pieces of decor that had led Cassiopeia to snap. If she was going to have three young men in the home, she may as well use them to freshen it up.

“They’re here!” Harry yelled as Regulus startled and dropped the book on his middle.

“I saw them coming over the hill, Reggie! I was watching from Padfoot’s room. Come on, they're here!” Harry announced as he poked his head into the room before popping away the sound of his bare feet running down the hall. Regulus just shook his head as he marked his place and threw his legs to the cool floors. He could hear noise stirring above and around them all as Harry went to collect everyone to catch their guest the moment they stepped into the threshold.

Regulus found the front door already crowded with Sirius, Harry and Marius. His uncle threw him a glance as he shook his head humorously as Harry bounced from foot to foot just next to him. Regulus leaned against the wall just behind him as the wood dug into his shoulder.

“Is Aunt Helena coming? And what about Grandfather Arcturus?” Harry asked as he whipped around to look up at Uncle Marius.

“She’ll be here, Harry. She’s got to make sure the kitchen doesn’t burn down before she leaves the door cooking.” Marius laughed as he ruffled Harry’s hair as the boy looked contemplative for a moment before he nodded in agreement.

“Oh, Kreacher!” Harry called as he turned to stare down the hall. A pop crashed into the hall as Kreacher appeared just in front of Harry.

“Yes, little Master?” Kreacher as he whipped his hands in his new pillowcase he had wrapped around him.

“They’re here, Kreacher. They’ll want to see you!” Harry responded as he smiled.

“Oh little master, they don’t be wanting to see Kreacher.” Kreacher answered as he bowed his head.

“Who wouldn’t want to see you, Kreacher? I love seeing you.” Harry smiled again as he brought his hands to stop Kreacher’s small wrinkled fingers from wringing so harshly his hand snapped with the force. Elves couldn’t really blush, but if they could Kreacher certainly would be right now.

“Thank you little master. You is too kind.” Kreacher added as he reached up and patted Harry’s cheek and came to stand just next to him, waiting for the door to open.

“Never seen anyone treat an elf with such care since you. He does take after you though. A little bit of Sirius, but mostly you.” Arcturus whispered as he came up suddenly behind Regulus. He was leaning heavily on a cane in his hands as Regulus shot him a look over his shoulder. His black robes seemed like they must be too heavy for the weather.

“He’s not much like me at all.” Regulus replied, shaking his head as Harry spoke animatedly with Kreacher, who looked with his wide eyes and nodded occasionally.

“It’s not a bad thing for him to be like you, Regulus. You are not an evil villain. You’re as close to a father as Harry will have.” Arcturus commented. Regulus didn’t get a chance to deny the claim before Helena came in, wiping her hands on a rag and Harry’s loud greeting dragged everyone’s attention. Only a moment later voices could be heard through the door as the sounds of several people approaching arrived.

“Lucy, was three trunks really necessary. Oi love careful, I didn’t mean it. You can put the wand down.” Ignatius' booming voice could be heard first followed by the quick snickering of Cassiopeia as her heels hit the front step and the door pushed in. Harry rushed forward without a second thought as he grabbed onto the first person he could see, which happened to be Lucretia who was still putting her wand away.

“Oh Harry, goodness look how much you’ve grown. Oh darling we’ve missed you too, I see you’ve gotten a proper welcome party together.” She laughed as leaned down to engulf Harry in a warm hug. Harry jumped from her to Ignatius as Regulus and Sirius stepped forward to assist the many different trunks that had floated to a halt at the end of the steps. Regulus tapped them twice before they disappeared into the rooms they had used prior. To keep Sirius out of the sunroom on this visit, Cassiopeia had worked her own magic expanding a rather large closet and conforming it into a small room for their guest to use. Lancelot had already written that he’d not mind a small space since he’d be the one coming and going from the home frequently. Regulus couldn’t imagine being over a hundred and still so active. Then again, Regulus had planned to die at eighteen. He’d always had this inkling of a suspiciousness that all his time was borrowed and ticking away.

“My dear nephews, let me hold you.” Lucretia sighed as she squeezed her small frame around Regulus and Sirius. It was quite comical considering they both stood a good two heads above her. Still she’d squeezed them together with all her might and it felt warm even covered by the hot sun, it was a different more filling warmth.

The afternoon passed swiftly and Regulus found himself wandering in from the potions shed after checking on their latest brews. Mentally tallying up the days and realizing it would soon be his birthday before long. They had celebrated it every year and every year that past he felt the ice grow thaw in the idea. It was never a large event, but no one had spoken of it yet with the impending return of the family. He didn’t mind though, the less spectacle the more comfortable he would be. He shook off his shoes before he slipped them off.

The house was dark and silent. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He knew it had been a long tiring day, but for everyone to have gone to bed so early didn’t seem correct. He turned the corner and could hear the faintest of shuffling, his mind twisted and turned as he approached the kitchen. A faint glow was coming from the otherwise darkened room, not the pale lit color of the moon, but a warm earthy tone. It smelt like wax burning. He blinked his eyes as he tiptoed into the room. The backs of everyone turned to him as he could see gifts to one side and a small banner to another as there was a crowd over the small golden glow. He smiled to himself. They were trying to surprise him.

He knocked on the wood walls gently as the group jumped and turned towards him. Shock was across their face for a moment until it fell into a humorous glance. A few eye rolls abound.

“I think I’ve spoiled a surprise.” Regulus mumbled as he looked around the room at many happy faces. Harry ran up to him to hug him with a laugh as Regulus tapped his hair.

“Well, you’ve never been one for surprises anyways.” Helena laughed as she fanned at the flickering candles that had grown wild for a moment in their controlled burn.

“My birthday is still days away.” Regulus pointed out as Harry detached from his side. “Isn’t it too early to celebrate?”

“We knew you’d be too suspicious if we waited until the true day of your birth. We thought you could catch on.” Lucretia smiled behind the glow of small flicker candles. Regulus couldn’t help but smile as he felt his eyes swell with a warm pressure. His words froze in his throat as he caught a glance around the room. The swelling spread across his chest as it pulsed under his breath. He blinked, letting himself savor in the darkness of his closed eyes before he opened them again. He caught his brother’s eyes just across the room. Sirius had the same pulled appearance to his face as he crossed his arms and shook his head to the floor before looking up again. Then they shared a moment, a quiet moment where their memories of the quiet hidden moments of the birthdays of their past flashed between them. Regulus was grateful for them, for his brother, but these new moments felt like a new beginning.

-

“Siri, I do not understand the significance of wrapping the presents the Muggle way. Mine look horrendous.” Regulus sighed as he dejectedly let the ribbons of a bow slip from his fingers.

“It is sentimental, Reg. We are putting our time into wrapping Harry’s presents. We’re taking away our precious sleep to make sure they are placed perfectly for him to wake to in the morning. You have to admit it feels nice.” Sirius returned as he filled the air with the ripping sound of tape. It was his idea and his presents looked presentable, beautiful even. Regulus’ had uneven sides and layers of tape holding the corners together.

“I’d feel better if mine didn’t have a whole roll of tape piecing them together.” Regulus sighed as he placed his box sans ribbon on top of the ones already wrapped.

“Here let me help you with the next one.” Sirius offered as he pulled another roll of wrapping paper.

“Alright, I need some tea if we’re going to be up another hour folding crinkling paper and deafening myself with tape.” Regulus sighed as he stood.

“Get me a cuppa. Make it sweet.” Sirius called out as Regulus left the room. He rolled his eyes as he made his way from Sirius’ room to the kitchen. The water was beginning to boil in the background as he leaned towards the open window. The warm summer breeze crossed his cheeks as he closed his eyes to soak in the moment. Another birthday for Harry meant another year closer to Hogwarts. He’d leave them behind and begin his own journey. It tasted as sweet as unripe berries, give it time and they’d be perfect, but the temptation of not letting them grow was always there.

He let out a sigh as he turned to face the whistling sound of the kettle, the heat coating his wrist as he picked it up to pour the cups of tea. He almost didn’t hear the noise of pecking behind him as he poured the steaming liquid. The colliding sound of porcelain and water nearly drowned it out, but his ears that could tell a person by their footsteps didn’t fail him yet. He turned to see an owl sitting in the open window turning its brown feathers side to side before it let out a quiet hoot. He knew the owl, it was one of the owls sent to Remus every month. Artemis was her name, fittingly so as she was one of the few owls always up for the long journey.

“Hello girl. Let me see that.” Regulus chimed as he scratched under her chin. There was a letter tied tightly to her foot he untangled and pulled away. He could recognize the handwriting even from a brief glance. Remus had written back. He had not written since the first few batches had been sent to him.

“Here girl, some water for you before you go.” Regulus whispered as he placed a cup in front of her and filled it with water. She ruffled her feathers appreciatively as she ducked her beak into the cup energetically. Regulus held the letter at an arm's length away as he turned it over. There was no named addressee, only the words To My Helper . Remus must have trusted the owl to return it to the proper place.

“Oh, Remus.” Regulus sighed as he dropped his hand and shook his head. Artemis had one last long hoot before she pushed off from the window and into the night. Regulus watched until she was but a dot against the sky before he carefully placed the letter in his pocket careful to not crinkle the edges and picked up the tea to return to his brother. His mind debated the entire time on his short journey.

“Took your bloody long enough, I was dying of thirst.” Sirius joked without even looking up from where he tied a neat silver bow.

“A letter came.” Regulus said as he sat crossed legged on the ground and pushed Sirius’ tea towards him. Sirius still didn’t look up as he grabbed the steaming liquid.

“Let me guess, for Ignatius from The Ministry, oh no maybe grandfather, some distant relative asking for a favor, oh wait wait no Cedrella sending Cassiopeia another six-page letter about her grandchildren.” Sirius laughed as he looked at Regulus’ eyes. The moment their eyes met Regulus saw the moment the laugh died in his brother’s lips and the warmth of jovial nature faded from his eyes.

“Siri.” Regulus began with his hands wrapped tightly against the warm cup in his hand. “It’s from Remus.”

Sirius didn’t react at first. His expression stayed frozen in the same way as Regulus blinked several times. Then he seemed to remember he had to breathe as he took in a prolonged breath. His eyes seemed to search Regulus heavily for any lack of truth, only to find none.

“I want to see it.” Sirius demanded.

“Siri.” Regulus replied, shaking his head.

“He’s mine, Regulus. I appreciate all you’ve done for him, I’ll never be able to thank you, but he’s my person. I want to see the letter.” Sirius demanded again, his eyes wide and stern. Regulus sighed as he pulled the letter from his back pocket and handed it over with a bit of apprehension. He could not bring himself to do anything, but stare at the floor while he hears the distinct sound of a letter being ripped open and parchment unfolding harshly.

The air grew tense. The window open behind them let in a breeze as the ribbons tied to the presents blew quietly in the background. Regulus tried to focus on his brother’s breathing but it had gone so quiet. There was a shuffling of parchment and a tapping of fingers and then a sharp sniff. Regulus broke his gaze on the floor as he stared up to find his brother with streams of tears falling down his cheeks and dotting the pale yellow parchment. His hands shook as he held the letter closer to his face.

“Oh, Sirius.” Regulus said as he placed his cup aside and pulled the letter from his brother’s grasp not to ruin it any farther. His arms slipped around his brother's neck as he threaded his hands into the long tangled hair. Sirius sniffled quietly into his shoulder for a few moments but a sob never broke. Regulus could feel it caught in his brother’s chest though, the tension was pressed into his own. It made his own heart feel like it was floating in glass.

“He doesn’t think he deserves it, Reg. He thinks he’s a monster that doesn’t deserve any compassion. I can feel it in between his words. Merlin, I did that. I did that to him. I broke him, Reg.” Sirius croaked each word growing more hoarse than the last.

“No, Siri. No, you didn’t break him. He’s hurting, but he’s not broken.” Regulus muttered as he pulled his brother closer. Sirius’ whole body shuddered.

“I left him alone.” He whispered. “I should have thought about him. All I could think of was my own grief, I never thought about him. He had to grieve us all. I ruined him. Merlin, why are we so fucked up? Why’d we turn out this way? Why do we have to ruin every good thing that comes our way? Why couldn’t we have had a better chance, Reg? Fuck I hate this. I hate this feeling, it’s like it’s going to swallow me whole and enjoy doing it. I don’t want to feel this.”

“You have to.” Regulus replied without a thought as Sirius paused in his grasp.

“You have to feel it, otherwise you won’t learn. You may have fucked up now, but you can get up and try again. The brother I know would try again.” Regulus whispered. Sirius stayed still, his arms gripping tightly to Regulus’ side. Waiting, frozen and still, he felt tired and heavy in Regulus’ arms.

“What if he doesn’t want me anymore? I can’t even tell him I am here, it’ll put him in so much danger and he’d be under so much stress. How? How could he and I ever be again?” Sirius sighed, a shaky sob ripping through him after. Regulus sat contemplative for a moment, his arms falling to wrap around his brother’s back as he pulled him closer. Years of being touch starved and rejected affections, he felt it strange how normal he felt lying on a floor holding his brother rocking ever so slightly.

“Write him back.” Regulus suggested. Sirius pulled away abruptly keeping his hands tight to Regulus’ shoulder.

“I can’t—” Sirius started until Regulus shook his head.

“Don’t sign it. Write anonymously, see where he is, start as his friend again.” Regulus interrupted. Sirius chewed in his lips, and stared deeply into the distance.

“I’ll finish the presents with magic and you just think.” Regulus offered as he pulled his wand and tapped the paper and ribbons and watched as they levitated and ran to wrap around the last of Harry’s presents. Sirius sat staring at the wall, the piece of parchment to his side.

Regulus finished the wrapping and brought each present quietly to sit in on the kitchen table for Harry to rush to in the morning. Sirius stayed there. He was sitting there staring at the wall searching for answers. Regulus swallowed and continued to clean up the mess until he could see sun rays pulling at the horizon of a dark sky. Sirius eventually shook his head and pushed himself from the ground, the paper gripped in his hand.

“We should try to get a few hours of sleep before Harry wakes up the whole house.” Sirius suggested with a shoulder shrug. Regulus nodded as he made his way to the door, he heard Sirius shuffle behind him and he stood holding the frame of the door for a pause. He looked over his shoulder as Sirius stood over a desk staring over the letter again. His brother swallowed so harshly he could see it from where he stood before he pulled a piece of parchment from the first drawer and pulled out the seat with his hand gripping to a fresh quill with white knuckles. No matter where it led, Regulus would be proud of his brother for trying.

-

“Sh, Harry we don’t want to wake him.” Regulus whispered into Harry’s ear as he tried to balance the large tray in his hands. Regulus had offered to carry it but Harry insisted. He wanted to make and carry his Padfoot’s birthday breakfast to him.

“I got it, Reggie.” Harry called over his shoulder. Regulus smiled as he leaned forward over Harry’s shoulder to grab Sirius’ door.

“Alright, Harry. This is it.” Regulus whispered as he twisted the doorknob lightly. He pulled his wand and once he opened it wide enough he sent in a bright Lumos to wake Sirius from his slumber as Harry came into the newly lit room and carried himself to the side of the bed who had dragged the covers over his head at the intrusion.

“Happy Birthday Padfoot!” Harry called as he climbed onto the bed with the tray in hand. Sirius popped a single eye out from under the covers.

“C’est que la tartine et les viennoiseries?” Sirius asked as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Je les ai fait moi-même.” Harry said proudly. Regulus leaned in the doorway as he watched the two interact. Sirius slowly pulls the covers away and brings Harry closer to him.

“Reggie made the tea though.” Harry pointed out as he laid the tray across from them.

“Oh yeah, well, I think it’s fair we all share them.” Sirius said as he looked over Harry at Regulus.

“It’s your birthday, Padfoot.” Harry said as he wrinkled his eyes.

“Yes, and I want to share it on my birthday. You know, Harry, when we were younger Regulus and I would always share a single slice cake on our birthdays.” Sirius whispered as he pushed a piece of hair back behind Harry’s ear. Harry’s face perked up.

“Just the two of you?” Harry asked. Sirius nodded as he looked caringly at Harry.

“Oh, well then it’s tradition. Let us share la tartine and eat!” Harry proclaimed as he picked his own piece. So Sirius looked at Regulus and motioned for him to grab a piece. Regulus sat with a creak of the bed as he picked up his own piece.

“To tradition.” Sirius said, raising his own piece of roast. The three collided with bread with crumbs crumbling over the bed and quick laughter before they bite into these pieces.

Regulus smiled as he glanced over at his brother’s desk. The discard pieces of parchment evidence of the late night Regulus had heard Sirius having. His room was just above his and he’d woken up twice to the sound of pacing. The letters between Remus and Sirius had been ongoing for several months now. One arrived every week and Sirius would hold it gingerly and read them obsessively before he’d pick up his quill and write to no end. He was proud.

The two were lifting each other up, even if Remus had no idea whom he was writing too. It gave Sirius hope though, maybe one day in the future they’d have a second chance. They could sit across from each other once more no longer shrouded in secrecy and have a long hard discussion that was long overdue. For now, the letters were a start and he truly believed it was helpful to the both of them. His eyes wandered over the fresh parchment sitting directly on top of the clutter of the desk. The only had just dried and the quill was still lying on the desk not in its stand. He squinted his eyes at the words.

Dearest Remus

I hope this letter finds you well. I know you said it was a dark time of year for you, though you wouldn’t say why. I can empathize, this season is heavy on my own heart for many reasons, but behind it all, I try to find hope. I want to believe there is more than what we’ve lived through, I want to believe there is more to love

The letter stopped there. The words unfinished and Regulus didn’t even know if this draft would make it into an envelope or into the bin with the other discarded words. He rubbed Harry’s back as he and Sirius argued the best toppings for toast. Harry preferred honey and Sirius preferred marmalade. Sirius may not send the letter, but he was correct in his words. There was more to love after tragedy.

Chapter Text

It was warm, warmer than he was used to, but even then a chill ran through his body. He’d not be here in some time, the vines were overgrown on the fence and the garden was a sad pile of wilted leaves. This home was under his domain, but in honesty it had been forgotten. The family had grown so small over the years there was no left to tend for it. He’d make a note to send the elves at the French Manor to come and spruce up the place. It would be Harry’s one day, he deserved for it to look inhabitable at least.

Arcturus leaned heavily on his cane as he pushed open the squeaky fence that surrounded the small Italian Villa. It had once been home to his distant cousin. She and her family had passed some time ago, and since their demise, it had been empty. At one point in his memory, all the homes in the Black name had been inhabited. Grimmauld Place, the flat in London, the Swiss home, the Manor in the countryside, the French Manor, the Italian Villa and even the Bungalow across the pond in Brazil. Their only place never permanently filled had been the little beach house used for the rare summer holiday. Now there was too little family left to fill them, and many of them were too old for a move. He was on a mission today. No time to pity old empty buildings.

His right knee ached as he walked, an old injury that had only grown worse with age. The travel had not been kind to him, but he supposed pain was a part of aging. His cane guided him into the room of the house, the dust filling the air heavily the moment he pushed open the door. He pulled his wand to clear the space and light the old torches and candles to try and freshen the space. The shadows flickered against moth-eaten curtains that were drawn tightly closed. He limped slightly to the room towards the back of the home. He’d be there.

Thankfully for his knee, it was not a far walk, nor did he need to transcend the stairs. The rooms were all filled with white clothes and with the buzzing of insects fleeing at his approach. The windows facing the back of the home overlooked a vineyard down at the end of the hill. An old Muggle family had owned it for centuries and the smells seemed to seep into every corner of the villa. His son had always enjoyed this view, no wonder he chose it as his escape.

He lifted a white covering off an old chair as he relaxed into it. A rush of relief flooded to his legs as he sighed. An old curtain had been torn down behind him partially bathing the room in the warm Italian sun. The warmth broke through his thin cloak and he leaned his head back to soak it in a moment. He’d need all the serenity he could manage for such a difficult conversation. After a few deep breaths of the fruity aroma that had wafted from below he lifted his head to stare at the empty portrait ahead of him.

“Orion, you can show yourself.” Arcturus called as he placed his arms wide on the chair arms. He could hear the faint grumbling and mutterings as he took in the portrait backgrounds. The vineyard below was the background with bright fruit trees all around. An old family member had been painted bathing in the sunlight on an elaborate blanket surrounded by a platter of fresh foods. They were nowhere to be found, nor was the person he needed to speak to.

“Orion!” Arcturus demanded. There was a flash of movement in the corner before it disappeared into the beyond. He tapped his fingers loudly as he waited. Finally, a rather pale thin figure slipped in from the side. With sharp cheekbones and hair that abruptly cut at the jawline, he watched as his son leered at him before he stepped in the very edge of the portrait, one foot still pointed the opposite direction.

“Using that tone, you’d think you’d have something to threaten me with. Tell me father, how do you plan to threaten a dead man?” Orion mocked as he dug his shoes into the grass causing a deep mark that rippled for a moment before the painting went smooth again.

“Taunt me you dare, I could let it slip that this is where you’ve hidden out too. I hear your wife has been screeching her throat dry trying to find you. Portraits may not be people, but I would think they have a tolerance limit.” Arcturus explained as he pulled out a handkerchief to cover a fit of coughing before continuing.

“Walburga, you think I fear Walburga.” Orion scoffed, but he had gone a shade paler. Arcturus had his in.

“Your mother spoke to you?” He asked as he turned his head towards the nearly forgotten face of his son. His portrait was painted just after his wedding, hence the shortened hair. He’d been eighteen and had swallowed an entire bottle of firewhiskey after it was done. Arcturus’ brother had to assist carrying him to his room as Arcturus’ had chaisted his son on how improper his behavior had been the entire wedding. Orion had spat at him and cursed at him until Regulus I had shoved him under his covers and forced sobering potions down his throat. That was the beginning of the end. Arcturus had been hopeful that his son would try to find joy in his predicament, but it had been a false hope. Orion chose to end his life at eighteen. To soak himself in alcohol and affairs and gambling until his heart had given out on him.

“She did.” Orion snorted as he lazily strolled towards the blanket and pulled out the bottle of wine. Arcturus had to bite his tongue. This wasn’t his son, it was only a memory of him. A memory that could possibly have the answers he needed.

“She had mentioned it first years ago, I’m surprised it took you so long to visit. I’d say my feelings were hurt, but I’d be lying. Truthfully, I reveled in joy everyday that I went without seeing your old worn face.” Orion jabbed as he snarled towards Arcturus. It was most certainly a vivid memory of his son.

“I tried to find the answers on my own, but I’m missing something. Something you may know.” Arcturus steered the conversation back as the pop of a wine cork filled the room.

“You know it will constantly refill. I could drink and drink and drink and still it will refill, same with the food and the fruit that grows. Fascinating magic they paint into the portraits, though a bit of a waste of talents in my opinion.” Orion shrugged as he tipped the wine bottle directly to his lips and drank heavily for a moment. Arcturus kept the rhythm of his tapping steady as he waited for his son to let out a dramatic breath after he’d nearly drank half the bottle in a single sip. He could feel a growl of words rising in his throat to spew at him, but he swallowed it for the sake of importance.

“So, the father comes crawling to the son. I thought it would feel more vindictive, instead I’m more annoyed.” Orion shrugged as he laid himself out against the blanket with the wine bottle still in hand. Arcturus stayed silent as he stared down his son. Orion was unfortunately too much like himself, arrogant and determined. He was also full of wrath.

“Staying silent? Worried you might snap and scare me off?” Orion taunted.

“Orion, whatever you want to say, say it. Then we can move on and get to the point of this visit. I unlike you son have a timer in my life.” Arcturus said, the thinnest line of annoyance slipping into his words.

“No, no, let’s discuss what you have come to discuss.” Orion smirked as he took another quick sip of the bottle. “A horcrux, blood magic, ancient practices, along those lines, correct?”

“Yes.” Arcturus answered shortly.

“I’d think you would know about this better than I. Blood magic is your specialty.” Orion mocked. Arcturus could feel where the conversation was going as he adjusted himself more comfortably in the chair. Orion could ramble.

“We both know blood magic was a fascination of yours.” Arcturus encouraged.

“I was trying to find a reversal, not exploring the different interactions between magic, particularly not a horcrux, and blood magic.” Orion snorted.

“Humor me, son.” Arcturus sighed as he rubbed into his aching knee.

“Alright, information that is known. Tom Riddle created a horcrux, he hid it away, my youngest son found it and used an old basilisk fang to destroy it in nineteen eighty. For some unknown reason in nineteen eighty-one, Tom Riddle tracked down the Potters who had been hidden away for another unknown reason. He then proceeded to kill James Potter in his own doorway, and he followed Lily Potter upstairs, where she was hiding with her infant son. Correct so far?” Orion nearly mocked as he spoke. His hands aimlessly wandering around his face as he spoke. Arcturus only sat and stared.

“Now, the next set of events. Lily Potter is murdered, but not before she can finish a bit of ancient blood magic that will protect her son. Harry Potter gets hit with a killing curse that somehow rebounds and destroys The Dark Lord. Now a body has not been found and I believe that provides us with one answer, albeit not the one you've wanted.” Orion smirked as he tipped the wine back again. It was nearly empty and they hadn’t even made it through half an hour.

“Tom isn’t dead, even with a horcrux. Once all horcruxes are destroyed the one who created the horcrux just drops dead. It wouldn’t cause one to evaporate into thin air, unless of course there were more horcruxes. Probably where he is now, some strange form between living and dead, trying to bring his soul back into a corporal form.” Orion shrugged as he squinted an eye down the now empty bottle of wine and set it down. Just as he said, once it had left his hand he could see it fill to the brim again.

“Begs the question though, if he was willing to split his soul more than once, how many times would be too many? More importantly what state would the fragment of his soul he held onto be in? Certainly not the most stable portion. He killed two people before his own soul was blown from his body. Now, I know you’ve read that book from cover to cover, you know what it takes. The ceremony of rituals to split one’s own soul, but that information is going off the only known instance of a horcrux, a single horcrux. Theoretically speaking, if one had split there soul multiple times and went to kill mercilessly again, except this time there was a survivor and that soul was painfully thready, who’s to say a part wouldn’t break off? Wouldn't attach to the one living being left behind?” Orion suggested with a casual glance before picking up the wine bottle once again.

“You’re saying, theoretically, Harry has a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside him. That he is a horcrux?” Arcturus leaned forward as he groveled at the idea.

“Not a true horcrux, you’ve seen the ritual, I doubt he had the time to initiate the more intimate parts. But we both know how unstable dark magic can be, how one wrong move and you’ve changed the entire course of the spell.” Orion smirked as he lifted the bottle in Arcturus’ direction.

“Then what you're saying is as long as Harry lives, so will The Dark Lord.” Arcturus felt himself fall into the chair with the air rushing out of his lungs. He’d known it was bad, the odds were stacked against them, but he never thought it would be this pitifully hopeless.

“Pity, Lily and James only delaying the inevitable.” Orion sighed as he dropped the bottle into his lap. A flash of emotion crossed his son’s face. Not anger or wickedness as was common, but it appeared almost to be sympathetic. Arcturus clapped his hands together and wrung them tightly, as his thoughts raced and his throat grew dry. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders at a cold shiver.

“There must be a way to undo it.” Arcturus muttered under his breath. Orion’s finger lingered over the edge of the wine bottle before screwing his eyes tightly shut and pushing his lips into a thin line. He was drunk, he’d be of no use to Arcturus after a few more sips. Instead, he stood brushing off his clothes as he cleared his throat.

“I appreciate you seeing me.” He said in parting before Orion’s eyes popped open, much less glazed than Arcturus had expected them to be.

“I don’t know if it can be undone, but there may be a way to protect Harry. To save him, or to at least try.” Orion whispered, his eyes stared beyond his own portrait out of the frame into a void Arcturus knew nothing about. He paused his movements as he stepped forward closer to the wall. Orion shook his head as if he was debating even speaking farther but after an echo of silence he let out a low breath.

“I know nothing of it, but we portraits hear rumors of the living, and this rumor will lead you into the lap of a man I know you do not care for. Rumors say, he knows more than he lets on that he’s played a game with people’s lives in the name of the greater good. He may hold sympathy yet for the poor inevitable fate of the boy. Go to Albus, try as you may to drag answers from him.” Orion explained his words dragging into a monotone sound as if it was painful to even speak the words. Painful to even be of assistance.

“Thank you, son.” Arcturus whispered as he turned to grab his cane.

“Father.” Orion called. Arcturus turned over his shoulder to see his son slumped into himself, staring into the dark red liquid as he poured it onto the ground slowly beside him.

“Yes?” He replied.

“Would you have tried this hard for me? If you had known, if you had the time. Would you have tried to reverse the curse cast on us?” Orion asked sadly as his eyes followed the trail of liquid sliding through the blades of grass.

“I would have spared no expense, and if it had been my life at risk, I would have gladly died to allow you the freedom you so badly wanted.” Arcturus sighed weakly as he tried not to think of times so long past.

“Wasn’t your life at risk though, it was hers. If it had been yours I wouldn’t have even given it a second thought to let the curse kill you, but it was her. One of us deserved happiness, and even if her life hadn’t been easy, she seems happy.” Orion's words were hoarse and he could see his eyes flickering with tears as he pushed his hand into the red wine and brought up the soaked red color to his face. His face taunts and his eyes swell with each passing second.

“She is happy, sadness escapes no one, Orion.” Arcturus sighed as he leaned his hip into his cane.

“You’re never to tell her. She can never know, it would break her heart to know what I did. That I married that wretched hag and had those ungrateful children for her sake.” Orion's face was flushed with anger as he whipped his head around to stare at his father. Arcturus swallowed before he answered.

“I have never told her and I never will. It will forever be your right secret to hold and divulge if you so choose.” Arcturus said, lowering his head. He’d failed his son, he’d known it. There was no helping Orion now. He could only look forward. Try to do better for another generation, to free them of the burdens of their fathers.

“I’ll tell mother you said hello.” Orion muttered as he laid his head back into the grass and closed his eyes. He looked almost peaceful. The image of a son he could have had if the universe had been kinder.

“Goodbye, son.” Arcturus whispered as he limped towards the door. His portkey left in an hour, but he could not bear to stay in this old home any longer. He’d rather bake under the summer sun waiting for the hour to strike than stay cooped in the darkness with old demons.

-

“Harry, staring out the window won’t make it come any faster. I’ve told you it will come when it comes. Now get off the counter before Aunt Cassiopeia sees you. She’ll have both our heads.” Regulus called out as he passed the kitchen carrying a load of laundry and caught a glance of Harry staring out an open window once again.

“Reg! You said they send the letters out in July! It’s July!” Harry sighed as he climbed off the counter and followed Regulus down the halls and into Harry’s room.

“It’s July second, Harry and we live much farther away than most students. I don’t believe they send them exactly on the first of the month. Mine arrived in late July and Sirius’ in the middle. Here see if you're any better at the folding spell.” Regulus said as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. Harry rolled his eyes but he grabbed the wand and muttered the spell. The trousers weakly flipped into a messy square.

“I’m rubbish at household charms.” Harry sighed as he flipped onto his bed, his glasses pushing up his head.

“You don’t try with household charms.” Regulus pointed out as he snatched the wand from Harry’s grasp and tapped the clothes as they quickly and neatly folded and put themselves away.

“Same difference.” Harry huffed as he rolled on his stomach and stared out his window. Now Regulus rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed rubbing on Harry’s back. He was trying to keep up appearances and be happy for Harry. He’d be leaving in only a few short months and starting a new journey full of wonder and exploration. Most of him was excited for Harry, Hogwarts had been his sanctuary. Another part of him was terribly sad. He’d drop off a boy at a train station in only a matter of weeks and watch him head off to the lands of Scotland and would only get a chance to see him a few times a year. A small part of him was even nervous. He couldn’t place any exact reasons besides he’d be so far away from him. He was soaking up as much Harry time as possible, almost obnoxiously. He’d even slipped into his room a few times just to watch him sleep. Merlin, he didn’t know a heart could hurt so much as when he watched him sleep and realized one day he’d come in and the room across from him would be empty.

“It’ll come, Harry. Then in August we will go back to London. Grandfather Arcturus has it all planned out so we can all go with you. Even Uncle Lancelot took the day off from work and you know he never does that.” Regulus pointed out as Harry jumped up at the idea.

“He says he wants to be the first person to buy me Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream.” Harry perked up as he pushed himself closer to Regulus exuding all the excitement he had now anytime anyone mentions returning to London.

“Yes, I’ve heard. I know you’ve heard many opinions on the best flavor to try, but I still swear by Earl Grey and Lavender.” Regulus advised as he pushed his shoulder into Harry’s.

“Uncle Lancelot says I have to try Strawberry and Peanut Butter, but Uncle Ignatius says Clotted Cream is the best and Siri swears by Chocolate Chili. I guess I’ll just have to try them all.” Harry laughed. Regulus shook his head as he wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him close and tight to his side. He tried to enjoy the happy moments but as time passed the feeling of dread rose in his throat and caused a burning sensation.

There was another matter he had been avoiding. Harry needed the whole story before he left. Every moment from the war till he ended up in Regulus’ arms. He’d been swearing to himself every morning and then cursing himself every night as he avoided it again. Time was running out and Sirius was getting antsy. He wanted to tell Harry years ago, but Regulus had put his foot down. Thankfully, he’d been supported in his decision. Everyone else thought it best to wait. Harry had asked questions as time went on. Sometimes he got answers, sometimes he only got a glance and a change of subject.

Regulus left Harry to flip through his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages yet again. His room was filled with Quidditch supplies from Christmas and birthdays over the years. Harry had been devastated when Regulus told him first years weren’t allowed brooms. He’d looked like he was going to tear up as he stared at his broom longingly. He even had a few posters for the Holyhead Harpies and Caerphilly Catapults on his wall. His uncle Ignatius had given them with loyalty to his own country's team. Regulus had slipped Harry a Falmouth Falcons scarf. It was an old family tradition to support the rather violent team, a cousin of sorts had played for them back in the early nineteen hundreds. Harry seemed to prefer the Welsh teams, but anything Quidditch and his attention would be taken.

Regulus sat at the kitchen table and stared out the window for a different reason. He sat contemplating and getting lost in thought for so long his tea grew cold without him having taken a single sip. Avoidance would only work for so much longer, and a part of him wanted to tell Harry before his birthday and letter arrived. He didn’t want to overshadow happy events with such darkness.

“Knut for your thoughts.” Sirius said as he entered the kitchen. His voice shook Regulus out of his mind as he let out a deep breath and leaned loudly back in his seat.

“On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.” Sirius replied over his shoulder, wrinkling his nose.

“We should tell Harry.” Regulus sighed.

“I’ve been saying that for years.” Sirius replied as he clattered with the tea cups.

“I mean soon. We should tell him before the week is up.” Regulus mumbled as he stared into the murky tea. He could only barely see his own reflection. Sirius paused his search for a tea cup as he slowly turned to his brother.

“Are you sure, Reg? I know it will be hard for you.” Sirius swallowed. Regulus could feel the painful pressure of guilt building in his chest. He’d have to tell Harry everything, including his own part.

“He needs to know. He doesn’t owe me his forgiveness, I’m as prepared as I can be for it.” Regulus sighed as he trailed a finger on the edge of the tea. Suddenly, it looked very unappealing as his stomach twisted inside him.

“If I can forgive you, Harry will. He’s a better person than either of us.” Sirius said as he reached across from Regulus joining their hands in comfort.

“He gets that from James, I know that.” Regulus sniffed as he bowed his head, but held his brother’s hand still. Sirius half laughed nodding his head.

“He does, James could forgive anybody. I know, he spent half our friendship forgiving me and my stupid shit.” Sirius mumbled, blinking his eyes heavily.

“This Friday coming up, after dinner?” Sirius suggested, raising one of his eyebrows. Regulus nodded as Sirius patted his hand and stood again to make his tea. Regulus lifted his own, not bothering to warm it. He could barely get a sip down because of the knot in his stomach. Harry owed him nothing, he knew that, but by Merlin, he hoped he’d find it in his heart to forgive him.

Chapter Text

It was like the static in the air before a close lightning strike. He was on edge all day, and he’d even gone as far as to steal more than a handful of Sirius’ cigarettes. He was never much of a smoker, but he’d cracked his knuckles until they bruised and made his lips bleed twice. Anything to help calm him was a reprieve. He’d nearly backed out twice, but before the words had gotten off his lips Sirius would stare him down and make those words fade to the back of his throat.

He made Sirius tell Harry. He’d been off to the side watching Harry clean his broom as Sirius threw his arm around Harry and made casual conversation as they laughed and joked before getting to the point. He could tell from the body language when Sirius had changed the tone of the conversation. The way his shoulders had pushed back followed by the quick whip of Harry’s head. He could nearly hear Harry inquire what Sirius was referring to, but Sirius raised his hand to silence him. Regulus had quickly turned his eyes downward before Harry could catch his eye. He couldn’t look him in the eye right now.

Dinner was tense, there were more than a few glances from everyone as Harry desperately tried to garner Regulus’ attention and Regulus kept denying each attempt. He eventually had to push his chair back loudly and leave the space, not a single bite taken out of his food. He could feel Harry’s eyes follow him as Sirius started to sharply whisper under his breath. He didn’t strain to listen, only made his way out to the garden to sit on the steps and pull his fourth stolen cigarette from his pocket.

That is where Sirius found him not twenty minutes later. He was staring at the burning end of the cigarette thinking if he pushed it into his arm just then he may be so numb he wouldn’t even feel it. Or maybe he would, and at least he could feel anything besides the overwhelming dread growing in his mind. Sirius seemed to weigh the situation behind him as his feet tapped against the steps several times. He made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat.

“Harry is ready. If you are that is, you can take a minute if you need to. We have the room to ourselves.” Sirius advised quietly behind. Regulus stared for a minute longer before he took one last drag and flung the cigarette across the grass.

“I’ll never be ready, but I’ve avoided it long enough.” Regulus said as he pushed past Sirius and tried to steel himself mentally.

It worked for all of a few seconds before he turned a corner and saw Harry curled up in the corner of a sofa, his hair softly curled at the ends around his ears and a cup of tea steaming in his hand. He was quietly humming an old tune to himself staring out the window peacefully. Regulus felt the slow sink of his heart hitting his stomach as the thought of how he may just ruin the peaceful boy in front of him. He’d frozen in the doorway until he heard Sirius cough weakly and gently push at the middle of his back. The small noise caught Harry’s attention as he turned his head and offered a smile. Regulus wished he would scowl, or frown, or even keep a straight face. Anything but smile at him at a time like this.

“Reg, Siri says you two want to tell me something.” Harry said as he adjusted his stance towards him. Regulus tried to smile, but it only made his lips quiver as he weakly nodded and took small shuffling steps towards the sofa. He reached forward and set Harry’s tea aside as he brushed his hair away from his face. Harry’s eyes followed each move with a bit of wariness. Regulus pulled him close to chest, wanting to feel his warmth close to him at least one more time. Harry instinctively wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled his forehead in his shoulder. Just like every time before, but Regulus’ feared not like every time after.

“Harry, my sweet boy.” Regulus hummed before having to bite hard on his lips to hold the choking emotion building at the end of his throat.

“Is something wrong, Reg?” Harry mumbled as he pushed back and looked up at Regulus with concern.

“It’s time we tell you everything. About the war, about your parents, about us, when you get to Hogwarts, other people will know and it’s not fair if you don’t.” Regulus said glancing at his brother who sat across from them with his hands resting on his knees leaned forward. It looked like he’d dragged the chair much closer with how he was nearly bumping into him.

“Oh.” Harry responded as his eyes quickly flickered downward.

“It’s not an easy tale, Harry. If you need us to stop, tell us, but I think Sirius and I would appreciate it if you can try to hold as many questions as possible until we get to the end. This is going to be hard and hurt for all of us.” Regulus explained as Sirius nodded in agreement and brought out one of his hands to rub Harry’s knee. Harry’s eyes watched the action for a moment before he looked up at Regulus, his eyes wide and trusting.

“Can I have my tea at least?” Harry asked with half a chuckle. Regulus squinted his eyes and felt the pulsing behind them already as he nodded. Harry picked up the cup and held it close in one hand, but kept the other on Regulus’ arm. Regulus had to close his eyes for a moment and turn his head away. Sirius took a loud intake of air.

“You’re famous, Harry.” Sirius started, Regulus could feel his brother’s breath as he exhaled before speaking. “You are arguably one of the most famous wizards to exist.”

Harry just flicked his eyes some more as he went back and forth between Regulus and Harry. Sirius gripped his knee and seemed to pause for a moment with his lips parted, obviously grasping at where to begin. Regulus rolled his teeth over his lips once more before he nodded to himself.

“There was a war as you know. It was the greatest war since the one fought against Grindelwald, back when Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia were at Hogwarts. When they were at school, there was a boy there. I suppose then he was just a boy, but he wouldn’t remain that way. He became an evil man.” Regulus paused as he tried to look at Harry, but the moment he saw a flash of green he had to turn his head to stare into the distance.

“He became as Grindelwald did a dark wizard, only he fought in Britain. He recruited from elsewhere and he had intended to take over Europe and eventually the farthest border he could find, but he never made it out of there, but it was a dark time, Harry. The darkest time the Wizarding World had ever known.” Regulus’ voice trembled at the end, but he took a deep breath to steady himself.

“He went by the name Voldemort. Now that is a dark name, many people will gasp just hearing it, some will shudder. It is best if in public you refer to him as You-Know-Who, at least until you can get a grasp of how the group will respond.” Regulus explained, his vision growing a bit dark as the sun outside faded behind the hills and into the horizon.

“He was a powerful wizard. He gathered many followers, who believed in what he was saying. They saw him as a savior, who would guide them into a new renaissance for certain parts of the Wizarding world. He was eloquent and charming and persuasive, most of all he was powerful and abusive of his power. As with wars, there were those who fought for him and those who fought against him.” Regulus felt his tongue move methodically. His grip tightening on Harry, if he didn't grip tightly his arms would shake noticeably. Apparently, he wasn’t as good at hiding it as he thought. Harry started rubbing his arm gently.

“If half the people followed Voldemort, who did the other people follow?” Harry encouraged as he spoke quietly and carefully.

“Dumblerdore.” Sirius interjected as he jerked forward. Regulus shot him a look that flared his nose. Sirius leaned back a bit before continuing.

“Dumbledore led the good side, as Voldemort led the bad side and it wasn’t really half, Harry. Wars are fought by the few, many people just sit back and watch and wait.” Sirius shrugged as Regulus jerked his head at Sirius.

“Not everyone is a warrior, nor does everyone have to be, Harry.” Regulus added pointedly as he pushed his eyebrows together while staring at Sirius. His brother only rolled his eyes before spreading his legs further apart to get closer to Harry.

“Anyways, it was fought by the few. Dumbledore’s group was called The Order of the Phoenix, partially after the Phoenix in Dumbledore’s office. Your parents were a part of it, all of us were all your aunts and uncles and our friends.” Sirius' voice uptick as he spoke and his eyes seemed to brighten.

“My parents were warriors?” Harry’s mouth stayed apart after he spoke as Sirius nodded his head.

“Some of the best. They fought Voldemort three times and lived through it. The only other people to do that were the Longbottoms, Frank and Alice. They were Aurors, and two of the best. You’ll likely meet their son when you go to Hogwarts. He was born just before you.” Sirius smiled briefly before a shadow cast on his face. The upturn of his lips quickly faded as the bags under his eyes seemed to pulse. The dawning of emotion transcended down his face. Harry looked over Sirius with his eyes glowing in the fading sunlight.

“They didn’t make it out of the war, Frank and Alice. Not really, they were hurt so badly that their minds broke. That was after. They were the last of us to fall. I—” Sirius suddenly became overcome with emotion as he bit down on his fist as squinted his eyes tightly shut. Regulus didn’t want to take over here, but he needed to.

“A lot of people died, Harry. The McKinnons, The Bones, Dorcas, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, and then your parents.” Regulus sighed as he felt a blankness coming over him. As if his mind put up a shield and even as he stared at the same stain on the sofa, he couldn’t tell as time passed. The words seemed to simply spill out of him.

“He killed them. Voldemort, he came to the house where they were hiding. Where they were just trying to raise you. He hunted them down and he killed them. He was going to kill you, he tried to kill you, but it didn’t work. Your parents, they saved you. We don’t quite understand it, but when your mother died, she did something so powerful. Her love saved you, and when Voldemort tried to kill you, it rebounded in sorts. Destroyed him, and you became the first person to ever survive being struck by a killing curse.” Regulus explained as the space behind his eyes seemed to hollow and he finally tore his gaze to look at Harry. His eyes were hazy and gleaming with the bits of tears starting to edge over his eyes. Regulus licked his lips as he tried to convey any bit of sympathy, but he was certain he only looked like his face had twisted in pain.

“He killed them.” Harry repeated as he let his tea slip from his hand into Sirius’, who set it aside. Regulus could only afford a weak nod for a brief moment.

“Why?” Harry asked, his jaw clenched as he shook.

“He killed anyone that stood in his way, Harry. He didn’t see them as people.” Regulus shook his head as he felt himself starting to rock and he couldn’t stop blinking.

“They were my parents.” Harry whispered.

“I know, Harry. You deserved them, they deserved you.” Regulus nearly whimpered. Sirius’ eyes had gone blank as he fiddled with his fingers.

“Then what happened? After Voldemort was gone?” Harry sniffled loudly. Regulus let out a little whimper.

“They had been betrayed.” Sirius said in a barely audible tone. Harry looked him over with his tear filled eyes.

“They went into hiding, and they only told one person where they were. That person betrayed them. Everyone, they all thought it was me. They charged me with it all. I could have never, I would have rather spent a thousand years locked away than betray James and Lily.” Sirius mumbled as he began to crack his knuckles again.

“Locked away?” Harry questioned with his eyebrows raised.

“That’s where I went for all those years I wasn’t here. I was charged, though they never gave me a trial. I was locked away in a dark, terrifying prison for causing the deaths of your parents, Harry. If Grandfather Arcturus hadn’t gotten me out, I’d still be there.” Sirius’ face twitched.

“He got you out though, he must have proved they were wrong.” Harry perked up a bit at the idea. Sirius only shook his head violently.

“No, Harry. Grandfather Arcturus didn’t prove anything. He snuck me out of prison. No one knows I’ve left and if they ever did, everyone here could get in a lot of trouble.” Sirius explained as he patted Harry’s knee.

“Why, why didn’t he just prove they were wrong?” Harry asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Harry, our family, the House of Black, people didn’t like us very much. They feared us and revered our power and our status, but we had very few true friends. No one would have listened if he tried to get Sirius out the proper way.” Regulus sighed as Harry whipped his head in his direction.

“Oh.” Harry turned downward as his bottom lip stuck out. He furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Who betrayed them?” Harry asked, anger ringing in his tone. “If it wasn’t you, who was it?”

“We don’t know.” Sirius said so quickly his words stumbled over each other before Regulus could even feel his cheeks pull back to speak. He narrowed his eyes at Sirius, who gave him the most desperate look as shook his head the moment Harry turned away. Regulus didn’t like it, but it was his most pressing matter.

“Oh.” Harry said again, as the flush to his cheeks retreated. Regulus knew it was time. The stars had started to shine and the buzz of summer insects rang against the glass window pane. It felt very warm, like a fire had been lit in the warmest summer months. Stuffy and umcoctable and hard to breath as he tried to fill his lungs with any coolness of air.

“They would have been one of his followers. His followers were called Death Eaters, and they were some of the most vile characters. They committed unspeakable acts of violence and chaos at his request and sometimes even without it.” Regulus had to pause for a breath. He felt as if he was drowning again, the same heavy feeling in his chest and the same disarray in his mind.

“They killed people almost for sport, to spread fear. They had this mark, they’d leave it behind whenever they killed. It was called The Dark Mark, he even branded his followers with a version of it. He’d burn it into their arms so they could never forget their undying loyalty.” Regulus’ voice was failing him as could feel his whole body trembling and shaking. His neck felt flush and his brow sweated as his forehead tended under each word. He could feel every roll of skin on his face as he gasped for air.

“Are you ok, Reg?” Harry asked, disregarding his own worry as leaned down to look at Regulus’ bowed head hidden behind his hair.

“I was a Death Eater.” Regulus whispered out in one quick motion to where the sentence was nearly its own single word. Harry paused. His neck half craned as his eyebrows stayed furrowed. There was a beat of silence. Then another one.

Then Harry backed away, as he let his touch fall off Regulus. Regulus tensed every part of his face as he felt the loss of contact. It was like he’d been sliced with a knife and he could feel the heavy hot flow of blood. His skin burst each cell under it. Harry had let go. His breathing seemed to remain even, but the air changed. Regulus was ready to flinch at the slightest sound of movement. It felt as if he’d been thrust back in time and was sitting in his father’s study waiting as he penned a letter, or finished a drink prior to dishing the punishment he deemed appropriate. The wiring made it worse. The quiet rang over and over in Regulus’ ear for such a time that he thought he’d never be able to rid himself of the noise.

“A Death Eater.” Harry mumbled the words as if it was a new language he was learning for the first time. Clunky and strangely drawn out as he spoke each syllable harshly. Regulus could pull the energy to even respond.

“The scar on your arm.” Harry’s stone cold voice pointed out. Regulus flinched, only slightly, but the right side of his face painfully reacted. His hand shakily took the cuff of his sleeve, even in the heat he couldn’t bare to show his arm for more than necessary for this very reason. He rolled his sleeve with painstaking movement until he felt the crook of his elbow. It was worse than being naked in a room full of people. He could not lift his head, in fact it bowed lower in shame. He could feel the ghost of Harry’s hand, the brush of fingertips against the small hairs that stood up the moment they’d been exposed to the air. Freed from their confides and able to expose the panicked goosebumps trailing up and down Regulus’ arms.

As quick as the hands graced the arm, they disappeared with a large snap of bone clicking back into place. He could hear the sound of skin rubbing skin as if Harry had been burned by the touch and was trying to soothe an ache. The minutes turned into hours and seconds dragged as if minutes. Regulus could feel a faintness entering the front of his mind. Almost as if a sudden exhaustion had dawned on him, only much faster and forcefully than sleep.

“Why?” Harry breathed in a shimmer of a tone. Regulus let out a thready long breath he’d been holding painfully.

“I refuse to lie to you Harry. I believed what he said, about a pure society, about a purging, about certain wizards being better than others. I'd grown up around so many words, though not as openly expressed. I was infatuated with the idea of being somebody. He offered that. I was sixteen, only a few years older than you. The moment it was done, when I saw it. I began to question everything—no I’d already begun to question—but my parents, my mother especially made no exceptions for me. I had to become one, I could have stood up to her, I could have stood up to him. I could have said no, I more than likely would have died, but I should have done it. Instead I gritted my teeth and did as expected of me.” Regulus heard his own voice but it felt like it was coming through water and he had to strain at every word, but the pauses never lasted long.

“I tried to make it better. Too little too late, but I supposed it was better than nothing. Not enough to save my soul, but maybe enough to allow it to rest.” Regulus continued. “He had a secret, a weapon of sorts. I found where he was hiding it and I went to go destroy it. It was heavily guarded and I knew I’d likely die, but this time I wouldn’t let that scare me. I’d be brave. Only I didn’t die, I made it out alive because of Kreacher and I destroyed his weapon, Harry. I didn’t mean for anything to come of it. I didn’t want any honor or glory, only a chance. That chance came to me wrapped in several blankets near the beginning of winter crying his head off.” Regulus whispered as his voice cracked the entire last sentence, but he couldn’t bother with it. The water was clearing in his ears as he seemed to be breaking the surface and feeling a coolness relieve his burning muscles and skin.

“Me.” Harry whispered , Regulus dared look. His entire being screamed not to, but he couldn’t listen. That was the boy he’d gotten as a baby in front of him, and he couldn’t leave him alone. Not now, and not ever could he leave him alone. He caught the slightest look of Harry, who’d bowed his head and turned away with his arms wrapped around him. For a moment, only the flicker of time, he saw the smallest twitch of his lips. It was hope.

“You, Harry.” Regulus whispered back, unsure if anyone could hear him even with the close proximity.

“I want to go to bed.” Harry said abruptly. Regulus felt a bit of whiplash as his head turned upward. Harry was already standing and staring at his feet with his arms around him.

“I’ve heard enough, I— I just want to lie down.” Harry shook his head as he spoke, taking small teetering steps back.

“That’s fine, Harry. Did you want us to come?” Regulus tried to keep his voice steady as he could feel the rushing noise of water filling his head again.

“No, I’ll be fine.” Harry said, leaning back on his heels and never looking up. He seemed to debate a moment, chewing on his lip.

“Thank you, I love you both.” Harry whispered as he glanced very purposely at Regulus. His lips didn’t budge, but his eyes softened and his cheeks seemed to perk up. Then with one swift movement he disappeared into shadows with barely even footsteps in his wake. Regulus had to blink several times and gripped onto the edge of the sofe trying to pull himself from his own head.

“Reg?” Sirius whispered as he shook him slightly. Regulus had to focus his own eyes to see more than even the outline of his brother.

“What just happened?” Regulus whispered more to himself as he peeked at where Harry had been only a moment ago.

“I think Harry reached his limit, he let us know, and he removed himself from the situation, but at least we know he doesn’t hate you.” Sirius sighed also glimpsing around.

“Oh.” Regulus said.

“Sounds like the shit Lancelot and Helena spew at us about our heads.” Sirius snorted as he pushed once on Regulus’ shoulder before letting him. Regulus’ eyes shot back and forth in his skull for a moment.

“Are we raising a well-rounded child?” Regulus murmured in shocking realization as his mouth parted slightly. Sirius’ eyebrows shot up.

“Blacks raising decent children? First time for everything truly.” Sirius chuckled in disbelief. Regulus clicked his tongue as he tried to get even a tiny hint of Harry moving around, but it did seem like he’d truly gone to bed.

“I’ll check on him in the morning. Answer any other questions he may have. At his pace, how he wishes to approach this.” Regulus said as he slowly stood and held out a hand to help Sirius up. His brother blinked at him heavily, sighing and taking the assistance.

“We’re sounding like some New Age nonconformist guardians.” Sirius muttered

“Sirius it’s the nineties I don’t think people say New Age anymore.” Regulus laughed gently as he shuffled to bed as Sirius grumbled about tea on his way to the kitchen.

“These kids will learn, the seventies were the best.” Sirius called over his shoulder.

“For some of us.” Regulus mumbled under his breath as he paused at Harry’s closed door. He turned to face it with a heavy heart. Part of him wanted to slip into the room and watch Harry rest, but Harry had wanted space. Regulus would respect it even if it didn’t make him as comfortable. Harry didn’t hate him, and that was more than he could have hoped for. -

Lancelot had not even looked up when he’d entered his small study size room. It was an old closet expanded to fit a bed shoved into one corner with a trunk at the end and a tiny window brightening the room only weakly from the overcast sky. Lancelot sat at a desk that took over nearly the entire length of one of the walls. His quill scrippled harshly on fresh parchment. He’d hardly ever taken a break.

“I need your assistance.” Arcturus cleared his throat before he spoke.

“Don’t you tend to go to my cousin for these matters. I heal people, not end them.” Lancelot chided with his eyes focused on the words forming from his writing. His quill moved so quickly it was like a flickering light.

“This is a more delicate matter, one you may have better expertise than Ignatius.” Arcturus said as he pulled his cane in front of him. He found himself having to use it more and more as time went on, healing magic only slightly abided the pain anymore.

“Someone dying?” Lancelot questioned sarcastically as he dipped his quill in the inkwell. He wrote a sentence or two more before he felt the anxious wave cast over him and he turned to look at Arcturus’ stone still face. He appeared somber and pensive.

“Who?” Lancelot asked as he gently placed his quill down.

“Harry.” Arcturus replied, his face never even twitching.

“How?” Lancelot asked, his heart thumping in his ears only slightly.

“I’m not certain, there are details missing, but I know someone who may have them. An old year mate of yours.” Arcturus pointed out as Lancelot scoffed, pulling his glass from his face to rub his temple. He’d known the prospects of the diagnosis were grim. As years had passed and Lancelot had tried every spell and potion known to him and others and yet the magic stayed trapped behind Harry’s scar, he had feared the worst. That there may be no cure.

“Albus is no mate of mine.” Lancelot replied as he flared his nostrils. He and Albus had been in the same year at Hogwarts, but thankfully, he had skipped the Prewett tradition of being a Gryffindor. He’d been more at home with the Ravenclaws any day and to avoid the arrogance of one Albus Dumbledore had been an unintended perk to his sorting.

“No, but you're one of the few left alive and spry enough to challenge him.” Arcturus said as he stepped forward with some difficulty. Lancelot had been treating him with salves and pain relieving potions, but as time went on Arcturus denied them more and more. He said it was a consequence of growing old. Lancelot couldn’t deny that, his bones ached and his energy seemed to ebb with each passing year, but he was still some twenty years older than Arcturus. Though, if history were to tell, Blacks died young more often than not and Arcturus had already outlived so many.

“I believe you may be privy to certain knowledge. I also am familiar with such. I think that you may have seen what I have seen in Albus, and the way it can be used to our advantage.” Arcturus said carefully as he sat on the edge of the bed with a squeak. Lancelot had to breathe deeply to steady himself, of course he’d known. He’d seen the reflection in himself as he had on a young Albus Dumbledore, but the similarities had stopped there.

“Of course I saw, anyone who knew what they were looking for saw. The trouble is people rarely know what they are seeing, their ignorance blinds them.” Lancelot replied.

“Exactly, and I know you may not have had anyone, unlike Albus, but I thought having you there may send him off guard.” Arcturus explained, but Lancelot got caught up in the first few words.

“Who’s to say I never had anyone?” He posed. Arcturus only gave him a confused look as he let out a deep sigh and Lancelot leaned back into the squeaky old chair staring out into the misty air. It would rain soon, he could feel it in the way his ankles swelled and his shins ached.

“He was a Muggle, he left for the war of the world as his people called it. We had scarcely known each other for a year, but time didn’t matter in affairs such as ours. I caught wind that he was gravely injured in a military hospital in a foreign country. I went to his side, he was badly injured. They’d already removed a limb so medieval the Muggle healing, removing limbs and swallowing poisons in hope of a cure, but the infection was spreading. His face was covered in sweat, but he was so cold. I could heal him. With a flick of my wrist I could heal him, damn any Azkaban sentence they’d give me. If he’d lived it seemed worth it. I had just moved my hand when I felt a weak touch to it. I thought he was unconscious, but I must have woken him.” Lancelot paused.

“You never forget the look of a dying face, I try to teach it to the new healers, unfortunately some experiences can’t be taught. You particularly never forget the dying face of someone you love. He shook his head, it must have taken so much effort, Muggle pain relief was so weak. I told him I could help. You know what he said? He said he knew. From the look in his eyes, I knew. I’d never told him about magic, not showed him even the littlest spell. We’d only met two autumns ago, and yet he figured me out. I suspect if I looked hard enough into his family. I’d find a Muggleborn or maybe a squib, someone who had opened his eyes to our world.” Lancelot paused to pull his glasses off his face. His eyes looked like a fresh dark tea leaves, staring into the rippling remnants and trying to make sense of it all.

“He said at what cost will healing me be? I said there was no cost I wasn’t willing to pay. I had told him I was studying to be a doctor, the Muggle equivalent. He said how many people will be lost because you saved me? I couldn’t provide an answer. He had a grip on my wrist, but I could shake it loose. The last words he said to me, they still visit me in my dreams sometimes, even all these years later with so many of my memories gone fuzzy and forlong.” He folded his arms around himself trying to alleviate the aches.

“‘I’m not worth that many lives, Lancelot. You will do great things and I will watch, love.’ He slipped away a few moments later, and I kissed his hand and I stood up in the bustling broken military hospital and walked out just as I had walked in. But I left with a weight so heavy I’ve spent my life trying to lighten it. He’s why I’ve worked so hard, why I’ve spent my life trying to save every soul I touch, because how many souls is enough to count for him? Every person I save I do for him, and every person I lose I send to him.” Lancelot concluded as he could feel pressure mounting in his chest as he saw the first few large drops pat against the window loudly.

“I never knew.” Arcturus said sympathetically.

“No one did.” Lancelot answered shortly. “We all have losses, Arcturus. How we respond to them shows one’s true character. Albus has shown his.” Lancelot mumbled, as he watched a raindrop trail down the window. He had not thought of his love for so long and he’d not told a soul about him outside his own family.

His parents had suspected how he was, they tried to comfort him in knowing his cousin had children. It meant they weren’t upset, because the line could continue without his input. It wasn’t quite acceptance, more reluctance and his proficiency in his work gained their respect mixed with the fact that he never flaunted himself. Added bonus was his mother was half-French, and well the French had their ways. Truthfully, he’d lost a part of himself in that rundown hospital and he only seemed to find it again when he was helping others. Deep in healing and research and bringing hope to the hopeless, he could nearly hear his voice whispering and feel the ghost of a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know what he thought of an afterlife, but if there was one, he’d only want it if he was there. Otherwise, he’d rather cease to exist at all.

“So you’ll help?” Arcturus asked after a few more raindrops raced towards the end of the window. Lancelot only nodded as he continued to watch.

“We will go when we visit Diagon Alley, and find a reason to slip away.” Arcturus explained before the bed groaned as he stood. Lancelot didn’t say another word until he heard the cane receding away from the range of his ears. Then he carefully pulled open the closest drawer and slipped his hand to the underside of it to find the paper tucked away.

It was discolored after all these years with smudges of old tears and fingerprint stains, but it was the only one he had. They’d taken it only days before he left when one of his friends had gotten their hand on camera. He never realized how grateful he’d be for it. It was on old Muggle film and the edges had a strange discoloration from development and it was still as stone. Yet if he were to rank his possessions it would be one of his most precious.

They had their arms casually around one another’s shoulders, enjoying the last of their time together. He’d just gotten his shipment date and his hair had been crudely cut short. His soft curls had gone missing. He'd loved those chestnut curls, his fingers could nearly feel them still. His eyes were only a light shade in the faded yellow color photograph, but he knew they were green as the freshest olives. He’d been several years younger and his face still had the freshen of youth, Lancelot had hardly thought he’d make a move towards someone his age, even if he was only in his early thirties then. He had always surprised him though, even in the short time they had together.

“Oh Clarence, I hope it’ll be enough.” He whispered as he ran his finger around the edge of the worn corner. He stared for only a moment longer before he tucked the photo away. He often thought if he’d done enough for it to mean anything, but sometimes when he was alone and overly tired. He could hear his voice. He could feel his pride.

Chapter Text

Regulus buried himself under covers. It had been a difficult few days. Harry hadn’t been aggressive or spiteful, but it did seem he avoided every room Regulus was in. He tried to reassure himself it was normal, Harry was processing his emotions. He’d come around soon enough, or at least he hoped.

He did end up bothering his brother quite a bit with his free time. It felt as if they were children again as Regulus aimlessly followed after Sirius. Popping off questions and digging for information as they went. Sirius sighed a bit, but he seemed relatively calm about the intrusion in his life. Especially with the constant questions on if Sirius knew anything about Harry’s thoughts.

“Reg, he just tells me he loves me and moves on. He’s been spending time with everyone else, he’s out in the shed with Uncle Marius often and when he wants to practice Quidditch he asks Uncle Ignatius. He has his tea with all three aunts, and then he usually slips into Grandfather Arcturus’ room. They talk a lot now. I’m sure if Lancelot were here he’d find time to spend with him too. He just needs time Reg, it’s only been a few days and we dropped a lot on him.” Sirius had said only a few hours earlier. Regulus had grumbled and let it drop as he leaned backwards to look out a window. Harry was in fact practicing on his broom as Uncle Ignatius laughed and chased after him. Regulus’ heart skipped a bit as he desperately wanted that to be him again.

He was trying to lull himself to sleep with happy memories. Harry’s laughter, the way air flew through his hair as they flew together, anything to get his mind to stop running in circles. With a defeated huff he threw the covers of his head and twisted to his other side. His body ached from the constant tossing and turning he’d done the past few nights, but he wasn’t desperate enough to get up and wandered to the cabinet for a potion to help. He had a feeling this was another penance for him to pay.

He was screwing his eyes shut when a hint of light struck across his face. He cracked his eyes open to notice his door had been opened and the light from the home was flooding in. There was a shadow of a smaller backlight person standing with their hand on the door knob still and half their body leaning in. Regulus pushed himself up slightly and wiped the edges of sleep from his eye.

“Reg? Can I come in?” Harry asked, his head turned down.

“Of course.” Regulus answered rushedly as he pulled the covers back from the other side of the bed. Harry closed the door quietly and slipped into the bed. He pulled a quilt over his side and burrowed into the bed. Never once did he meet Regulus’ gaze. They laid for a few moments in silence.

“Can I see your wand?” Harry asked, pushing his palm out flatly. Regulus’ eyebrows shot up, but he nodded and placed his wand in Harry’s outreached hand.

“Can I see your arm?” Harry whispered. Regulus felt a jolt in his back. Still he slowly slipped his arm out of the covers and laid it palm down close to Harry.

“Lumos.” Harry whispered and a perfect flood of light came out of the wand. Any other moment and Regulus would have swelled with pride, Harry was going to be a great wizard. Instead, he was focused on the thin hand that had wrapped around his wrist and was slowly turning his forearm upward. Regulus had to turn his eyes away, it felt childlike and weak, but he could not watch.

Harry dragged his fingers along the edge of Regulus’ arm. His thumb pressing to the end of The Mark. He could hear the small breaths Harry was taking and releasing. The wand moved in circles as Harry twisted his arm to each side to get a full look. There was a beat of silence before Harry released his rather tight grip.

“He branded you.” Harry whispered as he interlocked his free hand with Regulus’. The wand continued to flow though Harry did turn it away from their direct eyeline. Regulus nodded as he bit into his own tongue trying to keep the tears in his eyes.

“Did it do anything?” Harry asked, his head turning back to the arm as he used his position to hold Regulus’ hand to twist it again.

“He could call us. It would burn and you’d just have to touch it and you’d apparate to where he wanted you. We could call him, touch The Dark Mark with purpose and he’d arrive. Though you better not do it without reason, less you suffer the consequences.” Regulus explained in a shallow breath. Harry nodded as he stared at it with his eyes flickering.

“I’ve asked everyone about it. The War, I told them you and Siri spoke to me and I wanted to know everyone else’s side to it. I didn’t want them to spare me details because I was a kid, but I think they still did.” Harry said before dropping Regulus’ arm and pushing his head into the pillow he laid on.

“Oh.” Regulus muttered, anymore words and the rising pressure in his chest would break.

“Aunt Cassiopeia, Aunt Helena and Uncle Marius were all here away from it. I started with them, I thought it would be best to get an outside perspective. It was a good starting point, I think. Then I went to Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia, it was hard to get them to talk about it, but eventually they did. I didn't know their nephews were killed by Death Eaters. I feel like they kept the details from me, it was probably worse than they said. I wrote Uncle Lancelot, he told me about all the people, well bodies, that came through the hospital. All the families that were gone. Auntie Mars and Auntie Dorc, they both got killed.” Harry burrowed his head more, ruffling the pillow and squeezing tight onto Regulus’ hand. Regulus had to shut his eyes and tried to keep tears back in his head.

“Then I went to Grandfather Arcturus,” Harry said, “he told me plenty. He explained the Death Eaters were soldiers, privileged soldiers in the Dark Lord’s army. He had plenty more, but only the right kind were given The Dark Mark. He said his family— our family had plenty of people supporting him. Your cousins, your uncle and aunt, your mother, but there were also those that didn’t see his ways.” Harry paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

“He told me about your childhood. He said your parents weren’t kind, they would hurt you and Siri. It’s why Siri ran away, he was disowned, I believe that’s what Grandfather Arcturus said. The family disowned people when they disobeyed, but there was Uncle Alphard. He left everything he had to Siri. Then my dad. My dad’s family gave him a home.” Harry seemed to lighten up a bit at those words. A bit of happiness in a dark theme.

“You didn’t have my dad.” Harry whispered quietly. Regulus stiffened as he now was the one squeezing onto Harry’s hand.

“He said you didn’t have any friends to run to, that in Slytherin there were only the family’s friends. You couldn’t have run to any of them because they would have given you right back to your mother. She would have hurt you.” Harry’s brows were furrowed together as he spoke now.

“I could have left, Harry. I could have tried, I was just too scared.” Regulus whispered, his throat feeling as if it was caving in on itself as he buried his face into his own pillow refusing to make eye contact.

“It’s ok to be scared, you’ve said that. And you must have stopped being scared, you left. He said you left, and you were brave. You betrayed The Dark Lord and you hid away to keep yourself safe, and you tried to help end the war and if you hadn’t done that I would never have gotten to meet you. I would have never gotten a family.” Harry whispered as he scooted closer to Regulus. He could feel Harry untangle their hands from the tight grip and then he felt a warmth push into one of his cheeks.

“I know you did a bad thing, but you tried to make it right. We all do bad things sometimes, but we can all try to do better.” Harry whispered as Regulus dragged his head up. His cheeks were blotchy and his eyes watery, but he tried to twitch his mouth upward.

“You aren’t angry with me?” Regulus asked.

“I was, but now I’m not. I feel better after talking with everyone, and I love you, Reggie.” Harry smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes a bit. Regulus took a deep shaky breath.

“I love you too, Harry. No matter what, I will always love you.” Regulus mumbled as he pulled Harry close in a warm embrace. Harry let out a small sigh as he wrapped his arms around him as best he could. Regulus could feel the pressure start to sink away as his eyes dried. They’d be alright. He and Harry would be fine.

“I have something to show you.” Harry mumbled into Regulus’ chest. Regulus pushed a quick kiss into Harry’s head before he loosened his grip and Harry wiggled his way back a bit. The wand had fallen in between them still lit under the blankets casting shadows. Harry lifted it as he rummaged in his pocket. Regulus tilted his head when he saw a piece of parchment folded several times over emerge.

“Read it.” Harry smiled, the giddiness nearly uncontrollable. Regulus picked at the parchment carefully as he slowly unfolded the corners so as not to damage them. He held the paper close in the mostly dark room as his eyes adjusted before he could discern the letters.

Dear Mr. Potter

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His eyes grew big and he flashed over the rest of the words twice more before he pushed it down and stared into Harry’s excited eyes.

“You got your letter! When?” Regulus asked with his mouth agape glancing at the letter again.

“Yesterday, I was alone in the kitchen when the owl came, and I wanted you to be the first person I told.” Harry smiled as his cheeks flushed slightly. Regulus did not think a heart could be so full without breaking as he leaned forward and engulfed Harry again, careful to keep the letter out of harm's way. He twisted and squeezed and Harry let out a small laugh as they tangled together. Harry was going to Hogwarts. He’d gotten his letter and the first person he wanted to share it with was Regulus. They’d be better than fine. Regulus swore to it then, he’d move the heavens to make certain Harry and him were always better than fine.

-

“Harry, you packed your shoes?” Cassiopeia called from the kitchen.

“Yes, Aunt Cassie!” Harry called back as he dragged his trunk down the hall.

“Hey kid let me help you.” Sirius laughed as he pulled his wand to levitate the trunk to the front room.

They were leaving for a short time. Kreacher was already at Grimmauld Place cleaning up the house for the short stay. Regulus felt a strange cold feeling at the idea of returning, but they needed to get Harry’s supplies and acquaint him with England once more. They were going just before he would need to board the train to King’s Cross station. Regulus could feel the sadness creeping into his being. They had ten days left until Harry would leave them to start his own adventure.

“Reg, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see Diagon Alley and explore all the shops and buy all the supplies. Can I get an owl so I can write to you every day?” Harry asked as he stared up at Regulus. Regulus ruffled his hair as he smiled down at him.

“If you want an owl, you can have an owl, but as much as I would enjoy for you to write everyday. I am not sure any owl could keep up with that much travel.” Regulus informed.

“Every week? I’ll write a letter to everyone and send one every other day. Wales isn’t far from Scotland and Lancelot is in England most of the time. If Grandfather Arcturus stays here in Switzerland it won’t be that much.” Harry reasoned as he tapped his chin.

“I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, Harry.” Arcturus confirmed as he rubbed Harry’s hair as he came from down the hall. “Now we must hurry, the portkey will leave whether we are there or not.”

“Yes, Marius has the rest of the trunks outside and Helena is busy supervising, we must get a move on.” Cassiopeia advised as she waved her wand and extinguished the remaining lights in the house. All the windows had been locked and the curtains drawn tight. Helena had a fellow healer stopping every other day to check the plants, but the house would remain locked away.

“Lucretia said she’d be waiting for us. The portkey will drop us into Wales and we will wait a few days there for safety and then we will Floo home. Though Regulus will need to give the rest of you the location.” She winked as she picked up her bag and made her way to the door.

The portkey travel was exhausting, but thankfully consecutive. Within an hour they were surrounded with the sound of a Welsh shoreline and salt sprinkling along their face. Regulus hadn’t been here in years, but if he strained his ears he could nearly hear the sounds of his brother and cousins laughing over the rocks as he stayed curled up on the cliff looking down at them. Fabian and Gideon used to chase Sirius down the shoreline as Regulus watched. Occasionally, they’d drag him down to sit on the rocks, but the ocean air constantly messed with the pages of his books. Now, it was quiet. There was no laughter or yells, just the calm swells of the ocean hitting the shore to retreat again. He’d never hear those sounds again. Sadness curled around his heart a bit tighter.

Harry had made a beeline for the shore as Sirius followed after him. Regulus stayed behind to prep the rooms, Sirius could watch Harry for a bit. He dragged his and Harry’s trunks to their rooms. Sirius would settle back into his old room he’d occupied before and they had made enough space for everyone else to have their own space. He’d left Sirius' trunk and was bringing his own towards the room he’d been pointed to. He paused when an eerie feeling creeped up his spine. A sense of déjà vu as he cast a glance around the airy hall. Then it struck him as his eyes landed on the plain grey doors directly across from one another.

He went a bit light headed, his eyes feeling heavy in his skull as emotions washed over him. He could nearly hear their voices behind the thick wooden doors as he had many years ago when he was only a boy. He used to think they were the most impressive of his cousins and he did have quite a few. Brothers like him and Sirius, only they were born at the same time whereas Sirius had over a year on Regulus. His hand reached for the door to his right and he wavered over the silver door knob for a moment, nearly feeling the cool metal against his flesh before the door yanked open from his grasp. He gasped as he stumbled back and banged his calves on the trunk still sitting behind him as he let out a noise of frustration. He rubbed his calf as he looked for the source of the disturbance before he stared down at wide wrinkled eyes and a bright blue dress.

“Efa is sorry sir, she didn't thinks anyone would be outside the door. No one is come in for a long time now.” A small elf chirped as she took a step back. Regulus deflated onto the trunk lid hearing it creak under his weight, but ignoring the sound.

“Oh. Mister Regulus.” Efa said as she took two large steps forward to stare down Regulus. “It’s been a long time since Efa be seeing you. You are a grown man now.”

Regulus swallowed as he tried to nod stiffly. His eyes peered over her small form to catch a glimpse into the bedroom behind her. The walls were still a muted blue and covered in a myriad of framed photos and mementos from old friends. It barely looked as if it had changed in all those years. Efa caught his glance as she followed his eyeline over her shoulder.

“Efa doesn’t change anything. She be keeping it as Master Fabian left it. She only cleans it, sir.” She explained as she took a step aside to allow him a better view. He crept up from his spot to grab onto the door frame and stared into the abyss of the room. It was as if someone had frozen it in time. The last he had been here, the walls had posters tacked up and photos flying everywhere. They had been exchanged for the more mature set of framed pictures and the few select posters. The floating model set of the galaxy was still tucked in the corner hovering over a desk. It would move as the planets did in the sky, it had been a gift from Lucretia. A matching set for both the boys on their fifteen birthday. The Prewetts may not be named after the stars, but Lucretia held a bit of her family with her wherever she went, at the very least she could pass on some of the admiration to her nephews.

“It looks nearly the same.” Regulus whispered under his breath. Fabian had been still a teenager the last time Regulus had been in this room, but he could see the near perfect transition into adulthood. The same muted colors to his brother’s more loudly stated style. They may have been twins, but they weren’t identical in personalities.

“It is sir, for the most part. Master Fabian woke one day and never returned. Efa kept it the same for many years as Mistress Lucretia and Master Ignatius mourned. Finally, she was allowed to tidy it, but she only put away a few books and other mess. She be doing the same for Master Gideon’s room.” Efa explained as she pointed across the hall. Regulus swallowed deeply. They left their rooms one day and had expected to return, leaving a mess in their wake. But isn’t that how most people go? They leave expecting to return only to never make it back. So few people expect to die. He could remember clearly the way he’d cleaned his room and thrown away every bit of rubbish and placed everything presently in its place. He had not expected to return.

“Efa, do you remember the books they left out by chance?” He asked as he could feel nostalgia and guilt mixing into the wave of emotions casting over him.

“Yes, sir. Efa has a good memory, especially of her boys.” Efa smiled fondly as she waddled over to a bookshelf that had been freshly dusted. She had to click her fingers to gather the book from the top shelf. She held it close as she brought it to Regulus before holding it out for him to grab. He reached out to find a well-worn cover of Hogwarts: A History. Regulus felt a painful smile pull at his lips.

“It was one of Master Fabian’s favorite reads. When he was but a tot he’d read it to Efa, stumbling over the words and all. He left it behind, turned over on his desk. Oh it took Efa many years to put it back. Many years indeed.” She explained as she pulled a handkerchief from her hand stitched dress to dot the corner of her larger circle eyes.

“Would it trouble you if I borrow it for a bit? I’ll be very careful with it and return it just as I received it.” Regulus requested as he crouched down to the elf’s level. She blew her nose loudly before she wiped her hands and reached out to touch Regulus’ arm. She patted it a few times comfortingly before she spoke.

“Keep it Mister Regulus, Master Fabian won’t be needing it anymores and he would like if his family had it.” She smiled as she spoke and pushed the book closer to him.

“Are you certain? I don’t want to take anything from you that reminds you of him.” Regulus added with a bit of stress.

“Oh, Mister Regulus, Efa has all the memories stored up here from their first words to their last.” She said sadly as she tapped at her temple with a thin finger.

“Thank you, Efa.” He smiled genuinely. She patted his arm once more before she closed the door behind her and went across the way to clean the next room. Regulus didn’t have it in him to catch the brief glimpse before she closed it tightly. Instead, he put away the rest of the trunks and wandered down to the seaside with the book tucked safely under his arm. Harry and Sirius were ankle deep in the water splashing each other as he approached.

“Reg! This is so much better than the lake!” Harry cried as he kicked the water up the moment he laid eyes on Regulus. Regulus laughed and waved at him as Sirius took the opportunity of distraction to splash water across Harry’s glasses blurring his vision. Harry gasped loudly before he tried to scoop as much water as possible into his hands to throw back at Sirius. Only to have it successfully dodged. Sirius let out a barking laugh at Harry’s shocked expression.

Regulus shook his head as he slunk to sit against a rock and kicked his shoes off to bury his feet in the warm sand. He propped up his knees and cracked the spine. It had been opened so many times before it barely even made a noise at being opened once again. The sun was flashing in and out of the clouds overhead, but it was bright enough for reading as he nuzzled his nose in the book. It had so many dog eared pages and small notes in the margins. He didn’t read the text, merely flipped through the book carefully reading the scribbled writings and noted pages. His fingers lingered over the darkest of the writings, the most recent editions that even now had to be over ten years old. It made him feel so old and so young at once. He felt thrust back to his childhood with the glaring realizations of his current self.

"Hogwarts: A History? Bit of a boring read if I do say so myself.” Sirius laughed as he came shaking his wet hair. Regulus carefully covered the book with his hand.

“Casual reading.” Regulus mumbled as he stared at the pages some more.

“Guess some things never change. You're up here reading a book while I splash around in the water.” Sirius joked. Regulus just shook his head.

“Siri, come look! I found a cool shell!” Harry called from the shoreline. Sirius turned and waved at him before turning back to Regulus.

“You know maybe this time we could teach you how to swim.” Sirius suggested with a shrug before he jogged off to meet Harry. Regulus rolled his eyes, it was a few years too late for that. Regulus continued to flip through the book as he listened to the sounds of chatter and laughter around him. Maybe he had been wrong before, maybe he hadn't heard the last of the joy found on the Welsh seashore.

Chapter Text

Regulus had nearly forgotten how warm it would get in the summers. His old room had been notoriously stuffy and the sounds of Muggle London floated in from the window he left open to try and alleviate the stiff air. He groaned into his pillow as he kicked off the ends of his quilt. Suddenly they felt particularly warm with the sun shining brightly into the room. Leave it to London to be bright on the one day Regulus wouldn’t mind the dreary.

Rain would keep people away. With warm inviting weather like this, even in the eves of a hot August, people would be flooding the streets of Diagon Alley with body heat and watchful eyes. He nearly wondered if they could reschedule. A hopeless pursuit, they had been planning for nearly a month to get the events perfectly set. They would not abandon them on account of the sun.

“Reg! Reggie! Are you up? It’s today! We are going to Diagon Alley today!” Harry called the entire trek down the short hall between Regulus’ and Sirius’ room. Once he reached Regulus’ door he began to knock in quick succession. Regulus let out a small chuckle. Harry was more excited to visit Diagon Alley than he’d ever been for any other day, like Hanukkah or Christmas, or even his birthday.

“I’m awake. I’ll be down in a moment. Why don’t you wake Siri?” Regulus suggested as he rolled over on his back.

“Siri has been up as long as me. Kreacher has breakfast ready. We can leave as soon as we’re done, Reg. Hurry up, only you and Grandfather Acrturus are still in bed.” Harry called excitedly through the door before his feet quickly made their way back towards the stairs.

“Of course he has.” Regulus grumbled as he forced himself out of bed.

When he did emerge in the kitchen, he found he at least wasn’t the last one there. His grandfather still had yet to make an entrance. As Regulus slid into his place sleepily, watching the commotion around the filled kitchen table. Sirius and Harry were caught in a rather fascinating conversation on the pros of an owl versus any other animal allowed at Hogwarts across from him. Marius, Helena and Cassiopeia were at the end surrounding the empty seat at the head of the table as they laughed at their own conversation while passing plates of eggs and sausages around. Ignatius and Lucretia were at the opposite end flipping through a copy of The Daily Prophet with their heads close together. Regulus leaned his elbow on the tables, a sin in a past life, as he soaked in the morning. He let his mind wonder for just a moment if his mornings growing up had been as this, how different it may all have been.

“I see I am a late arrival.” Arcturus bemused as he entered into the kitchen with a plush night robe still over his shoulders and his cane in his left hand.

“Grandfather Arcturus!” Harry jumped up to greet him. “It is finally here!”

“Yes, dear Harry, but first you must eat. You are going to have a busy day ahead of you.” Arcturus said as he nodded his head to the pile of food that was untouched on Harry’s plate.

“Yes, Grandfather Arcturus.” Harry said as he quickly picked up a fork and started to shovel food into his mouth.

“Oh dearie, chew your food or I’ll ship you off to see Uncle Lancelot at St. Mungo’s and we will just have to get all your supplies without you.” Helena chaisted as she waved her hand at Harry’s actions.

“Sorry, Aunt Helena.” Harry mumbled with a bit of egg falling out of his mouth. Regulus let a small laugh slip out of his mouth as he shook his head.

“Now, Harry, you remember what we have discussed right?” Cassiopeia said as the meal continued. Harry nodded with his cheeks still stuffed with food.

“You cannot refer to Sirius or Regulus by their names, at least not in public where people could hear. They are your distant cousins from Switzerland if anyone asks. They will be keeping tight to you, people will likely recognize you and come to speak to you. The rest of us will be there, but we must keep our distance. It is best if people do not know who has truly raised you. Not because we don't adore you and we would share it with the world if we could, but it is for your safety, Harry. There are people out there that will still want to hurt you, and we don’t want to frighten you, but we must keep you safe.” Cassiopeia reiterated again.

They had to carefully maneuver the conversation with Harry that he would be a bit of a nuisance in the Wizarding World. He was famous and to avoid the situation would only cause more harm than good. Then there was the matter of who was raising him. Dumbledore had tried to conceal where Harry had been, which naturally meant everyone knew. As far as the Wizarding World knew. The Boy Who Lived was being hidden away and raised with his mother’s Muggle family. Keeping up that part of the story was not on them, if Dumbledore was discredited in that aspect, Regulus would not lose any sleep over it.

There was the matter of staying hidden. Polyjuice Potion was the obvious answer. Marius had been brewing it since July to prepare for this trip and Helena had slipped out a few hairs from a pair of local brothers with green eyes in the Muggle village. It would work long enough except for one small issue.

“Only when we get to Gringotts, I’ll be waiting inside. Sirius and Regulus will pass you off to me once ducked away in the shadows of the entrance. They cannot enter while under Polyjuice Potion and while I have some pull with the goblins, I do not have that much pull. I will get you to your family vault. Though, you do not have to make the withdrawal from your family vault, the Black vault is more than adequately stocked. Pollux will only waste the money.” Arcturus explained.

“I want to. It was my dad’s vault. It will almost be like he is there in a way.” Harry mumbled sadly as he pushed the remains of his food around. The table fell silent at the revelation on why Harry had been insisting on seeing his family vault. Regulus ducked his head away a bit as Sirius squeezed Harry’s shoulder.

“Very well. Now I believe we are almost finished. The rest of us can Floo in, but you three need to start moving to go through the street entrance.” Arcturus advised as he folded his napkin to his side. The revelation jolted Harry out of his momentary sadness as he dashed upstairs to ready.

It did not even pass the hour when Harry stood teetering on his toes as Regulus meddled Harry's hair out of nervous energy. The idea of returning to the Wizarding World after so many years apart made his hands shake and his stomach turn on the meager breakfast he had. His fingers fidgeted through Harry’s hair several times as they waited for Marius to emerge with the potion. Sirius seemed anxious as well as he leaned against the wall and tossed his wand around like when he was a teenager. He knew it was simple enough, but he couldn’t help feeling that they were walking into an old ghost of themselves.

“Cheers boys, it tastes horrid, but it will get the job done.” Marius announced as he entered the room with the rest following behind him. With a glance and a sigh, he and Sirius grabbed the vials and drank them quickly. The distorted transformation didn’t last long as Regulus shook his head several times once it was done. The feeling of air hitting his newly exposed neck made him shiver. He looked over at Sirius, who was already looking at him. His brother looked unrecognizable with short cropped hair and thick arms straining at the fabric of his clothes. His dull green eyes at least appeared similar enough to Harry’s bright color.

“Why’d you give Regulus the taller one?” Sirius sputtered out as he gestured with his arms.

“I gave you the older brother.” Marius tutted as he pulled a hat onto his head.

“I’m taller than you anyways.” Regulus pointed out.

“Hardly, we’re the same height. This is a significant difference.” Sirius pointed out as he came closer to Regulus. Typically, they were nearly eye to eye, even though Regulus did have a few centimeters on his brother. Now, Sirius’ head was at his chin. Regulus felt a bit childish, but he could feel a smugness rising in him.

“Please, you are grown men. These are the arguments you had when you were children.” Arcturus stated as he threw an extra layer of robes over his shoulder.

“He is right, quickly you need to go before the streets grow crowded. I’ll watch to make sure no one is around. You will have to apparate a few alleys away and then walk a few minutes to the Leaky Cauldron.” Lucretia stepped in as she motioned them towards the door. Harry didn’t have to be told twice, he bounded over to the door and threw it open before Regulus could even complete his turn to the door.

“At least one of you is ready.” Lucretia said under her breath. She kept a firm hand on Regulus and Sirius, guiding them out the door without even letting them pause until they were at the end of the steps.

“We will be there watching the whole time.” She said to reassure as Regulus gave her an apprehensive look. “Take Harry’s hand and everything will be fine.”

Harry’s hand slipped into his instinctively and with a quick blink he forced himself to swallow the bile in his throat before he felt the tight pull in his lower back. The world swirled for a moment in a flash of different colors and shapes before they slammed into hard focus as his feet hit another cracked ground. Harry stumbled for a moment with his hand still tight in Regulus’. He seemed to swallow harshly before he let go of their hands and turned to confirm Sirius had popped just beside them. With a quick nod, Regulus and Sirius led the way a few minutes walk to the leaning sign that marked their destination shoved between an old bookstore and a dusty records shop. Harry scrunched his nose up, but didn’t make any comment as they slipped into the dimly lit shabby pub. Thankfully, there were only a few people milling about in the corners and around the bar. Regulus was hoping to slip to the entrance of Diagon Alley unnoticed.

“Eh another Hogwarts? Had plenty of you lot lately.” The barman commented from where he was at the edge of the bar watching glasses re-stack themselves. Regulus gripped Harry’s shoulder and tried to nod his way past without any more interaction. His luck wouldn’t have it.

“Where do you think you’ll be? I was a proud Hufflepuff myself.” The barman continued as they tried to slide pass, Sirius was nearly to the back as Regulus tried to pull along Harry.

“I’m not really sure.” Harry replied quickly with a smile.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” The barman. Regulus thinks he recalls his name being Tom, but he couldn’t be certain. Then the worst ordeal occurred. Tom leaned down closer to Harry. His lips had already parted as if he had his next words were planned, but once he was eye level with Harry, those words died on the tip of his tongue as the awe spread across his face.

“Bless my soul, Harry Potter, what an honor.” Tom whispered as continued to stare with amazement. The words seemed to ricochet off the rafters as every eye turned to them. Regulus could feel the color drain from his face. Their idea of a quick out was ruined.

Tom let a glass slip from his spell as he came around the bar to shake Harry’s hand. Before even a moment had passed a line had begun to form with everyone vying for a chance to even glance at the famous Harry Potter. Even Dedalus, who had known him for years came up and shook his hand with a noticeable wink of his eye. Harry seemed overwhelmed by the attention, but handled it in stride, nodding and shaking every hand that came his way. Regulus tried to make himself sink into the shadows as he looked desperately at Sirius. His brother let out a defeated sigh. Sirius stepped up just as a pale young man with a twitching eye was making his nervous exit from speaking to Harry.

“So sorry, but a busy day for Harry.” Sirius interrupted a woman Regulus knew had already shook Harry’s hand at least twice.

“Who are you lot?” Tom asked with a raise of his bushy eyebrow as his eyes shifted between the two. The rest of the eyes followed as Regulus tried to keep his breath from hitching.

“We are Harry’s cousins. Now if you don’t mind. We must get this young man his supplies.” Sirius answered through gritted teeth as he tried to slow his speech and stifle a bit of his accent to keep his voice unrecognizable. Sirius didn’t wait for a response as he grabbed both of Harry’s shoulders and pushed him back to the brick wall. Regulus tapped the correct one as quickly as possible, still feeling the eyes burrowing into his back as he tapped his foot nervously waiting for the bricks to disappear enough to slide through. They pushed through at the first notice of a human sized whole and stepped into the warm slightly smoking narrow alley.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry.” Sirius breathed out as his own eyes grew wide at the sight. Regulus must admit there was something comforting in being surrounded by the familiar stores. The crowds and their constant chattering that rose above the stores. The smells of the sweets and the fresh made ice cream creeping through the swarms of movements. Even the hooting of the owls in the distance brought a warm sense of comfort to Regulus as he turned to watch the glow that came across Harry’s face as his eyes swelled and his mouth parted. His head swiveled in each direction as he tried to take it all in at once.

“Don’t worry, Harry, we will have plenty of time to look. Let us get you to Gringotts first.” Regulus whispered into Harry’s ear as he gently pushed him forward. They pass several shops picking up pieces of conversation and the reflection of different displays hitting their eyes as they walk. Harry only paused to gawk at a Nimbus display that had caught the attention of several boys. Regulus nudged him along after allowing him a few seconds.

The looming white building of Gringotts was hard to miss as they approached. Harry’s eyes followed to the rooftop until the sun ate the ends of the building as he let out a small noise of awe while Sirius and Regulus slid off to the side. Careful to avoid the watchful eye of the goblin at the front of the building. Regulus felt a bit of ease overcome him as he noted their grandfather examining his cane to the side. Even Sirius seemed to visibly relax once he caught their eye.

“Took a moment.” Arcturus noted before turning to smile down at Harry.

“We had an incident.” Sirius gritted. Arcturus shot him a wary glance.

“The pub, they recognized Harry, but that was all. They wanted to shake his hand and introduce themselves.” Regulus added as he shoved his brother for his lack of explanation.

“I didn’t realize I was this famous.” Harry muttered as he chewed his lip nervously.

“Our words can only prepare you so much, Harry. Now, let us go. We gave much to do. You two stay hidden and quiet. Help is near if you need it.” Arcturus advised as he nodded slightly to the corner. Regulus glanced to see Lucretia and Ignatius only a few steps away, pretending to gaze into a store front. He could see his uncle’s wand though, only a single move away. He felt a bit like cattle being herded, even if the watchful eye was for their own protection. Still he turned and nodded to his grandfather. With careful eyes, he watched as Harry followed excitedly until the two disappeared into the golden doors of Gringotts.

-

Arcturus would be a fool if he tried to delude himself by saying he didn’t find immense pride in bringing Harry to Gringotts for the first time. It reminded him of the first time he brought his own son to the bank so many decades ago. The wide eye splendor on the entrance and the worry strained lines from the first cart ride down to the vaults. Harry showed it all on his face, Arcturus did not even have to try and read his mind.

“Now, I know you have only wanted to visit your vault, but could I possibly make the request to stop at my own vault? It will be a rather quick stop.” Arcturus requested as he and Harry slipped back into the cart. Harry smiled at being treated as an equal.

“Of course.” Harry replied as he straightened his shoulders and placed his bag of coins in his lap carefully.

“Griphook.” Arcturus nodded. The goblin grunted, but turned the cart downward to the high security vaults.

The cart jolted to an abrupt halt once they reached their destination. Only they weren’t alone in the deep trenches of Gringotts. Down the way Arcturus could see a rather large man exiting a vault escorted by his own goblin. He was grumbling about the rough cart ride as he tucked a small bag into his rather worn coat. The large man patted it twice and once tucked away mentioned Dumbledore by name. Arcturus narrowed his eyes as he grabbed onto Harry’s shoulder to keep him still and quiet. Harry stared up at his grandfather carefully before turning to stare at the giant man squeezing into the cart again, only for it to shoot off at high speeds a second later.

“Grandfather Arcturus, who was that?” Harry whispered as the goblin they were with grunted and pushed his way past to open the Black Family Vault.

“His name is Hagrid, he is the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. I’m certain he will meet you as soon as he can, I happen to recall he was quite fond of your parents and their friends.” Arcturus commented as he steered Harry towards the vault.

“He is rather large.” Harry mumbled under his breath, “What was he doing here?”

“A very good question.” Arcturus replied as he narrowed his eyes.

“Vault seven hundred and thirteen.” He whispered just loud enough for Harry to hear before he was guided into the vault in front of them. His mind was quickly distracted from the conversation at hand as he took in the room filled to the brim with riches he’d never known. It was obvious he had thought his family vault was impressive with its stacks of gold and silver, but it was but a toss in the lake compared to the Blacks. Arcturus smirked at Harry’s shocked expression as he patted his head.

“We are an ancient family,” He whispered as he leaned down towards Harry’s face, “and you will be the best of us, Harry.”

-

Regulus waited anxiously as he paced in a line before daring to take another look at the door. He knew it took time to enter into the depths of Gringotts, but it did not make the waiting easier. He turned to pace again as he counted the steps in his head until he reached the edge of the alley way they were tucked into. Stopping just before he was forced out of the shadows.

“You're making me go into a tizzy, Reg. Can’t you just sit still?” Sirius complained from where he was leaning against the leaning wall. His wand twirling in his fingers.

“I’ll stop the moment you stop fidgeting with your wand.” Regulus scoffed back as he turned in his heel again.

“Is that supposed to be a euphemism?” Sirius chuckled but continued to fidget. Regulus paused as he looked with confusion at his brother.

“A euphemism for what?” Regulus asked after a moment of searching his brother's face for answers. Sirius’ stared back at him intently as he blinked slowly trying to discern if he was going bonkers.

“A wand, like a, really Reg? It’s right there, do you really—” Sirius stammered before he was saved by the approach of the people of the hour. Regulus dropped the subject completely, as he quickly stepped out of the alley.

“I got to see the vault! It was so full, I don’t know how one room could hold so much!” Harry whispered excitedly as Regulus sighed contently.

“It’s more money than anyone could need.” Regulus explained as he grabbed onto the sack full of coins in Harry’s hand for safe keeping.

“Thank you, Grandfather. We will take it from here. I believe it is time to get your first proper set of Hogwarts robes.” Regulus smiled down at Harry, who’s eyes doubled in excitement.

“My pleasure, it was a joy to tell Harry all about the bank, including the dragon.” Arcturus winked as Harry laughed.

“We will see you in two hours' time, at the entrance to Knockturn Alley.” Sirius nodded as he came up behind Regulus and Harry. Arcturus says his brief farewells as he excused himself to his own errands.

They shuffled through a crowd of people and laughing children. Until they found themselves in Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Memories came flooding back to Regulus. He could so clearly remember his own first trip here, Sirius was going to Hogwarts and he’d been brought along on the trip to Diagon Alley. He remembers how starry eyed he must have been as he watched his brother get the finest robes galleons could buy. It was only a year, and then he and Sirius would be together again. They’d been sitting in the Slytherin Common Room exchanging tales until the early hours of dawn. His dream of their future had been painted so clearly in his mind. Only for those dreams to come shattering apart mere weeks later when the letter came from Narcissa. Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius and Regulus would never have those moments.

“Welcome! Hogwarts is it? Well I’ve already got one back there and it’s a bit of a mess. So why don’t I just take this bright young wizard while you two sit tight out here for me? He’ll be back in a jiffy.” Madam Malkin said all in one breath before she swooped Harry into her grasp and behind the curtain to the back of the room. Regulus could barely blink before he’d registered what had happened. It was a tight shop though, so he supposed Harry would be safe. Though he did find himself hovering near the half closed curtain. He may have overheard a bit of conversation as Sirius got distracted by a set of robes at the front of the store.

“Play Quidditch?” Said a drawling voice.

“All the time.” Harry responded excitedly.

“I do as well, Father says I for certain will be on the House team, Slytherin of course. Do you know what your house will be?” The voice continued to ask as Regulus leaned closer. His ears had perked up at the mention of Slytherin.

“I don’t think anyone knows until they are Sorted.” Harry responded a bit harshly.

“Well yes, but my whole family has been Slytherin. Isn’t your family from a certain house?” The voice continued to ask.

“They are from a bit all over the place. Though we don’t have many Hufflepuffs, I suppose.” Harry muttered. He seemed to be growing annoyed with the line of questioning.

“If I was in Hufflepuff, I’d catch the first train back. Your parents went to Hogwarts right? They are our type?” The voice asked with an infliction on the last words that stung Regulus like a hex. He could nearly hear himself in the young boy hidden behind the curtain.

“They were magical. My parents were very talented.” Harry snipped back as a shuffling of feet occurred. It sounded as if someone was moving.

“Were?” The voice asked with a sharp intake of breath.

“They’re dead.” Harry said solemnly.

“Sorry.” The other voice replied quite unauthentically.

Regulus was so absorbed in the conversation, he didn’t see the way his brother stiffened in the corner and anger flashed in his eyes before he crossed the shop to be closer to Regulus. A shadow had overcome the doorway. A dinging of a bell came from behind him, but Regulus was simply trying to strain to hear anymore of the conversation. Until he was shocked to his core by a smooth loud voice.

“Draco, are you finished? Your mother is waiting for you to get your wand.” Lucius Malfoy declared in an overbearing voice for such a small clustered space. Regulus felt his vision blur as he rocked slightly for a moment before he felt Sirius pulling him away from the curtain just before a small blonde boy appeared from the other side.

“Yes, Father.” Draco replied as he clapped his hands, straightened his back and stuck out his chin obediently. Merlin, Regulus can nearly see how he used to take the exact same stance.

The world seemed to spin and slow around him. Regulus could feel blood drain from his face as he gripped onto Sirius arm for support. His mind could not wrap around what was occurring. He wasn’t sure how he could have missed such a glaring flaw in their plan. He had known Draco would be in the same year as Harry. He’d even mentioned him a few times to Harry. He had not figured he and by extension, his father, would be in the same shop at the same time as they all would be.

Lucius Malfoy.

The name rang like a nightmare.

As quickly as it occurred. It ended. Lucius stared down his nose at his son before tapping the cane in his own hand twice and turning on heel. He barely afforded the two men in the corner of the room leaning on each other more than a begrudged glare before he disappeared down out into the crowds of the people. To Draco’s mother. To Narcissa. She was here. She was only a breath away. Regulus was world’s away from her though. At one point, he’d clung to Narcissa. She was all he had left, only for her to fail him too. She’d been complicit in it all. His trust had been betrayed by her. It had stung worse than he had wanted to admit.

“Reg, get a hold of yourself. He is just a person. He doesn’t have any control over you anymore.” Sirius hissed into his ear as the color remained absent from his face long after the door had closed again. Regulus shook loose of his brother’s grasp as he tried to focus on the present. Tried to not allow the memories of the past to haunt him here. Not when he was so far removed from his old life. But was he truly? His past had just walked into the door of a robes shop and thrown him off. Would he ever be free of who he had once been?

“Reg?” Harry whispered as he slipped out with a large box of robes in his arms. Regulus felt a shaking smile pull at his lips as he knelt down to look at the box. Harry, he was his future and he wouldn’t let a family like the Malfoy’s take Harry from him.

“How did it go, Harry?” Regulus asked with a weak smile. Harry perked up a bit.

“Pretty simple! She said they’ll change to the colors once the sorting is done. I met another student. He was a bit of a tosser though.” Harry rolled his eyes as Regulus held out his hands to take the package from Harry.

“That was Draco Malfoy.” Regulus pointed out as he stood, tucking the box under his arm. Harry’s eyes grew wide as he shot a look out the window unsuccessfully trying to get one last glance at the boy.

“That was Draco?” Harry asked with his brows tightening. “I expected him to be taller for some reason.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter before he clasped his hand over his mouth. Regulus had to cough to suppress his own humor. Harry tilted his head once more to the window before turning back to them.

“Books next? I want to get my wand last.” Harry asked as he raised his shoulders in excitement.

“Whatever you want, Harry.” Regulus sighed, feeling a knot of tension ease at the base of his neck as he wrapped his free hand around Harry.

Chapter Text

Ollivanders, the makers of the finest wands. Wand making was their long held generational family tradition, as the Potters had potions or the Blacks had Dark Arts. Regulus felt a warm bit of nostalgia well up in him as the faded lettering came into view. Regulus' arm instinctively flicked to his wand. He could remember the moment he first held it in his arms. He had held wands since he could stand, but it wasn’t until his trusted companion was in his hand that he understood the bond..

It had taken a few tries to place him with the right wand. Ollivander had given him fir and elm and many other woods. Wand after wand, ones that were the typical wands of purebloods. None had suited him and he had felt the rising temperature in his face as his father sat stewing in the corner. He had worried back then that he’d never find the correct match and hoped only to find one that would blow the tightly stacked boxes off the shelf. He’d manage with any wand just to get out from under his father’s gaze.

Ollivander had clicked his tongue thoughtfully after a particular cherry wand. He put a crooked old finger under Regulus’ chin and stared into his eyes for a moment. Regulus could still feel the slight tremble he had that day. The older man’s face softened as he released him and stepped away.

“I should have known. With a family as yours, a common wand would not do,” Olivander said as he turned to glance at Regulus’ father in the corner. “Orion Black, a hawthorn wood, dragon heartstring and pliable. Sirius Black, a blackthorn wood, dragon heartstring, springy. Melanie Black, a willow wood with unicorn hair and rather soft. Arcturus Black, an acacia wood with dragon heartstring and firm as they come.”

Regulus flickered his eyes to his father in worry, but Orion Black seemed to only shift uncomfortably in his seat. Ollivander slipped behind many dark shelves and into the shadows. There was a banging and clashing and many shuffling noises before the silence resumed. Ollivander approached him almost cautiously with a box that he blew a heavy layer of dust off of.

“Here, I believe this will be the one.” Ollivander whispered as he revealed a rather long wand. Regulus picked it up carefully, but the moment he grasped his hand around the end, he knew. The warmth shot up his arm and into his chest. It felt right.

“Ah, holly and thirteen inches with a phoenix feather core. A rather rare combination. I’ve only sold a handful of these. This particular phoenix has given me many feathers in her life, but still less than any other core I stock.” Ollivander explained with a small smile as he placed the wand away in its small tan box. Regulus couldn’t help but feel special for once. A phoenix core was rarely heard of and he’d swore to hold that wand close for as long as he may live.

There was a quiet ring of a bell as they entered the store together. The narrow doorway only fit one at a time as they entered the overcrowded room. The layer of dust seemed as thick as the first time Regulus had been here. Sirius and Regulus slipped into the corner where the only chair was located. Though neither of them sat. Harry approached with awe as he spun slowly taking in the boxes that filled from floor to ceiling. He backed into the counter with his eyes gleaming in wonder.

“I was wondering when I’d come to meet you, Mister Potter.” The scratchy yet warm voice of the old wand maker seemed to seep in from all the shelves until he appeared from behind a pile of damaged boxes. Ollivander had only grown more frail with the years as his white hair stuck up in strange fashion. He was the best in Britain though, and he’d served more than a few generations of young wizards and witches on such a pinnacle journey.

“You know me too?” Harry sighed as he turned to face the old man. A bit of dejection slipped into his voice.

“I’d known Lily and James' son with my eyes closed.” Ollivander smiled as he swung his hand in front of his face and closed his eyes for effect.

“Yes, willow, swishy and well for charm work, the wand was quite fit for Lily, though maybe not as well as the mahogany wand your father yielded fitted him. Good for work in Transfiguration.” Ollivander smiled as he reopened his eyes.

“You remember their wands?” Harry asked, leaning forward across the counter.

“I remember every wand I have ever sold, Mister Potter. Yours included once this is over. Please stand here. Are you right handed like your father or left handed like your mother?” Ollivander asked as he guided Harry away to the counter and a measure tape began to measure his dimensions.

“Oh right handed.” Harry answered as his eyes dotted around following the quickly moving tape before it snapped to a close and fell on the counter.

Yes, yes.” Ollivander hummed under his breath as he surveyed the room before landing on the two men in the corner. “Oh and you are?”

“Harry’s cousins, sir.” Regulus smiled with a twitch to his eye. He was hoping it would be a quick exchange of words to avoid any unnecessary attention.

“I had heard rumors that Harry went to live with family. Though I swore the rumors spoke of Muggles and I know magical people when I encounter them.” Ollivander said as he leaned particularly close and squinted at them.

“We’re not Muggles, sir.” Regulus replied with a tight smile as his eyes ticked more.

“Indeed not, but I’ve never sold these faces wands.” Ollivander said as he nodded towards where Sirius' wand was holstered.

“No sir, this wand is from our home in Switzerland.” Sirius advised as his hand protectively covered the edge of his. Ollivander hummed quietly as he glanced over them once more before he seemed to accept their answer. He clicked his heels together and wandered back to his hutch of boxes.

“Let us see, Mister Potter.” Ollivander said as he pulled the first wand.

The journey to Harry’s wand was tedious as a pile of discarded boxes sat filling the counter and threatening to spill over. It seemed to be taking a toll on Harry as he looked nervously over his shoulder. Regulus did his best to reassure him. Time was wearing on them as Ollivander paused his wand search. Instead, he paced in front of him for a moment before he went stiff as the wood he worked with and turned quite hauntingly to look at Harry. His hand reached towards Harry’s face and brushed back a bit of hair to reveal the bottom of his scar. Harry leaned away from the touch before Ollivander removed his hand slowly. His gaze was thoughtful.

“I made the wand that did that work. The most treacherous, but most powerful work.” Ollivander whispered. “It can’t be.”

He pivoted and went to the very back of the store disappearing for only a moment when he reappeared. A box held gingerly in his hands as he approached. He visibly gulped before he shakily placed the box on the spare bit of counter left and lifted the top to reveal a handsome wand.

“Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. It is a rather rare combination, but well, here just try it.” Ollivander presented the box to Harry, who reached for it slowly. The moment his hands grasped the edge of the wand, Regulus could see it. The connection that formed between wizard and wand. Harry’s eyes widened as he swirled it in his hand and made red and gold sparks shine and shoot off into the air. Sirius took in a deep breath just next to him as Regulus could hear him silently cheering.

“Well, how strange, but we should not be surprised. We’ve always known great things would come from you. We’ve known since you were only a baby.” Ollivander nodded as he replaced the wand and started to wrap it.

“Strange how?” Harry asked as he jumped forward.

“Yew, thirteen and half inches and with a phoenix feather core. The same phoenix who provided the feather in your wand. The only two feathers said phoenix has ever provided. It would seem the wand that gave you your scar has more in common with you than first noticed.” Ollivander explained solemnly as he finished packaging the box.

Regulus took in a sharp breath that made his teeth cold. Harry had the same core from the same bird as The Dark Lord. Harry didn’t deserve it, Regulus knew it was irresponsible to be upset. The wand chooses the wizard, but it was not fair for Harry to carry such a burden. Ollivander handed the package to Harry and saw them all out. The old man leaned against his storefront for a moment, Regulus noted he was watching them as they gathered their belongings. Sirius and Harry went first. Regulus put away the books and was only two steps behind them when Ollivander cleared his throat and Regulus threw a menaced look towards the old man.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, sir. I also find it quite strange that such a rare combination of wood and core would call to young Mister Potter. I have not sold a holly and phoenix feather wand in over ten years, and the last boy to take such a wand. Well it is said that a wand of holly is indicative of a long troubling journey. That boy certainly had one and unfortunately so, I fear so does Mister Potter.” Ollivander said quietly as he tucked his arms under his cloak. His eyes seemed kind, but wary as he flashed a glance at Regulus’ own wand. Regulus twitched his lips, but tried to keep his calm.

“I will bear that in mind, sir.” Regulus responded through tight lips before he tucked his package under his arm and slipped out into the crowded alley, not daring to look back until they had rounded a corner. Regulus had to pause to lean against the warm stone of a store that sold cauldrons and catch his breath. He had to reassure himself that Ollivander didn’t know who he was speaking to. It was only a tale. If he had known who Regulus truly was the Aurors would have already descended. Sirius and Harry had slipped into the store to pick up the last of his supplies before they went to find him the owl and ice cream they had promised him. When they emerged, Harry was looking perplexed at the plain brown package from his trip to the wand shop.

“Something wrong, Harry?” Sirius asked as he tucked a brass telescope into one of the bags.

“Reg, you have a holly wand don’t you? With a phoenix feather core?” Harry asked with his brows tight together.

“I do.” Regulus whispered as he pushed himself forward with his chest still tight with anxiety.

“What does it mean? Is it really a rare combination? Is it bad that I have the same core as The Dark Lord?” Harry asked as he flicked his eyes up to Regulus with worry swimming in them.

“It is rare, and I don’t know what it means, but I do know this, Harry. It does not mean you are bad, being bad is a choice and I know you have the sense about you to make the right choices.” Regulus said as he gripped onto each of Harry’s arms. Harry’s lips quivered for a moment and seemed to pull as if he was trying to smile, but couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“I want to make the right choices.” Harry whispered to himself. Regulus took in a thready breath as he pulled Harry into his side gently.

“Come, let’s get you that ice cream before we pick you out an owl, alright?” Regulus suggested as he looked at Sirius for reassurance. Sirius gripped onto the other side of Harry and gave him a tight squeeze.

“Yes, Harry, let's go prove to Regulus he has awful taste after all. Earl Grey and Lavender, truly Reg? How can that be someone’s favorite flavor?” Sirius joked as the air cleared around them with each step.

“Says the one who eats a spicy chocolate ice cream!” Regulus snipped back as Harry laughed.

“I guess I’ll have to try them both.” Harry sniffled slightly as he let the brown wrapped box slide back under his arm. Regulus laughed as Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair. Wandlore and it’s implications could wait for another day. Today was about joy and ice cream.

-

“I must stress once again, this is not my forte.” Lancelot breathed out as his long robes fluttered behind him. Arcturus ignored him for at least the fifth time. Lancelot only let out another dejected sigh as he kept in step with the other man.

They were at the edges of Hogsmeade walking up to Hogwarts. The old castle stood looming and strangely quiet in the fading summer sun. The golden glint in the old bricks and stone catching at just the right angle. It was picturesque, if not for the nature of their visit. Here to threaten the greatest wizard of a generation.

“Should I not at least be informed of our tactics? What exactly are we trying to gather from Albus?” Lancelot asked as he lifted the edges of his robes over the brush. Arcturus couldn’t be bothered with a few sticks in his wardrobe as he dug his cane heavily into the ground.

“We are looking for answers. Our goal is to get him to reveal information he doesn’t want us to know and I believe as a man of science, you would be privy that the best communication is that of the nonverbal kind.” Arcturus replied between his teeth as the edge of the Hogwarts grounds came into view.

“Shouldn’t we at least know our questions?” Lancelot sighed, but continued in step.

“You know, I think I prefer Ignatius. He asks fewer questions.” Arcturus grumbled.

“Shouldn’t have brought a Ravenclaw if you wanted silence on an unknown journey.” Lancelot huffed. Arcturus rolled his eyes, but continued forward.

“Do you remember your years here?” He asked as the large archway of the entrance came into view.

“Fondly, though as I grow older they do tend to slip my mind.” Lancelot replied.

“These were some of my greatest years, we thought we were invincible then. On top of the world, not a person or creature could touch us.” Arcturus nodded his head slowly as memories danced in his mind. Hogwarts had hardly changed with its ancient walls covered in portraits.

“Well that is the folly of the youth.” Lancelot sighed. “We all think ourselves invincible until life shows us otherwise.”

Arcturus nodded in agreement as he paused at the overbearing front doors. Their intricate carvings and thick wooden posture made for a grand beginning. Lancelot paused just next to him to stare at the towering doorway.

“Well, now what?” Lancelot asked, perplexed by the fact that the doors were closed.

“Give it a moment. He will know we are here. He’s baiting us by making us wait.” Arcturus advised as he brought his cane in front of him and leaned both hands forward.

As he spoke, there was a distinct creaking only made by doors of centuries old. Arcturus took a deep breath as he pulled his cane back with force and tucked it under his arms. As the doors parted in painstakingly slow fashion, the wiry figure of an old man with twinkling spectacles and long white hair stood with his arms behind him as he waited pensively.

“Gentlemen, I did not expect a visit.” Dumbledore said in an assertive tone. “Though in these summer months, they are often appreciated. The quiet can get quite lonesome.”

“It would be strange if you had been expecting us considering we did not write of our arrival. Your office is still in the same location?” Arcturus asked without expecting an answer as he pushed his way in. He knew quite fondly where the Headmaster’s office was located. He’d visited his own grandfather there frequently.

Albus let out a wry chuckle as his eyes moved stealthily, but he turned to follow. Lancelot hung back a step or two as he remained silent. Arcturus' plan for him was not yet set in place. He could only hope it was enough to throw the older wizard off his toes that he precariously balanced on.

The Headmaster’s office was quite different than when his grandfather reigned. It was littered with remnants of a long life and trinkets Arcturus couldn’t bother to understand. He cast a quick glance around before allowing Dumbledore to pass him and take his own seat. The other man didn’t offer them a seat, but Arcturus made himself comfortable as he motioned for Lancelot to do the same. Lancelot lowered into the other chair uneasily as it squeaked from the change of pressure.

“So to what do I owe this pleasure?” Dumbledore asked as he leaned back into his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. Confidence in his own domain was exactly how Arcturus wanted him.

“I’ve never been one for pleasantries when I know they afford me nothing. So in short, we are here about the boy.” Arcturus said as he flicked his cane from one hand to the other before leaning it against the far side of his chair.

“I work at a place for educating children, you will have to be more specific Arcturus.” Dumbledore said with a small smile pulling into the corner of his cheek.

“Your golden child, Harry Potter.” Arcturus replied as he leaned forward. Dumbledore raised a single white eyebrow, but showed no other signs of outward distress.

“I did not know you had such care for the child. Nor do I recall Mister Prewett being privy to his status.” Dumbledore said quietly.

“Well Lancelot has been an old friend of the family, and after the rudimentary and medieval examination done on the child. I thought it best to bring him to someone of more renown.” Arcturus explained in a tight voice.

“I believe Mister Prewett can attest that Madam Pomfrey is quite skilled in her profession.” Dumbledore retorted as he nodded just so towards Lancelot. Arcturus flicked a look at the other man, hoping he could pick up on the thread of the conversation.

“Poppy is skilled. There is no dispute about that, but even she has written me many letters on the unknown. I believe if you brought her here, she would agree with me that such a particular situation would require at the minimum two opinions and examinations.” Lancelot replied in his high accent he took on when speaking on professional matters. The English accent could take one much farther than a Welsh one, as unfortunate as such a truth was. He knew it from his own experience. His dear Melanie being from Scotland and having sat him down and made him practice with her how to cover her own lovely voice for the matters that demanded it.

“I understand Mister Prewett, but I believe a man of such intelligence can appreciate the discretion needed around the boy.” Dumbledore replied.

“Discretion implies there is something to hide. Is there something you wish to tell us?” Arcturus interjected before Lancelot could reply. His eyes narrowed at Dumbledore. They were nearly there as the other man licked his lips and stared back.

“I assure you whatever you think you know, you do not.” Dumbledore said firmly.

“I know that is no normal scar. I know the boy has been saved by some blood magic, ancient and old. I know many pieces must go into play to cast a spell such as that and I know a student freshly out of Hogwarts and in the midst of war would not know how to cast such. So the question remains, how did it occur?” Arcturus asked, putting emphasis on the final words as he watched Dumbledore’s eyes slip for only a moment as he glanced at the odd man out in the room.

“It does take a very strong bond for magic such as that.” Lancelot said after a ringing moment of silence as Arcturus shot him a concerning look. He did not know what he spoke of. Lancelot only gave him a small peer of a side eye before he continued.

“A bond very few ever achieve. One forged on strength and common cause and in the face of adversity. If I were to recall, it almost feels vaguely familiar. Almost as if I had seen such a relationship before or at least the illusion of such a relationship. Perhaps you could help refresh my memory, Albus?” Lancelot said with a sly sort of grin that reminded Arcturus of when a cat was about to trap a mouse. Dumbledore shifted. He was facing towards the side of his desk where a glass shelf held many trinkets. A first step.

“I would think you would be kinder, Lancelot. Given the peculiars of the relationship you speak of.” Albus replied with a tight line in his forehead.

“We are old men, Albus. What do we have to lose but precious fleeting time?” Lancelot answered as quickly as a whip cracking. Dumbledore seemed to fume a bit under his facade.

“We want a simple response. How do we heal, Harry?” Arcturus asked sternly. There was a flicker. The glance again and then the automatic correction. Any farther away and they would be unable to detect it. The answer was on that shelf. He never expected Albus to give him an answer, only to lead him to one.

“I believe Mister Prewett would be better suited to answer said question than I. To my knowledge, Harry is in perfectly good health.” Albus replied, slipping on the mask of calmness once again.

“Except for the burning curse trapped in his head.” Lancelot sharply responded. Dumbledore seemed taken aback at the rough force.

“Well it does not cause him any pain does it.” Dumbledore said as he rose slowly and began to pace towards one of the side windows. Removing the temptation to glance any longer at the area that could give him away. Arcturus nodded at Lancelot, who was already standing slowly to mirror Dumbledore. Only he wandered in the opposite direction. Peering into the glass's reflections briefly before his shoulders slumped and he turned to face Arcturus with the most precarious look.

“You have nothing to add then? Nothing to aid the boy?” Arcturus asked as he rose slowly. Dumbledore only shot him a look over his shoulder.

“Harry will be fine and when the time is right, all will be well once again.” Dumbledore mused. “Now gentlemen, this has been the most enlightening conversation; however, the school year is nearly here and in fact I await Mister Potter, as well as all his year mates' arrival. So if you excuse me, I believe you can see the way out.”

Arcturus glanced at Lancelot again as he only shook his head. Arcturus nodded once to Dumbledore before snapping his robes around him as he took the stairs slowly. Dumbledore watched them leave with a fixed look.

“Your grandson does have a rather precarious way about him, Phineas. Bringing Lancelot Prewett with him was a surprise.” Dumbledore called to the dozing portrait once he was alone again. It was an act, he had learned to discern Phineas Black enjoyed taking in his information while not providing any insight. So he pretended to sleep.

“The last great heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.” Phineas said with what Dumbledore could only assume was longing. A solemn bit of longing.

“His father taught him well.” Dumbledore mused as he sat at his desk to resume his preparations for the new school year. It was an important year after all.

“His father was a fool. Arcturus made himself great.” Phineas huffed before he smacked his lips loudly and shifted back to his prior state with his eyes half closed and his breathing heavy. Dumbledore glanced up at the exit to his office once more at where the men had just left. There was no doubt about one thing. Arcturus Black was a great man at many things, but that did not mean he was a match for Albus. At least, not in Albus’ mind anyways.

As they parted Hogwarts, Arcturus held his hand up to silence the movement of Lancelot’s lips until they had reached the very edges of Hogwarts. Only then did he ask for answers.

“That was fruitless, Arcturus. I saw what Dumbledore is researching. It is the same nonsense he was obsessed with as a boy. It will be no use to us. He is just as lost as we are.” Lancelot said, disbelieving as he threw his hands up.

“What was it?” Arcturus asked gravely as he continued to put space between him and the school behind him.

“A child’s tale. A fable. He has dug up all his old research of The Deathly Hallows.” Lancelot sighed as he rubbed his temples.

“The Deathly Hallows?” Arcturus repeated.

“You're not the only one with knowledge on Dumbledore. I spent a fair amount of time in the library as a student, and I was rivalled by only one other. Only Albus wasn’t there for academics our last few years. No, he was there obsessing over the idea of The Deathly Hallows. If we are to trust in him, Harry is a lost cause. He is trying to put his faith in a children’s story.” Lancelot sighed. Arcturus' mind swirled with the information. Dumbledore may be a bit eccentric, but mad he was not. There must be some reasoning to his logic and if he was desperate enough to chase after a tale, then Harry’s fate may be grimmer than he realized.

Once they were back to Hogsmeade, there was a tight pull and a pulse of color before they returned to the edge of Diagon Alley. He pulled a cloak over his head before he and Lancelot joined in the crowd of people swirling around the shops. They had returned just in time. Young Harry should be wrapping up the last of his shopping and then they were to all have dinner together tonight as a bit of a final celebration. Lancelot slipped away in his own direction as Arcturus pushed himself through the crowds, lost in thought. He didn’t have a direction to go, only a few minutes remaining to waste before he could feel safe in leaving. With wandering eyes, he fell on the thick glass windows of the ice cream parlour that had stood for many years. Through the glass was perhaps a serene scene. There sat Harry speaking animatedly with the two men across from him. Even with faces different than their own, he could recognize them by their mannerisms. Arcturus took in the supplies piled there on the table as an idea came over him.

He slipped into the shop and made his purchase as slyly as he could. He then cloaked it with a bit of fabric before he took a spot just next to the shop away in the shadows. He had few opportunities in life to give anything to anyone. It had been unbecoming. Gifts meant favors or politics, not the simple joy of the way eyes would lit up as they unveiled the surprise. So once Harry stepped back into the street, Arcturus whistled quietly for him as he removed himself from the view of those around him and with a peek at the two men with him that showed no signs of resistance, Harry followed. Arcturus crouched down as low as he could anymore as he held up the gift in his hands.

“Open it, Harry.” Arcturus offered with a smile as Harry’s hands readily reached out to pull away the loose fabric. There was a small hoot as the light flooded into the cage. Harry’s hands dropped the spare piece of cloth in his hands as his eyes gleamed with joy and his hands wrapped around the edges of the cage and he leaned closely to peer at the newly acquired pet.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Arcturus whispered as he reached a hand in to stroke the pure white feathers as she shuffled them around. “I’ve been assured she can handle many long travels, so I expect you to write often.”

“Grandfather Arcturus, thank you! I love her.” Harry smiled as he flung his arms around Arcturus’ neck. He let his free hand relax around Harry as he soaked in the moment. Harry held tightly for several seconds before he loosened his grip to stare back at the wide eyed snowy owl looking back at him curiously.

“What should I name her?” Harry smiled as Arcturus handed over the cage to him.

“Whatever you choose, I’m certain it will be a wonderful name.” Arcturus assured him as he rose slowly placing a careful hand on the back of Harry’s head before he had to guide him gingerly back to the main street and into the care of the two waiting for him. Watchful of anyone around them before he did so and quick to retreat. He watched as the three of them crouched around the owl, feeding her treats and cooing at her small hoots. Arcturus soaked in the moment of pure innocence. This was not a game for children as Dumbledore played it and he only hoped he could change even a little of whatever fate lay before them.

Chapter Text

The air could practically be seen as it was squeezed out of Harry. Cassiopeia’s grip wouldn’t lighten for several moments as she held onto Harry tightly. There wasn’t any discontent on Harry’s face though, only delight. The indulging of the young boy had begun the day they had arrived back in Great Britain, and now was the finale. He left today. Hogwarts was waiting for him just a few hours' train ride away.

“You behave, Harry. No fighting, and be careful who you trust. We’ve done the best we can and now it is on you my boy.” Cassiopeia said as she finally pulled back and patted his cheek gently. Words of last minute wisdom had been thrown out every few minutes. Harry’s glassed starry eyes though made it seem like few of them were actually hitting their mark. Harry nodded politely as he gave his aunt one last quick hug before he moved onto his final farewell. It felt fitting Arcturus would be the last.

“Harry, my boy, you are all grown up.” Arcturus said as he straightened Harry’s collar out with one hand. Harry stared up at him with all the admiration shining out of him.

“Remember, no matter what anyone has to say about you, you are your own person not what has happened to you. Be brave, be smart, and make us proud.” Arcturus said as his hand gripped onto Harry’s shoulder.

“Of course, Grandfather.” Harry’s cheeks perked up as he held his arms out for one last hug before they had to leave. Harry turned to face the portrait in the entrance hall as he waved at all of the portraits that had the ability to be there crammed into Regulus’ small frame.

“Goodbye everyone, I’ll see you when you return.” Harry said.

“You’ll do beautifully, Harry.” Dorea smiled.

“Show them the Potter spirit, boy.” Charlus chimed in.

“Don’t forget to socialise.” Lycoris added with a raise of her wine glass.

“Have fun, Harry.” Alphard added.

“You wish to say anything, Regulus?” Arcturus asked as the portraits moved to reveal Regulus dramatically laid out in the chair, looking rather distressed.

“Please, could you all get out of my portrait for the love of Merlin?” He whispered tensely under his breath to everyone around him before Alphard kicked him out of the chair and pushed him forward.

“Well, good luck child, hex someone for me.” Regulus shrugged as he shot a glare towards Alphard.

“Don’t hex anyone Harry unless absolutely necessary.” Regulus whispered as he pulled Harry back towards his trunk for a final inspection before they left.

Looking back at the doorway, wide open for one of the few times Regulus could remember it felt vaguely disortienting. The group of people all leaned together. Cassiopeia with her arm interlocked with Arcturus as they watched thoughtfully. Helana and Marius leaned on one another as they waved kindly. Lucretia stood in front of Ignatius as she smiled and lifted her hand to pat him on her shoulder. Ignatius looked proud. Lancelot there just next to his cousin with a look of gratitude. Regulus knew he would return, but Harry wouldn’t. Not for many months when Christmas holidays came. He and SIrius would return though and to what exactly, he wasn’t sure. There was this hollowness filling him already with each passing step as they took the short walk to King’s Cross. Harry had been his whole life, at least the part of his life that had mattered. His second chance, and he wasn’t gone for good, but it would be different, painfully different. For all the racking of his brain, he could not picture what it would be when they returned, but that was for later. For now, getting Harry to King’s Cross station was what mattered.

Sounds rebounded off the walls and echoed down the train station as the rutting of wheels over the ground dinged in his ears. It had been so many years that Regulus had nearly forgotten what a crowded station it was as a large curl of smoke filled the air. Sirius was helping Harry as he pushed his trolley through the crowds of Muggles. A few stared percularily at Hedwig. After much debate, Harry had named her after an old witch from the mediaeval years who’d been known to provide refuge to travelling wizards and witches during the more dangerous times of the past before the seperation of muggle and wizard kind. It seemed a fitting name for the small snowy owl, she had taken an immediate liking to Harry and would hoot and ruffle her feathers if anyone approached him when she was around. It may be folly to believe an owl could help, but Regulus felt better having her with him while so far away from home.

“So we have to run into the wall?” Harry asked again, a bit green at the idea.

“We will walk right through it and on the other side will be Platform Nine and Three Quarters.” Regulus reassured as he glanced at the large time clock to the side. Twenty minutes till the hour and Harry still needed to say his farewells to the two of them.

“Just up ahead, look, all three of us will go together.” Sirius said with his face in the same strange fashion as it had been in Diagon Alley. They thought it best to keep using the same Muggle faces for the Polyjuice Potion for as long as possible to avoid any additional questions. Regulus nodded in agreement as he crouched slightly to grab onto the other edge. Harry gulped, still a bit doubtful at running at a stone wall.

“Ready?” Sirius asked with a grin. Harry bit into his lip, but nodded as he braced against the bar. Regulus and Sirius exchanged a look as the path cleared of Muggles. With a heavy push from both of them, their feet moved quickly forward and into the wall between platforms nine and ten. With a rush of air, they passed into the platform with Harry in tow. Harry had flinched for only a second before he was overcome with the joy of being on the platform and seeing the brightly shining train steaming in front of them.

Harry pushed his trunk down the way as he gaped at all the people they were surrounded by. Many families scrambled at the last moment as they kissed cheeks and wiped their eyes. Many children already piled into the first few compartments of the train as they laughed and waved out the windows. Regulus kept his eyes on Harry as the boy pushed farther down smiling and shaking his head in disbelief, until Sirius nudged Regulus in his side as he pointed to a pale faced boy to their side.

“That’s Neville.” Sirius whispered in complete disbelief. “Frank and Alice’s son, Merlin. He looks just like Frank.”

Regulus felt an icy cold shadow loom over him as he glanced for only a moment at the wide eyes and shaking figure of the boy being reprimanded by an older woman with crooked fingers and a wild hat. He couldn’t keep his gaze as he quickly turned back to Harry, who seemed spellbound watching a dark skinned boy surrounded by a crowd with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Harry paused as his attention was drawn by a bit of noise coming from behind them. A rather large family was approaching and making a loud bit of noise. Regulus turned to follow Harry’s eyes as he noticed the bright red mops of hair buzzing through the crowd as many people stopped to throw a glance or two. Of pity or disdain was anyone’s guess.

“Honestly you two, you ought to set a better example for Ron.” Molly Weasley said as she held a grip on her youngest while guiding the group through the crowd with her head twisted behind. The two boys she was chiding were racing their own trolleys down the way, not particularly looking as they rushed past where their family had stopped. Much to his dismay, the two boys were heading their way and with one rogue curve it happened all in a flash as the end of one of the boy’s trolley clashed loudly into Harry’s trunk, knocking over the large object and Harry only barely able to catch Hedwig’s cage before it fell. The owl let out a very loud noise of dissatisfaction as the boys turned as red as their hair.

“Blimey, sorry mate. Here let us help you get it on the train.” The first boy, who had struck Harry, offered. He waved at his brother quickly as they both glanced back at their mother, who had yet to notice their antics as she fretted over a rather nervous looking boy.

“Er, it’s fine I can get it on.” Harry said as he stepped forward with his arms still wrapped around Hedwig’s cage.

“Fred, help me at least get it up right before mum sees.” The first boy hissed at his brother. His twin, Regulus corrected. It was quite apparent they were twins. The two pushed Harry’s trunk back onto the trolley as quickly as they could before brushing off themselves.

“There you go, mate, all is well– wait a second. You’re him, you’re Harry Potter.” The one called Fred pointed out as he waved at Harry’s forehead. The other twin gaped as he squinted his eyes to confirm with his own sight. Regulus thought it best to step in now.

“Thank you boys for helping.” He said as he came up and grabbed both of Harry’s shoulders from behind. Trying to muster all the intimidation in his face so he could send the boy’s away, but their shock seemed to freeze them until their mother’s shrill voice rang out.

“Fred, George, what are you doing?” Molly called as she put a hand purposefully on her hip.

“Yes, mum!” They called back in unison as they took one last look before scrambling to push their own trunks up into the train quickly before returning back with a bounce in their step. Regulus could hear them announcing they’d just met Harry Potter in the background as Regulus quickly turned Harry’s back towards them for a few precious moments.

“Alright, Harry it is here.” Regulus swallowed as he leaned down with SIrius joining him. Harry nodded and for the first time didn’t look as overjoyed as he had been.

“Take care of yourself, Harry. Be careful and study hard.” Regulus began.

“But have some fun. A little mischief never hurts anyone.” Sirius interrupted as Regulus snapped his eyes towards his brother who only returned with a shrug.

“Remember, you can’t tell anyone our real identities.” Regulus reminded him.

“It’s best not to say The Dark Lord or Voldermort in company. You-Know-Who and He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named will be best around your classmates.” SIrius added dejectedly. He never liked the pseudonym, but they all agreed it was best Harry didn’t draw any more attention than he was inclined to.

“And whatever you do. Do not call Professor Snape, Snivellus.” Regulus warned as Sirius snorted and Harry giggled a bit.

“Sirius, I don’t like him anymore then you, and you have to be careful around him, Harry. Remember what I told you, but that nickname will only raise questions we do not need Snape asking.” Regulus explained for what felt like the hundredth time.

“I know, Reg.” Harry whispered as low as he could. Regulus could not find it in him to remind to not say his name. Harry teetered on his feet for a moment before he threw his arms around the two of them. Regulus gripped as tight as he dared and held Harry closely as he soaked in each passing second. He would miss this more than he could describe. Once they pulled away, Regulus could already feel his throat growing scratchy.

“Let’s get your trunk up and into an comparnet.” Regulus sniffled as he and Sirius each grabbed a side and pushed through the tight hallways to one of the last compartments before they found one completely empty. Harry observed the small room for a moment as he pushed down the window and stared out at the platform. The sounds of the Weasleys could be heard just below.

“If I hear about Percy being prefect for even a moment more I might just faint.” Said one of the boys from before.

“Hush you two. Watch after Ron and don’t do anything reckless this year, we don’t need any exploding toilets or the like.” Molly heeded with her tone.

“Exploding toilets? A wonderful idea mum!” one of the twins cried out before there were the heavy steps of retreating feet as they tried to slip away from their mother.

“Remember when Fabian and Gideon blew up those toilets?” Sirius laughed just as they got Harry’s trunk tucked away.

“Of course, the dungeons had a leak for days.” Regulus rolled his eyes as he brushed off his hands. Harry leaned out the window watching the dwindling crowd of students and the line of family and friends waving their goodbyes.

“Harry, we’ve got to go.” Regulus bit hard into his own lips as he spoke those words. Harry nodded a bit sadly as he leaned back into his seat.

“You will be incredible, Harry. No matter what, remember that.” Regulus said as he clasped his hand over Harry’s hand and Sirius grabbed onto his shoulder.

“We will be only a letter away and you will get so caught up in it all the time will fly by.” Sirius added with a smile. Harry seemed to relax a bit.

“Nothing I could do could upset you?” Harry asked with a bit of worry.

“Harry, we’ve raised you as best we could and we believe in you to make the right choices.” Regulus reassured as he rubbed his hands over Harry's, the final whistle blew loudly around them just as Regulus’ heart sank. They only had a moment or two.

“We love you, we all love you, and with love, you can do everything.” Regulus said as he pushed a kiss into Harry’s forehead before letting go of their hands. Sirius gave him a last warm hug before the two stumbled out as some of the last of the family to leave the train.

Harry was leaning out the window just above as they both waved to him once more. His eyes were a bit soft and red, but none of them had cried and Regulus considered that an accomplishment. It was only a few months. Harry watched and waved at them until he was but a speck in the distance. Once the train rounded a corner out of sight there was a collective sigh as the crowd filed out of King’s Cross station.

Molly Weasley stood at the edge near them as she comforted the small crying girl who was still staring into nothing waving at her brothers. Regulus felt a bit of a pang of sympathy for the young girl. He remembered how he felt when Sirius had disappeared around that corner. Even back then, there had been this sinking feeling that nothing would be the same. His worst fears were confirmed when the letter arrived late that evening and the screaming began below. He had snuck downstairs to wait for the letter to arrive and sat hidden in the shadows as he waited with bated breath to hear about his brother’s Sorting. He had known deep down to expect the worst, but even then he couldn’t have prepared. He remembered the silence, the echoing silence that stung after the ruffling of the letter had been opened. Then the screaming began. The age-old fight between Walburga and Orion over who’s fault it was that their eldest son had turned so horribly wrong. He had run up the stairs with tears streaming down his eyes when the first vase had been thrown against a wall. Nothing was ever the same after that, even now all these years later. He and Sirius were better now, brothers again, but it still felt different. It likely always would.

So as he watched the poor girl wipe away her tears and blow her nose in the handkerchief her mother handed her. He felt not pity, but hope. Hope that her pain wouldn’t be forever long and that her relationships with her own brothers would only flourish from then on. It may be fatalistically optimistic, but he had few rare moments like this so he would enjoy it while it lasted.

-

Harry kept his hands pressed against the windows for much too long. The platform had disappeared and turned into a roll of passing houses. Until this morning, he’d been filled with excitement and thrill of leaving for Hogwarts and of returning to Britain in general. Now as he watched the landscape pass by, he felt his stomach turning and tossing as he rubbed at the top of his forehead. He could still feel the warmth of the last kiss Regulus had given him before he left. He didn’t want to seem childish, but he did wish their families could ride the train with them and maybe stay for the first feast and— oh he had to just admit it. He missed them. All of them, terribly and he hadn’t even left London yet. A rapt knock on the compartment door came to shatter his thoughts. He turned to see one of the red headed children from before poke his head in.

“Sorry, do you mind? I can’t find anywhere else and my brothers, well their friend has a spider and I’m awful with spiders.” The boy said as his cheeks flushed with colour. Harry felt a pull to the other boy as he nodded his head enthusiastically. The other boy perked up immediately as he shifted the door open quickly and dragged his own trunk into the room. Harry jumped up to help him put it away.

“Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.” The boy huffed as he plopped onto the seat once they’d shoved away his old heavy trunk.

“Harry Potter.” Harry shrugged as he hoped to not draw too much attention.

“Really? Fred and George weren’t joking?” Ron said as his eyes grew wide and he wiggled in his seat. Harry shot his eyes anywhere but the other boy.

“Is the scar, I mean you don’t have to, I just didn’t know if it was true.” Ron said as he pushed back into the seat. Harry had been told to expect as much, but Ron didn’t seem harmfully, just curious. So with a bit of a sigh as he pushed back the top of his hair that Regulus had meticulously combed over his forehead this morning. Ron’s eyes seemed ready to pop out of his skull as he leaned forward in awe before he caught himself and held back a bit.

“I’m sorry, it’s probably not a good memory.” Ron apologised as he looked away. Harry let his hair fall as he shrugged again.

“Can’t really remember anything, sometimes I dream about these flashes of green light, but I don’t know if it’s real or just the stories.” Harry said a bit dejectedly.

“I know that feeling, I had these uncles, my mum’s brothers. They died when I was just a baby, so I couldn’t have known them, but sometimes I feel like I hear them. Pretty sure it’s just the stories my older brothers tell though.” Ron nodded as he spoke. Harry saw an in to move the conversation away from himself and he gladly took it.

“How many brothers do you have?” Harry asked with enthusiasm. He knew the answer. There were seven Weasley children, six boys and only a single girl. He even knew their birthdays and what presents they received half the time, but at least he could change the conversation and hear it from Ron himself.

“Five. Only three at school though, Bill and Charlie already left.” Ron said looking downcast. “Bill was a head boy and Charlie Quidditch captain and prefect. Then Percy made prefect too, and Fred and George, well they pretend they aren’t any good at school, but they’re real smart. They come up with all these plans.”

“Well I’m certain you’ll do great as well.” Harry tried to encourage the boy who looked more despondent with each passing word.

“Well if I don’t it won’t matter, it’s all been done before. I even have all their old things. These were Bill’s robes and Charlie’s old wand, he broke it his last year here and got a new one when he went to Romania, then this is Percy’s old rat and the trunk is filled with Fred and George’s old books.” Ron explained as he took out a worn old rat from his pockets. The rat was clearly snoozing which Harry found shocking any animal could sleep shoved into a jacket. Hedwig hooted loudly from her cage as she caught sight of the rat.

“Sh, Hedwig. He won’t hurt anyone.” Harry calmed as he reached a finger in to stroke her feathers. Her eyes never left the rat, but she didn’t call out to it again.

“Scabbers is pointless, he just sleeps and eats. Barely even moves half the time, but Percy didn’t want him after dad got him an owl, so I’m stuck with him.” Ron sighed as he shoved the rat rather carelessly into his pocket again. The sounds of wheels scraping outside distracted the boys from their conversation as a witch with a kind round face paused with a trolley full of treats.

“Anything sweet for you my dears?” She asked in a high voice. Harry jumped up, excited to try a collection of the famous British sweets. He’d gotten a handful of them over the years from his family returning to Switzerland from Britain, but there was a bit of pride as he jingled the bag full of coins and went to make his pick of the lot. Only he noticed Ron didn’t move. He curled up in the corner and turned his head out the windows as his fingers picked at a packaged sandwich in his hand. Harry thought of an even greater idea. He returned to his seat with a handful of treats.

“Awful lot of sweets there.” Ron looked longingly.

“I think I overbought.” Harry said with a tilt of his head. “Do you collect Chocolate Frogs?

“Yes, I still need Agrippa.” Ron replied as he eased.

“Let’s search through these and see if we can find any.” Harry said, pushing more than half the treats over to his side. Ron dove in. The two spent the majority of the ride going through the treats and making a game of trying the Every Flavour Bean and laughing when one or the other’s face twisted from a rotten flavour. Scabbers had been pulled out again as he sat fast asleep next to Ron. They likely would have continued their fun the whole way there if not for their compartment door opening with some force to disturb them.

“Excuse me, have you seen a toad? Neville here has lost one and I’m trying to help him find it.” An assertive voice with the maturity much more than an eleven year old asked. Harry turned to take in the tight curly hair and golden brown skin and the very determined face of a young witch.

“Well, have you?” She asked again as she placed her hands on her hip, quite like Aunt Helena did when she knew Harry had snuck in and eaten some of her bakes, and yet she still asked him anyways, daring him to lie.

“No.” Harry said quite rushed as Ron shook his head as well. The young girl turned behind her to a boy with a nervous disposition.

“Sorry Neville, we will have to look again.” She said with a sharp nod of her head, before turning back at them.

“I’m Hermione Granger by the way and this is Neville Longbottom.” She said as she pointed at the boy behind her who waved meekly.

“Ron Weasley.” Ron replied with a bit of grim expression.

“Harry Potter.” Harry mumbled as he turned away from the impending reaction.

“Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? I’ve read all about you in my books. You’re a hero!” Hermione exclaimed as she stepped a bit closer. Harry wanted to change the conversation.

“You know next time you see the toad, you should lock him in a cage so he can’t get away.” Harry suggested with a shrug.

“I don’t have a cage.” Muttered Neville in the background.

“Well anything with a lock will do, you wouldn’t even need a key, just use the spell.” Harry offered as he tried to smile at Neville. The boy's nervous nature was nearly contagious.

“Oh, I’m not good at magic. I barely made it here, I wouldn’t even know the spell.” Neville shook his head, even more distressed than before.

“Oh it’s not hard! Look.” Harry said with a spark of enthusiasm as he pulled his wand and pointed it at Ron’s cracked open trunk.

“Colloportus.” Harry said determinedly. The trunk snapped shut and a loud clunk of a lock clicked into place. The small group stared in amazement.

“Easy.” Harry smiled as he tucked his wand away. It took a moment for him to realise all the eyes were staring at him intently as he felt his face grow red.

“But I read you were raised by Muggles? How’d you learn any magic? My parents are Muggles and I've only been able to master a few spells.” Hermione asked with her lips widely parted. Harry tried to calm him and breathe as his cheeks started to feel uncomfortably warm.

“I wasn’t raised by Muggles.” He said quietly as he turned his eyes away. Thankfully, he didn’t have to answer much else as the room became even more crowded as three boys pushed their way past Hermione and Neville without even as much as a glance.

“We heard Harry Potter was on the train.” The same blonde boy from the shop said as he nodded his head towards Harry and then pointed over his shoulders at the boys standing over them.

“Crabbe and Goyle, and I’m—” Draco began.

“Malfoy.” Harry interrupted him with a click of his tongue. Draco’s eyes clouded as he flicked over Harry more than once with a suspicious look.

“Draco Malfoy,” he said after his pause, “and I see you’ve met a Weasley. Can’t go anywhere without seeing that flaming hair and ratty robes.”

Harry pushed his way forward to Draco as Ron came up behind him with spirit in his step. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, but eventually crowded over Draco with menacing looks. Draco kept a cool sly smile on his face.

“You’d best be careful who you associate with Potter.” Draco spat out.

“You ought to as well. Unless you have a handy curse to plead out with.” Harry hissed under his breath as his fist balled at his side. He hadn’t enjoyed his first interaction with Draco, but now he decided he downright disdained the boy. He had the world at his feet and chose to demean it.

Draco slipped backwards at Harry’s words, a bit shocked as he ran into the thick chests of Crabbe and Goyle. Harry had figured the threat would work. He remembered Regulus explaining how so many Death Eaters had avoided Azkaban by swearing they were trapped under the Imperius Curse. Regulus had known better, as much as Harry hated it. Regulus had been at those meetings and he said he knew the Imperius well enough to know none of them had been under it. The three boy’s present were all the sons of Death Eaters who had done so.

“I’m watching you, Potter.” Draco hissed back as he straightened his robes.

“Let’s get out of here, clearly being The Chosen One doesn’t amount to much.” Draco said loudly for all to hear as he cast a judgemental look over Harry’s clothes. Harry flared his nose, but let them leave. Hermione and Neville stood shocked in the hall as the three pushed out. Their looks of shock quickly turned to Harry.

“That was rather brave. I could have never stood up to Malfoy.” Neville said in awe as he nervously rubbed his arms.

“I for one think it was foolish to get into a confrontation before we’ve even gotten to Hogwarts.” Hermione said with her nose upturned. “Now, the sun is setting, we must nearly be there. You’d best get your robes on while I help Neville look for his toad once more.”

She flung her robes out as she left with Neville giving a nervous wave before he hurried to follow her nearly tripping over the hem of his own robes. Harry sighed. He hadn’t meant to get into a fight, but Malfoy was insufferable. Ron didn’t deserve such heartache. Uncle Igantius would never have stood by, nor would Sirius. Regulus would have told him to have used his head more, but sometimes it was hard. He wished he could have as good of a head as Regulus, but he never felt as smart or cunning as him.

“She’s right, we should change.” Ron added as he went for his trunk. Harry silently agreed as he lifted his own lid. Ron paused at his trunk stuck tight, and Harry remembered he’d locked it before. He had to pull his wand and unlock it with a loud snap, as Ron nodded his appreciation while taking out his own faded robes. Harry felt a bit awkward having to pull out robes so fresh they still had creases in them.

“What’s your favourite Quidditch team?” Harry smiled as he slipped on his robes, hoping conversation would distract them.

“The Chudley Cannons, my brother Charlie says I’m crazy for supporting them, but he’s biassed. He almost played for the national team before he went to work with dragons.” Ron perked up and immediately lost the forlorn look he had when he first grabbed his robes.

“What’s your team?” Ron asked.

“Holyhead Harpies.” Harry shrugged as he dusted off the hat.

“That’s my uncle Ignatius' favourite team, I mean he lives out in Wales so it makes sense. They're a pretty strong team!” Ron replied excitedly. Harry nodded as he turned to cover his smile. He already knew uncle Ignatius’ favourite team, and truthfully he was tied between the Harpies and the Falcons, but he wanted to get Ron’s mind off of all that just happened and he thought between Quidditch and his family would do just that. He’d been right as the two left side by side to join the line exiting the train. Ron was talking with his hands and his mouth wide in a smile. Harry felt better bringing joy to someone and as they walked on, Harry thought to himself that he was glad he had met Ron Weasley.

Chapter Text

First sight that Harry caught as he exited the train was the same rather large man standing over the crowd as he called for the first years. Hagrid, that’s what Grandfather Arcturus had said his name was. His face was nearly completely covered by unruly peppery hair, but he still looked gentle. Harry followed him to docked boats as he called for them to only sit four to a boat. By a happy coincidence, he and Ron slipped into the small boat with Neville and Hermione.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness they rounded a bend and he couldn’t believe the sight. On the edge of a mountain stood a looming castle twinkling from the tallest tower to the deepest dungeon. He’d heard of the glory of Hogwarts, but he couldn’t understand until he saw it with his own eyes. The awe didn’t epp as he approached the large oak wood doors and they opened to reveal a grand entrance area better than he had ever laid eyes on before. He hardly even had time to notice the stern looking witch that led them down a noisy hallway and into a small room. Professor McGonagall, Harry recalled. Sirius occasionally called her Minnie, but Regulus had warned Harry against calling her such, lest he want to spend time cleaning Quidditch trophies as Sirius often did.

“Welcome one and all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The start of the term feast will begin in a moment; however, first we must sort you into your Houses. This is an important moment on your journey here. Your House shall become your home here, whether it be Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. As you progress, you will have the chance to further your house by earning points for excellence or to hold it back through tomfoolery. The House with the most points at the end of the year will be awarded the honour of the House Cup.” McGonagall explained as she looked over her small glasses to narrow her eyes at all of them. There was a way that Professor McGonagall held herself that commanded the room and silenced even the rowdiest of children.

“Good now tidy up as best you can, and form a single line. We are off to The Sorting Ceremony.” She said before she turned on her heel and pushed open the doors. A nervous disposition covered the children as they pushed and pulled into a line. Harry ended up just behind Ron as heard whispers of what The Sorting may be.

“I suspect it’s a test of some kind.” Herimone whispered nervously.

“My grandmother said it was difficult.” Neville muttered with his newly found toad in hand.

“Fred and George said it hurt, but they had to just be joking right?” Ron asked anxiously.

“It won’t be that bad.” Harry tried to reassure as many around him as he could. He had already been told how The Sorting went. It was an old hat that had been charmed to understand their most prominent traits to sort them into the House that best aligned with who they were. Regulus had told him all about it one late night when Harry had convinced him to let him stay up. He’d gone on and on about all the generations of his family that had been in Slytherin and the few other houses that had slipped in through marriage, an oddly large number of Gyrffindors considering the old House rivalry. Until Sirius of course, he had broken hundreds of years of tradition by being sorted into the House of Lions, but it’s where Sirius met his dad. James Potter, one of the last of his name, had followed the long tradition of being a Gryffindor. Harry hoped he could make them all proud. Every last one of them.

His thoughts were interrupted as they paused by The Great Hall to allow the ghost to pass forward. Harry leaned over to catch a glimpse as several other students jumped backwards and a few even trembled. The ghosts were holding a casual conversation as they didn’t even bother with opening the door, they floated right through. Harry smiled. All he had read about was coming true right in front of his eyes and he was astonished. It was even better than his dreams, and it was only reinforced when the doors to the Great Hall pushed open with a loud noise. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the thousands of candles floating against a dark starry night that looked nearly exactly like the one he had seen riding in earlier.

“It’s a spell. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.” Herimone said with confidence from somewhere behind him. He caught a glance of the gleaming plates and glasses on the four rows of tables as the group slowed to fill the space in front of the high table where the professors sat. McGonagall disappeared for a moment before she brought forth a simple stool and an old worn hat with patches and tears throughout. Harry squeezed into a space between Ron and a tall dark skinned boy as he watched with awe as the Hat broke out into a strange half rhymed song as he explained his role in the ceremony before he fell still as he had been before.

“Those fools had me believing we had to tame a ghoul.” Ron shook his head as Professor McGonagall called out the first name for a small girl with a button nose and rosy complexion. An Abbot, Harry heard. They were an old family from England. Harry listened as name after name was called and the tables behind him cheered loudly with each new addition. Harry tried to keep a mental tally of where each person went, but as it grew closer to his own name he grew uneasy.

“Granger, Hermione!” McGonagall called from her parchment. The young girl strolled up and gladly pulled the hat over her head, confidently.

“Gryffindor!” The hat yelled after a moment of thought. Harry chewed on his lip as he watched as Neville tripped on his way to the stool before he sat there in front of the school for several long moments before the hat finally placed him in Gryffindor as well. Though he did run so quickly from the stool, he dragged the hat along with him and had to turn back halfway there and hand it back to McGonagall with bright red cheeks. Harry tried to smile politely, but Neville’s eyes were trained at his feet. Malfoy was indisputably given Slytherin in less than a second as Harry rolled his eyes. The Malfoys had been Slytherin for even longer than the Blacks, given that the Blacks left France several years after them. The last few names before his passed in a blur.

“Potter, Harry!” McGonagall called as whispers broke out across the Hall. Harry straightened his back as he trained his eyes forward trying to ignore the constant barrage of attention before the hat slipped over his eyes and thankfully blocked the sight of hundreds of faces peering at him.

“Ah, Ah, I have waited many years for you, Mister Potter.” The hat hummed quietly to him.

“Bravery as expected. Quite a bit of it, and so much ambition too. Oh, a strong intelligence as well, and loyalty, fierce loyalty. Tricky, Tricky, Mister Potter. I do enjoy a challenge. I see here, you’ve had an unconventional upbringing. Many members of the House of Snakes, a long standing tradition in the Black family. Your parents were true Gryffindors till the very end though.” The hat rambled on as Harry squeezed his eyes tightly and could feel the minutes passing by.

“Put me where you believe will be best.” Harry thought nearly painfully as the hat paused its speech.

“Where will be best? Very honourable, Mister Potter. I had thought Slytherin, you would have excelled there, but I see now. Yes it is clear.” The hat whispered before it yelled out clearly.

“Gryffindor!”

The eruption that followed made his ears ring as he stumbled off the stool and made his way into the long array of handshakes and pats on the back as the Weasley twins started a chant of sorts about his sorting. With a loud clearing of McGonagall’s throat the table eventually settled down as Harry sat in a seat near the end of the table. He got his first good look at the tables around him as he eyed several of the professors sitting at the longest one. Hargid waved at Harry quickly as Harry waved back. He also noted a shaking man with a purple head wrap that he had met at The Leaky Cauldron the day at Diagon Alley. Most importantly of them all, Dumbledore sat right in the very middle with a mild mannered expression as he looked curiously at the Sorting below him. Harry peered at him until he was distracted by Ron walking up to the stool. It took the hat less than a minute to shout Gryffindor out and for Ron to nearly hop over to the table as his three brothers gathered to congratulate him.

Harry patted Ron’s shoulder as Dumbledore stood to make a rather random announcement of words before he clapped his hands once and the food appeared before them. Harry suddenly felt ravenous as he realised he’d only eat sweets and never got around to the lunch Aunt Helena had packed him. He ticked at himself for forgetting, but soon got over it as he dug into the food. As he did, one of the ghosts hovered over him.

“You’re nearly headless Nick.” Ron said through a mouthful.

“I prefer my true name.” The ghost replied. Harry recognised him as the ghost of Gryffindor Tower.

“Nearly Headless? How is that possible?” The Irish blonde boy named Seamus across the way asked. The ghost sighed, well if the ghost could.

“As so.” He replied with a reach of his hands as he pulled at his curly hair and exposed an open neck that nearly fell off, only to be held together by a stretch of skin about the length of Harry’s thumb. Someone had nearly completely decapitated him. There were a few looks of disgust before the all left Nearly Headless Nick to stare longingly at the food. Seamus quickly changed the conversation.

“I’m half and half. Me dad’s a muggle; Mam’s a witch. Bit of shock for him when he found out.” he said loudly to a question Harry didn’t hear.

“My whole family is magic, but they didn’t think I was until almost too late. My great uncle actually held me out a window to try and get me to show my magic and he got distracted by some pudding and dropped me, but I bounced! Like a ball! My family was so happy they cried and even got me Trevor.” Neville explained as he held up the slimy toad with large buggy eyes. Harry looked to the side perplexed as he heard. He didn’t think the Longbottoms were all that wonderful if they could hold a child out a window and hope he could save himself. It sounded like the pain Regulus or Sirius may have endured as children. Though he couldn’t be certain, neither of them spoke much about their childhood. He just knew it hadn’t been happy.

He scanned the high table again as the professors had finally still and turned to converse with one another. He hadn’t meant to, but as he caught the sight of the bright purple cloth on the one Professor, he sunk into the dark eyes of the slinky Professor sat next to him. His lips snarled slightly as he stared at Harry for an unnaturally long time. Harry felt a probe, a light flash of pain before he quickly shut his mind down. Closed it off from intrusion the moment he could.

He knew that pain. Endless nights had been spent sitting across from his grandfather as time and time again he felt that stinging invasive pain. Grandfather Arcturus would not rest until Harry could keep him out. They were long nights. Some would leave him so thoroughly exhausted he’d fall into his grandfather's chest sobbing lightly. Grandfather Arcturus would hold him close and stroke his hair until he calmed down and then send him to bed with a large cup of tea. Then the next day they would try again. His grandfather swore it was for the best. That his mind needed to be protected because the world out there would not be the world Harry had known. He hadn’t realized how soon his grandfathers words would be proven true. He’d not been at Hogwarts a day when someone tried to enter his mind. Someone he suspected was a dark haired crooked nose Professor by the name of Snape.

Harry distinctly turned his head away from the brooding glaze of Professor Snape as he tried to catch any other conversation to join as the puddings rose to the table. Percy was flipping out a newspaper as Harry caught the headline. Gringotts had been robbed.

“I thought Gringotts couldn’t be robbed.” Harry gasped as he squinted at the small moving photos of goblins.

“That’s what’s perplexing them. It’s never been done before, I have half a mind to write to my brother Bill and ask about it. Course he’ll likely just remind me that he doesn’t work behind a desk or concern himself with the more mundane of the bank.” Percy said as his words turned a bit bitter towards the end.

He wasn’t sure what the animosity was between the brothers. He’d always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling, but Regulus nor Sirius ever seemed even remotely interested in any relationships. In fact, now that he thought about it, they really only had him. Maybe now they’d get a chance to explore. He hoped so, the two of them deserved it. He was pulled back to the front table by the quieting of the hall as Dumbledore rose to his feet.

“A few announcements before bed, to new students and even some returning, a reminder that the forbidden forest is, as the name implies, forbidden.” Dumbledore said as his eyes twinkled towards where the Weasley twins sat, with their backs straight and smiles plastered funnily on their face.

“Our brother Charlie snuck in his second week here, even made friends with a centaur.” George whispered out of the side of his mouth.

“And Charlie was foolish to do so, you know what mum says about him. He’s too reckless for his own good.” Percy hissed back as he motioned for them to be quiet.

“At least Charlie got out of here to do something he enjoys. If it was up to mum, he’d be stuck behind a desk wasting away at The Ministry.” Fred snapped. Percy looked ready to reply, but Dumbledore’s voice boomed and drew their attention.

“Our caretaker, Mr Flinch, would like all to know, magic is discouraged in the halls between classes. Most importantly for you all to remember, the third floor corridor on the right hand side from now on is restricted from student access unless one plans to have a tremendously difficult death.” Dumbledore said with a grim expression. There were a few scattered laughs, but Harry suspected Dumbledore was not pulling a joke.

“Can he just say it like that?” Harry whispered to himself. It seemed rather foolish to have anything that could cause death in a castle full of children, let alone to threaten the children so boldly.

“Well he's the headmaster, he can say as he pleases, though he usually provides an explanation.” Percy said with his eyebrow raised. “The prefects should be allowed to know at the very least.”

Harry’s face twisted as he turned back to Dumbledore to watch him dismiss them. Then he rose with his fellow first years to follow Percy up winding staircase cases. He did have to pause to help Neville to unstuck his foot from one that fell through. His fellow Gryffindor Dean Thomas helped him as they had to take the stairs two at a time to catch up. Just in time to hear the password called to a large woman painted in frilly rose colored clothes. She grunted when she swung her portrait open to reveal a small hole they had to climb through to get to a short hall. There they were met with the warm and cheerful Gryffindor common room.

Harry would have to explore later as he pushed forward to the stairs Percy pointed to as the way to his dorm. He was the first to arrive as he saw Hedwig perched atop his trunk, snoozing lightly. He counted five beds as he pushed his trunk towards one across from the door. Hedwig woke up with a start.

“Don’t worry girl. I’ve already got a task for you.” Harry smiled as he pulled quill and parchment from his trunk. He wrote a brief few sentences down. He planned to send a more detailed account later, but he at least wanted his family to know where he’d been sorted. His parent’s House. He was a Gryffindor just like his parents, like Sirius and Remus and Uncle Ignatius and Auntie Marlene and Dorcas and Mary. He felt an overwhelming sense of comfort as he opened the window to allow Hedwig to fly into the starry night. He felt like he had returned to a place long forgotten, a place he could call home.

-

“Arcturus, you've been staring at that paper all day. Please pick up something else.” Cassiopeia sighed as she placed a tea cup next to him.

“Vault seven hundred and thirteen.” Arcturus mumbled as he folded up the paper. The lines in his forehead were drawn tight, he seemed rather stressed about the Gringotts break in.

“Yes, it’s rather close to our vault isn’t it? But nothing was taken, the goblins have assured us, besides the vault was empty. The thief was rather unsuccessful, you’d think for all the trouble it must have been, they would have at least researched the vaults.” Cassiopeia shrugged as she tucked her legs under her and picked up her own book. Shooting Arcturus one last glance as he held tight to the paper, but he eventually resigned and set it down to pick up the tea.

Regulus watched from where he was leaning on a sofa watching the skies. After dropping Harry off at the station, they had all slipped back to the much quieter and still home of the Prewetts. Less people around and very few wizards remained in Wales, it felt safer here and less haunted by memories. He couldn’t be sure Harry would even write tonight, the first night at Hogwarts is a whirlwind. The only reason they’d heard of Sirius’ Sorting the same night was because their parents had demanded to know. They had been worried about how it would go, and they’d been proven correct.

“I don’t even know if an owl could make it this far in an hour's time.” Sirius offered as he sat at the other end of the sofa. “Wales is a flight from Scotland.”

“One made it to London in a few hours.” Regulus reminded him as he craned his neck looking for a bright white streak in the dark sky. Sirius sighed as he seemed to hover almost nervously. Regulus finally turned to look at him as the repeated deep sighs grew to annoy him.

“Want to go for a walk? To pass the time?” Sirius asked with a weak grin. Regulus felt suspicious at best, but he didn’t have much else to do besides stare into empty skies at stars that held nothing but bad memories. They mumbled goodbyes as Cassiopeia called for them to be careful and to not be seen before they slipped out into the night.

The breeze held a bit of coolness as it splashed against their skin from the ocean. The salt itched at his skin as he pulled his arms around them. He followed Sirius’ lead away from the sea. Over the rolling hills as his feet sunk into soft ground and around the forest as the trees whispered with the rustling of their leaves. They walked and walked, much farther than their Uncle’s land stretched. Regulus felt an uneasiness as they continued. It was going too long and too far. He was going to open his mouth to finally inquire where they were going when they paused just at the crest of a hill.

Sirius shoved his hands in his jacket as he leaned his head forward. Regulus stared at his brother before he turned to look down the hill. At the base was a small cottage with an old roof and faded paint. A winding unpaved road connected it to a few others scattered along the way, though this one sat far back from any of the others.

The windows were brightly lit with warm yellow light and the glass only partially stained with age. He could still see inside, and his stomach nearly dropped when he recognised where they were. In the largest window, he could see two people tensely sitting around a small table. The curled hair and upturned noses near replicas of each other. Remus and Lyall Lupin were having a quiet dinner together and Sirius had dragged Regulus out here, for what exactly?

“Sirius.” Regulus whispered as he tried to shield themselves in the bare thin shadows.

“I’m not going to barge in there, Reg.” Sirius said as he kicked at a loose leaf. “I brought you along to make sure I don’t barge in there. He wrote to me about this dinner and when I saw that date and I knew we’d be in Wales, I could not help myself. Even the tiniest of chances to see him, I had to. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to again.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little strange to stare at them having dinner.” Regulus replied as he waved his hand towards the tense scene before them.

“I just wanted to see him. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten the chance.” Sirius whispered with a wistful gaze. Regulus felt his heart soften and the tension ease in his body.

He turned back to the window as he watched with a held breath as Remus came to the window over the sink and started to wash his dishes. He’d grown thinner and his face appeared a bit haggard around his eyes and neck, but otherwise he was the same Remus. Tawny hair and tall legs and all. Regulus felt his hands twitch.

“He’s gotten thinner.” Sirius whispered more to himself with his aura blissful. “And his hair is already grey, but oh my can he pull off the grey.”

Regulus felt the twitch continue, but his brother made no move. He stood with his eyes wide and his lips turned upward as his hair whipped around him occasionally as the only movement. He felt himself ease as he stepped closer and reached out to hold his brother’s arm. He felt safer once they were closer. As if he could restrain Sirius, even if it wasn’t true.

“He looks rather good.” Regulus added quietly.

“Don’t come for my man, Reg.” Sirius joked softly.

“He’s not my type.” Regulus joked back as he shoved into his brother.

“He’s everyone’s type.” Sirius said. “That's why it’s so special that he chose me.”

Regulus didn’t know how to reply. Instead, he squeezed his brother’s arm as they watched the dishes be put away and a few words exchanged before Remus was out of sight for a moment. Only to appear later throwing his long coat on as he stepped out the door. Sirius’ breath hitched as he stared down the hill. Remus let the door close behind him with a thud the rebounding off the forest as he stayed in place. He appeared to be hesitating, and Regulus had an eerily uneasy trickle run up his arms as he pulled Sirius back several steps under the shadow of the woods behind them. Only a moment later, Remus' head turned to face where they had just been. Regulus held his breath as he forcibly pulled his brother to a crouched position.

Whatever feeling Remus had must have passed as he swiveled his head a few times, but never moved his feet. Instead he tightened his coat around him and took a careful step down the stone path to the dust cover road. Sirius watched longingly as he became but a dot in the night, until with what was only a quiet click to them, Remus disappeared.

It took a while. Regulus gave his brother the time. He had sat down in the dewy ground and appeared detached from all around him. He was swimming in the memories of the past. Regulus could tell. He’d done it before. Eventually with comfort and prodding, they made the long journey back to the stately hall they were staying in for a few more days. Regulus rubbed his brother's arms to keep him as warm and grounded as possible. There was a haunted look in Sirius’ eyes that made him anxious.

“About time, I was about to send Ignatius out looking for the two of you.” Lucretia said as they entered the dark kitchen. It was late and the house had been still, he hadn’t expected anyone to still be awake. She was alone, leaning over tea.

“Sorry, aunt Lucretia.” Regulus apologized, guiding Sirius to a seat. He went to put on a kettle for them both, hoping he could snap his brother back.

“A letter arrived while you were out.” Lucretia said with a small smile as she nodded to the letter on the counter. Regulus felt the drop in his stomach from excitement as he set the kettle quickly and rushed to the fresh parchment. He could discern Harry’s scrawling writing immediately. The sound of wax breaking was a comforting noise as he flipped the rigid paper in his hand to scan the blotted words. Harry had clearly written in a weary rush.

“What does it say?” Sirius broke his silence as he gave a drained twitch of his lips. Regulus could feel the pain growing in his cheeks from how his smile pulled. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“He made Gryffindor.” Regulus whispered with a shake of his head. Sirius finally perked up at the sound of that.

“Never doubted it for a minute, he’s James and Lily’s son. I’ll have to send him a whole box full of Gryffindor memorabilia. Aunt Lucretia, do you still have my old hat here?” Sirius said rather quickly as he and Lucretia got caught into conversation. Regulus tuned them out as his hand gently touched over the sentences.

It was almost Slytherin, Reg! I would have been so proud to be in your house, but I feel at home here in the tower even after a few minutes. I think you’ll understand that!

With all my love,

Harry

Chapter Text

His first day of classes Harry received seven separate letters. Hedwig had hooted at him with ruffled feathers as she dropped them by his toast before helping herself to the bread and flying off to rest. Clearly, she was making it known she thought seven letters from the same home was a bit excessive. Harry only smiled as he collected the letters in his arms happily before placing them neatly in his bag. He’d open them later. Once he put them away, he looked up to notice he’d garnered more than a few looks. Eyes from all the tables glanced at him, as he tried to hide his face by shoving eggs into his mouth.

“I didn’t even get that much mail.” Ron whispered as he picked up the three letters in front of him. Harry caught the familiar script of Ignatius’ handwriting on one of them before Ron tore into the first letter from his parents.

“Mum and dad send their regards. They told me to tell you congratulations on being in Gryffindor! Nearly all their families were in Gryffindor as well. I wrote to Bill and Charlie too, but mail takes a while to get to them and sometimes it takes time for them to respond with how crazy their jobs are.” Ron explained as he ripped into another envelope with unfamiliar script, but the Weasley seal on that back.

“My grandparents! Look, they sent me a pin! My grandfather was in Gryffindor too, he says it’s from his time at Hogwarts.” Ron explained excitedly as he rolled a small golden pin in his hand before clipping it proudly onto his old robes that were a bit too short on him. Finally, he opened the last letter as Harry leaned closely to try and see the words. It felt so strange to share relatives with Ron, but be unable to say a word about it. He could see the different script between Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia, his rough print to her perfect cursive.

“Oi, Fred, George! Uncle Ig says he sent you sickles to buy me treats on your first Hogsmeade trip!” Ron called half way through reading the letter to his brothers a few seats away. Fred and George rolled their eyes as they stuffed their hands into their pockets.

“‘Course he’d tell ya, we were going to pocket the lot.” Fred said with a mischievous grin.

“Oi, we can get him a chocolate frog and call it a day. Uncle Ig sent us our own funds.” George replied with an elbow to his brother. Ron scrunched his nose as he glanced over the rest of the letter before cramming them all into his bag messily.

“We’re not supposed to tell mum that Uncle Ig does that. She doesn’t want us taking money from them, but I don’t understand it. Uncle Ig and Aunt Lucy have tons of money and a huge house. They never had their own children, so they say they want to spoil us. Mum is always tense around them though, saying they come from the wrong sort of families.” Ron shrugged dejectedly.

“But your mum was Prewett wasn’t she?” Harry asked, confused as he picked a new piece of toast to butter.

“She was, she won’t talk about her childhood much. I asked Bill about it once. He said it was the war, I don’t remember any of it of course, but Bill and Charlie do. They said whole families were torn apart, and when Aunt Lucy wouldn’t choose a side because of her family, well mum apparently didn’t take it well.” Ron explained with a shrug and his cheeks and tip of his nose going red. Harry thought it best to drop the subject if Ron was so uncomfortable. He didn’t have much choice though as their breakfast was interrupted by an unwanted presence. A looming trio of shadows cast over his toast just as he was about to take a bite, and he cast his eyes up to see no less than Draco Malfoy and his two goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle over his shoulder.

“Got a bit of fan mail, Potter.” Draco spat out in an egregiously high accent. Harry didn’t want any trouble before he’d even gotten a single piece of toast down, so he ignored Draco and sunk his teeth into crisp bread and fresh marmalade.

“I got plenty of letters from my family. You know what those are right? Maybe you’ve read of what a family is like? Both my grandfathers are proud of me, and promised me the finest gifts at my first request. They’ll make good on it as well; they come from some of the most prestigious of families.” Draco continued as he crossed his arms and turned up his pointed nose. Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but kept his composure. While Sirius may fully support him fighting a git like Draco Malfoy on his first full day, Regulus certainly wouldn’t.

“Not that you’d know anything about the right type of families, surrounded by blood traitors and weak blood alike.” Draco pinched his lips together as Harry continued to ignore him. All the while Draco glanced at the several Weasleys and Neville around him.

“Well I wouldn’t consider a man who pushed out his own Minister to be of strong blood. Or does your grandfather still deny those claims?” Harry said rather calmly as he placed more food on his plate. Draco looked bewildered.

“Or possibly your other grandfather, who spent half his galleons trying to keep your father out of Azkaban? I think you're confusing money for power, Malfoy.” Harry continued, not looking up as he cut into his food.

“You best be careful, Potter.” Draco growled as his fist balled up.

“Well, you were the one to bring them up.” Harry shrugged as he took another bite. “Now I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast and your guard dogs are breathing quite heavily and disturbing my peace.”

Draco balled his fist, but they were in a crowded Hall bustling with children, many of whom had stopped their own breakfast to stare at the interactions occurring between the two boys. Draco huffed his displeasure loudly before he stomped his feet out of the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a confused glance before scampering out to follow behind him. The two nearly tripling over each other. Harry continued to eat peacefully trying to ignore the gaping mouths turned towards him.

“Mate, how do you even know all that about Malfoy?” Ron asked with wide eyes. Harry just shrugged it off as the shock slowly dimmed around him and people eventually turned back to their own conversations. Ron kept shaking his head in amazement as he could not believe Harry had scared off Draco with only a few words. Harry just nodded politely as he sipped his juice. He hadn’t thought about it when he was saying it in the heat of the moment, but he realized that the way the Wizarding world had been told and the way he acted didn’t align. He only knew so much about Malfoy because his grandfather was Arcturus Black, who knew everything about everyone and was kind enough to share bits of information with Harry. He couldn’t possibly keep up the ruse he’d been raised by Muggles, but he needed to at least try to shroud his connections to the Black Family. At least for Regulus and Sirius' sakes, he didn’t want either of them to be thrown into Azkaban.

Hogwarts was a confusing building built on riddles and mazes. Sirius had drawn him a map and left a myriad of notes shoved in every spare space of passwords and secret passageways. Yet, Harry still managed to get lost. He was certain the layout must have changed since Sirius had last been in these halls, but then other times they were exactly the same. To add on to his confusion, the classes were throwing him so much work at once he felt like the most inexperienced wizard. Clearly, he had misjudged how much magic he’d already known. Though when he looked around everyone, even those from the most ancient of houses, seemed to have worry etched into their faces as they ran through quills and parchment and tore pages from turning them so quickly.

At least, he wasn’t completely lost. He could follow most lessons with ease, and he figured he’d get into a rhythm of the work soon enough, except for Potions. He considered himself fairly good at Potions. He’d spent hours locked away in the shed with Uncle Marius learning even the most complicated of potions from a young age. No, that wasn’t his issue. His issue was with Professor Snape.

The tall demeaning Professor with his pin straight black hair. It was nothing like the wavy full locks Sirius and Regulus had. With his robes flaring behind him with each step and the constant sneer on his face that grew even more sinister with even a single glimpse of Harry. He’d been warned Snape was not going to be his friend, but he hadn’t expected the Professor to hate him. Harry knew he’d been a Death Eater, same as Regulus, but he’d defected just as Regulus had, only to Dumbledore. The old headmaster had given him leave and kept him out of prison for reasons unknown to anyone, except that Dumbledore swore on his life that he trusted Severus.

Harry couldn’t help but drag his feet to his first potion lessons in the damp halls of the dungeons. Trying to stay upbeat at the fact that Hagrid had finally reached out and asked him for tea later today via a small note this morning. Even the idea of meeting the jovial groundskeeper couldn’t lift his mood for more than a few moments. Not only would he be stuck for a double lesson with Snape breathing down his neck, it was also their only class shared with Snape’s beloved Slytherins. He constantly gave them an unfair amount of points and praises for even the most average of work. Harry shuffled into a seat next to Ron as the other boy gulped, eyeing the stuffed animals and insects in jars that lined the shelves of the classroom. Snape entered the room with loud snaps of his heeled boots and immediately began a roll call without another word. He paused when he came to Harry’s name.

“Harry Potter, wonder if one can live up to their name.” Snape said in a drawling tone as his black eyes pierced into Harry. Draco and a few other Slytherins giggled in their corner and Snape didn’t care to snap at them.

“Now, I have been tasked with training this class full of prudish imbeciles in the subtle art of potion making. Wands are instruments of little use here, as I teach you how to bottle glory, brew fame, and even place a cork in death’s hold.” Snape’s words floated above them without a single student daring to make a peep. His eyes seemed to fall on all of them at once as Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He noticed Hermione not far away, nearly falling out of her seat to catch Snape’s every word as Parvati Patil sat as far back in her own seat trying to edge away from the Professor.

“Potter!” Snape called loudly, causing Harry to almost lose his balance as he gripped onto the edge of the table.

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” He barked as Herimone shot her hand into the air from across the room. Harry blinked at the shock of it all. Powdered root of asphodel and wormwood, it seemed familiar. Then it clicked. He’d been only a child when he tried to grab onto mandrakes and Regulus had distracted him by asking for help with planting wormwood.

“The Draught of Living Death, sir.” Harry breathed out. Snape opened his mouth nearly cruelly as if he was going to inform Harry how incorrect he was only to snap it shut again as he registered the words. He hadn’t known Snape could look any crueler as he approached Harry slowly with each step ringing off the low ceilings of the dungeon.

“Well, well Potter, how about where I would find a bezoar if one is needed?” Snape sneered even more menacingly as he could hear a few snickers from the Slytherin side.

“The stomach of a goat, though as Potions Master, I would hope you keep some stored in the cabinet just there.” Harry nodded at the storage cabinet to the side. Snape snapped his robes loudly around himself as his forehead grew creased with wrinkles. He wasn’t old by any means, but the sheer force of his anger made him appear so.

“Then, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape nearly growled as he lowered his face to be nearly eye level with Harry. Harry twisted his lips as he tried to keep the anger he could feel mounting at the Professor.

“They are the same plant, also called aconite, most popularly used in the famous Wolfsbane Potion created by Damocles Belby to help treat the disorder of lycanthropy, Professor.” Harry said as he pushed his own face nearly equal with Snape. He couldn’t see what the point of this show was, he was an adult. Just about the same age as Regulus and Sirius, and while they had their faults and their moments of juvenile behavior particularly with one another. They would never be this blatantly childish in challenging an eleven year old. Snape’s eyes twitched with rage as he visibly shook under his robes for a moment before he pushed off the table with such force it nearly toppled their cauldrons off.

“Arrogance isn’t becoming of the great, Mister Potter. One point from Gryffindor.” Snape snarled before he turned his back to Harry. Ron turned his head with complete shock as Harry just crossed his arms and chewed on his cheek in thought.

“Well, didn’t anyone care to write that down?” Snape snapped before there was a loud scurrying of hands searching for writing supplies. Harry sat with his arms still crossed, not moving. After his fit of dramatics, Snape assigned them a cure for boils that Harry could do in his sleep. Snape never once came to check on him and Ron though, he only gloated over Draco and his partner, a dark skinned boy Harry recalled was the last to be sorted, Blaise Zalbini. He seemed to shrink in the background whenever Snape would clap and parade at the cauldron between them. Clearly he was not one for the spotlight.

Neville and Seamus were just next to him and Harry really didn’t give them much mind with how steamed he was. Not until the cauldron made a loud rattling noise before melting away and onto the ground, eating away at the tables and chairs and even people’s shoes. Neville himself was sniffling as agitated red boils formed on every part of his exposed skin.

“Incompetent child!” Snape yelled while slamming his hand on the table before he swung his wand around clearing the mess and repairing most of the broken instrument. All but Seamus’ cauldron that had been melted to a goo.

“Get him to Madam Pomfrey.” He hissed at Seamus, who was looking quite distraught at what remained of his cauldron. Harry mentally noted that he would offer his spare one to Seamus later. Sirius had made him bring a spare for incidents just like this because he figured Snape would be less than forgiving to allow him the spare ones in the classroom all the while Harry had tried to convince him to buy a solid gold one.

“Potter, aren’t you our own potions master? Why weren’t you watching to make certain Longbottom was boiling it correctly. Another point from Gryffindor.” Snape said with malice before he strolled over to where Herimone and Parvati’s potion had begun to steam green. Harry leaned forward wanting to shout, but Ron’s arm reached out and pulled him back with a short shake of his head. He was right. Harry had already tested his limits with Snape and lost two points.

When the hour struck, Harry practically ran out of the classroom. Ron was out of breath by the time he caught up with him. Harry stomped along the way to the Great Hall as he tried to reason with him.

“Snape’s a git to everyone mate. You wouldn’t believe how many points Fred and George have lost because of potions. Though they usually make theirs explode on purpose. Burned part of Snape’s greasy hair one day, it was the only time anyone saw it so short.” Ron said jollily as he tried to chirp up Harry’s mood. Harry sighed and felt some of the anger leave him. How could he be mad around Ron?

“Can I go meet Hagrid with you? Charlie says he’s a good bloke.” Ron switched the conversation as they sat down for lunch.

Harry knocked on the wooden door to a hut at the edge of Hogwarts. Hagrid’s home sat nestled near the Forbidden Forest as Harry peered carefully around the building as a dog barked within.

“Fang, we got company be on your best behavior.” Hagrid gruffed before he cracked open the door.

“Harry!” He called with a smile barely visible under his beard. His warm dark eyes grew lighter with cheer. “And you brought a friend, let me guess a Weasley?”

Ron nodded a bit sheepishly as Hagrid let them in. The largest black bundle of fur latched onto them nearly instantly as they did. Going back and forth licking their faces.

“Fang off with you.” Hagrid shooed as he brought out tea and large bumpy rock cakes. Harry had to soak the edges of the cakes for an eternity before biting into them. He didn’t mind. He was captivated by the friendly giant of a man across from him.

Hagrid was the easiest person to talk to and Harry couldn’t get enough of the conversation. He agreed with them that Flinch and Mrs. Norris were troublesome nuisances, but couldn’t cause any real harm and if one was quick on their feet they could avoid them. Which he pointed out he was not and that caused Mrs. Norris to watch his every move when he was in the castle.

“Snape despises me.” Harry moaned as he tried to take another bite of the rock cake only for the smallest morsel to crumble into his mouth.

“Snape hates everyone, Harry. It’s a big part of his personality.” Hagrid replied as he busied himself with cleaning up the tray just then. He tossed the scraps to Fang who chewed them aggressively.

“Yeah, but the way he looked at me. It was like if he could kill me there he would.” Harry sighed as he fell into the overly large seats Hagrid had.

“Rubbish, Harry. Complete Rubbish. He could never.” Hagrid gruffed, but his patchy skin grew rosy. Harry felt there was a secret there, but if he’d learned anything from Grandfather Arcturus, if one did not have the pull over the person, then you had to carefully maneuver the information out of them.

“How’s Charlie doing? He was one of my favorite students and could take the wildest of animals.” Hagrid quickly changed the subject when he creaked back into his own large chair. Ron started to go on about his brother’s work with dragons in Romania as Harry turned his head to inspect the one room hut.

He noticed a torn copy of The Daily Prophet it was the same article on the break in. He squinted to see the words as the memory of Gringotts replayed in his head. It is where he’d seen Hagrid for the first time, tucking a small package into his robes before he mumbled about Dumbledore and disappeared. Grandfather Arcturus had paused and watched with intent above Harry and whispered about the vault. The very vault that had been robbed, Harry finally connected as he jolted slightly in his seat and turned to face Ron and Hagrid, who were still engrossed in their conversation. The little package, it was all that had to have been in there because the goblins said it had been emptied.

To break into Gringotts for such a little package seemed unwise. Unless the package was immeasurably important. Harry narrowed his eyes at the groundskeeper as he raised to help them out so they weren’t late to dinner. Harry readily agreed to another tea next week. He had questions about Hagrid. More importantly, about how all the events connected. He’d need more rapport with the groundskeeper before he could pry. As he walked back over the grounds with Ron, he couldn't help but think about all the interconnecting events. He’d get to the bottom of this one way or another.

-

Regulus was staring out at the water that spanned for as far as the eye could see. He was sitting on the rocks at the edge. The ground was a significant drop below, it used to scare him as a child, but it seemed so futile as a worry now. He lifted his eyes from where they watched his feet dangle back and forth and scanned the surrounding barren land. Dead from the summer heat in patches around him. The closest houses barely speck in the distances. The sun was lowering slowly as the world began to glow in a golden light.

A part of him wanted to stay here. Listening to the waves every morning, getting to walk along shady shores. Even the salty taste that never left his mouth. This wasn’t home though, and it was dangerous to be out in Britain. Even far away tucked into the private corner the Prewett family had carved for themselves years ago. No, they would return to Switzerland in a day's time. Far away from Harry. He knew he shouldn’t worry. There would always be someone in Britain only a pop away from him, but his mind couldn’t quiet. It’s why he’d ended up on the rocky ledge. Trying to calm his mind.

“I’ll miss Wales.” Someone called from behind him as he turned over his shoulder to see his brother approaching casually with his hands in his pocket.

“You always missed Wales.” Regulus pointed out.

“Yeah, you’re right. Of all the places our parents shipped us off to as kids this was my favorite.” Sirius said with a soft smile.

“There weren't any rules here.” Regulus joked as he turned back to watch the white crest of a wave hit the bleak shore.

“There were rules, just unspoken ones. Don’t break anything Fabian or Gideon couldn’t fix, don’t bother Molly, and always prank Aunt Lucretia.” Sirius chuckled as he lowered himself to sit cross legged next to Regulus. Regulus laughed with him for a moment.

“It’s Fabian’s copy.” Sirius pointed with his head at the old worn book Regulus had turned over on the rocks. He’d brought it to occupy his time, but could only make it so far before the words written in the margin started to sting him painfully.

“Efa gave it to me.” Regulus swallowed as he picked the book up and closed it gently.

“I used to make fun of him in school. I swore he was the only one who liked History of Magic, I mean Professor Binns was a bore. I used the class to nap, our private tutor taught us enough for me to get an A on my O.W.Ls.” Sirius shrugged, but eyed the book heavily. Regulus’ lips twitched as stroked the spine, careful of the many dents and divots in it.

“Reg, I need to ask you a favor.” Sirius said as the sun nearly kissed the horizon now. Regulus made a small noise in the back of his throat for Sirius to continue.

“Now that Harry is at school we will inevitably have some free time on our hands. I need to do something, something really important to me.” Sirius said in a strained voice as the ocean nearly drowned him out. Regulus kept his grip on the book as he turned to look at his brother. Sirius’ face was as stiff as the rocks they sat on and he had a light tremble to his lips. The sun continued its path down as Sirius took deep breaths before he spoke.

“I need to find Peter. He took everything from me, Reg. He took my family, he took my freedom, and he took my trust. I don’t care how we do it, but I need to find him and I need to make him pay for what he did.” Sirius said in a pinched tone that proved he was only barely holding back tears.

“Sirius, he could be anywhere.” Regulus replied gently as reached a weary hand over to his brother’s knee, but Sirius jerked away before he could touch him.

“No! I know Peter, or at least I knew him. How he ever managed to get the courage to betray his friends I will never know, but he was not one of lion’s heart. He wouldn’t run off to foreign land and start a new life. He’d hide where he was comfortable. He would stay where he felt he had control.” Sirius nostrils flared as he spoke. “I mean look at you, you did nearly the same—”

“Do not compare me to that insidious scoundrel.” Regulus barked as he recoiled from his brother.

“No, no I’m not saying that! You’re worth a thousand of him, but you both did the same thing.” Sirius continued as Regulus glanced at his wand to his side.

“Hear me out, Reg before you hex me. If you still don’t agree, I’ll step back from the ledge and let you do your worst.” Sirius said with his hands raised to his side. Regulus unclenched one of his hands in response.

“Okay, I’ll take that. You and Peter both betrayed two of the best wizards of our kind. I can admit Voldemort was powerful, and to betray him was even a more dangerous feat then what Peter did. Voldemort would have killed you, I can’t say Dumbledore would have done the same to Peter. My point being, when you betrayed him, you hid. That rickety old beach house we had only ever been to once, somewhere familiar, but hidden and then when you had the chance you moved home and put up the best defenses you could think of. I think Peter would do the same. I don’t think he’d leave England, I mean everyone thinks he’s dead, just like we thought you were dead. If we can find where he holed himself up to, I can get the retribution everyone deserves. Maybe get my name cleared in the process. I don’t expect an answer now, just think about it.” Sirius finished as he let his hands fall to his side.

Regulus had relaxed significantly as his brother explained, his palms open now as he lowered his head. He hated that his brother was right almost as much as he hated being compared to Peter Pettigrew. There was a point there and if Sirius was correct, then they could have the man responsible for ruining Harry’s chance at a normal life. The one who took his parents away from him.

“I’ll do it.” Regulus whispered.

“What?” Sirius asked as he leaned forward to hear better.

“I said I’ll do it. I’ll help you find Pettigrew.” Regulus gritted as he met his brother’s eyes. Sirius’ face broke into the widest grin as he slapped Regulus on the shoulder.

“I can’t thank you enough, Reg. I was going to do it with or without you, but this will be much easier.” Sirius said easily.

“On one condition.” Regulus paused him as he held up a finger. “We don’t do anything reckless that puts Harry in danger.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t think of ever doing otherwise.” Sirius said with the goofy grin still across his face.

Lucretia called them a moment later for dinner as they brushed themselves off and walked arm in arm back to the hall. Regulus felt a bit of a jolt in his step as he walked. He’d been so worried about what to do once Harry left and at least now he had something to work towards. Even if it would be a difficult search. Besides, how big was Britain anyways?

Chapter Text

Flying lessons, the class that Harry had secretly been looking forward to. A chance to get back on a broom. Even if they were to fly the basic school brooms everyone complained about, he would miss his Comet Two Sixty from home. Only downside, flying lessons would be another class with Slytherin and Harry could already feel the bitterness growing. Draco had spent half his time faulting his wealth, another half bragging about his flying prowess. He wasn’t the only one though.

Harry had known Quidditch was an important sport in Britain, but having grown up away from it all, he saw it as a bit obsessive. Seamus had spent half his life on a broom in Ireland and Ron could speak about every fact on Quidditch thanks to his older brother Charlie. He was still a bit upset that his brother chose dragons over a national team. It even caused tension as Ron and Dean Thomas had gotten into an argument just days before on the comparison of football and Quidditch. Ron couldn’t understand how any joy could be found in a sport without flying and looked rather peculiar at the unmoving West Ham posters hung over Dean’s bed.

Harry had tried to strike up a conversation with Dean about football. Helena and Marius would occasionally go to watch the games with her family on the Muggle television. He didn’t want Dean to feel left out, he had been raised around Muggles. He eventually admitted to Harry he didn’t know who his father was, but that he’d gone missing in the early nineteen eighties. Harry felt sympathy for the boy, he knew what it was like to not know a father even if their situations were very different.

Neville and Hermione and Dean were the only ones in their year to have never been on a broom. Hermione and Dean due to their Muggle history and Neville because his grandmother was too nervous for him to ever get on a broom. Harry didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t disagree with her. Not with how often Neville tripped over his own shoes or ran into walls. He had a habit of being awkward and unbalanced and constantly misplacing his things. Trevor had gone missing no less than five times in the first two weeks. One time Hedwig had brought the toad in her beak carefully with Harry’s mail and dropped him in front of Neville looking none too pleased about it as she stole a piece of Neville’s sausage before flying off. Neville had yelled in excitement after nearly crying himself to sleep when Trevor couldn’t be found the day before.

Madam Hooch was a short woman with cropped grey hair and muscles pushing against her robes. She had clearly played plenty of Quidditch in her time. The rows of old brooms were laid in two lines. Mainly old Shooting Stars and Cleansweeps from times well past. They had seen better days from the bent wood and the chips throughout, but first years were only permitted to fly during their lessons for their own safety. Harry found it rather troublesome and one of the few drawbacks to Hogwarts. He couldn’t wait to be back on his broom and to fly around the open air of home. Regulus and Sirius were better fliers, but Harry hoped to catch up with them soon enough. Both of them agreed that Harry had a natural talent, like his father had. It filled him with warmth whenever they would mention how he was like his father or mother. His mother’s eyes, his father’s hair, a mixture of both their intelligence.

Madam Hooch gave them a speech on safety and a general background on flying before she had them line up next to a broom each and call for the broom. It felt nostalgic of the first time Regulus had taught him to fly. The broom came directly into his hand and even if it felt strange compared to his other broom, the feeling of being able to fly again was thrilling enough to overlook. They mounted their brooms a few moments later after everyone had a grip. It had taken some longer than others. Madam Hooch had directed them to only hover in the air and it made Harry’s skin itch as he wanted to kick off and fly away and around the castle to get a new perspective of the old school. He didn’t even get the chance to hover as once they mounted their brooms, Neville began to float away.

The boy had a look of panic as he gripped tight onto the handle and screwed his eyes shut and Madam Hooch yelled and chased after him to no avail. The ending wasn’t much of a surprise. Neville ended up falling from a precarious distance and landing onto his arm. Harry flinched as he watched the wrist snap. He knew that feeling, he had broken his wrist once before. Regulus had healed it almost instantly, but the burning pain was still scorched into his mind. It was one of his first memories he could recall and it was one of the few times he had experienced pain. He couldn’t forget the way Regulus had been so worried for him. Checking for days after it had healed that Harry could still use it without any pain.

Harry had given Madam Hooch space to get Neville away though others gathered around him to gawk at the sniffling boy. They were instructed to keep their brooms on the ground and she would return in a moment to commence the lesson. Of course such a command would have been too hard for a boy like Draco Malfoy to follow.

“Look, the daft git left this behind.” Draco smirked as he picked up the Remembrall Neville had received only this morning.

“Leave it, Draco.” Parvati said as she wrinkled her nose.

“Fancy the cheeky lump do you?” Draco mocked as he held the Remberall over his head.

“Malfoy.” Harry said as he stepped forward.

“Awful defensive of such a failure, maybe I should teach Longbottom a lesson? He seems to need some practice flying.” Malfoy said with a sinister grin as he mounted his broom again. He flew off over Harry’s head and off to the trees behind them. The Slytherins were laughing and encouraging Malfoy as he raised the Remembrall like a trophy. Harry couldn’t stand to watch it as he rushed back to his own broom and rose into the air.

“Harry! You will lose us even more points!” Herimone cried from the ground, but he barely heard her as he pushed forward to Malfoy, watching as the victory slowly slipped from his face. He was realising he was terribly alone and away from his usually menacing goons.

“Let me have it, and we will forget this ever happened.” Harry offered as he outstretched his arm. Draco seemed to debate it mentally in his head for a moment before a nasty sneer crossed his face. He jerked his hand as far back as he could and tossed the Remembrall back towards the castle. Harry felt a growl of frustration grow in his throat, but he didn't have the time to release it as he quickly shot off after the Remembrall. It was going to crash into the ground if he didn’t catch it. He pushed the old school broom as fast as he could trying to catch the small circle before it started it’s descent, but he couldn't get the speed as he watched with panicked eyes as it started to fall to the ground. Without even thinking, Harry started to dive immediately hoping to get ahead of the Remembrall before it shattered into pieces.

He pushed his broom even faster as he stretched out his hand only a few paces from the castle's rough walls. If he didn’t time this perfectly. He'd be joining Neville in the hospital wing. It was nearly in his grasp as he pushed a bit farther and by some miracle was able to catch the ball with only a moment to spare before he jerked up the broom harshly, causing it to pull to the left and Harry to tumble into the grass with the Remembrall in his hand. He felt a bit dizzy, but otherwise he was unharmed as he heard the sounds of cheers and claps as people surrounded him. A severe voice cut through the celebration as the group parted to allow Professor McGonagall came stomping forward.

“Mister Potter, come with me this instant.” She demanded with her hands riled in her robes. A few people tried to protest, but she silenced them all. Harry followed meekly behind her as she chastised him for the danger he put himself into. He was certain he’d be getting his first detention. Regulus would likely be disappointed, and he hoped a letter explaining the reason would at least help soften the blow. He and McGonagall walked for some time until they were outside the Charms classroom. Harry was confused as McGonagall made him pause and she stepped inside. Harry stood on the tips of his toes as he waited and when she returned there was a sturdy fifth year boy just behind her.

“Follow me, you both.” She said quieter than she usually spoke before she led them into an nearly empty classroom. Peeves the Poltergeist was there turning over every spare chair and rubbish bin.

“Peeves, out!” McGonagall said firmly. Peeves gave her a long look before sputtering and tossing one more bin before he screamed as he floated out of the room to cause chaos elsewhere. Harry hadn’t heard Peeves listen to anyone before.

“Oliver Wood this is Harry Potter, Harry Potter this is Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Keeper.” McGonagall said with a girlish sparkle in her eye. “Wood, I have found us a Seeker!”

“Certain?” Wood said with a shock.

“Absolutely, I can speak on good authority that Mister Potter will be a natural. I doubt you will even need to train him much. I saw him pull off a near perfect rendition of the Wronski Feint just now.” McGonagall confirmed.

“I’ll start adding him to the training immediately, we will practice in the early morning and late nights to try and keep anyone from finding out. We haven’t had a chance at The Quidditch Cup since Charlie left school early to chase dragons!” Oliver spoke very quickly when he was excited. McGonagall nodded along as well.

“Yes, I’ll speak to Dumbledore at once. I believe I can convince him to bend the rule on first year rule. Head back to class, Wood. I need a moment with Mister Potter. He will begin first thing next week.” McGonagall said as Wood nearly skipped back to Charms.

“I will say I have had my doubts about Mister Black in the past, but there was one matter I could never doubt him on and that was he was one of the best Seekers this school had seen, up there with Charlie Weasley.” McGonagall whispered to Harry. He couldn't help, but smile.

“James would be proud too, he was more than a good player himself.” McGonagall added with a happy up turned smile before she dismissed Harry.

“Bloody hell mate.” Ron nearly yelled as Harry whispered the news to him later that night. Harry had to shush him as he garnered some unwanted attention.

“Wood said it is the first time in a century since a first year played. He wants to keep it a secret from the other Houses as long as possible.” Harry warned before checking over his shoulder to confirm everyone had gone back to their conversations. The only people he noticed were Ron’s brother Fred and George making a beeline towards him. They leaned over the table to look at Harry.

“Wood told us, we’re the Beaters on the team. He seems to think you’re better than even our brother Charlie.” Fred said with a mischievous look.

“I don’t know about that.” Harry chuckled nervously.

“Charlie didn’t even get on the team till second year and the Seeker his first year was awful. Must be something special.” George winked before the two got distracted by Lee Jordan waving his arms at them from the entrance of The Great Hall.

“Georgie, it’s time.” Fred nudged his brother as they both jumped back.

“Time for what?” Ron asked as his brother’s started to hurry away.

“Better not to tell you, but word of advice, stay away from the toilets for a bit.” George winked before they ran off with Jordan.

“That can’t be good.” Harry said. Ron just shrugged his shoulders.

“As long as they don’t blow anything up, they probably won’t get expelled. They say McGonagall enjoys their antics a bit, but I think it’s just because they know mum would raise hell if she had to deal with them all the time.” Ron said as he reached for a chicken leg. Harry shook his head as he made his own plate. Thankful that he had used the loo before dinner.

-

“No, Regulus I don’t believe it will be necessary.” Arcturus said as he shook his head.

“I am just saying Grandfather, we could have Phineas check on him.” Regulus replied as he tucked his knees close to his chest and pulled his tea closer.

“For one, I don’t think Phineas would be very subtle on checking on Harry and for a second point, you need to trust the boy to be making the right decisions.” Arcturus answered as he adjusted himself in the old lounge chair. The two of them were having tea together.

“I trust him more than I trust most people, but I want him to be alright. What if he didn’t have enough socialisation as a child. What if he isn’t saying anything in his letters because he doesn't want anyone to worry?” Regulus sighed as he stared into the light murky tea. He wished he’d taken Divinations so he could try and read the leaves.

“He tells you about all those children he spends time with. Ron and him seem completely inseparable. He speaks of the Longbottom boy often. Though he does seem a bit uncoordinated and I never could get on Augusta's good side, she always had a sharp tongue. Never did want to be on the wrong side of her wand, or her hat for that matter. The birds were unnerving.” Arcturus answered as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back into a bit of sunlight breaking through the window.

“Yes; however, he complains about Draco nearly as much as he speaks of his friends. I have such a hard time imagining Narcissa raising a child so insufferable.” Regulus shook his head.

“It really shouldn’t surprise you. The healers told her she would only have one child, of course she’ll dote on him and he is Lucius' child. I tried to teach him when I visited, but I always knew it wouldn’t offset what he learned from his mother and father. They are in separate classes, I am certain they will only occasionally get on each other’s nerves.” Arcturus said.

“Then there is Snape, he is making Harry’s life insufferable. He’s wonderful at Potions! Snape should consider it an honour to teach him.” Regulus shook his head before focusing on actually finishing his tea.

“Eileen Prince’s son, no? She did marry that awful Muggle and that isn’t even the prejudice. He was a truly horrid man. Though it is little excuse, I mean you and Sirius were raised by Orion and the two of you chose a different path.” Arcturus sighed, making himself more comfortable. Regulus watched as his grandfather slowly slipped into light sleep with the warm sun on his face. Sometimes Regulus wondered what his father would look like if he had grown old. Would he look like his father? Would Regulus look like them one day?

He’d never really thought of it. Even from a young age he had never thought he would live very long. It was like a nagging voice in the back of his mind that he had a limited amount of time. He placed his tea to the side as he pulled a quilt from the edge of a sofa and placed the blanket over his grandfather, trucking it around his shoulders gently to not disturb him. He stared down at his lined face and grey hair and felt a twinge of warmth in his heart. His grandfather was trying. He had not been the kindest man growing up, but along the way something had struck him and he decided to change. In the late years of his life, he decided to step up. Finally, Regulus for once in his life felt he had a father figure, as close to one he could.

He left his grandfather in the warmth of the room to rest for the afternoon as he wandered to his room until dinner. He ended up with his legs tucked under him on his bed as he pulled an old photo out of where he hid it. After all this time, he didn’t know why he kept it. It was a sign of an old time and there were no good memories behind it. Maybe it was the nostalgia, the possibility of what could have been in another life. The eyes of his family stared back at him in all different shades of silver and grey. His father stood with his hand threateningly on Sirius’ shoulders. He could remember the bruise it left on Sirius. Regulus had been shaking and trying to grab onto Sirius’ arm, but their mother had dragged him closer to where she sat on a chair. Her emerald jewellery plated in perfect silver and could quickly be turned on any of them. Her ring opened to a tact covered in poison and her necklace could be used to constrict one’s air flow. He was only six.

He felt a single tear jerk at the corner of his eye as he rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye painfully. They didn’t deserve his tears anymore. They were dead. He had made his own family, a bit of misfits from across the House of Black. His family now was worth more than any he had before. He pushed the drawer close once the photo was away and leaned back onto his pillows, willing the images of his parents to burn away from his mind. For about the hundredth time, he picked up Hogwarts: A History to skim.

“Harry sent another letter!” Sirius called as he flung open Regulus’ door. Regulus dropped his book quickly as he pushed back the covers and Sirius climbed onto his bed. They had made it a habit to read the letters together. Sirius broke the seal loudly as Regulus peered over his shoulder, forgetting his prior emotions as they were overwritten by the simple joy of Harry. The first few words were written large and deeply as Regulus grabbed his brother's shoulder as the words sunk in.

“He made the Quidditch team!” Regulus exclaimed as he shook Sirius, who was sitting in a state of shock.

“First years never make the team. He caught a falling Remembrall from above the trees and McGonagall saw it and apparently there is an exception being made for him to join the team.” Sirius whispered as he ran his hands through his hair several times. Regulus couldn’t contain his excitement as he continued to shake Sirius. Harry had made the team, in his first year and as a Seeker. It was everything Regulus had predicted and more.

“We have to get him a new broom. He needs a better one than the Comet.” Sirius said, shaking his head. Regulus agreed without saying a word.

“There is more.” Regulus said as he pushed down the last fold of the parchment. His eyebrows knit together almost painfully while he read the words confused by their meaning.

“The third floor wasn’t restricted when we were there. It was rather empty, but not locked away.” Regulus wondered out loud.

“Yeah, it was a perfect place to sneak away for a heavy snogging session without interruption if you want to go further.” Sirius said casually as Regulus turned his head in shock at his brother.

“Oh come on, you were a prefect, you’re telling me you never caught anyone snogging.” Sirius snorted.

“I caught people snogging plenty. It was half of what patrolling the corridors was, but I didn’t think people used the third floor for it. Peeves was always roaming up there.” Regulus shook his head.

“Peeves had a certain respect for pranksters.” Sirius shrugged as he scanned the parchment again.

“Peeves hated me.” Regulus muttered as he looked at the letter as well. “Why would he ask about a secret door in the corridor?”

“Don’t know, there is more to this than Harry is telling us.” Sirius shook his head.

“Regulus, Sirius.” Cassiopeia knocked on the half-opened door. She peaked in the room with another letter in her hand.

“Who is that from?” Regulus asked.

“Well if Sirius hadn't thrown the mail into a mess on the counter, he would have noticed Ignatius wrote to the both of you.” Cassiopeia said with a stern look as she tutted at Sirius.

“Sorry Aunt Cassie, Harry wrote.” Sirius smiled with his foolish grin as she shook her head and flicked the letter towards them. Sirius let out a laugh as he fell back on the bed to catch it, nearly toppling Regulus into his abundance of pillows behind him. She rolled her eyes affectionately as she shut the door behind her.

“Did you write Ignatius?” Sirius asked as he cracked another seal spilling a bit of wax onto the bed Regulus had to brush away as he shook his head. Sirius' eyes went back and forth over the words. His pupils dilated while he licked his lips several times, nervously.

“Siri, what is it?” Regulus asked as the bed creaked while he leaned forward trying to grab the paper. Sirius let it fall weakly out of his hand as turned his head staring at the dark grey walls of Regulus’ bedroom. With a mistrustful hand, Regulus picked the letter from their uncle up and read it slowly. Each word had been carefully written as to not be accusatory, but wary.

“Harry wrote to him asking about the history of three headed dogs and how to get past them.” Regulus enunciated each word. “He thought it best to inform us before he wrote him back. Harry swears it is for educational purposes, but Ignatius has his doubts.”

“A three-headed dog, a forbidden corridor, and making the Quidditch team? Harry has had an eventful month.” Sirius said quietly.

“I think we should write Harry back. I know we may disagree on temperaments, but I believe this may be out of the league of an eleven year old.” Regulus said as he shook the letter out, crinkling it slightly.

“Yeah, this is a bit different than dying all the tea towels rose coloured like we did the first year.” Sirius agreed as folded his hands in front of him.

“Sirius.” Regulus said as he turned over both letters again, prudently reading them once more. Sirius turned and looked at him with a bit of concern in his eyes.

“You don’t think Harry is in trouble do you?” Regulus asked, a bit of worry creeping into his voice as he did. Sirius swallowed heavily as he cracked his fingers.

“No, he’s with Dumbledore. He wouldn’t let anything happen to him.” Sirius said, though his face still looked doubtful. Regulus couldn’t help but feel the opposite of reassured at the reply. He didn’t doubt Dumbledore’s ability to keep Harry safe. The question was if the old wizard found it in his favour to do so. Regulus stacked the papers on his desk as he stared out the window in his room. The sky was growing dark as the evening dawned and even though he knew it was impossible, he still stared out over the hills willing Harry to know that he had help if he needed it. Even if they were so far away.

Chapter Text

“The new Cleansweep?” Sirius suggested. The ruffling sounds of the pages of broom magazines filled the empty space after he finished his words.

“No, it’s a good Beaters broom, nice and steady, but for a Seeker it isn’t quick enough.” Regulus replied from where he lounged over a sofa. They were trying to decide on a broom to send Harry. Professor McGonagall had written to say that the first year rule had been waived for the special case of the new Gryffindor Seeker. So during evening tea in the sunroom there was the long debate of which new one to give him.

“We could just purchase him a new Comet?” Arcturus suggested from behind his evening reading of the The Daily Prophet . It was a possibility, the Comets were known for their speed.

“I’ve personally never understood the difference. Granted I’ve only had minimal experience with broomsticks.” Marius added from behind the book he was buried in.

“You can fly?” Arcturus asked almost instantly before realising the insult laced into the words.

“I may have been insulted if it weren’t true, not that I haven’t tried, but anytime I happen near a broomstick they seem to just fly away on their own accord. Got thrown off more than a few when I was younger.” Marius explained without lowering the book.

“Truly?” Arcturus said with a bit of surprise.

“Have you ever seen me near a broomstick?” Marius replied, peering casually with his eyebrows raised.

“They just fly away? I’ve met the rogue broom over my years but that’s a strange personality trait for all brooms to share.” Arcturus said as his forehead creased thoughtfully.

“Is it? With the sheer prejudice that the wizarding community as a whole holds to those they deem beneath that while making a popular wizarding transportation device said prejudice would not slip into the design?” Marius responded with a loud snap of the book closing. Arcturus appeared bashful for only a second as Regulus stared back and forth between the two men. There was a tense breath of air before Arcturus sighed.

“My apologies dear cousin. I hadn’t thought of such prejudices in that way.” Arcturus said with a tone of true sincerity.

“You are not alone,” Marius said as he turned to look at Sirius, who was sitting quietly with his magazine held halfway through a turn, “Nimbus, isn’t that the favoured brand of many Seekers.”

Sirius jolted at the suggestion as his hand rapidly crunched thin pages between his quick fingers. It took a few ripped corners and backtracking, but Sirius found the pages. His eyes shot around as Regulus leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse from the distance.

“The Nimbus Two Thousand! Brand new, nearly already sold out.” Sirius said with windy breath as he crouched forward.

“Excellent choice.” Arcturus whispered to Marius who shrugged in response.

“When one cannot have what they wish, the next best substitute is to read on the subject. I was always quite jealous of the Quidditch games I watched you and your siblings played. With no chance to join, I may have become a bit obsessive in my younger years.” Marius explained as he leaned back into his place and cracked the book open, which Regulus noted was in fact a book about Quidditch.

“Obsessive? Pish, you broke numerous windows trying to tame every broom you could.” Cassiopeia winked as she re-entered the room with her hair neatly pinned up and her night robes on. Helena was just behind her similarly dressed with two cups of tea in her hand still steaming around her full cheeks.

“Must you expose me sister.” Marius leaned back as he offered her a hand before bringing it to his lips to kiss gently. Cassiopeia kindly shook her head at him before taking a place on the same sofa Regulus sat on as she swatted at his feet that were cushioned on one end.

“Oh I remember trying to suggest a broom ride over the countryside for a date years ago when we had just met. The amount of stories you told before admitting you couldn’t fly. I found it precious with the stammering words and rosy cheeks.” Helena smiled as she scouted into the place next to him, passing him a tea cup as she took the book and folded his page for him. There was a gentleness in the exchange that they did so often that Regulus was so unfamiliar with. A simple practice that had been built on decades together.

“Bugger, we can’t order the Nimbus!” Sirius cried as he flung his feet harshly to the ground, clearly having been checked out of the passing conversation around him. “Due to demand, the Nimbus can only be purchased at subscribed retailers for the time being.”

“Write Ignatius, he can purchase it.” Arcturus suggested easily as he flushed out his paper to continue reading.

“Perfect, I'm going to get parchment now. Harry needs as much practice on the broom before the match in November. Gryffindor will need him to pummelled Slytherin.” Sirius jumped and left the room before the last word had even left his mouth. Regulus glanced around the room at the amused faces.

“You know I do believe he forgets all too often he is surrounded by former Slytherins.” Cassiopeia laughed before picking up her own reading as she placed her glasses at the tip of her nose.

“I for one think I would have been a Hufflepuff.” Marius added before taking a loud sip of tea.

“I could see it.” Arcturus answered low and quick.

“Should I be offended by how quickly you answered?” Marius said with a click of his tongue, and his eyes not bothering to glance up.

“Not in the slightest, my brother here had a certain fondness for Hufflepuffs.” A new voice called from above them. Regulus I was laying on his stomach in the grass with his chin in his hands and his legs crossed behind him looking rather amused by the conversation.

“Regulus! How long have you been there?” Arcturus answered as he ruffled the paper in his hands.

“A time. You should really speak to Alphard about keeping others out of his portrait, he does rather poorly at it. Alas, I’ve rather enjoyed my time.” Regulus I shrugged as best he could from his position.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the home? What about our sister?” Arcturus challenged back at the rather cocky grin on his younger brother’s face.

“Charlus is watching the Floo and the door. He gets rather bored stuck in the hall and Lycoris, let me say she is rather occupied at the moment and I believe her younger brother popping in would ruin the moment. Besides, while she may be welcomed at Malfoy Manor, I am not. Something about dishonouring a marriage and the threats to burn any portrait I touch.” Regulus I shrugged again as he rolled into his back and closed his eyes to the painted sunlight.

“You slept with Abraxas’ wife. It is no wonder you wouldn’t be welcomed. Who could our sister be visiting at Malfoy Manor at such a time?” Arcturus sighed as he rubbed his temples. Regulus just tried to slink into his sofa more as his face flushed at the rather scandalous revelation.

“Oh, Constance. A wonderful woman, and you can not charge me with that offence, brother. They had been separated at the time, and all acts were completely consensual. Nonetheless, she and I are both dead. For our sister, she has made as many friends as she had in life, and the only Heiress to be born to the Malfoys in the past century has taken quite a liking to her. They see each other rather often now, it is always like this at the beginning of relationships.” He responded to his brother without ever opening his eyes.

“As troublesome as in life.” Arcturus shook his head as he opened his paper for the third time that night. Shaking his head and ignoring his brother, who seemed content to rest on the soft grass for as long as he pleased. Regulus shot a rather abashed look at Cassiopeia, who only shook her head at Regulus with a mischievous grin on her thin lips.

“I’ve written it! Can someone take it to an owl for me in the morning?” Sirius slid back in before he paused to see the stricken face Regulus threw at him.

“Did I miss something?” Sirius asked, searching the room of glanced eyes and red cheeks.

“Just a scandalous recap of family history, Sirius. Come sit, I’ll take the letter when I wake.” Arcturus waved his hand back to the seat Sirius had prior to his abrupt departure. Sirius shifted his eyes suspiciously, but handed the letter to Arcturus’ stretched out hand as his eyes burrowed into Regulus’ face. He nearly rolled his eyes back. He knew then he’d have to recall all the short conversations to his brother before the night was over. He was certain Sirius would find the information more entertaining than Regulus had.

-

For only two months at Hogwarts, Harry had fit a lot into his days and not just with his marks. From making the Quidditch team as the youngest Seeker in a century with the finest broom available to running face to face with a three headed dog and even surviving an expulsion attempt by Draco. Now, it was the early hours of October thirty-first and he was walking the corridors alone. On this morning a light frost was beginning to form on the grounds as he wandered out to them. He’d forgotten a sweater, but he didn’t want to go back to his room just yet.

The dorm would be full of bright happy faces of the boys in his year brimming the room with excitement of the Halloween feast that would occur tonight. The walls of the old school had been beaming with smiling faces and joyful chattering. Halloween had become even more of a holiday in the wizarding world the past ten years. The day The Dark Lord had met his match. Him. An infamous day of celebration, but for Harry it was more than that. He had lost his parents. Lily and James Potter’s names were exalted as heroes and their sacrifice was not forgotten in the celebration. However, after so many years shrouded in darkness, the wizarding world wanted to focus on the light. Harry couldn’t blame them. This was his solace.

The grass was soft under his feet as he took his first steps outside into crisp air. He kicked a few stray leaves for good measure as he shoved his hands in his pocket for a slightest relief of warmth. He had enjoyed the cooler temperatures while high above the ground practicing drills with an amazed and astonished Oliver Wood. What could he say? Regulus had been training him to be the best Seeker Hogwarts had seen since he was a toddler on a toy broom chasing after anything Regulus could throw.

His stroll found him at the edge of the Black Lake. He heard it would freeze over the winter months. For now, it was a murky dark surface. With tired eyes, he stared at his moving reflection. He tried not to imagine it too much, otherwise it would be painful, but today was a momentous day to not see it. With careful eyes, he watched his hands drag through messy hair that stuck up at strange angles and curled at unusual places. He’d seen enough photos of his father and even of his extended family to know it was their hair. Dark as night to complement his skin tone only a few shades lighter than his father or grandfather. He was a Potter through and through as people always said, except for the one striking feature his mother had left behind. Emerald shining eyes envious of many who saw them. He’d always wondered where she got the colour from, but he knew so little of her family. Muggles lost in the rage of the magical world.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when a figure came looking over his shoulder. He was beginning to wonder when the Headmaster would seek him out. Dumbledore was looking fondly at him in the reflection before Harry turned around to look at him. He was significantly shorter than the looming wizard as his neck strained to look high enough to meet his eye.

“Rather early and cold for a morning stroll, Harry.” Dumbledore said as he nodded his head and began to saunter on the shoreline. Harry followed only a step behind as his neck stayed craned to follow the Headmaster as his robes dragged behind him.

“Though I suppose today is a rather unusual day. You are surrounded by the glee of your peers on a day of sombre remembrance.” Dumbledore said in a nearly soft tone. His eyes flickering down to Harry at every few words. Harry only followed along wide eyed, curious as to how the older white haired wizard would continue.

“You must have many questions about this day, Harry, and the infamy that surrounds it. However, not all knowledge we seek is for the benefit. Time can be our greatest ally.” Dumbledore hummed out as they slowly rounded back to the entrance of Hogwarts. Harry nodded as he let the words soak in.

“We have nearly completed our walk. It is significant the impact a few moments in the fresh air can be with their wind blowing through one’s hair. I will leave you with this bit of knowledge as it seems time appropriate. Your parents were good people and brave beyond measure.” Dumbledore said as he paused at the edge of the steps motioning with his hands for Harry to proceed up. Harry took a few steps before he turned and looked over his shoulder as the corner of Dumbledore’s eyes crinkled as he nodded softly at Harry. He smiled back at the Headmaster before taking the steps quickly to warm his cold toes. He felt rather inspired by the quiet conversation, though there was this continuous raising of the small hairs on the back of his neck. He brushed it off as the cold as he went about the rest of his day.

“Maybe you shouldn't have said it?” Harry suggested between his bites.

“It wasn’t meant for her to hear!” Ron retorted as he waved a chicken leg around in his hand.

“Calling her a nightmare is a bit much.” Harry said as he glanced at the entrance of The Great Hall. Parvati had whispered rather purposefully to her friend Lavender that Hermione had been crying in the girl’s bathroom since she’d ran past Harry and Ron once she overheard Ron’s insult. Harry was determined after dinner to bring her a plate of food and at least leave it for her once she felt comfortable to leave the bathroom.

He picked at the bits of his food as Ron continued to chew loudly around him through the beginning of the meal. Dean and Seamus were talking animatedly about the intricacies and differences between Quidditch and football once against. While Neville sat nervously trying to cut a potato with a fork. He had a few incidents with knives. It was settling into a typical evening he was used to at Hogwarts. Until the doors to The Great Hall slammed open and the skittish Professor Quirrell came running between the tables frantically before slamming into the end table and screaming about a troll in the dungeon. He slipped out of sight a moment later as the Hall broke into chaotic yelling. The flash of sparks had to fly over the students several times before they calmed down enough to follow the directions and be led to their dorms for the night.

“Ron.” Harry hissed as he slipped him and Ron out of sight of the piercing eyes of Percy.

“Mate.” Ron exclaimed as he jerked his head around to where everyone was exiting.

“Everyone stay in line, I am the prefect and no one has to worry.” Percy called over the smaller bobbing heads of the younger years.

“Hermione, she doesn’t know.” Harry said as he brought Ron’s attention back to him.

“We can’t go wandering around when there is a troll!” Ron said with a bewildered look, but Harry was already pulling him down the opposite way.

“Trolls aren’t very intelligent or fast, as long as you stay out of grabbing range, you have the upper hand.” Harry whispered as he paused to check around the corner to check for clearance as the last of the Hufflepuffs stumbled towards the kitchens. Just as he was about to enter the new corridor he saw a flash of a black cloak as he slipped behind one of the pillars in the hall pulling Ron with him with a huff of noise. His eyes narrowed as he watched Snape stomped across the hall and towards the stairs.

“Reckon, he’s hiding from the troll?” Ron grunted before pushing forward and checking both ways and signalling they were clear to move.

“Not sure, but it is suspicious.” Harry whispered back as they crouched down the hall and quickly made their way until they reached the end. As they rounded the way, they were greeted with an unpleasant sight. The ghastly off-white skin and towering height that peaked in an oddly shaped head. The troll grunted and groaned as his nose scrunched a few times before it peeked into an open door and shoved his thick shoulders in.

“We could lock it in. Look!” Ron hissed as he pointed at the dangling key attached to the doorknob. Harry rushed forward without thinking with Ron to his side as they pushed their small shoulders into the wood and closed the door and snapped the lock close. They exchanged a satisfied look for half a second before a blood curdling scream pierced their ears.

“Oh no.” Ron whipped his head around.

“This is the girls' lavatory.” Harry realised as he reached for the key as quickly as possible. Once the door was thrusted open with a bang against the wall they saw Hermione crouched in the corner with her arms over her face and the troll snorting above her with an arm raised and a club in hand. The clashing sound of the wooden door hitting stone distracted the large creature for a moment as Harry pulled his wand without the faintest clue of what to do next. He racked his brain for the ideas of how Uncle Ignatius had handled his encounters with trolls, but in the panic of the moment he couldn’t think of a single spell. The troll came bumbling towards him as he held his wand high and shot off sparks that startled it, but only for a pause. Then a piece of a broken pipe came clamouring down on its broad shoulder as Ron cried to his side. Harry looked at the boy with a mixture of shock and admirnation as he ducked and rolled out of the troll’s eyeline. The only issue now was the troll was taking loud vibrating steps towards Ron. Harry was racking his brain for a solution as he shot more sparks to buy a few more seconds. The troll roared angrily as he raised both hands forcefully with a club between them.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Ron cried the spell he had made fun of Herimione for only hours before and to their luck he pronounced it correctly as the club floated about the troll and caused him to look directly upward in confusion. Once his head was tilted completely back, Ron broke the spell and the club crashed with nasty rupture into the middle of the troll’s face causing him to fall at his knees before falling forward onto his face with yet another terrible thud. Harry had to jump backwards to avoid the tip of his head falling on his shoes. When he looked up again, he was facing the watchful eyes of several Professors with varying degrees of distress across their faces. Harry only had one thought. How was he ever going to explain this to Regulus?

-

The early morning blue rays of sun were barely over the frost bitten hill. The first real cold had come early on the first day of November. Sirius would be having a wintery birthday. Regulus tightened his robes around him as he shuffled into the kitchen. He hadn't been able to sleep well knowing it was Harry’s first Halloween away from him. He had written the day before, but Harry may not have read it yet. The Halloween feast at least should take his mind off the longing of the day for an hour or two. The fluttering noise of bats over head and the floating pumpkins and themed meal was enough to brighten anyone’s spirits. Regulus would have liked a distraction to try and keep his mind off the day. Instead, he spent it tossing and turning.

“Where are you?” Regulus whispered to himself as he pushed aside tea cups. He was searching for a hidden bag he knew Uncle Marius had. Strong caffeine wasn’t the most supported drink of choice here, but Regulus had an affliction. Thinking back on Hogwarts brought him back to the days he had free reign to choose his drink and for a good two years he had an addiction to the less proper drink. His wandering hands finally found the crunched bag shoved into the back corner. As he pulled it out and his nose was hit with the dark and warm scent of fresh ground coffee. Regulus set the coffee on as he opened the window to let in a brisk fresh air to try and break the fogginess in his brain as he took a deep breath in with his eyes closed. The next moment when he opened there was a pair of bright yellow eyes and a beak nearly touching his nose as he let out a gasp of shock.

“Hedwig!” Regulus rolled his head around as Hedwig squawked and shook her leg towards him. She had an array of letters attached.

“Busy night, I see.” He said as he pulled three letters from her. She ruffled her feathers as she leaned into the window wrinkling her face.

“I’ll get you something to eat, just give me a minute.” Regulus laughed as he shuffled through the letters, all of them sticking out for different reasons as he looked back at the owl.

“Why do you have a Hogwarts letter?” Regulus asked as Hedwig just pecked at the bowl of fruit on the counter. The other two letters were from Harry and Ignatius. Both were addressed to him. He clicked his tongue as the coffee finished, he set the letters down to pour the drink and was distracted by yet another arriving owl. This one was a standard delivery owl providing Arcturus’ daily copy of the paper. Regulus sighed as he pulled a few spare knuts from the coin jar and plopped them into the bag and the owl left nearly immediately on his long journey back without waiting for any other recognition. Hedwig just hooted agitatedly.

“I know, girl. Don’t worry, you’re still the best owl.” Regulus said as he used his hand free of his mug to scratch her chin for a moment. After he picked up a copy of The Daily Prophet he glanced at the title. He could feel his eyelids click as they grew wide at the headline Troll Taken Down by Bright Young Wizards at Hogwarts . Merlin, what irresponsible parent would raise a child to attack a troll without proper training? He assumed now that the letter from Hogwarts was explaining the situation of the troll and trying to control the outcry from parents. He shook his head as he set the paper down on the table for his grandfather to pick up when he woke and turned his attention to the letters as the coffee began to cool in his hand. Ignatius’ letter was on top as he cracked the seal with a snap. The parchment was short and hastily written in concern

Why is Harry writing to me about the proper protocol to take on a troll? Did you receive The Daily Prophet yet? By Godric, you don’t think he was one of the anonymous students to take on the troll that got into Hogwarts? I’m not even sure how one got into the school unless it was brought there. Trolls are not native to Scotland and they don’t just wander into a building unguided. Write as soon as you can between three-headed dogs and trolls, I’m beginning to wonder about Hogwarts. I thought the death I dealt with in my youth would be the worst of the nightmares to happen at the old school.

Ignatius Prewett

Regulus felt his mouth gap at the first sentence as the coffee in his hand clattered to the counter and splashed the warm liquid over his sleeve. He didn’t have the attention to spare towards the interruption as he turned to stare back at the newspaper and its flashing photo of Hogwarts from a distance. Merlin, it had been Harry. He had taken on a troll. Regulus slumped into the first seat he could find as he tossed in his mind whether to open Harry’s or Hogwart’s letter. He rubbed his temples a few times as he momentarily flickered his attention to Hedwig making herself cosy in the window. He could swear she was giving him a look of knowing as she hooted one last time before tucking her head under her wing to rest.

“Merlin, Harry, couldn’t you have made it a few months without getting in the paper?” Regulus said to himself as he let out a defeated sigh and flipped over Harry’s letter to crack the poorly poured seal.

Chapter Text

The cold managed to slip through the multitude of heating charms surrounding the station and caused a chill down Regulus' back as he crossed his arms over the front of a body he still wasn’t comfortable in. He teetered on the tips of his toes once again as he forced his eyes to stare at the empty tracks and the brick wall just beyond it. If he focused too much on the people around him, he could feel his teeth grind and his chest constrict.

Sirius had purposefully pushed Regulus to the very end of the platform as they waited for the chugging noise of the train to catch their ears in the passing wind. They had been fifteen minutes to the hour early. He thought they were being practical, but now he’d wished they had lingered around their old home for a few minutes to avoid the animosity surrounding the air.

Next to Sirius stood Ignatius and Lucretia, who had come to the station to pick up their nephews with their niece tucked behind Lucretia’s skirt as she eyed the two people next to them with heavy suspicion. He had heard the ringing of the silver snaked headed cane from the moment it had entered Platform Nine and Three Quarters just as he and Sirius had settled near the end of the long rows of waiting families. Trying to keep from the wandering eyes of old families that could notice an unknown face with a single glance.

The Malfoys had chosen to stand incredibly close to The Prewetts. So close that Regulus could hear the heavy breaths of Lucius as he tried everything in his power to take as much space as possible. There was a twitch in Regulus’ neck as he glanced for half a second at the blonde figures once again before Sirius quietly cleared his throat. Usually he was the ticking time bomb, but here it was Regulus under scrunity.

“Wonderful winter weather in England. How is Wales, Mister Prewett? Still bare and dreary I imagine.” Lucius said in an insufferably placed accent.

“Wales is well, Mister Malfoy.” Ignatius replied in a tone of authority.

“Pity so few respectable wizards out that way any more. Ever see anything of the wretched Lyall Lupin? As I recall my father said you and him were acquaintances once.” Lucius smirked as he spoke with a perch to his eyebrow, never looking Igantius directly in the eye.

“We were old schoolmates, nothing more and nothing less.” Ignatius answered with a sense of finality that Lucius blatantly ignored.

“I had heard differently, I had heard the two of you were once incredibly close friends and worked tirelessly on that nonsensical research. Until one day you parted ways rather loudly and brash, much like Welshmen do.” Lucius edged on with a look of amusement.

“Lyall and I no longer work on the same train of thought. I wonder, Lucius, how you would feel if people picked apart your old acquaintances from school? Would we only find those of good character? Last I recall, you had been rather close to the Lestrange brothers. Tell me did you write your sympathies to their mother when her youngest died in Azkaban?” Ignatius said with a stone look in his eyes that had grown darker with each passing phrase. Lucius visibly swallowed as he turned his head to a different direction to speak to Mister Goyle on his other side. His long blond hair swayed with the movement as he effectively ended the conversation, giving the final words to Ignatius. Regulus secretly patted his uncle on his back in his mind.

The tense moments dragged on as the light faded quickly from the station before the distinct and high pitched whistles of the train finally announced the anxious arrival of the jovial students. Regulus leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse of the compartment Harry was in, but the hurried movement inside made it impossible to distinguish much from the children within. He had to wait as the first flood of feet hit the pavement with a loud cry of excited noise. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to see the bobbing head of full black hair that was rushing towards him. He crouched just in time to catch the small body thrown towards him with outstretched arms.

“Harry.” Regulus whispered into the boy’s ear as he squeezed tighter. He already seemed so much bigger after only a few months.

“Reg,” Harry said in the quietest voice possible. “I missed you.”

“Uncle Ig!” Matching voices cried out next to him as the many Weasleys descended onto Ignatius and Lucretia.

“Boys! I’m so excited your mum let us have you for the holiday while your parents are off visiting Charlie.” Ignatius said as he reached out to squeeze their shoulders and Ginny threw herself at each brother for a hug.

“I really feel I should have stayed. I’m a prefect, they could have used my help and there is much studying to do.” Percy said anxiously as he pulled the bag over his shoulder tightly. The strap was straining as it appeared to hold a small library inside.

“Percy, you can study just fine in Wales and I promise the Professors have it handled.” Ignatius laughed as he forced the tallest boy into his arms for a short tense hug. Lucretia was busy cleaning chocolate off of Ron’s face as Fred and George spoke in alternating fast tones seeming to recount every moment from the minute the train had departed till then.

“Wait!” Ron cried as they gathered the trunks together to depart. Regulus could see the Malfoys cast one collective sneer before they disappeared with Draco tucked between them. Regulus only felt a single tug of longing as he watched Narcissa’s petite form hover over her son before slipping out of the Platform.

“This is Harry, Harry Potter! He’s my best friend, Uncle Ig! Do you think he could come and visit?” Ron exclaimed as he ran up and grabbed Harry by the wrist to pull him closer.

“Wait if Ron can have Harry, we want to invite Lee over!” One twin called as the other nodded assuredly.

“Hush, you can invite whomever you please over, but recall it is Christmas. They very well may want to be with their families and they will need permission to join us.” Lucretia called as she raised her hands.

Ron jerked his head back to where Regulus and Sirius stood. Both of them exchanged a bewildered look. They hadn’t expected to speak. Ignatius gave them an encouraging smile when they looked back at the many expectant eyes.

“I’m sure Harry could spare a day. We had planned to spend the holiday in England.” Regulus finally answered in a strained voice as he tried to twist the natural sound of his tone. Not that anyone present would recognize it, he had never met any of them before. He wasn’t even sure how many of them had been alive when he was.

There was a buzz of excitement from the children. A short curly haired girl with a rather defiant tone stopped by to wish Harry and Ron a Happy Christmas and remind them to work on their special project during their break and to write if they found anything. Regulus’ brows knitted together at such a statement, but avoided asking any questions at the present. They exited the station on their own into King’s Cross as the Prewetts and Wesleys took time to unload all the trunks. Harry was buzzing with excitement the entire walk back to Grimmauld Place. Filling the entire walk with conversation on every detail he could recall. From his first Quidditch match to his heated interactions with Severus. Regulus and Sirius could barely get a word in edgewise as they listened intently.

Harry had nearly winded himself talking so quickly as he finally paused to allow Grimmauld Place to reveal itself. He pounded up the stairs as quickly as he could and threw the door open. Regulus and Sirius could barely catch up and by the time they made it into the Entrance Hall, Harry was already swallowed into a hug by Cassiopeia. Arcturus stood leaning on his cane heavily watching with fond eyes.

“Marius and Helena will be here on Christmas Eve. Helena stayed to help keep the hospital staffed, but they won’t miss Christmas. They’ll just come a bit later and leave a bit earlier.” Cassiopeia explained as she swooped Harry towards the kitchen. Harry nodded enthusiastically as he hopped down the small steps into the kitchen. Kreacher had already cleaned it spotless as he bounced around fresh tea and biscuits that Harry looked at ravenously as he tried to sneak one before Kreacher snapped them out of reach.

“No spoiling your dinner, little master.” Kreacher said as he wagged a crooked finger at Harry. Harry rolled his eyes, but was quickly distracted by the small feast laid beautifully out and steaming on the table. His eyes grew wide as his smile.

“So Harry, how is old Hogwarts?” Arcturus finally broke the conversation as the six of them sat at the table for the meal. Kreacher having to sit on a stack of books and refusing to eat at the same time as them, but leaning excitedly with his large ears twitching as he waited to hear Harry speak.

“It’s fantastic! I tried so hard to picture it growing up but I could have never imagined such a grand place!” Harry exclaimed as his fork and knife dove into his food as Regulus gently pushed around his food, happy to listen to the recap again.

“I’ve made friends with nearly everyone in my year, at least casually. Well, except the Slytherins, I tried to speak to some of them, but since Draco and I aren’t getting along with each other it is like an unspoken rule that none of them can tolerate me. I speak to this one boy sometimes, Blaise, but only when no one else is around. It doesn’t help that Snape absolutely hates me! I didn’t say it during the letter I wrote, but he most certainly jinxed my broom during the first Quidditch match. Herimone had to set him on fire to save me!” Harry explained.

“Snape did what?”

“Herimone did what?”

Sirius and Regulus spoke at exactly the same moment with nearly identical looks on their faces. Harry’s cheeks stuck out from the food he had shoved in his mouth as he chewed hurriedly and cast a glance around the table. He seemed to be trying to assess the situation before gulping his food down and responding.

“Snape jinxed my broom. I know I wrote about me catching the Snitch, though I hadn’t meant to nearly choke on it. I left the part out about my broom nearly kicking me off. Ron and Hermione caught Snape muttering under his breath and she ran to the professor’s box as she knocked over one Professor she lit the edges of Snape’s robes on fire so the jinx would be broken. She saved me.” Harry defended. Regulus could feel his eyes growing so large they felt as if they were nearly out his skull.

“Harry, I dislike Severus as much as the next person, but why would he try to make you fall off your broom?” Regulus finally responded.

“It’s Snivellus! He doesn’t need a reason. He hated James, of course he will take it out on Harry.” Sirius exclaimed as his hand slammed against the table in protest. Regulus blinked at Sirius.

“All of you.” Arcturus said in a tone that silenced all of them. They turned to face him a bit meekly as he cleared his throat.

“Harry, is there any other reason for the broom to have malfunctioned?” Arcturus asked with narrowed eyes.

“I hadn’t thought of any other.” Harry admitted.

“Is there any other reason Professor Snape may hold a disagreement with you?” Arcturus inquired.

“Well he doesn’t seem to like me, but we’ve also been trying to solve this mystery and we think Snape is the culprit!” Harry said as he leaned forward.

“What mystery, Harry?” Cassiopeia asked as she shook her head.

“There’s something important hidden at Hogwarts! Snape is trying to steal it. Grandfather Arcturus we believe it is the same package Hagrid took from Gringotts that day you and I were there.” Harry said as he turned back to Arcturus, flinging his arms wide to emphasise his point. Arcturus seemed to take the words in carefully, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers methodically on the edge of the table. Filling the silence that followed with the rhythmic noise.

“Well you’ve had quite an adventure, Harry. From trolls to rogue brooms and even an encounter with a three-headed dog.” Arcturus replied as Harry grew a bit blush.

“Uncle Ignatius told you about that.” Harry mumbled as he twisted his lips uncomfortably and turned to face away.

“Indeed, considering three-headed dogs aren’t covered until third year, he was a bit suspicious about this assignment.” Arcturus answered as he leaned closer to Harry, reaching his hand out to turn Harry’s head back towards him.

“You’ve been very brave, Harry and done better than anyone could have predicted, but I need you to promise me something.” Arcturus said as Harry nodded weakly a moment later. “Focus on being a child, go to class, practice Quidditch, maybe get detention for something foolish, but not life-threatening.”

“But Snape—” Harry tried to argue, but Arcturus raised his hand to silence him as Regulus reached his hand under the table to squeeze Harry’s knee reassuringly.

“I will look into this matter about the vault, Harry. If Snape is involved in nefarious activities again, I will find out. You are a child only once and take it from an old man, enjoy it while it lasts.” Arcturus said with a finality as he leaned back into his place and lifted his silverware once again. Harry seemed a bit upset at the command, but Regulus could see the understanding slowly sink into his eyes as he sighed and defeatedly picked up his fork.

“Now, Harry, why don’t you give me a detailed account of this first Quidditch match? I am rather curious how you managed to catch a Snitch between your very teeth. It’s an accomplishment I don’t think I’ve ever heard of before.“ Cassiopeia broke the silence as she clasped her hands under her chin and winked at Harry. The boy seemed to perk up at the idea and he jumped at a chance to recount every detail. Regulus listened feverently, but not before he caught the look on his grandfather’s eyes. The determined glint and distant stare as thoughts fluttered behind his eyes. It was a terrifying look when he knew what his grandfather was capable of once he had it across his face.

-

Harry woke with a fresh set of excitement in his head. Nearly as much excitement as when he’d woke up on Christmas Eve to run downstairs and find his aunt and uncle had arrived early that morning, or when he’d been surrounded by presents the next day and gleeful audience to watch him open it. Today, they were going to Prewett Hall.

Harry knew he’d spent his very small years at Grimmauld Place. He could vaguely remember how looming the walls had been or how the stairs seemed to never end when he was small. He even had memories of playing in thick cold snow while Regulus laughed and chased after him. They’d return to share hot cocoa over a roaring fire as Regulus blew on his frost bitten nose. It had been so simple then just him, Regulus and Kreacher. Then they left for Switzerland, and Harry couldn’t imagine growing up anywhere else. With warm sunny skies and more rolling lands than he could have ever explored, it had been such a kind place to grow.

Prewett Hall perched large and stately on the edge of a crest of rocky cliffs was quite possibly his favorite place to visit. Not only because of the open rooms that rebounded his own voice back to him or the roaring shore he could fly along, but also because Wales was like nowhere else he had been before. A quiet and yet unruly spirit that pulsed through him. Now, he could share that space with his best friend. He threw the warm covers off and raced through getting himself ready for the day and found himself the first person in the kitchen as Kreacher tutted at him until he took the fresh juice.

With watchful eyes, he listened as each person took their stairs at their own pace. Regulus’ rapid steps tapped down not long after he had sat and watched the steam curl and beard bacon cracking mix with Kreacher’s calming hums. Aunt Cassiopeia’s soft footed prance as she emerged with a large smile and her night robes tightly wound around her thin figure. Sirius’ slow moving steps as he dragged himself to the table with heavy eyes. The pair of steps that came with Helena and Marius arriving together. The pounding cane that accompanied Arcturus’ descent. It was a typical breakfast.

“Your Grandfather and I will be spending the day with the Malfoys.” Cassiopeia explained, kneeling down to adjust Harry’s lopsided glasses after the meal had ended. Harry wrinkled his nose at the idea.

“I know, sweet boy, but they are family and I would love to see all the Weasleys. However, if Molly heard of me visiting while she was away, it is unlikely she would let them return to Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia’s home. It was already difficult for them to be able to take them as is.” Cassiopeia explained as she tapped his cheek gently.

“Why does Mrs Weasley dislike Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia?” Harry asked, looking around at everyone for an answer.

“It is complicated. You know their sons, Molly’s brothers, died during the war and grief makes people lash out in ways they may not have otherwise.” Cassiopeia explained as softly as she could. Harry nodded with a downtrodden expression.

“Come on, Harry. Sirius and I are going with you and you’ll get to see Ron and his brothers and sister. Uncle Lancelot is even there, you haven’t had a chance to see him yet.” Regulus said as he grabbed onto Harry’s shoulders and helped him to head towards the door.

He was growing a bit tired of constantly being under Polyjuice Potion and he could only imagine how Harry felt telling half-truths to his friends. Harry said he mostly avoids speaking about his home life. At eleven when thrown into a brand new environment and being overloaded with work, it worked for now, but it wouldn’t last forever. Regulus felt the guilt the entire time they apparated to Prewett Hall and the harsh walk in the cold wet temperatures when they arrived at the base of the cliff.

Thankfully, Harry quickly forgot about the less than enjoyable conversation of the morning as he spotted heads of red hair waiting at the side of the house for him. One came barreling down with barely even a coat on before he threw himself at Harry and Harry threw himself right back as they nearly stumbled and fell onto the frost covered ground.

“Harry, mum sent you a sweater! It’s under the tree mine is maroon, but hopefully yours is a better colour. We all get them and there’s lots of fudge leftover. Uncle Ignatius let us have some with breakfast, he just said we can’t tell mum. Fred and George tried to dare me to jump off the cliff, but Aunt Lucretia caught them and had them trimming roses the whole afternoon. There are brooms here too! Good ones. We could go flying, they even let Ginny have a go, and mum never lets her fly because she’s worried, but she always finds a way into the shed to take Charlie’s old broom. She’s rather good, but don’t tell her I said that.” Ron spilled out all in one breath once they broke apart. He finally glimpsed at Sirius and Regulus standing just over Harry’s shoulders and gave a weak wave.

“Go on, Harry. Have your fun, Mr and Mrs Prewett had invited us for tea. Just don’t get into any trouble.” Regulus offered as he nodded. Ron wasted no time dragging him back to where the brooms were already laid out in the yard surrounded by all the Weasley children. Even the tall wiry one with heavily trimmed glasses perched on his nose, though he seemed to be out there chasing after his twin brothers who had what looked to be a small pin tossing between them. Regulus slipped into the kitchen with Sirius beside him trying not to gain too much attention.

“Ignatius, Fred and George have stolen Percy’s prefect pin again.” Lancelot said as he watched from the window with a cup of tea casually in his hand.

“I swear if they don’t give that poor boy a break. I was a prefect back at Hogwarts and they think I’m perfectly interesting.” Ignatius stated as he came hurrying into the kitchen with his hair in all different directions and sliding to a stop on his slippers as he got only a briefly confused glance at the two strange looking men in his kitchen before realization dawned.

“My apologies, I nearly forgot what you looked like, well have to look like, or I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t know how Molly does this, and there’s two missing. Excuse me, I need to stop Fred and George from tossing the pin over the cliff again, otherwise I believe Percy’s head may just explode.” Ignatius offered as he patted both their shoulders before stepping out into the yard cupping his hands around his mouth to yell at the two boys racing incredibly close to the edge.

“I’ve fixed two broken bones, a sprained ankle, and numerous bruises in a matter of days. They could keep me busy for the rest of my days.” Lancelot chuckled as he turned.

“Tea?” He offered, sitting at the table with a kettle still warm. Regulus and Sirius heard a loud cry from outside, but with a glance noticed it was only Ginny dropping an old Quaffle on Ron’s head by mistake. Or at least Regulus assumed it was a mistake.

“You get used to the noise after a bit.” Lancelot smirked before taking a sip. Regulus couldn’t imagine a house full of children as he tried to let the anxiety creeping up his spine calm. Harry would be fine, and he most certainly did not need to hover in the doorway the entire day. Instead, as a ripple of laughter shook through the cracked window, he sat and took a warm cup of tea. As Sirius let out a shuddering laugh at whatever antics were occurring with the children now.

Harry was exhausted. He’d spent the greater part of the day flying and once flying grew tiring they ended up on the shore with Fred and George daring them all to get as close to the waves as possible without getting wet. Only for one or the other to come by and push them all into the freezing cold temperatures. When they all shuffled back into the house with dripping wet clothes and ice crystals forming in their hair, Aunt Lucretia and Efa exchanged such a glance that Harry could never understand. They ended up in fresh clothes wrapped tightly in flannels and placed in front of a cracking fire with hot cocoa in each of their hands within minutes. Harry was thankful because he hadn’t realized how blue his fingertips had grown and Regulus had started to get that look on his face that came just before he started to hover.

Ginny and Ron were playing a game of Wizard’s Chess next to him and Fred and George were giving their own commentary over the game in funny voices. Percy was stewing in a large arm chair, he’d been shoved into the water trying to gather them all at the request of Lucretia. He was still rather flushed with anger as he passively flipped the pages of his book every few moments. Harry enjoyed being around the Weasleys, there was no doubt. They were just quite a bit to handle after spending so many years alone. He took the opportunity to slip away for a few movements. Initially, he had no intentions of where to go, but he wandered for a few moments before watching as his hands pushed open the doors of the wide library.

The room was cast in a grey light that reflected off the black shelves and rich rugs. He wandered over to one of the seats in the window and climbed into it to press his face against the cold glass as his breath fogged the pane. He could see the waves starting to swell more. Uncle Ignatius always said it was a sign of a storm coming when the waves pulled back quickly and struck the shore with force. He thought it was pretty.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” A voice called from behind him as he jumped in shock. He had thought he was alone as he turned over his shoulder.

“It’s just me, Harry. This was always my favourite room in the whole Hall.” Lancelot replied as he closed his book gently and placed it on the table next to him.

“It’s peaceful.” Harry smiled as he turned back to the ocean.

“Indeed. It is home.” Lancelot said quietly as he came to sit on the edge of the seat with Harry sliding over to make room.

“You’ve been rather reckless these past few months.” Lancelot said as his cold hand pushed back a tuft of Harry’s hair.

“I didn’t mean to. It just seemed to happen.” Harry shrugged. He was a bit weary of everyone’s worry and words of advice.

“I never blamed you. I believe you’re a highly intelligent young man.” Lancelot continued as his hand rubbed a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth before dropping to his lap and his head staring out at the sea.

Harry had an idea strike him nearly out of nowhere. He was supposed to spend the holiday finding a way past Fluffy and piecing together who Nicolas Flamel was. It was Herimone’s last command before she exited the train platform. He was sure she was pouring over every book she could in her Muggle home with her dentist parents. He had written to Lancelot to ask what a dentist was since Herimone said they were doctors and Lancelot had said doctors were Muggle healers years ago. Lancelot had told him a dentist was a doctor Muggles had for their teeth. Apparently they had doctors for nearly every part of the body. Lancelot had plenty of knowledge and he seemed to keep quiet better than Uncle Ignatius did. Granted, he couldn’t really be upset that Uncle Ignatius had told Regulus about the three headed dog and the troll. Regulus was bound to find out eventually and Uncle Ignatius was trying to keep him safe. Even if it did put out any chance of him admitting how to get past a three headed dog.

“Uncle Lancelot?” Harry asked. Lancelot turned to look at him with eyes crinkled heavily.

“Do you know Nicolas Flamel?” Harry asked when he had his attention. Lancelot looked at him for a moment before he smacked his lips.

“The alchemist? I’ve met him a few times. He’s a rather kind fellow, a bit eccentric, but wouldn’t we all be if we were nearly seven hundred years old.” Lancelot replied as his pale white eyebrow raised. “Why do you ask?”

“Seven hundred years old?” Harry exclaimed. “No wonder we couldn’t find anything about him. We were looking at texts from only the past century.”

“Yes, he’s fallen off a bit in the last century or so, likely on purpose. Many people have wanted to find his Philosopher's Stone over the years, but to my knowledge it is very heavily guarded.” Lancelot said with a perplexed look.

“A Philosopher's Stone? I hadn’t known those existed.” Harry's mouth dropped open and the pieces began to fall into place. The package, Fluffy, Snape’s leg after he tried to get to it. Snape was trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone.

“Well there is only one that has ever been created successfully. Harry, I don’t like the look on your face. Why are you asking about Nicolas Flamel?” Lancelot said a bit sternly.

“Er well, you may think I’ve gone mad, but I think the Philosopher’s Stone is at Hogwarts and I think someone is trying to steal it.” Harry admitted sheepishly as he rubbed his eyes that were stinging with tiredness. Lancelot grew very still and quiet next to him until he reached out and rubbed Harry’s arm and helped him downstairs to rest before supper was to be served. Harry would stay the night and leave early the next day after having a joyous time. His young mind quickly forgot Flamel in the time he had with friends and family. Lancelot watched the hours pass as his mind flashing to the confrontation he had with Albus earlier that year.

It was several days later when Lancelot finally was able to do anything about the matter. He’d heard that Regulus and Sirius would be at Diagon Alley with Harry and Cassiopeia would be visiting Cedrella. Marius and Helena had already returned home. He needed Arcturus alone. The bright fire of the Floo died away as he made his way through the dark house. Even with the glasses, his eyesight struggled with going from the grey bright light to the dark shadows. He knew where Arcturus would be. Old habits die hard particularly with old men, he knew this well enough as he pushed open the wide doors to the drawing room Arcturus had taken residence in at Grimmauld Place. The other man looked up from his quill with glasses emphasising his deep set dark silver eyes. Lancelot paused in the doorway before speaking.

“I think I know what Albus is up too.” Lancelot said with a defeated sigh. Arcturus pulled his glasses off as he placed the quill down. His face twisted as he looked to the side with a gleaming tint of frustration in his face. Finally he motioned for Lancelot to sit.

“Tell me everything.” Arcturus commanded as he folded his arms in front of him. Lancelot took one short breath, thinking how he had ended up in this place before laying out the entire plan he assumed Albus had formulated.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts was crisp on this cold evening night. Harry could feel it even in the overheated Great Hall surrounded by the rambunctious voices of the Gryffindor table. He was loading his plate with potatoes as he listened to Seamus tell about how he and his cousins had spent an entire day by the docks watching the Irish fishermen and learning a new curse word every day. Dean was staring at him with his mouth wide, nearly missing it as he tried to bite air instead of roasted green beans while hearing some of the crude words spoken aloud.

Hermione had begun to line out a schedule already for exams on the very first night back as Ron nagged at her. She only swiped at him when he nearly poured pumpkin juice on the parchment while telling the story of how Fred and George had managed to toss Percy’s prefect pin three times before Uncle Ignatius hexed it to sting every time anyone, but Percy tried to touch it. He was apparently not thrilled having to search the Welsh Sea for it. Harry smirked to himself.

“Did you do any research?” Hermione groaned as she flicked a bit of pudding off the corner of her parchment. Ron turned to her with red cheeks before shrugging and filling his mouth to avoid answering.

“I did.” Harry said. Hermione whipped her tight brown curls around to face Harry with a look of awe.

“I found out who Nicolas Flamel is and why we couldn’t find him anywhere. He’s over six hundred years old and the only known owner of the Philosopher’s Stone.” Harry leaned forward, nearly knocking heads with Ron as he did the same. Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“An alchemist? Wait, do you think the Stone is what is hidden here? Who would want that?” She asked biting into her lip and rolling her parchment away to focus.

“Snape, obviously. What does he want it for is the question?” Harry leaned back as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning hitting him in the chest, the most horrific idea struck him. An idea so far deranged it couldn’t possibly be true. Except it made perfect sense in the works of war.

He felt his breath hitch and his face must have shuddered as Hermione and Ron both gave him concerning looks. Even Neville paused trying to coax his toad into his pocket to nudge Hermione and lean over and ask a question. Likely what was the matter with Harry, whether he’d gone mad over holiday or not. Harry couldn’t be bothered. He pushed himself off the table with force and stormed towards the exit halfway through pudding. Not bothering with the wandering eyes of familiar faces or the whispering questions following his frantic exit. He nearly knocked down Ernie MacMillian on his way out, he heard him call something to Harry, but he couldn’t stop to listen. Not with this idea in his head.

He had nearly made his way to the steps that would lead him to the Owlery. A letter, he had to send a very carefully worded letter. There was only one person who had even the vaguest ideas of what would go through the mind of the person Harry needed to know better than anyone right now. He hated to think of it, but it was true. Regulus and Snape were both traitors and if Snape had in mind what Harry worried about, he needed every bit of information as possible. He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice the quick puncturing steps following him. He hadn’t supposed anyone would until his path was blocked by stern eyes.

“Mister Potter.” McGonagall said with such authority, Harry halted to a stop only barely avoiding her billowing robes.

“Professor McGonagall.” Harry gasped as he took a step back.

“Was your meal unsatisfactory? You left in quite a hurry.” Her shoulders were pushed back and her neck lifted and it subconsciously made Harry correct his own posture.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I only needed to get a letter home as soon as possible.” Harry replied. He was hoping to escape this situation as quickly as possible. McGonagall's face seemed to soften incredibly at his words.

“Oh, well can it not wait until the morning? I’m certain your owl is resting from the travels.” She said, loosening her stance.

“I think it would be best if I sent it immediately.” He answered quickly, shooting his eyes around trying to find a way out. McGonagall looked nearly sympathetic, an emotion Harry hadn’t been certain she could have. She was a wonderful teacher and an incredible witch, but strict to no end.

“I understand, Mister Potter. Best make it quick though.” She said after a few silent seconds passed between them. She picked the edges of her robes up and slipped out of his way. Harry could hardly believe this was being allowed. He had nearly resigned himself to being sent straight to bed. He took careful steps around her offering a small smile, worried if he made the wrong look she’d snap back into place and escort him to Gryffindor Tower. He’d gotten his back to her when he heard a throat clear.

“Pardon me, Mister Potter, but I can’t help but be surprised that you returned home this holiday.” She said in the quietest voice he had ever heard. Looking over his shoulder, he had to confirm it was her who had spoken.

“Well Professor, I couldn’t have imagined staying here. Hogwarts is wonderful, but they are my home.” Harry answered with a gentle nod. McGonagall’s expression was indiscernible as she glanced at him from head to toe. She gave a short nod with her pointed hat staying perfectly in place before she turned on heel and the sound of small snaps followed her retreat down the hall.

Harry made quick work at the Owlery. Hedwig nipped at his hand as he wrote, clearly displeased she was being sent back so soon. The decent news was she wouldn’t have to travel far. Regulus would remain in London a few more days before returning to Switzerland. It is partially why he wanted the letter out so soon, in the hopes of a quick reply. Though with such sensitive questions, it is possible Regulus may not answer immediately.

Harry’s feet dragged back to Gryffindor Tower. The stars were sparkling out of the tall thin windows that bordered the entire room. All of his fellow year mates were already retired, but several older years were scattered throughout. He even spotted Fred and George huddled inside a corner as they waved at him quickly before ducking their heads together again. He could only imagine what they were scheming this time. Last he’d seen such a look on their face, the Gryffindor Common Room had been covered in glitter for weeks.

He pushed the curtains back the moment he could. The sounds of Ron and Neville snoring alternated in his ear as it mixed with Seamus’ tossing as he often did. Dean’s own bed was well light behind his curtain still and likely would be for a time. The young fellow was a bit of a night owl. He would have climbed directly in, but there was a shimmering coat over his covers with a small note tacked onto it. He rubbed his eyes hard, thinking it may have been a trick of the light, but when he opened them again it remained. With a sigh, he picked up the note and flipped it open.

I had hoped to give you this on Christmas, alas, it was not to be. Your father left this in my possession and I never had the chance to return it. I believe he would hope for you to have it. It served him well, and I hope the same for you.

There was no signature as Harry packed the note aside. He gripped onto the edge of the fabric as he pushed it side to side in his hands. He had an idea of what this could be, but it seemed too good to be true. He covered one arm with the fabric and as soon as he did it went completely missing from sight. He gasped. It was true. In his possession was an invisibility cloak and an unbelievably powerful one. Most shockingly was the revelation that it was his father’s own cloak. He’d heard of it. In Sirius’ old stories, the invisibility cloak was an old family heirloom that had assisted them innumerable times. Sirius had assumed it had been destroyed with many of their other possessions, but in fact it was in Harry’s own hands now.

He shook his head in shock. He folded the cloak carefully and tucked beside his bed. He’d have another letter to write in the morning to inform Sirius. Currently, he needs rest and plenty of it. He felt as if the second half of term would only grow more exhausting for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

-

Regulus sat cross legged on the ground, completely overwhelmed with the material surrounding him. Books and maps and all matters of papers scattered across Sirius’ floor. His brother had tied his hair so messily on the top of his head it was leaning over one of his ears, but the look of concentration on his face told Regulus he hadn’t even noticed. In his hands was an old map of London, specifically of the underground. Regulus sighed as he found a clip to pull his own hair back. He doubted either of them were getting much sleep tonight.

Sirius shuffled the papers so loudly as he switched between them. Always making noise, just like when they were younger. It had bothered their mother to no end, it would be more often than not that little Sirius would be stomping and banging his hands against the walls with the silencing charms surrounding him forcing him into a bubble of isolating quiet. Regulus had learned it was better to be hushed. It was safer.

Now either of them could be as noisy as they pleased. Even if Regulus’ ears twitched each time a book dragged against the floors. Once the noise faded, he could feel a small smile pull at his lips. For the first time, they were safe in their house. It was their house.

“There are just too many places it could lead too, not to mention all the pipes he could squeeze in. He could be anywhere in England.” Sirius said frustrated as he clapped the book closed.

“You are certain he wouldn’t try to return to his mother’s flat?” Regulus asked for a second time.

“No, he blew the building half to pieces, her flat included. I never thought he’d have it in him. He held onto that flat long after she had passed.” Sirius replied as he put his head in his hands. “Are you sure there are no old Death Eater hide outs he could be holed up in?”

“It was mainly old family estates and this strange underground bunker, but hardly anyone knew how to actually get to it. You only arrived there when called, it was for The Dark Lord’s personal use. Maybe Bellatrix or Lucius knew it’s true location, but I doubt Pettigrew would. Nor do I think any of the old families would be keeping him hidden. Either they are too proud or trying to distance themselves from the Death Eaters.” Regulus shook his head as he flipped through pages of a book on the Scottish Highlands. Even if he highly doubted Peter would risk being in a country that housed Albus Dumbledore for most of the year.

“No, most of the Death Eaters hate Peter. They blame him for Voldemort’s fall, think he led him into a trap of sorts or was given bad information. Even in Azkaban, you heard things.” Sirius shrugged as he tucked his knees up and glanced out the window in his room. Snow was softly pelting the panes as the corner grew to slowly be coated in frost. The evening hours had well gone and passed and they were no closer to finding Peter or any idea of where to begin. Sirius had been studying map after map and article after article from the day he had last seen Peter. Trying to piece together where he may have ran to after the Aurors had incarcerated him. Now they were drowning in papers and books on the worn old carpet of Sirius’ bedroom.

Growing up, Regulus had been jealous of Sirius’ room. It was larger and had the better view and even had a candle chandelier he had envied. Sirius had used to hang clothes to annoy their mother. He hadn’t even realised he was staring so intently around the room until Sirius shuffled across from him.

“You didn’t change it.” Sirius whispered, not taking his eyes from the window. “You changed every room in this house, including our mother and father’s rooms. Not mine though, it still has all the essence of teenage Sirius.” His brother’s lips twitched into a smile.

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Regulus admitted, much quicker than he had thought. He felt a flush to his cheeks as he ducked his head.

“I was a bit of a prat. I also didn’t realise I would be returning, otherwise I may not have permanently stuck half these photos on the wall.” Sirius rolled his eyes at the nearly naked Muggle women plastered around the desk shoved in a corner.

“I had wondered about those.” Regulus joked.

“More to drive dear old mum mad. Though maybe it was me trying to suppress myself. Plaster pictures of naked women on the walls and force myself to look at them and maybe I wouldn’t have such immoral thoughts.” Sirius shrugged, but his voice cracked in a way. Regulus felt compelled to reach out to touch his brother.

“I’m alright now, mostly. I know who I am. I’m proud of who I am. Took a while though, and I really only had so much time to live in it before it all got taken away.” Sirius whispered longingly. His lips seemed to falter as he turned his head even further away. The light of the moon was breaking through the clouds. It was only a few days away from hitting the cycle of a full moon. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he saw Sirius’ eyes stare yearning.

“He’s alright, right? The potion you send him. It makes it better. Even if he's alone, he’s not hurting as much.” Sirius whispered more to himself. A self assurance he was trying to wrap himself in to ease the guilt he felt as it was written across his face as clear as the moonlight that struck him.

“Wolfsbane potion eases some of the symptoms and more than anything, he doesn’t have to worry about hurting anyone.” Regulus whispered back. Sirius looked at him with a gloss to his eyes as his cheeks quivered. Regulus squeezed where his hand had landed on his brother’s arm.

“We could go see him. The flat isn’t far from here. If you want to check on him before we leave the day after tomorrow, of course at a distance.” Regulus suggested. Sirius took a trembling breath and squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“I can’t. It was one thing to see him at his father’s house, but if I see him there at our flat. I don’t think I’d ever want to leave, Reg. It would tear my heart into pieces.” Sirius hummed back with a fatigued tone. Regulus nodded as he retreated his hand. He let Sirius be to himself for a bit as he plucked another book and began to skim. He didn’t know much about Peter, but he knew about hiding and he knew it well. Pettigrew wouldn’t escape them forever. Regulus wouldn’t allow it. He would bring his brother his justice. Even if the cost was great and the journey long. His brother deserved his assistance after all the hell they had been through.

-

“I would like to vocalise once more that I absolutely despise this idea.” Lancelot said from behind him. Arcturus was beginning to regret bringing him instead of Ignatius. At least his son by law could keep quiet, his cousin was quite unlike him. Ignatius would be of little help in this situation though. Lancelot would be the more sympathetic audience. He always was. The most renowned healer of a century, even Arcturus away in France had heard rumours of the buildings they would name in his honour once he had passed. There may even be a small support to remain the hospital, though Lancelot would protest that.

“Your concerns are noted and once again disregarded, Lancelot.” Arcturus said as he paused to rub at his hip. Pain was growing ever present with each passing year. A side effect of a hard life and an abuse of dark magic. He knew the toll it would take. He had seen it take countless family members, but after his dear Melanie had passed. He had cared less and less about his own well being, only now did he feel the regret of it. For a fleeting moment was all he allowed the emotion. Dwelling was not productive.

The grass was wilting under their feet even in the slightly warmer temperatures in Southern England. The sounds of the ocean could be heard splashing onto the sandy soft shoreline. It was strange how the sound was so different to the way the waters struck the shore in Wales and yet it was all the same ocean. Arcturus could feel the humid air striking his lungs. They were nearly to their destination. He hadn’t dared apparated too closely for the fear of unsettling their intended host. They were only a few more minutes walk away to a large cottage with the chimney curling smoke into the blue skies. He was nearly surprised at how simple the home was, but then again after so many years maybe simplicity was all one would crave.

With his cane cutting into his hand as he leaned into it. He managed to make his way to the small door of the Devon cottage. It creaked open before he even raised his cane to knock on it. A pale and feeble old face faced his own.

“Arcturus Black as I live and breathe. Oh it has been some time since we have seen one another.” Nicolas greeted as he pushed the door open more with his nearly translucent hands. His messy white eyebrows perked up at once as he saw the second guest.

“Ah la tromperie. Vous apportez un visage amical avec vous.” Nicolas shook his crooked finger at Arcturus.

“Pardonnez-moi monsieur.” Arcturus apologised. Nicolas only let a small glint slip into his eyes as he held the door open for both of them. The cottage was as quaint inside as out and well kept together with many treasures dotting the walls from over five centuries of travel.

“Mon cheri, one extra cup of tea if you may.” Nicolas called towards the back of the house where the kitchen must be. There was a small clattering of noise, but no other response.

“Please, messieurs.” Nicolas motioned to two high back chairs as he made himself comfortable on a small sofa separated from them by a low glass table. Perenelle came into the room shuffling her feet in thick slippers with her hair cut close to her head. She nodded politely at both men as she handed them two petite cups of tea before excusing herself from the room. Arcturus set his cup aside.

“You will have to excuse mon amour. Eternal life comes with it’s perks, but also with it’s many drawbacks. Some days are more painful than others and I believe many more years and she will grow infinitely tired. Once the last of our children chose not to continue with the Elixir, it took a heavy toll on her.” Nicolas explained as his own hand shook around his cup. His eyes followed his wife far beyond what he could see and he only seemed to turn back to when she was settled in the room away from their conversation.

“I wish I could say this was a more pleasurable visit, but I am much too wise to the faces of men and you, messieurs, have the faces of men with the most miserable news.” Nicolas pointed out as he leaned back slowly into his own seat. Arcturus could hear his bones creaking as he moved. His own bones ache sympathetically. He was only ninety-one, and he could not imagine surviving to nearly seven hundred. He was perfectly sure he would not want to. Not with as much loss that already gripped at his heart. Lancelot seemed even more sympathetic, his hundred and tenth birthday was only weeks away and he was in better health then both men present.

“Please, I believe I know the nature of your visit. Though what it has to do with the two of you, I know not and a great many things I do know.” Nicolas prompted as he took a loud slurp of tea before setting it aside and placing his thin wrist in his lap.

“Monsieur, merci de ne pas manquer de respect.” Arcturus began as Nicolas sighed and gave the briefest of smiles.

“Ah, French is the most beautiful of languages. Though I speak of a bias, goodness is it so precious to hear it spoken so properly. Reminds me of a time long, long ago before you were even a thought in your parents mind, Arcturus. The first member of the Most Noble House I had the pleasure of meeting. I was but a young and starry eyed school boy and he was a full grown man in my eyes. Atlas was his name, I don’t believe anyone in your family has taken that name in many generations. It is strange the similarities between us and family we have never met. You speak just like him, Arcturus, and that look in your eye is nearly identical. Oh yes, he was the first to make the Black name known, but he was not the last. It feels strange to see it. I have seen many lines fall in my time, but I had not expected yours to end.” Nicolas mused as he crossed his ankles and smacked chapped lips.

“All must come to an end.” Arcturus replied.

“Le temps est un grand maître, dit-on. Le malheur est qu'il tue ses élèves.” Nicolas replied in a quiet voice. Lancelot, who had been sitting quietly stewing in his seat watching the two men interact, paused with his tea cup half way to his lips.

“Time kills all her students.” The man whispered with a shake of his head before continuing his tea.

“You know your French Philosophy.” Nicolas replied fondly.

“My mother would be proud her lessons had some success on her most unresponsive student.” Lancelot answered, “I had always been distracted by trying to peel things apart to piece them back together to sit still for her French.”

“Your mother was a good woman, always a surprise she chose to stay in Wales. Alas life has taught me that people surprise you.” Nicolas chuckled with a dry hacking noise. “Now, to the matter at hand. What interest do you have in my stone?”

Arcturus lifted his own tea back into his lap. He hardly ever held a drank and discussed business. He believed it best to have both hands free while speaking to allow him the greatest space and control of the conversation. He respected Nicolas too much to allow such folly thoughts to cloud this conversation. They would speak as equals and hopefully by the end of this difficult conversation, he could make the man see reason in his undeniably absurd request.

Chapter Text

Dear Harry,

I will say I am confused by your line of questioning, but out of respect for our relationship and in true transparency, I will answer as honestly as I can. I am not sure what would make a person return to The Dark Lord. I presume it would be different for each person. You do not remember his time and each day I am grateful for that. It was the darkest time in our history. Never had there been a more feared wizard, and to stand in his presence was an indescribable experience, for he was just a wizard, but at the same time he was so much more. To betray him, to oppose him, it nearly always meant death. I’ve never told you the details of my leaving, that is for another time. The one thing I will tell you is I was certain I was going to die. One way or another I would meet death, because that is what befell to anyone that stood against him. There are always traitors during war, I’ve known more than a few myself. I will not be ignorant to what I believe you are implying, but I plead with you Harry. Listen to your grandfather, listen to Arcturus, leave this adventure to the adults and be a child. I know Sirius has filled your head with these ideas of Severus— Professor Snape, but I don’t think he would try anything directly under Dumbledore’s nose. No matter his faults, Professor Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard, who is more than apt to hold his own. I was no friend of Severus, but I did spend six years near him and I don’t believe he is what you think he is. I don’t believe he would try to bring The Dark Lord back, we do not even know if The Dark Lord could return, and I most certainly do not think this is a matter you should concern yourself with. Please focus on your exams and your friends and keep yourself safe for me and the rest of your family. We all love you Harry and we are so proud. Write soon.

With all my love,
R. A. B.

He nearly tore up the letter three times before he sent it. He’d taken much too long to reply and he knew Harry was likely confused and even more frustrated. It would not be eased when he got the letter considering Regulus had hardly answered his questions. He wanted Harry to let this matter go. He understood that Harry wanted to try and help, that The Dark Lord had taken everything from him and he felt he had to prove his worth for his parent’s sacrifice, but this was not the way to do so.

Worst of all, Regulus could feel the creeping feeling in his spine. The ache in his neck that caused him to struggle to sleep. There were too many questions and suspicious events. He had hoped Harry would have a normal uneventful time at Hogwarts. He’d nearly deluded himself enough to believe it, but deep in his gut he’d known. From the moment he peered at that distinct scar, the icy cold drop of his stomach had confirmed his suspicions that he had kept buried. The Dark Lord wasn’t dead. Regulus in his attempt to save the world had not completed it.

He swallowed heavily as he tucked the letter under a book to send with the morning owl. He dropped to his knees and pulled the key from his neck. He’d brought it with him. It felt as if it was a part of his own soul now after all it had cost him. His hands had a shake to them as he pulled out the box within the drawer scratching the bottom and his fingers ached as he pulled back the lid. There, surrounded by the small smashed pieces, was the partially intact locket. The chain still glistened and the glass still shone, but there was the unavoidable crack in the middle of the ornate jewel. Where years ago a basilisk fang had shattered into it. His breath shuddered as he took an apprehensive finger and ran it along the edge of the sharp pieces, letting it pierce the thin layer of skin without breaking to the blood vessels.

He had failed. It hadn’t been enough. He had destroyed a horcrux and yet The Dark Lord must have had other failsafes in place. He wasn’t alive per se, but he wasn’t dead either. Regulus had this gnawing feeling in his jaw that he would face his old master once again. Only this time, he doubted he would survive.

-

Harry was rather perplexed. He stared into the reflection with his invisibility cloak still shimmering at his feet. This wasn’t a normal mirror, he could tell. It showed him, but it showed so much else. He could see Regulus there behind him. He watched as his own reflection seemed to move a step back and allow Regulus to wrap his arms around him. It was like when he was a child and Regulus would wrap a towel around him after his bath and squeeze him tight to help him get warm. There was something missing from the image though, something vaguely unfamiliar as Harry squinted as they strangely murky reflection.

Then it struck him. Regulus did not have sleeves covering his arms as he nearly always did even in the heat of the high summers. In the reflection, his arms were bare. Completely bare, there was no mark on his inner forearm, not even a scuff of what should be there. This Regulus wasn’t a Death Eater, it wasn’t his Regulus. He watched as another figure came into view. Sirius. A less worn Sirius, one without that dark shadow in his eye that crept in anytime he stared off into nothing. Without the bags from sleepless nights. Most distinctly, this Sirius was without the small numbered tattoo on his neck. The constant reminder of his years in Azkaban.

He sat in awe as he watched more and more people come into view and take seats around him, all in perfect form. His Aunt Mars, and his Aunt Dorcas walking into frame hand in hand and his Aunt Mary skipping after them, laughing. Uncle Moony followed with a book covering half his scared face. All his aunts and uncles, Aunt Cassiopeia, looked young and renewed. Aunt Helena with her hair less grey. Uncle Marius without glasses on his face and wrinkles to his eyes. Grandfather Arcturus with a beautiful woman beside him and two young people in front of him. His children, Aunt Lucretia and her brother without a single scowl on any of them. Uncle Ignatius came to put his hands over his wife’s face from behind before pecking her on the cheek. Uncle Lancelot seemed to come behind him with another man trailing behind him with a young woman and two wrestling boys. He watched as with each passing moment even more people joined, some he had to squint to recognize. His family, his entire family united and happy.

He nearly couldn’t catch his breath when he saw them. The warm brown skin his father had, the golden auburn hair of his mother, those green eyes everyone spoke of shining brightly even in their muted form. Harry had to lean forward to get a better grasp as he held out his hand to touch the cool mirror. He wanted only a moment, just a simple moment with them. He had no memories of them, only ideas painted in his head by photos and stories others had told. This felt as real as they could be, except even now they were far away from him. He could tell it wasn’t real, but he so badly wanted it to be. The joy, the happiness, the family surrounding him, he could imagine wasting away in front of the hope of it all. At what cost though, his life may not be perfect, but it was worth living.

“Bye mum, bye dad.” He whispered as he pushed his face a bit closer, fogging the mirror with his breath. He picked up the cloak in one hand and turned away with a longing in his mind, begging him to turn around and sit again. Instead, he took small shuffling steps away. His feet never really leave the ground as he walks towards the door with his head hung. He hadn’t even realised there was another person in the room with him until he stepped right in front of him. He had to crane his neck to see the face of Albus Dumbledore.

“It takes immense strength to walk away from the Mirror, Harry. People have died staring into its visions.” Dumbledore said under his breath. Harry gulped, worried he’d be in trouble for being out after hours, but the Headmaster’s face appeared gentle.

“It isn’t real. It is only a fantasy.” Harry sighed as he dared peek at the edge of the mirror. He couldn’t see anything but vague movements from his angle.

“A wise deduction, The Mirror of Erised does only show us our greatest desire. Our happiest one perhaps. I will move the mirror to a new location to avoid any temptation. It is best kept out of the student's wandering eyes, lest it come into contact with someone less astute than yourself.” Dumbledore smiled from behind his thick white beard. Harry tried to smile back, but his heart wasn’t in it. Somehow even though the mirror showed him his greatest wish, it left him feeling hollow inside.

Dumbledore allowed him to slip away without any points deducted on the promise he would not go searching for the mirror again. It was an easy enough agreement. Harry didn’t want to find the mirror again. He was worried his strong will would fail him if he was tempted a second time. Besides, it was easy enough to forget the mirror a few days later when he answered out to Hagrid’s hut with Hermione and Ron by his side.

They had managed to catch Hagrid in a bind a few days back at the library with the knowledge of Nicholas Flamel and the three headed dog. Hagrid had turned out to let more than a few hints out when they let him continue on speaking. Harry enjoyed Hagrid and his friendly attitude and even the cramped overly warm hut he lived in. Which is why he was surprised when he tried to close the door on them from the moment they knocked.

“Really isn’t a good time, er, I am not feeling too well.” Hagrid faked a cough as he looked apprehensively over his shoulder. There was a bit of smoke curling around his bushy hair. Harry knitted his eyebrows together.

“Hagrid, what are you up to?” He asked as Herimone and Ron exchanged a glance behind him.

“Nothing you need to mind yourself with.” Hagrid said just as a crack rang out behind him. It sounded a bit like a plate shattering. Hagrid didn’t even bother to shut the door as he disappeared from sight. The three looked at one another before shrugging and sliding in with the door snapping behind them. Harry’s glasses fogged up instantly with the heat of the room. Herimone hair seemed to buzz as it shrunk closer to her head and Ron immediately slipped off his robes. It felt like a dragon’s mouth.

“Hagrid, is that what I think it is?” Ron called as he shoved his finger to the round shaped object that was protruding the noise.

“Hush, you three. It’s happening, come to mummy, little one.” Hagrid cooed as he leaned looking over a breaking egg. Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull once he had placed his cleaned glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“That isn’t…” Harry trailed off as he blinked a few times hoping it was a trick of the steam. Ron looked green as he turned to Harry and nodded. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she stepped closer.

“A dragon’s egg? Where did you ever get one?” She asked, moving slowly closer with a curious expression. Harry’s mouth fell open as he watched with a mixture of horror and excitement as the small egg pieced apart until the eyes peeled through a layer of membrane. Hagrid clapped his hands so harshly the table shook.

“Aw, look at him. Such a cute little one.” Hagrid smiled just as the dragon's talons broke the last of its egg apart. His small mouth cracked open and flames flickered out. A few sparks caught onto the edge of Hagrid’s beard as he quickly beat it out and tried to turn away from them.

“Hagrid, you live in a wooden hut.” Harry pointed out as he and Ron moved carefully forward. Hagrid just waved him off as he turned to get a bit of food he had stored away. The dragon’s dark eyes shined up at them as he turned his head side to side. Harry couldn’t tell if he was able to discern if they were friends or food.

“I’ll name him Norbert.” Hagrid proclaimed as he placed chucks of meat carefully diced into cubes in front of Norbert, who very quickly with razor sharp teeth cut into the meat. A few pieces flung onto Harry’s robes as he shook them off and stepped back with Ron following suit. Herimone was still observing from behind Norbert, using her hands to try and measure the enormous wingspan. Ron gave Harry a wary glance.

“I think you need to write, Charlie.” Harry whispered as Norbert coughed up more flames that nearly reached the end of Hargrid’s sleeve. He tried to laugh it off as he waved his hand at a few smoldering specks.

“I think you are right, Harry.” Ron gulped loudly.

There was little time to worry about Snape, the Stone, or even exams over the next few weeks. Turns out raising a dragon was a full time job, almost as if people could make a career out if it. Harry was wiping sweat off his brow as he stepped into the fresh air in front Hagrid’s hut. He heard a squeal from inside before Ron came running outside clutching his hand.

“He bit me!” Ron exclaimed, holding out a bleeding hand. Harry sighed as he pulled his wand and cast bandages around it. He knew a fair amount of healing magic, but considering the lack of dragons in Switzerland. Aunt Helena hadn’t taught him the protocol and he had never thought to ask Uncle Lancelot. Best to bandage it up and leave it for Madam Pomfrey to take a look at. Harry waved goodbye to Hagrid through the window as the gamekeeper half waved before getting a look of panic in his eyes and rushing out of sight.

“What am I going to say? It’s not like I can say I got bit by a dragon.” Ron hissed under his breath as he gingerly held the injured hand. Harry had convinced him he needed to visit the hospital wing.

“Say you caught a Blast-Ended Skrewt. The injury can look the same, at least I think.” Harry furrowed as he lifted the hand for closer examination. He wasn’t certain, he’d never seen either injury in person, but from what he read it seemed similar. Honestly with her hawking eyes and strict bedside manner, but undeniable healer heart, Madam Pomfrey would likely know what the injury was at one glance. Harry just hoped she could be discreet. They were nearly to the wing when a pair of pounding feet came running up behind them and they were overtaken by looming shadows behind them.

“What happened to Ickle Ronnie?” Fred asked as his shoes squeaked against the floor while he skidded to a stop eyeing his brother’s hand.

“Helping Hagrid.” Ron mumbled as pain overtook his face.

“Got to be careful out in the wilderness. Charlie can’t even count all his scars anymore.” George warned.

“Speaking of our dear old brother. This came for you.” Fred dangled a letter by the corner high above either of the shorter boys. Ron tried to grab it but doubled over in pain. There was a flicker of concern in his brother’s eye, but the letter remained out of reach.

“What are you doing writing Charlie? He has hardly answered anyone’s letter. Always says he’s too busy. Pretty certain mum and dad went to see him over Christmas to try and drag him back unless he promised to write more.” Fred asked with a perched eyebrow. Ron opened his mouth to answer, but his face turned pale and he had to clap his hands over his lips quickly with a choking noise. Harry wrapped his arms around him to keep Ron upright as he swayed.

“I’m all for brotherly teasing, but I think you’ll have to put a pin in this one. Unless you want sick of your shoes.” Harry nodded to Fred’s feet. The older boy gave a disgusted look, but nodded as he dropped the letter into his pocket and put his arm around Ron. The twins helped Harry get a moaning Ron to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey rushed to them and barely listened to Harry’s half hearted lie. She left the three other boys in her wake as she forced Ron into a bed and immediately started to examine him with the locks of her shoes ringing quickly. Harry shuffled his feet as he looked between Fred and George.

“I can take the letter for him. I’ll wait until she is done.” Harry said hopefully, holding out his hand. Fred gave him a suspicious glance, but George nudged his brother hard enough to bruise in his side. Fred let out a sputtering breath as he dug the letter out of his pocket. He handed it to Harry with a sticky residue covering it as Harry tried to handle it carefully. He waited until Fred and George were chasing each other down the hall before opening it. Typically, he didn’t make a habit of reading other people’s mail, but Norbert doubled in size every week and they couldn’t afford to waste anymore time.

Ron,

Happy to hear from you. In regards to the Ridgeback, I’ve spoken to the head handler McKenzie. He gave me a bunch of shit on how I managed to find another stray dragon, but he says we have space for him. It’s last minute, but I will actually be in England tonight. We can’t be seen given the illegality of the situation and I don’t need to write Uncle Ignatius asking for him to get me out of jail again (don’t mention to mum I said that). Meet me in the Astronomy Tower at midnight. I have a friend who can help me transport him to Romania.

All my love,
Charlie

P.S. Let’s not mention to mum I was in England either, I didn’t have time for a visit and she’ll be cursing me to Merlin’s grave if she found out. See you soon!

Tonight, Harry groaned internally. Ron was clearly out of commission. Madam Pomfrey was busy throwing her hands up as she searched for the right potion and Ron tossed and turned causing the bed to creak with his hands wrapped right around his middle. He needed a back up plan and given there was only one other person who knew about Norbert and could fit under his invisibility cloak. Herimone had just inadvertently volunteered for the mission. He turned to return to Gryffindor Tower when he noticed a shuffling sound and the scurrying end of a robe tuck around the corner. He almost thought he caught a flash of white blonde hair, but Harry didn’t have time for Malfoy.

“Why was Ron’s brother in jail?” Hermione asked as she perked her bright eyes from over the parchment.

“What?” Harry asked from where his eyes were already dropping and it wasn’t even nine at night. He’d waited until after dinner to tell Hermione, mainly because it was the first time he managed to catch her. She’d tucked herself away in the dark tall shelves of the library all afternoon, and Harry hadn’t the energy to search for her. Now they lounged around the cracking fire of the Common Room disguising their sounds behind the rather heated Gobstones tournament Lee Jordan and George he started. Fred was apparently serving a detention with Professor Flitwick after charming all the quills in class to dance away from him.

“It says here, he went to jail. What do you think he went to jail for?” Hermione asked with an eyebrow raising and her eyes narrowing at the words.

“Probably harbouring an illegal dragon.” Harry joked as he yawned loudly. “I don’t believe that’s the most pressing matter. We still have to get Norbert to the top of the Astronomy Tower tonight without being caught.”

“We could be meeting with a criminal, Harry! We don’t know what Charlie did to get locked away.” Hermione exclaimed as she garnered a bit of unwanted attention. Harry had to shush at her loudly and flip the letter over to keep it hidden from wandering eyes.

“Lots of people go to prison, some of them for the wrong reasons. Besides he’s Ron’s brother I doubt he did anything terrible. Probably just pranked the wrong person like the twins with Snape. Please focus, Hermione. We have to get Norbert to the Astronomy Tower in a few hours. I wrote to Hagrid before dinner so he’s expecting us. I say we get there at eleven so we have enough time to get Norbert settled and make our way halfway across the castle.” Harry reasoned. Hermione rolled her eyes, but agreed.