A Little Bit of Everything

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/32662066.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category: Multi
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Regulus Black & Black Family, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius
Black/Remus Lupin, Bill Weasley & Charlie Weasley & Fred Weasley &
George Weasley & Ginny Weasley & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny
Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Regulus Black & Harry
Potter
Character: Harry Potter, Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Kreacher (Harry Potter),
Cassiopeia Black, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Remus Lupin, Albus
Dumbledore, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Percy Weasley, Fred Weasley,
George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks,
Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Marius Black, Ignatius Prewett,
Lucretia Black Prewett, Arcturus Black III | Sirius Black's Grandfather,
Mary Macdonald, Orion Black
Additional Tags: Regulus Black Lives, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black-centric,
Canonical Character Death, Regulus Black Raises Harry Potter, Harry
Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Manipulative Albus
Dumbledore, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, The Noble and Most
Ancient House of Black, Sirius Black Lives, Harry Potter is less
oblivious, Asexual Charlie Weasley, Asexual Regulus Black,
demiromantic characters, Non-binary Tonks, Charlie Weasley Loves
Dragons, Minor Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Post-First War with
Voldemort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Harry Potter has a
Father Figure, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders
Language: English
Collections: Regulus Appreciation Fan Club, Grem's fav hp fics (mainly marauders
era), Harry Potter Addictions, hp fics I would die for, Magnolia's
Favourite Fics, No Romance Reggie, Ongoing fic, hp stories, Da
leggere all'occorrenza, Ash’s abs favorites, jed’s favorite fics,
marauders <3, i solemnly swear i up to no good, PrintWaitinglist9792,
krakengirl’s top tier favs of all time, my heart is here, Fics I Must Read
ASAP, peachyunies tbr, Harry Potter Fics!, My Favorite Fics!, Regulus
Black raises Harry Potter, Cam’s TBR, Harry Potter Fanfics, marvelous
marauders
Stats: Published: 2021-07-18 Updated: 2023-09-27 Words: 563,590 Chapters:
116/?

A Little Bit of Everything

by Frenchroast99

Summary

Everything had gone to plan, Dumbledore had seen the end of the First Wizarding War.
Certainly he had lost more than a few, but Harry Potter was still alive and well. He was
currently tucked away in Surrey with his Muggle Family. He could contently wait for the
boy to come of age now, and continue the last of the prophecy. Until an owl landed on his
desk, providing him with the news he had not expected.

Regulus Black has survived so long on his cunning and ambition and wit. He wasn’t about
to turn himself in to rot in prison, but a letter showing up to his family’s home peaked his
curiosity. Who even knew he was still alive?

Regulus Black raising Harry Potter AU

~Mostly Canon Complaint~

Rated Mature: For Depictions of Violence, Torture, Implied Assaults etc.

Please Heed Warnings

We don’t support JKR here, my characters will be queer, non-binary, disabled and diverse
and any hate will be deleted.
 The Beginning
Chapter Notes

CW: References to Prior Abuse

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.
 The Exchange
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Abuse, Death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Thank you for all the attention so quickly. I appreciate each and everyone. If you
happen to follow my other story, I just wanted to clarify, while I’m posting mostly
daily on that one, this story will likely be updated once to twice a week depending on
when I can write/edit. I appreciate any and all interactions! Cheers!
 Guardian
Chapter Notes

CW: References of Prior Abuse; Brief Mention of Self Harm

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Baby Harry is so precious in my mind and I don’t even enjoy babies. Also I am going
with the Headcannon that the Potter’s were of Desi descent. Baba is what my step
grandfather always used for father, but if anything is incorrect please don’t hesitate to
let me know, I want to be as educated and correct as possible!
 Visitors
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

This is not a Dumbledore sympathy fic if you haven’t picked up. Thank you for all
interactions and for reading, I hope you enjoy!
 Harry’s Birthday
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; Description of an injury

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 fall 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 End Notes

I head-cannon Regulus as a Slytherclaw. Personally, I believe most everyone has a bit

of all four, but I think he’s got mostly Slytherin and Ravenclaw traits. Thank you for
any and all interactions, hope you’re enjoying the fic so far!
 A Plan
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Prior Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Protective fatherly Regulus is a whole mood. Thank you for each and every comment,
kudos, and appreciation, I love all of them! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I’ll be back
before the end of the week with another! :)
 Swan Lake
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Prior Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

I absolutely cannot sleep so I edited my next chapter. Writing about Sirius and
Regulus breaks my heart in the best way, hence why I so far can only give little snips,
but trust me something is coming with them~ Cheers enjoy reading any of my fellow
insomniacs!
 Godric’s Hollow
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Death, Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

Whew, that’s a long chapter compared to my others, tried to name drop as many Order
Members and allies as I could. Side note: Charlie is the oldest present child of the
Weasley’s, Bill would have been at his first year at Hogwarts. Remus finally made a
quick appearance, he’ll be back later, don’t worry. For now, let’s move into the plot,
and Regulus’ grand idea. I’m exhausted, it’s been a long week, but I wanted to get this
posted, there maybe some small errors I missed, I’ll fix them when I get some rest so
please excuse them, thank you for any and all appreciation! It’s all wonderful!
 Mistress Black
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Prior Abuse; Bullying

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Chapter End Notes

Quick rundown for those of you not hyperfixated on the House of Black, this is a
mostly canon compliant fic. In cannon in 1982, the following House of Black
members were still living: Walburga Black, Cyngus Black (Walburga’s brother and
the Black sister’s father) Arcturus Black (Orion’s Father), Pollux Black (Walburga’s
Father), Cassiopeia Black (Walburga’s Aunt), Lucretia Prewett née Black (Orion’s
sister) and of course Sirius, Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa Black. We do not
know about anyone who married into the Black family as their dates are left out and
we do not know about most who were blasted from the tapestry. In the generations
relevant to this time period, that would be Cedrella Weasley née Black, Marius Black,
Alphard Black, Andromeda Tonks née Black, and most infamously Sirius Black. For
clarity purposes without bogging down the story, all these people are still alive in my
fic, minus dear uncle Alphard, as well as Irma Black née Crabbe (Pollux’s wife),
Ignatius Prewett (Lucretia’s Husband), Druella Black née Rosier (Cyngus’ wife) and
Septimus Weasley (Cedrella’s husband). This is going off of the hand drawn 2006
Black family tree not the movie’s version and some of their death dates may change
because the TERF was lazy and can’t do math so she killed pretty much half of them
within the same three year span which considering witches and Wizards can easily live
past a hundred is a bit ridiculous. Anyways, if you made it this far, I’m trying Tumblr
again if anyone wants to follow me.
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frenchroast99
 A Forgotten Member of the House of Black
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

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 End Notes

I know some people headcannon Severus and Regulus as friends, but I’ve never been
able to understand that headcannon. Their personalities seem like they would clash
from the beginning. Also, Marius! My sweetheart! I know he’s only barely mentioned
in cannon, and for those of you that don’t know, he’s the burn mark in between
Cassiopeia and Dorea, removed for being simply a squib. I have strong thoughts and
headcannon about squibs, which I’ll likely let bleed into this story and his character.
They do not deserve the hate they get in the Wizarding World! Thank you for every
single hit, kudos, and comment. They mean so much to me and help keep me going, I
am thrilled people are enjoying this story! So thank you again, and see you all soon!
 Christmas Holiday
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior child abuse, brief mention of torture and death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

This chapter was both satisfying and difficult. Regulus is starting over, with his own
little family, but it won’t always be easy, he’s still got learning to do. Marius is such a
wonderful character to write, and him and Cassiopeia are exactly the guidance I think
Regulus needs in his life, as much as he may cling to other members of his family.
Also I think this is the first chapter I’ve written that is chronologically back to back
with the previous, I time jumped a lot so that won’t be often. As always, I appreciate
all recognition, I’m so glad there are other people who enjoy this story. Started as a
little daydream, and now it’s spiraled into a whole evolution, thank you for taking this
journey with me. I’ll likely be back next week with my next update! <3
 Padfoot
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior child abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

This turned out a bit more emotional then I had originally planned. Also I know a lot
of people tend to focus on the dynamic of Walburga, but I find Orion such a
fascinating prospect. I appreciate each and every comment, kudos, and hit and thank
you all for taking the time to read. Cheers!
 Switzerland
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

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 End Notes

Helena is the only OC I have planned, and I think that will be my only one. I mainly
created her because I wanted Marius to have a little happy family of his own after his
family threw him out. Also a bit of shameless self promotion, I’ve begun another WIP
that falls in line with this one, now I will preface this by saying by absolutely no
means do you have to read it to understand this story, they are created to where they
can be read independent of one another; however, I want to dig deeper into some of the
backgrounds of characters that won’t be covered as in depth here (i.e Lucretia,
Ignatius, Orion, Cygnus, etc.) if that seems up your alley, feel free to check it out, it is
called King of my Heart (yes after the Taylor Swift song) absolutely no pressure if it
isn’t your cup of tea! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter all your comments on the last
one definitely made me smile. Thank you once again!
 July Eighteenth Nineteen Eighty Three
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

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 End Notes

Did I slip in a sly, “Reg can’t swim joke”… yes. Still love him though! I’m actually
really excited for the next chapter, though I’m being really picky on it so it may take
me a few days. Until then thank you for any and all comments and kudos! They truly
do make my day!
 The Tonks
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

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 End Notes

So I ended up changing my mind and spreading out my ideas over the next three
chapters, prepare to see interactions with several other members of the Black family,
any guesses? After these next three chapters we will see my first significant time jump.
Nothing too heavy just a handful of years forward, to keep the story moving. Back to
criticizing my own characterization I go as I write this next chapter! As always I
appreciate everyone of you as you travel on this journey with me!
 The Prewetts
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I’m really enjoying writing these parallels, one more set of Black’s to go and one very
interesting summer festival. Also in the context of sexuality, I’m trying to balance
being both era appropriate with the known information of modern times. Asexuality
began to be coined in the 1980s but until more recently was not as well researched as
other LGBTQ+ sexualities/identities. Hence why Cassiopeia and Regulus may not
have the right words for their sexualities and rely more on general feelings. (If you
didn’t pick up, I do HC Regulus as Asexual and Cassiopeia as Aromatic, both which
fall on an individual spectrum of experiences) As always, thank you for each and
every comment and kudos and even for just reading along. I hope you all are enjoying
this journey!
 The Blacks
Chapter Notes

CW: General Use of Threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I absolutely loved writing this chapter. Arcturus gives me chills to write, and he and
Dumbledore against one another. Ah, yes someone to take Dumbledore head on! (Now
don’t go think Arcturus is a good person; at best, he can occasionally have some
morally grey motives) Thank you all so much for the attention on the last chapter, I’m
thrilled many people enjoyed. Next Chapter will be a bit in the future as we move on
to the next big plot point. All appreciations are always welcome!
 Christmas: Nineteen Eighty-Five
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

Couldn’t skip 1985, the fall of Walburga Black. I believe it’s a pretty big consensus
that Regulus had a better relationship with her than Sirius, but I don’t think he was
spared the abuse, at least not in my version of events. Also, this is my third time
posting this week for a reason, next week will be hectic for me, I’m helping someone
move and then going out of town for a bit. So most likely I’ll only be able to update
once, so to compensate I pushed myself to get these three chapters out this week.
Thank you for reading and commenting as always! I’ll see you all next week for the
update!
 Azkaban
Chapter Notes

CW: Prior abuse and references of torture and abuse slight suicidal ideals mentioned

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I’m alive! Just barely this week has been even more brutal than expected, but I finally
finished this very difficult chapter. Ta-dah! Don’t hate me for the cliffhanger, I’ll be
back to my regular updates next week, until then any comments and kudos and hits
would probably make me feel worlds better. Thank you for being so wonderful!
 Magic
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Abuse, Side effects of torture

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Currently surrounded by so many unfinished coffees and teas, but this chapter did get
finished even though I definitely spent a good hour just staring at one sentence
absolutely hating it as each second past but couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Writer
issues! Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for always
filling my inbox with kudos and comments it makes me thrilled to see them!
 In The Wake of a Wake
Chapter Notes

CW: References to Abuse, recollections of a murder

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Ah the Easter eggs in this chapter! Also was hoping to get this out yesterday but had to
spend most of the day in bed with a migraine. Also quick note, I have started to get
some hateful comments on this fic, and I will say that any hate will be deleted as it has
been already. At the end of the day this is my fic and my space on the internet, while
constructive criticism can be appreciated when stated correctly outright hate is
unnecessary so please just move on. You do not have to agree with me or my writing,
but there is no need to leave mean and hurtful comments. Thank you to the majority of
you who leave kind and thoughtful comments they are truly appreciated and I always
look forward to them! See you again soon.
 Recovering
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, implications of PTSD

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Canonically, Sirius kind of just jumps back into things, but in POA he has a
motivation. Here he gets thrown back into a world he feels he doesn’t deserve with
someone who use to abuse him. Hence, I feel like this characteristic fits, but it doesn’t
stick around forever. As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for every hit,
kudos, and comment!
 Constellations
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, brief mention of suicidal ideals

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Been going through it and this chapter felt very therapeutic. A brief glimpse at the
Black brother’s before we move into the next stage of their lives. Thank you as always
for every single comment, kudo, and hit. I’m in awe that I’m almost at 15k and I
couldn’t be more thankful! Until next time.
 A Thought To Be Had
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Posting this one so soon because this next chapter will take some maneuvering. I want
it to be prefect, and I tend to question everything I write. Hopefully, you are all
enjoying this characterization of Sirius. I think it fits given the circumstances. Always
many thanks for any comments and kudos, I love interacting with you all. Also I made
a TikTok for this persona of me on the internet, I don’t know what I’m doing with it
just yet, but I needed a place for an exclusively HP FYP. So if you want to follow me
there, it is also FrenchRoast99. See you all soon!
 Photograph
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Prior Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

We’re almost there ;)! I hope you enjoy this chapter, Protective Regulus and Scheming
Arcturus are two of my favorite characteristics to write. Thank you for any comment,
kudo, or hit. I can not believe the amount of attention this fic is getting and I am
always thankful! I’ll be back in the next few days with what I believe will be a very
exciting chapter! Take care!
 Brother
Chapter Notes

CW: Prior Abuse, Mentions of Suicidal Ideals

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Whew, this was a longer one. It has finally occurred, the fated moment between
Regulus and Sirius. Don’t hate me for leaving it at a cliffhanger, there is a lot more
planned for the two. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for every comment and kudo in
advance, now I am going to rest and I’ll respond to all after. Cheers!
 A Broken Reunion
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of a Violent Attack, Descriptions of Medical Healing, Mentions of

Prior Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Finally got this together even through this awful head cold I have. Before anyone yells
about Sirius’ reaction! Remember, one he’s spent several years in Azkaban which has
twisted his mental state, and two canonically Sirius is rash and acts first thinks later.
Even without a wand, he’d find a way to act irrationally, especially when it comes to
Harry, who is essentially his last connection to James. I also like to believe Helena’s
years as a healer has made her unequivocally calm hence why she is the first one to
step in and do anything. Her little snippy conversation with Lancelot was extremely
fun to write. Thank you for all the lovely attention on the last chapter! I appreciate
every bit of it! I’ll be back soon with a very tense conversation to be had. Enjoy!
 Hardening Conversations
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Prior Abuse, Implications of Trauma

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Whew, one of those necessary chapters to tie everything together and push us forward
into the new transitional period of everyone’s lives. Only four years till Harry starts
Hogwarts, I’m actually slowly rereading the books to prepare and the amount of sticky
notes in my copy of Philosopher’s Stone, intimidates me. I never can seem to do short
fics, so I hope everyone is ready! As always and forever, thank you for every kudo,
comment, and even just reading along in silence (I appreciate you all too because it’s a
fault of mine to sometimes be so dedicated to a fic but never pop up with a comment,
there is a place in my heart for you!) Until next week, be safe and I hope you have a
great rest of your week. (P.S. anyone prepared for the new Marauders edits we will
probably get with Timothee’s new film premiering?)
 This Is Me Trying
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of abuse, berating, mentions of alcoholism, implications of depressive

episodes

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I could make the healing between the two brothers’ smoother, but there is just
something so inauthentic about that. They’ll never be same as they once were, instead
they have to learn how to be brothers all over again, and it’s a long journey. Thank you
in advance for every kudos and comment, they do fill me with joy and I love being
able to respond when I can. Enjoy!
 It Takes A Traitor
Chapter Notes

CW: Implications of prior child abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I wholeheartedly edited this at a party, there might be a few errors still I’ll check again
later, but I have to get this up today, because tomorrow is Halloween and what would
Halloween be without a bit of pain? ;) Thank you for all the comments and kudos and
for reading a long it means more than I can put into words!
 Halloween: Nineteen Eighty-One
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of death, murder, betrayal and abuse

(I apologize in advance.)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Don’t hate me. Happy Halloween. I have to dash, but enjoy if possible. Thank you for
all comments and reads and kudos from each and everyone of you. I cannot believe
I’ve reached over 20k hits, I never thought it possible when started posting this, I was
hopeful for 200 if I was lucky. So thank you and cheers!
P.S. The canon days are Wednesday - Friday for the Halloween event, but the actual
days are Saturday - Monday because Halloween was on a Saturday in 1981, and it
feels more natural to go off the actual dates in 1981 hence the disparity.
 Blurry Voices
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior child abuse, brief memories of a murder

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

Dun Dun Dun!

Ah the scar lore, how I will love to mess with it. Also a quick insight into
Dumbledore, and brief mention of my Favorite two Weasleys, (I clearly like suffering
when all my favorite characters have about 5 minutes full of mentions in canon, ie
Bill/Charlie/Regulus/The Prewetts) Now we can start getting into some real truth
telling between the Blacks because if you’ve been keeping up both Regulus and Sirius
have kept two rather large secrets from everyone. Thank you in advance for your
lovely comments, they always brighten my day, and for every kudo and read, hope
you enjoy and be back shortly with the next chapter!
 The Start of Truth
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Suicidal Ideals, Physical Assault, Brief Mentions of Murders

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

:) Remus (:

I debated whether or not to add his POV for awhile, but he’s just so captivating I
couldn’t help myself, I try not to throw too many different POVs because I know it can
be annoying but I hope you enjoyed!

Also, no I did not forget about my twice weekly updates, I wish I had some cool
Tumblr worthy author’s note about why I’m late like I had a baby or got married etc,
but in reality I impulse bought Love on Tour tickets and spent 36 hours in a different
state and have been exhausted, but I’m editing the next chapter like right now! I’ll
hopefully get it uploaded in the next twenty four hours! Thank you for any comments
I love reading them!
 A Brother’s Spat
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Prior Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Slowly slapping myself for giving myself a time frame when I know I have ADHD
and can’t stay on a schedule. It’s here though! This hurt, then it didn’t. Can’t have
Regulus and Sirius trying to murder each other forever, but trust it’s not the end of their
fighting. Thank you for every lovely comment and kudo and even just reading along,
this hit 25k and I could have never imagined little old me with my hyper fixations
could make something so many people care to read. I’ll forever be grateful and I’m
doing my best to be the best writer I can! See you soon! (The vague timelines are
much healthier for me!)
 Regret
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; Mentions of torture

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

I have fallen ill. My head isn’t in its best state, but I believe I got the editing done. Fun
fact: I rewrote this chapter 3 different times because I couldn’t get it just right, but I’m
rather pleased with it now. Also, anyone pick up on the guilt eating Regulus alive?
Any guesses? No spoilers, but I strongly believe while he didn’t commit many acts as
a DE (he was still a child nearly the entire time) he’d certainly wasn’t completely
innocent, but I believe if given the chance nearly anyone can choose to change. As
always thank you for the comments, I adore them! I’ll be back soon!
 Old Friends
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; Alcoholism; Mentions of ongoing anxiety

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

This chapter is important… no spoilers because I don’t want to give anything away,
but it’s important for how the timeline will change.

Also on a personal note: thanks to everyone wishing me to feel better, I woke up

yesterday thinking I was well and today… not so much so if I’m a bit slow on
comment replies it is because I am under all my weighted blankets with a large cup of
tea rewatching Tick Tick Boom for the third time and crying (if you like musicals I do
highly recommend). However, I will get to each comment and thank you in advance
and for any kudos and reads! I can’t believe it’s almost at a thousand kudos!
 Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse (if anyone has any religious trauma this chapter does
focus on different aspects of religion)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Desi James and Jewish Lily are two of my favorite headcanons this fandom has
created! The holiday season is upon us, to any Jewish readers in case I do not post on
Sunday Hanukkah Sameach! (in 1986 Hanukkah began on Dec 26th if anyone needs to
know). To any of my readers who celebrate Diwali I wish you a belated Happy Diwali
and hoped you had a Diwali that brought happiness prosperity and joy! There are a
few more chapters until the timeline will jump significantly for the final time and it
will land just prior to 1991. It’s bittersweet to leave these years behind because I’ve
enjoyed writing them, but Harry’s story must progress. Thank you for all the kudos,
hits, and comments, I am just shy of a thousand kudos and to say I’m astonished is an
understatement. I will return soon!
 The Last Ball of the Year
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

Oh how I fought with myself on that closing perspective for so long, but I finally
convinced myself it was helpful to the explanation of the story line even if I felt bad
including yet another perspective (Snape will not be used often as a perspective, like at
all). Thank you for always reading along, commenting, or leaving a kudos, it truly
does put a smile on my face. Now, I haven’t slept well in a few weeks so I be getting
some rest and I’ll be back before the end of the week. Thank you :)!

P.S. I forgot to add my Welsh is nonexistent but the translations should roughly be “
The seed of all evil is laziness” for Lancelot and “ dirty old bastard” for Ignatius.
 O.A.B
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of a prior abusive event, implied homophobia

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

2 updates within 24 hours?! A *rarity* but I got eight hours of sleep and a large cup of
coffee and made it work. This chapter kind of hurt not going to lie, always take care of
yourself with anything potentially triggering. Also!!! It finally happened!!! I have a
thousand kudos! I know it might not sound like a lot compared to other stories out
there, but I am so psyched! I never thought it possible when I started this, I honestly
tried my hardest to manifest a hundred and I’d consider that an accomplishment! So
THANK YOU! It wouldn’t be possible with out all of you! Please enjoy this story to
its fullest and I’ll be back soon. Cheers!
 Arcturus’ Tale
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of an attack; Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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. He 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 him, 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 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 End Notes

I am alive! I had some unexpected events this week, but I made it with at least one
update and may be able to squeeze out another tomorrow and at the latest within the
next few days. My apologies, but life does happen.

A few notes, Arcturus is possibly the most intriguing character I have ever written,
I’ve never had the chance to write a character like him before. His love of Melania has
always been a propelling force in his life, even if he acted on it much later than she
would have wanted. Lycoris was a lesbian, I will die for this headcanon. Regulus I was
very much the fixer of the family, you had a problem (person) and he would rid you of
them, but it didn’t mean he was all evil. Only that he had lost the will to care. Orion
naming his son after his uncle and father actually does have meaning in my mind but I
will explain in later chapters. Thank you for every comment and kudo and hit, I cannot
express how much it means to me! Be back soon!
 Apple Orchard
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; Discussions of internalized homophobia

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

The fact that I managed to get this out shocks even me. I’m really hoping this whole
uploading both chapters back to back doesn’t become a habit, but I have little faith in
myself with how hectic the holidays can be.

Notes: Sexuality is fluid, and experimentation is normal, Regulus trying to make any
type of relationship work doesn’t not invalidate his sexuality as he recognizes it now.
Granted it most definitely was not a healthy relationship, but he was a lost confused
teenage boy. And to anyone who that conversation resonates with know I care about
you and I understand sexuality may not be an easy journey, but it does get easier!
Thank you for all the kind comments and recognition I will always be appreciative!
Until next time, cheers!

(Side note: This chapter hurt.)

 The Weasleys
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, mentions of torture and death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Third week in a row where I will be uploaded back to back, I would like to blame the
holidays, but it is truly my own time blindness.

Note: I do not hate Molly, I know that is a growing discord in the fandom, but I do not
hate characters often. Is she a flawed character? Yes. Do I expand on the flaws we see
in canon? Yes, but I do the same with many of my characters, Sirius’ rash judgements,
Regulus’ issues with authority, ect. I do not hate any of them, I just want to give a
realism to my characters that we see in our worlds. We are all flawed and
acknowledging that is a necessity and sometimes the only way we can see it in
ourselves to see our on behaviors reflected back to us.

I will be back tomorrow (hopefully) until then I adore every comment and kudo and
all the attention this little fic of mine had gotten. Thank you all it makes me so happy!
 A Trio of Birthdays
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I had truly hoped to get this up yesterday; however, I got a last minute invitation to
Spider-Man: NWH and then needed at least 3-5 business days to process it as I laid on
my floor.

Anyways, away from the excuses and onto the chapter. This will be the last chapter set
in the 1980s, which means we will be jumping forward to the 1990s and to Hogwarts
and I couldn’t be more excited and nervous at the same time.

I hope you all enjoy this bit of peace, as always I appreciate every single comment,
kudo, and read to this story. It inspires me everyday to continue you on. So thank you!
 Summer of Nineteen Ninety-One
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, minor use of threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

These next two-three chapters will be very much to set up pre-Hogwarts setting.
Before we dive into the story we are all familiar with, I feel like these chapters are
almost lack something? Maybe I just feel they aren’t as driven or interesting as the
rest, but they are necessary so I hope you still enjoy as I do have an appreciation for
the more information loaded chapters! Thank you forever and always for any attention
given to this fic, comments are always loved and appreciated. If I am not back before
the holidays, Happy Christmas to all who celebrate!
 A Set of Discussions
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; brief mention of selfharm

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Happy Christmas to all who celebrate! Consider this a small token of my appreciation
for all the support. I know the holidays can be difficult, I myself am not immune to it,
in fact I was editing this as nearly a distraction for the day. Whether you are dealing
with family or this pandemic, whether surrounded by people or alone I hope my little
story can bring you some temporary reprieve and bring you elsewhere when you read
it.

Thank you everyone of you who follows along, for those who comment or have left
kudos nearly forty thousand hits and I am in shock with joy! I will see all comments
though I may be a bit delayed in responding as the holidays start to conclude. Happy
early Kwanza to all who celebrate! I will be back!

P.S. Yes, I am making a lot of my characters LGBTQ+ because it is something near

and dear to my heart and that I lacked when I grew up.
 The Welsh Sea
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; Mentions of death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I tried to keep the end light and funny considering how heavy the last few chapters
have been. The next chapter will be the very first one to coincide with canon as the
visit to Diagon Alley for the first time will be occurring. Be on the look out for many
familiar characters ;)

Thank you for continuing to read this fic and to leave any and all comments and
kudos. I am always grateful. By the time I return it may just be a New Year, so just in
case Happy New Year! I can only hope it holds great times and lessons to be learned
for us all!
 Diagon Alley: Part 1
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I had hoped to get this up early but alas life has not been kind these last few days. It is
here now though!

A few notes since we are in canon territory.

1. I won't be doing a chapter to chapter rewrite. It would be too much, but I will be
trying to hit on everything I see as important and/or I feel needs to change to fit better
into my story.

2. On chapter rewrites expect a format like this. It won't be direct quotes of the
conversations and thoughts in the books, but instead I try to put my own spin on them
and change them as I see fit.

3. If I don't change it in my rewrite you can assume it is as it is told in the books. I only
use the movie canon sparingly.

That about covers it! I hope you all enjoy, there is a part two of the trip to Diagon
Alley coming and they just might run into a few more familiar faces from the past. ;)
Until then, thank you for every comment, they do mean the world to me to see that
people enjoy my works and thank you for every kudo to show your support! Be back
soon!
 Diagon Alley: Part 2
Chapter Notes

CW: Brief mention of threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

And there we have it, Diagon Alley is one of my favorite scenes, but it is bittersweet
because now Harry must go off into the great unknown, but at least this time he is not
alone.

Thank you for any comments, I adore them. Thank you for any Kudos the notification
I receive every day always makes me smile. Thank you for reading, by some miracle
this fic is approaching 45k hits and I couldn't be more appreciative. Until next time!
 September First
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

The first Harry POV! Oh I'm so excited for this. I hope you all enjoy! It is a bit
bittersweet, but I am looking forward to this journey. The first few years at Hogwarts
are much lighter then what is to come, so while we all can let's enjoy shall we! I will
be back soon, as always I adore all comments and kudos and thank you all for reading!
 The Sorting
Chapter Notes

CW: References to prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Did I make Seamus line that exact quote from the movie because I could say it in my
sleep? Yes, yes I did.

Also full disclosure I am currently (and slowly) going through this story again to make
additional edits, so if you read back through it and notice some minor changes that is
why, the story as a whole will remain the same I’ll mainly be looking at grammar and
spelling, but there maybe a few continuity errors I missed and need to fix!

Thank you for all the love and comments and kudos! This story is nearly at 50k hits
which I still have a hard time wrapping my head around! It’s all so unbelievable and I
couldn’t thank you enough! I will return next week!
 Professor Snape
Chapter Notes

CW: Bullying, Mentions of Death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

I subscribe to the idea that Peter was in Gryffindor because he had the courage to
betray his friends (even though it was a cowardly act and done in selfishness and I
don’t commend it at all, I feel like it had to still take nerve to make that choice)

Thank you all for interacting with this story and leaving comments and kudos as you
can. It has hit 50k! I couldn’t be more in awe because I never thought this would
happen! Thank you so much and I will be back shortly!
 Written Between the Lines
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

While I was re-reading the books for this fic, I was recalled how the first two books
felt like mystery novels more than fantasy stories. It certainly influences the way I
rewrite the first two.

Thank you for all the comments lately and for continuing to read! I am trying to get
through them all as quickly as I can. Though I have been dealing with a bit in my
personal life, so thank you all for being understanding if it takes a bit longer to reply.

Cheers!
 Brooms, Letters and a Duel with a Troll
Chapter Notes

CW: Brief Description of Injury

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“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 End Notes

I wanted some light hearted conversation sprinkled in where I could considering how
serious (I hate and love how this average word can mean so much more) the story
becomes later on.

I hope you are all enjoying and thank you for continuing to read and comment! It does
mean more to me than I can put into words. I shall return shortly!
 Holiday Nineteen Ninety One
Chapter Notes

CW: Brief mentions of injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

My apologies for dipping out last week with only one update. I fell victim to an
unfortunate stomach flu and then had some unexpected family stop for a visit. So the
long and short is I was exhausted. But I am back and I took a few days off for my
recovery so I should have time to jump back into schedule again. I certainly missed
posting even if it was only a week.

Also only about three chapters left in the first book before we transition into COS
which I think I cut down a lot more because my plot doesn’t REALLY start until the
end of COS/beginning of POA and I just want to get there! Honestly I’m extremely
nervous to get to the part of the story because clearly I have to change a lot about the
POA storyline and the decisions I’ve made have me ~anxious~ but I hope you all will
enjoy this journey with me. I’m off to edit the next chapter as soon as I can!
Comments and kudos are loved!
 Un Petit Chalet
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of death and prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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 End Notes

Nearly to the end of the first book now. I must say I am quite proud of how the final
chapter turns out. It is both similar and different as is most of what I cover in this
rewrite. I hope you are all enjoying and I am glad you have made it this far! Thank
you always for comments, kudos, and even just reading along!
 A Dragon’s New Life
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of Injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

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.

Harry ended up taking a nap for an hour before he was woken abruptly at a quarter to eleven. He
listened to the sounds of his dorm mates breathing to confirm they were asleep before he grabbed
his cloak and slipped into the night. Hermione and him had to squeeze in close, but they made it
Hagrid in good time. The groundskeeper was sniffling as he said his goodbyes and packed extra
snacks to the side and even gave Norbert his favorite bone to take with him.

Harry felt an inkling of eyes following him as they said their goodbyes in front of Hagrid’s open
window before slipping back under the cloak with a dragon in tow between them. Norbert snorted
loudly a few times with flames nearly catching the cloak as he and Hermione had to pause several
times to quiet him before they could continue. All the while, Harry couldn’t drop the sinking
feeling in his stomach that eyes were still on him. Shaking his head, he tried to brush it off on the
Hogwarts portraits hung haphazardly throughout the castle. They didn’t pry much, and often left
the students alone. Still as his feet crunch on the dirt of the first step of the Astronomy Tower, he
wanted the night to be over with and to be safely tucked back into bed.

Ten minutes till and Harry and Hermione could finally let their exhausted arms place Nortbert
under the grey light of the moon. Harry pulled the cloak back and tucked it in a corner of the tower
as they sat side by side and waited. Harry pointed out a few stars he was familiar with.

“You know I have a stuffed dragon named Vega.” Harry admitted. His little dragon was tucked in
his truck by the end of his bed. Regulus had snuck it in there as well as his Padfoot stuffie when
Harry wasn’t looking. Secretly, he was happy Regulus did. The toys helped remind him of home
and even had the vague scents of fresh potions and warm cooking.

“I had a teddy named Tolkien.” Hermione responded as Harry gave her a strange look.
“The fantasy author? Ironically he wrote about wizards, I used to dream about a journey to Middle
Earth, and well I know most dreams don’t come true, but this feels pretty close.” Hermione smiled
as she pulled at one of her ringlets. Harry returned the smile.

“I read Sherlock Holmes books growing up. I dreamed about having adventures with my friends
and I think this is pretty close.” Harry said look at Hermione, who glanced at him before bursting
out into a deep belly laugh.

“Adventure is one way to put it.” She chuckled as she took deep breaths a moment later. They
didn’t get to say any more between each other because two figures were dotting the sky and
approaching quickly. Harry and Hermione stood and slowly took steps behind Norbert’s cage as
the two figures came to a screeching landing with their broom.

Charlie Weasley wasn’t exactly what Harry had been expecting. He looked a bit like the twins with
broad shoulders, but he didn’t stand even as tall as Percy. His arms were littered with a mixture of
scars and tattoos all in various states of fading and freshness. He had a pile of hair tied and knotted
at the top of his head that when released would likely even pass Sirius’ and his ears and lip
gleamed with silver adornments. He was quite possibly the most interesting person to look at.

“Eh, Ron’s friend? I expected him to be up here.” Charlie said with his lips curling and the ring
through the bottom corner pulling slightly. He didn’t wait for an answer before he was kneeling
down to the cage with a gloved hand slipping towards Nortbert’s face. Harry wanted to step
forward and warn him not to do that, but he was still awestruck by the whole encounter. To his
surprise, Norbert let Charlie scratch his chin and even flapped his wings loudly in appreciation.

“A Norwegian Ridgeback, what a beauty. They are endangered, otherwise I don’t think McKenzie
would let me bring him back. He’s still trying to wrap his head around how I managed to bring an
orphaned Chinese Fireball into the mix. Qiao is a handful, and she only likes me.” Charlie said as
he continued to scratch at Norbert while doing a visual inspection of a cage.

“Ron got bit by him.” Hermione squeaked as she shuffled behind Harry. She likely was still
worried about Charlie’s strange possible criminal history.

“Oh they are venomous. I adore Hagrid, but he should know better than to keep one of these
around. A Welsh Green is a much more manageable breed if he wanted a dragon.” Charlie
explained as he pulled at the black scales of Norbert gently before finally withdrawing his hand.

“Alright Daniel, let’s get this cage ringed up between the two of us. It’s going to be a long flight.”
Charlie commanded with authority much more than his age. The dark haired man behind him
grunted and got to quick work of it. They had a strange contraception to help hold Nortbert
between them so they wouldn’t have to use their wands the entire time. Still it would be risky and
they ran the possibility of being thrown off their brooms, but Charlie explained it all with a bit of
excitement in his voice. Harry figured he must enjoy adrenaline. He and Hermione let the two men
work as Daniel seemed to only speak Romanian and Charlie responded in a mixture of loud
English and Romanian before they finally cleared for flight. The two of them stood side by side as
they watched the brooms fly off. Norbert was already ruffling his scaly wings and breathing small
bursts of flames before they were even out of sight. Harry made a mental note to ask Ron about his
brother and confirm he survived the flight.

“Well that was interesting.” Hermione muttered as the two of them took the stairs side by side.
Harry nodded in agreement grabbing at his arms to a chill. They stepped into the warmer hall and
all the anxious energy hit Harry at once.

“Well, well, well students out of bed. This will be a fun tale.” A looming voice cracked through the
 night. It was Flinch, the caretaker of the school with his small little cat and her glowing yellow
eyes next to him. Behind them, a smirking smug pinched face with slicked back blonde hair. He
suddenly was struck with the daring realisation that the invisibility cloak was still tucked in the
corner. Hermione gave him a horror stricken look as he gulped loudly. There was no talking their
way out of this one.

Chapter End Notes

Canonically Charlie doesn’t come, but canon? What’s canon? Also I wholeheartedly
stand by that the ‘jail’ option on the Weasley clock was added because of Bill and
Charlie.

Side notes on this weeks second update. It may or may not happen. I can’t say for sure
because I actually am going away last minute this weekend for an early birthday
celebration so I might just be a bit too busy! But I can only handle so much people
time before I need to decompress so there is always the chance I will be able to edit.

Thank you for reading and commenting and leaving every kudo that you can. This FF
has hit sixty thousand hits and I am awe struck and forever grateful. I’ll be back soon!
 A Hidden Message
Chapter Notes

CW: Verbal Abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Sirius?” Regulus asked as he pushed open his brother’s door without a care. Sirius was lounged at
the end of the bed flicking through a book he didn’t seem to be reading.

“Regulus.” Sirius responded without a glance and with a loud flick of thin paper.

“In all the detentions you served, did you ever serve one in the Forbidden Forest?” Regulus
whispered as he continued to flush his eyes down the long parchment in his hand. Harry’s
scrawling handwriting was flickering between larger and smaller fonts. As if he had written the
letter in several different sittings.

“I received detentions for being out of bonds in the forest, but I never served one in there. It would
seem a bit counterproductive to send students into a forbidden place for punishment.” Sirius
responded with eyebrows knitted as he dropped the wrist holding the book in hand with a click of
joints.

“Exactly, so why would McGonagall send four students into the Forbidden Forest for detention?
More particularly, why would she send them into the forest where unicorns are being killed by an
unknown source to try and hunt down injured unicorns?” Regulus asked exasperated as the bed
creaked under his sudden drop. Sirius scampered to Regulus' side, his warm breath hitting his ear
as he whispered silently under his breath the words written on the page.

“A centaur helped him? That’s rather unusual.” Sirius mumbled. Regulus gave him a pesky look
that Sirius wrinkled his nose at.

“He was attacked! You’re more shocked by the centaur helping him.” Regulus pointed out with a
crunching of the parchment.

“Honestly with Harry’s record? Yes.” Sirius shrugged as he leaned back on a single arm. Regulus
let out a long breath examining the words again carefully.

“What could it have been?” Regulus shook his head.

“Ignatius is in the kitchen. We should go ask him. He’s had the pleasure of meeting a unicorn or
two before and the rather unpleasant encounter with those diabolical enough to drink their blood.”
Sirius suggested jumping off the bed before Regulus could even respond.

Ignatius had his head bent over paperwork with glasses nearly falling off his face giving him a
bookish appearance that almost seemed unfitting on his strong shoulder but still matched perfectly
with his personality. There was chaos of parchment and letters and books surrounding him. His
work, a new book he was trying to piece together on the classification system of beings and beast
and within it a new suggestion for correction. More than likely, as with most of his work, it would
largely be disregarded by most of the Ministry. They did not want to hear of their faults in handling
the care of those deemed beneath them, but his work always had decent commercial success. He’d
brought it to Switzerland in the hope of inspiration and lack of disruption. Today the latter would
not be true as Sirius and Regulus slipped into the kitchen and stared at their uncle a bit too much
like young children until he sighed and removed his glasses.

“I suppose I should have expected this.” He said as he lifted a recently cracked seal of a letter from
Harry. Clearly, the young boy had been one step ahead of them.

“I can’t complain. No one has been enthused by my work as often as Harry has; however, the
circumstances are less than ideal.” Ignatius added as he waved his wand and the mess of work
neatly stacked and shuffled into a corner. Regulus and Sirius hurried to seats around him eager to
hear whatever light he could share on the situation. Ignatius had seen much in life and battled and
conquered difficult tasks and he, unlike their grandfather, was more apt to share his knowledge
freely and openly.

“A slain unicorn is an ominous sign. Whatever Harry saw drinking it’s blood would have been
more human than creature, likely a desperate and irrational wizard. The blood comes at a cost as
you know, I’ve never known anyone who’s cursed themselves with the magic to live a long life
after. Everytime it would have been better for them to die as they were supposed to. People fear the
unknown, and what is death but the greatest unknown.” Ignatius began as his hand loosely fumbled
with his own letter from Harry. “I don’t want to be the one to say it, but I’ve seen very few wizards
attempt unicorn blood sacrifices and even fewer survive. The one constant was desperation and
desire. The desire for an inkling of life, the desperation for one last vye of power. All were too
weak to thrive, it would take a tremendously powerful and resilient wizard without a care to lose to
befall such measures and be successful. Only one wizard I can think of comes to mind.”

“Voldemort.” Sirius hissed under his breath. Regulus gulped and could feel his hands shaking,
crinkling his letter still clutched in his fist. He felt a comforting hand touch the edge of his knee.
His eyes flickered over to see his brother staring ahead, but his fingers clutched to try and still
Regulus’ clattering knees.

“There could be others, but we all knew there was a chance he was not destroyed. Let me have
your letter. I will take these to Arcturus when he returns, if there is anyone with the knowledge to
assist it is him.” Ignatius replied with his hand reaching out to Regulus. His hand shakily reached
his uncles with the paper creased in several places. Ignatius let his eyes soften as he rubbed his
thumb calmingly over Regulus’ wrist before filing the two letters into his bag to pass along.

“Harry.” Regulus managed to sputter out without knowing how he planned to finish his thought.

“Will be fine. He is at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, and while my faith in him may waver greatly. I
doubt Voldemort will attack him under his nose. Once he’s returned for the summer, he will be
under the same roof as Arcturus. Harry will be safe, we would all rather die protecting him than let
Voldemort near him again. It will give us time to create a plan before war stirs again.” Ignatius
tried to reassure as he waved over Kreacher to make tea.

Regulus let his cup lose all its steam before he even thought to grab it. It was cold in his hands as
he stared out the window blankly. There were clouds rolling in over the hills and thunder cracking
distantly. He couldn’t help but feel a terrible sense of foreboding. An itch he couldn’t reach as it
gnawed under his skin. It felt as it did last time, the suspicious incidents, the whispers that would
linger for years until finally there was nowhere else to hide the horrifying thoughts. Ignatius said
they had time to plan, but he had heard that before and while they may have not lost the war, the
list of names lost was too long to recount. Regulus brought cold tea to his lips and let the pressure
of the cup cut into his lower one as he tried with all his might to suppress the overwhelming
emotions that knotted in his stomach.

Harry pushed his palm into his skull just next to his scar. The aching feeling had not subsided in
days. The intrusive pull of someone trying to get into his thoughts. Keeping the walls up around his
mind was exhausting and had made focusing for his exam incredibly hard. He had hoped a walk by
the lake would get him far enough away to ease the pain, but the tension in his brows remained.
Hermione and Ron were with him as he finally collapsed in a tired fit by a tree. There were
carvings from generations ago. He ran his fingers over a few carved initials. An A and M, an I and
L, and a S and R, remnants of past relationships. Harry wondered out loud if any of those couples
were still together.

“Dunno know, do know Bill told me he found old carvings he thought were my uncles, but they're
closer to the forest.” Ron shrugged as he picked up a smooth stone to flick across the lake with a
splash. The reflective black stone caught the bright hot sun overhead. For a moment, Harry
imagined Norbert’s shaking shiny scales.

“Heard from Charlie? How’s Norbert?” Harry muttered as he leaned his head back to bask in the
warmth for the last few days of Hogwarts.

“He only wrote once. Let me know he survived the journey, he got a nasty new scar from it though.
Apparently they caught a storm on the way back and Charlie refused to let the cage drop so he tried
to get closer, but the wind pushed him so hard into it and tore his shoulder open. He flew through
though, good ole Charlie, he said he’s had Quidditch injuries worse than that, but I think he just
doesn’t like to make a big deal of himself.” Ron explained as the first stone splashed twice before
sinking as Ron let out a defeated breath. Harry nodded as the tension slowly eased. It was as if the
person was finally far enough away they could no longer search his mind. He could feel himself
lulling to sleep when he jolted with a stark pain so renewed he fell on all fours. His friends dropped
all they had in hand and helped him up.

“Harry, is it your scar? You’ve been bothering with it, maybe you should go to Madam Pompfrey.”
Hermione said as she held one arm and Ron the other.

“No, no I’m fine I was just thinking about Norbert and how he'd be safe now and how it seemed
maybe we're safe now. Then this shock ran through me and I…” Harry trailed off as his mind
wandered through the eventful last few weeks. He’d written home several times to the same reply
from everyone. To stay out of it, even Grandfather Arcturus had written him a rather stern letter
telling Harry to focus on his exams and let him handle it. He’d taken a step back and focused on
the study notes Hermione had made for them and thought he did rather well, but now without the
distraction his mind connected the picture he should have seen.

“How did Hagrid get a dragon?” Harry whispered.

“Harry, did you hit your head? We should really take you to get looked at.” Hermione shook her
head as she tried to pull him up.

“How did he get the dragon?” Harry repeated as he pulled his arms away with force he had not
meant. He immediately regretted it as he glanced at his stumbling friends. They were only trying to
help.

“He won it on a bet, mate. He told us.” Ron said with his eyes turned sideways to Hermione.

“Who just has a dragon egg laying around? Especially a rare and dangerous one, Charlie said so
himself. They are endangered. It would be awfully hard to stumble upon one.” Harry informed as
he quickly made stumbling feet and shifted rocks to Hagrid’s hut. He could hear labored breaths
behind him that told him his friends were trying to keep pace.

“Hagrid!” Harry yelled as saw the giant man gently patting the dirt in his garden with a gloved
hand.

“Oi, Harry! Just checking the strawberries. Nearly season, are you enjoying the weather?” Hagrid
asked with a big grin and a wave that spread the dirt from his hand onto his beard.

“Who gave you the dragon?” Harry skidded to a stop at the edge of the garden with his skin
flushed and palms sweaty.

“Don’t know him, he wore a cloak and spoke in a real husky voice. Sounded like he had an accent
though. I had assumed he was a Romanian fellow with him having a dragon egg and all.” Hagrid
said as he brushed dirt from his face.

“So you didn’t see him at all? What did you talk about?” Harry rushed the words together in one
breath.

“Creatures mostly, don’t often get to speak to like minded people. Charlie Weasley, Ignatius
Prewett, Newt Scamander, so few that appreciate the care of handling so called dangerous
creatures. I was telling the man about Fluffy, he’d never encountered such a beast. They are rather
rare and mostly found in Greece, I told him. Told him not to fret though, Fluffy is easy enough if
you know the history. Only needs a bit of music, prefers classical, but anything will do, and he’ll
fall right to sleep—” Hagrid abruptly stopped and his eyes popped wide.

“You told them how to get past Fluffy?” Harry whispered. Snape. It had to be Snape in disguise.
Snape was the one trying to get into his mind and if Harry couldn’t feel it anymore. Harry turned in
his heel but Hagrid took to big steps in front of him.

“Now, I don’t need you going and endangering yourself Harry. With Dumbledore gone—” Hagrid
started before Harry nearly yelled at him.

“Dumblerdore is gone?”

“Left at dawn, I ran into him on his way to Hogsmeade. Something about nonsense Ministry
business. Don’t worry, he will be back in a day or two.” Hagrid wagged his finger at him, but Harry
barely saw before he bolted toward the entrance hall. The sun was starting to set behind him and he
needed a plan.

Snape was going for the Stone to bring back Voldemort. Harry couldn’t let it happen, but who was
he to stand against Snape alone? He needed reinforcements, but a letter wouldn’t make it in time.
He’d needed something quicker. He dashed through the halls of Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione’s
crashing steps and voices carried after him, but he didn’t stop. Even when Peeves tried to jump
scare him from a doorway, Harry ignored him and the poltergeist looked truly bewildered for the
first time.

He needed a portrait. One who would actually listen to him. Most were apathetic and apprasive to
the students, but there was one always willing to have a conversation. He just needed to keep her on
track.

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked with indifference as she swirled a glass of wine in front of her
eyes. This would be more difficult then he had hoped if she was in such a mood.
“Ma’am, I was actually hoping to ask you a favor.” Harry said with his most innocent look.

“Ma’am, oh darling how polite.” She said as she swished her wine around her with a few dots
sticking to the hem of her sleeve. “Not many people care to talk to little me, too busy living their
lives. It gets rather boring hearing the constant barrage of the same word over and over again
thrown at you as if I wasn’t once human too. Unless it’s the nervous knee-knocking boy, he does
not remember the password. Curled up more than one night in the corner there.” She motioned
with her wine carelessly again. Harry noted that he should probably check for Neville in his bed
before going to sleep from now on, but that was not the pressing matter.

“Of course, ma'am, very undervalued work you are doing here.” Harry said as his foot began to
tap, but he had to play this carefully. Hermione and Ron had finally caught up with him and were
kneeled over behind him, barely able to hear him over their breathing.

“Darling, too kind, truly. Keep talking like that and I will owe you plenty of favours. What’s a little
one just now?” She said with a continued wave.

“Oh it is rather simple ma’am. Hardly means for you to even think about it since I know how well
connected you are with the other portraits. I was wondering if you could get me Phineas Black?”
Harry said, batting his eyelashes. The portrait gave him a disgruntled look as she brought her hand
to her chest.

“Well I certainly am acquainted with Phineas, he makes it difficult not to me after all his grumbling
and shuffling around this castle when he was Headmaster. The question is why would I ever
willingly put myself in his presence? Let alone let him into my portrait.” She said with a loud sniff.

“Oh ma’am I only need to convey a message.” Harry said as he could see the sun rays out of the
nearest window retreating more and more.

“What message?” She said with a sip of her wine and a raise of her eyebrow. She did enjoy her
gossip.

“I need him to tell someone something. To tell this to someone, the Stone is being stolen as we
speak.” Harry said as he felt the hairs on his neck to stand up. He couldn’t say all he wanted, not
with Hermione and Ron listening.

“That’s awfully vague, but I owe you a favor for your kindness, but I will not let Phineas Black
anywhere within the vicinity of my portrait. I will go and convey your messages for you.” She said
as she stood holding her wine glass still and left the frame before Harry could even plead with her
not to leave. Harry rushed up to her portrait and tried to call for her, but she either ignored him or
could no longer hear him.

“Phineas Black? I would have gone with a hundred other Headmasters, but I suppose he might have
the best chance getting to Dumbledore. The Blacks have several portraits in the Ministry, quick
thinking Harry!” Hermione congratulated him. Harry gulped. He knew Phineas would be very
unlikely to help Dumbledore with anything, but he may be persuaded to see his grandson. At least
he hoped great grandfather Phineas understood the message and had the will to deliver it. It would
take time, Arcturus was in Switzerland and even with his connections a portkey would take time.

“We need to buy time. If Snape escapes with the Stone it will all be for nothing. Come on.” Harry
said with little breath as he started to take the stairs two at a time.

“Bloody hell.” He heard Ron curse behind him but could hear his trainers following him still.
-

“Arcturus! Arcturus! Blasted bastard, Arcturus!” The screams were traveling throughout the whole
house. Regulus flung open his door as he heard several other hinges creak and the quick rapt sound
of a cane slamming on steps.

“By Salazar.” Arcturus grumbled as his thick robes sharply cut through the air as Regulus had to
lean back to avoid being hit in the face. Sirius was on their grandfather's heels as he paused at the
last step checking on Regulus, who could only shrug in response. The screeches were coming from
the sunroom where Alphard's portrait hung. Regulus had heard his uncle scream before, it had not
sounded like this. He and Sirius slipped together into the hall and leaned to try and catch the
conversation. The rest of the household lingered a bit further down.

“Merlin, Phineas. I’ll cut your portrait's throat next time.” Arcturus grumbled as he took several
deep breaths.

“Well if you had only moved faster. Act like you're an old man, when I was old I didn’t let age stop
me!” Phineas croaked.

“You couldn’t walk your final year and I’m nearly two decades older.” Arcturus scoffed as the
sound of the sofa settled and the distinct click of the cane hitting a table rang out. “Now why have
you bothered us this fine afternoon with your wretched voice?”

“Bastard child. Oh if your father could hear you now.” Phineas huffed loudly.

“My father is very much dead, if you have nothing to discuss about the living.” Arcturus said as the
sounds of his feet shuffling followed.

“Oh I speak of the living and the young in truth. I have a message from that pathetic little orphan
you’ve taken in our family’s charge.” Phineas replied with a sinister sting to his voice. Regulus
gripped onto the wall with the edges of his nails as he leaned closer. Harry, Grandfather Phineas
had to be speaking of Harry.

“Harry sent you?” Arcturus asked as he sat down again.

“Indeed, the poor child must have been desperate. He sent that horrid woman with the awful vocals
to me, you know the one, the Gryffindor portrait. Speaking so quickly my ears could barely hear.
What I did gather is he needed you to know that the Stone is being stolen.” Phineas said with his
tone falling flat.

“The Philosopher’s Stone? Being stolen now? Under Dumbledore?” Arcturus said each word
precisely as if he did not believe his own grandfather.

“Oh, the imbecile that is Dumbledore left. Went at first light due to a letter from the Ministry. Did
not even verify the owl. Amauter even after all these years.” Phineas said. Regulus could picture
the thin old man shaking his head with its raggedy limp curls barely moving.

“Dumbledore has left?” Arcturus inquired as he shuffled more. Likely leaning closer to the portrait
to confirm he had heard correctly.

“Indeed, if the whispers of portraits are to be believed. Young Mister Potter was last seen running
down the halls to the restricted corridor with those two little children he is often with.” Phineas
replied. Regulus couldn’t stand it, he was in the room before he knew what he had done.

“Harry was running where?” Regulus asked in complete shock as his Grandfather stood quickly to
hold him back. Phineas startled in his portrait, but his composure was stilled soon after.

“Well to where The Philosopher’s Stone is being hidden obviously. I would reckon he is already
gravely injured. Dumbledore had all his incompetent professors set their own traps, all meant to
cause harm to any who attempted to by pass them. I doubt children will make it far. In fact, that
unnatural three headed dog likely took them all in one fell swoop. Would be good for someone to
teach the boy a good hard lesson since none of my own family cared too.” Phineas sniffed as he
turned his head away.

Regulus felt his stomach drop and knot. His vision was growing blurry rather from tears or stress he
couldn’t tell, all he knew was he needed to get to Harry. Oh precious Harry, who was only trying to
play hero and be of help, but did not understand the gravity of his situation. Regulus felt his hands
latch onto his Grandfather with desperation.

“We have to go. We have to help him.” He nearly pleaded.

“I’ve got my wand, we will go.” Sirius declared behind him with determination. Arcturus removed
Regulus hands and raised himself to full height with a silencing look.

“You will do no such thing, need I remind you. You are dead and you are in prison.” Arcturus said
with a jab towards both his grandsons. “And I have done my damndest to make sure that
knowledge stays solidified. I will not let you ruin it in your folly.”

Regulus stepped back instinctively and bowed his head a bit. He hadn’t meant to be desperate, but
he did not care. It was Harry. He would do anything for Harry.

“Ignatius, gather your wand and get your cousin the moment we land in England. I’ll get the
portkey. Cassie, I need you to explain to Lucretia what has happened when she returns with
Helena.” Arcturus commanded with an air of authority.

“I’ll be damned. I am coming with you.” Cassiopeia replied as she bent down to pull her wand
from where it was strapped to her ankle.

“Cassie, I need someone to be here. Keep these two in line and prevent them from doing the
irrational, but yes, caring action of charging into a battle they may not be needed.” Arcturus
explained as he eyed both of them and added the last part only as Sirius’ lips parted with an
argument brewing on his tongue.

“I’ll stay. Helena will be expecting me anyways.” Marius stepped forward with resolved in his
stance daring Arcturus to challenge him if he deemed it, but there was a fight in his face that said
even he wouldn’t go down easy. Arcturus contemplated for only a flash of his eyes before he
nodded. With his wand pulled from his cane in one swift movement, he made his way to the door
still shouting orders of his shoulder.

“Have Alphard grab my brother and sister and send them to the portraits at Hogwarts. I’ll send
them back with an update quicker than an owl and the extra eyes around Hogwarts will be helpful.
I don’t like the idea of us being outnumbered by Dumbledore loyaltist, alas it is how it is. Sirius,
Regulus, stay put.” He demanded one last time before the front door flung open. Ignatius had
marched behind him with only his wand. Cassieopia came with her bag to her side stuffing potions
in as she rushedly said goodbye and pleaded with them all to not worry. The whole affair lasted
minutes, but it went by in seconds and dragged for hours before they had disappeared beyond the
hills. Regulus didn’t register his unbalance until his knees hit the ground.

“It will be alright, Regulus. He may not be the gentlest person, but if there were ever a person to
 face the impossible and succeed it would be Arcturus.” Marius whispered in his ear as he crouched
down next to him. Sirius was pacing loudly with his hands pulling at his hair. Regulus could only
nod weakly as he sat back on his knees.

“Fuck me.” Sirius was muttering under his breath and Regulus couldn’t help but take the sentiment
toheart. He’d never felt so fucking useless in his life as he sat and waited.

Chapter End Notes

I’m back! Had a long weekend with a lot of fun, but needed lots of recovery!

Book 1 will be wrapped up in the next chapter and onto the transition to COS!

Thank you for all the comments and kudos! Always greatly appreciated and loved!
 Everything Comes Together in the End
Chapter Notes

CW: Death and Injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The ground was nearly marsh under his feet and the air was thick with a boggy smell, but one
couldn’t be picky at the last moment. He was shocked they could get this close without having to
apparate halfway across the United Kingdom.

“Where have we landed?” Ignatius questioned as he used his arms to pull a leg out from the mud
he’d landed in. There was a loud pop as he disconnected from the murky grey ground and nearly
stumbled backwards.

“Close to the MacMillan farm. I hope you’re still on good terms with your cousin by law, Murdo,
yes? Borrow his Floo to call Lancelot and have him get to the hospital wing as quickly as
possible.” Arcturus demanded as he pushed forward with as much force as he could. They needed
solid ground to apparate and from his glance only Cassiopeia had landed on dense ground as she
wrinkled her nose and pulled her skirt up to tie a knot at the end.

“Murdo is a bit of a curse first, ask questions later, type of wizard.” Ignatius huffed as his feet
continued to sink in his slow movements.

“Well let’s hope he recognizes you. Go Ignatius, meet us at Hogwarts, you have a bit more youth
to you.” Arcturus said as he let out a long huff of air before digging his cane into the hardest part of
earth he could find and hoisting himself up with some effort.

“Only barely.” Ignatius sighed, but he headed off to the dotted line of houses with smoke curling
over the largest one. The old farmhouses of the MacMillian farm. It was almost impossible to look
at them in the rolling Highlands without memories dotting his vision. Long blond hair and heavy
accents and secret glances exchanged under the watchful eyes of many brothers. Igantius would
most likely be fine. The MacMillians were family and Murdo and Ignatius had long been friends
since they were young. It was unlikely he’d hex him at a glance without reason.

“Well, cousin, it seems you landed on your feet.” Arcturus pointed out as Cassiopeia used her wand
to pull her grey hair back. Her neck stuck out elegantly even given the conditions.

“Grace and poise were my only redeeming qualities according to my father.” She said with a chided
tone. She offered her arm as he brushed off the corners of his soaked robes.

“Your father was a fool.” Arcturus reminded her.

Once the ground stopped being squashed under foot, they apparated as close as they could before
making their way the Muggle way to the edge of the castle. Night was falling and children were
scurrying back to the hallways of Hogwarts and had little attention to the two older companions
approaching. Arcturus couldn’t pay them much mind either, as far as anyone cared to know, he was
simply here for Board of Governors business. He had an honorary seat bestowed upon him at his
grandfather's passing. Back then it had been given in hopes he could be tempted to run the school
one day. Academics were never his fashion.

“Third floor corridor, I believe I recall where it is even after all these years. Shall we wait for
Ignatius, or truck on forward?” Cassiopeia asked as her small heels clicked into the shining stone
of the corridor.

“My dear, I believe you will find Ignatius will have beaten us to our destination. Come quickly up
these stairs before they change.” Arcturus pointed before leaning onto the railing and continuing up
the stairs on straining knees. Time was of the essence. He could hope Harry would be bright
enough to remain safe, but there were no guarantees until he could have the boy in his arms.

“It's a Devil's Snare plant! We have to stop moving!” Harry yelled as the branches winded around
his arms. He couldn’t believe he had fallen into it. He should have known, it was one of the few
plants that thrived in darkness and could be used as a trap.

“We need light!” Hermione cried.

“My wand is caught!” Harry called back. His mouth getting caught on a vine muffling his words.

“Oh we have no matches.” Hermione said distressed.

“Bloody hell, are you a witch or not! Use your wand.” Ron yelled as he moved frantically causing
himself to sink further into the deadly bind.

“Oh yes.” Hermione said a bit meekly as she pulled the wand and sent out sparks of blue fire that
caused the vines to hiss in retreat. Harry took a deep grateful breath. Ron was gasping on his hands
and knees next to him.

“Really, Hermione? No matches!” He said between strained breaths. She swatted at him as Harry
turned around to see they were in a long dark hallway.

“I suppose we go that way.” Harry nodded to the darkness that was brimming with drips of water
and a weak wind that barely brushed his hair back.

“I’ve been waiting.” Ignatius called as he slid down the hall just before a cracked wide door.
“Fluffy has been taken care of and it appears there is a mess of broken Devil’s Snare at the bottom.
Looks like someone set it on fire so we just need to cast a cushion charm and we can get past it.”

“How did you get here?” Cassiopeia asked at the same time as Arcturus asked, “Who is Fluffy?”

“There’s a secret corridor. I found it in my third year. Told Fabian and Gideon about it, I’m
shocked it’s still here. There were fireworks stashed there, but I didn’t have time to worry about
those.” Ignatius said as he waved them towards the door and pulled it open with a creak. Inside
were the soft cords of classical music dancing over the enormous and menacing sleeping form of
all three heads of what Arcturus could only assume was Fluffy.

“This is Fluffy. We have to be careful, I never did well in musical education to the upset of my
mother. My Bach is rough.” Ignatius nodded towards a harp playing itself weakly in the corner.
Arcturus grabbed Cassiopeia's hand as Ignatius pulled back a creaking trapdoor. His face
scrunched up with each noise, but only one of the heads snorted before settling on a paw bigger
than nearly Arcturus’ body.
“Ready to save Harry?” Ignatius sighed before he jumped down the trapdoor with a thud, softened
by the charm at the ground. Arcturus and Cassiopeia shared a look before he offered his hand to
help her down.

“You have to be the one to go on Harry. Not me, not Hermione, you!” Ron said before he made the
call to move his piece forward. Harry couldn’t look away when the White Queen struck Ron across
the face causing him to fall in a heap. Hermione let out a muffled cry. Harry could feel his eyes
watering as he watched Ron’s unmoving form get dragged off the board. As Ron disappeared from
his sight, he steeled his shoulder back and blinked harshly before stepping forward and bellowing
out checkmate. He took satisfaction in the way the King dejectedly threw his crown at Harry’s feet.
His eyes lingered off the chess board, but it would all be useless if Harry ran back to Ron. He had
to make his sacrifice worthy.

Hermione helped push him forward past another doorway where they both nearly fell over on a
large lump of rock. Only it wasn’t a rock. It was a sweaty smelly troll sprawled out with his eyes
closed and a bit of drool coming down his mouth. Herimone let out a small squeak as she wipe
tears away from the poignant smell.

“Glad we don’t have to fight this one. I don’t think I could explain it away this time.” Harry shook
his head. “If this was Quirrell’s challenge then we only have Snape’s defence left. It will be the
easiest one for him to pass.”

“I worry about his challenge.” Hermione mumbled as she gripped onto Harry’s forearm while they
tiptoed past the troll, worried they’d have to fight one again if they weren’t careful.

They made it safely to the next door to face a short table with many different sized potions lined
perfectly spaced next to each other. As they stepped forward the room burst into wild flames.
Black to the front and purple to the back. Harry gulped as Hermione rushed forward and caught a
piece of paper before it fluttered off the table.

“Oh Harry! We’re saved! It’s a riddle.” She said gleefully. Harry backed up to the table with a
weak smile. It was hard to feel safe with cracking fire touching the rooftops.

“Ron!” Ignatius cried as they all entered a room with an overly large chess set. Pieces we’re still
pulling back together and slowly moving back into place. Ignatius was gently holding his nephew
in his hands. The boy had a trickle of blood coming down his temple, but his chest was still
moving slowly. Arcturus brushed off a spare key that had fallen in his pocket. It felt childish to
have to keep solving these riddles. At least the keys had a very uncommon counter charm he knew
that caused them to all fall completely flat on the ground meaning they only had to shuffle through
hundreds of them to find the correct one.

“He needs help.” Cassiopeia leaned over as she brushed back a bit of the stark red hair to clean up
the wound as best she could. Arcturus was watching the chess stage move. It had clearly just been
played and won at the surrender of the young Weasley.

“We can’t pause, if the board resets we will have to play the game, but I believe if we hurry we can
make it to the next door. Harry must be just ahead.” Arcturus commented as he started to move
towards the door. The two behind him didn’t make any move to follow as he let out a frustrated
groan.
“Ignatius, take your nephew back. Lancelot should be nearly here. Cassiopeia, you can go with him
if you like. I am going to get Harry.” Arcturus said as he pushed forward, flinging open the door.
The door was caught by a small perfectly manicured hand. He looked over his shoulder to see
piercing eyes staring at him and the retreating figure of Ignatius with his nephew in his arms.

“You won’t get rid of me so easily.” Cassiopeia said firmly. Arcturus couldn’t help but feel the
pride swell. After all these years, she was still the strong willed woman she had always been. The
will that left suitors intimidated and shamed her father, but that he had always respected.

“Forward then.” Arcturus nodded firmly. As they pushed open the door, they were greeted by a
doe-eyed tear filled child who screamed when she nearly ran into them. Cassiopeia knelt down to
steady the girl who looked nearly like she was going to swoon.

“My dear, what is the matter?” She asked as the child shook violently.

“Are you with Snape?” She blurted out before clamping her hand over her mouth. Cassiopeia
patted her cheek as she said quiet soothing words.

“We are not with Snape, my dear. Why are you so fearful?” Arcturus crouched down. He hoped
this conversation would help lead him closer to Harry.

“Harry went after Snape, I went through the flames back to get Ron and Harry went forward to
face Snape all on his own.” She nearly sobbed as she flung her arms around Cassiopeia, shaking
with her tears. Cassiopeia gave him a defeated look as she pulled the bag that was slung over her
shoulder to the front. With a sharp snap, she opened the latch and pulled out a small vial.

“I’ll take her to the hospital wing. This potion will get you through the flames.” Cassiopeia said as
her hand reached out to him. Arcturus pulled the vial as she gripped onto him. Her eyes dialled into
his and nodded once as unspoken words passed through them. She was demanding Harry be
returned in one piece as she took the young girl’s hand and whispered quiet words to her as they
walked back.

Arcturus watched them retreat and made sure they made it as far as his eye could see safely before
he turned and faced the room with nothing but a table. Flames erupted the moment he stepped in,
but he never broke stride as he tilted back the vial in between steps and walked into black flames
without a second thought. He was coming, Harry.

Professor Quirrell. Not Snape, not Voldemort, it was Quirrell standing staring into the same mirror
Harry had once seen. The Professor hadn’t seen him yet. He was muttering and putting his fingers
all over the mirror with vigour. Harry paused and ducked behind the closest pillar to digest the
information. He never once thought Quirrell would be helping Voldemort or looking for the Stone.
He was so nervous. Why was Snape threatening him if he didn’t need his information?

Unless, no, Snape couldn’t have known. Snape wasn’t truly trying to keep the Stone safe was he?
Harry shook his head. He was trying to buy time and could only hope his Grandfather had gotten
his message. Maybe he should step out of the shadows and announce himself to Quirrell. Get him
talking and see if he could reveal anything else. He was considering this as he watched Quirrell
grab at the head wrap around his head. He was falling to his knees and stuttering awfully as he tried
to pull at the head wrap. Harry leaned forward and watched with bated breath as a disfigured shape
began to emerge. There was someone in Professor Quirrell’s head! A flattened and snake-like face
with beady eyes and slits for a nose and mouth. Harry stumbled backwards as he tried to not make
noise. There was a sharp look shot his way by the face, but before it could make eye contact, Harry
heard his named whispered and felt himself wrapped in warmth and then a looming darkness took
over him. He was falling still, but peacefully as he resided quite gently to the darkness.

Arcturus felt a bit of guilt in wrapping Harry in his cloak and casting a sleeping charm on him, but
he nearly exposed himself to the cowering figure in front of a mirror. He pulled Harry into the
shadows and left him quietly wrapped in his cloak, snoozing restfully.

“Who’s there? Reveal yourself!” A cracking voice similar to a frog called out. Arcturus was no
fool, he would not reveal himself as he made certain Harry was safe. He pulled his wand from his
cane with the smallest of clicks barely ringing out. He hadn’t used this curse in many years, but it
must be like flying a broom. He would never truly forget.

“I hear you. Reveal yourself or suffer the consequences.” The person called again with their feet
stomping away from the mirror. Arcturus crouched around the edge of the wide pillar and watched
with careful eyes. This person with two faces almost appeared. He only needed to take another step
forward and he would be in the perfect line.

“Stop.” Another voice hissed.

“Master, you said Potter would be here.” The first voice replied as he nervously scooted
backwards. Only a few more centimetres.

“Stop, you fool. Someone else is here!” The voice hissed again. Only instead of stopping, the
nervous looking man jumped forward at the anger in the other voice. He was in a perfect position.
Arcturus didn’t even need to say the words. The green flash of light stuck the man directly in his
chest as his arms fell to his side and his eyes flashed for only a second before he tumbled
backwards. There was a beat of silence before the flushing fiery torches turned green and flashed
high on the wall before dying and dropping them into unimaginable darkness.

Arcturus threw his own body over Harry’s still sleeping form. There was screeching and cursing
and then a wild light ran around the room and circled a few times frustrated before swarming up
with large shadows following behind. The light pushed through the roof and the screaming and
tortured sounds followed for several moments until calm settled. The fires burned warm and red
again and the room stilled and quieted. The only sign of the occurrence was the thin body laying
face up in the middle of the ground.

Arcturus pulled himself up slowly as he held his wand out and approached the body with wariness.
His foot kicked at the body on the side. He already knew he was dead, but he didn’t like what had
happened after. That was not normal. He turned over the body, and saw that the second face had
disappeared. Behind was smoking and smouldering scars and burnt skin that smelt horrid as he let
him fall back limply.

“Well I believe you owe me a new Defence Professor.” A voice called from above as the sounds of
footsteps resounded out around the damp room.

“Maybe you should have vetted your Professors better. Unless you chose to have a man with the
remnants of The Dark Lord hidden in his head.” Arcturus said as he stood to full height.

“I had my suspicions about Professor Quirrell, but I had no proof.” Dumbledore responded as he
took small circles around him.

“No proof of course. You weren’t by chance using the Stone to try and bait The Dark Lord to your
side. Try to face him once and all and take the glory for yourself. Or were you trying to use Harry
for that.” Arcturus accused as he narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore’s face barely twitched as he
stopped at the feet of his old Professor.

“A pity he had to die he was, before the intrusion to his head, a rather successful Professor.”
Dumblerdore said, ignoring any of Arcturus' accusations.

“Some men are too dangerous to be kept alive.” Arcturus replied.

“He is not a man.” Dumbledore said.

“He is exactly that because to call him anything but a man idolises him. With idols, man thinks
they have power from the beyond and I assure you he does not.” Arcturus explained before
continuing. “I’ve spoken to Flamel. He has agreed that it is time for him and his wife to move on to
the next enemy.”

“You’ve spoken to Flamel?” Dumbledore raised his white eyebrows to that comment.

“Write to him if you must. I have a grandson I must attend to.” Arcturus said as he turned back
where Harry was tucked away.

“He’s not your grandson.” Dumbledore pointed out as he pulled his wand and began to cast over
the body.

“Family is not so simple to be who bore who. It is what is chosen.” Arcturus replied before raising
Harry into his arms with a bit of effort and left without a single other word to the Headmaster.

Harry was surrounded by warm scents. Familiar scents of a fresh pipe and a strong cup of tea. He
burrowed himself into it, pulling a warm cloth closer to him to soak in the smell. Until he realised
where he knew where those scents were from.

“Grandfather.” Harry gasped as he bolted up. He was no longer in a cold dungeon room with the
constant sound of dropping water. He was on a soft bed with a warm cloak draped over him. His
eyes searched frantically until arms pushed back on his shoulder and he met the wrinkled grey eyes
he knew well.

“Shush, Harry. It is alright. You are safe.” Arcturus whispered as he eased him back into his
pillow.

“But how? Professor Quirrell, and the Stone and Snape.” Harry stammered as he shook his head,
aware painfully that he was not wearing his glasses and couldn’t see far beyond his nose.

“All has been handled. I had already spoken to Nicolas Flamel. The Stone was set to be destroyed
this summer, but with current events as is. He had agreed to an accelerated timeline. He needs to
get an affair or two set and then he and his wife will move on to their next journey.” Arcturus
explained as he tucked his cloak around Harry’s shoulders.

“And Professor Quirrell… is he?” Harry asked quietly as a shadow cast over his Grandfather.

“He is gone.” Arcturus said simply.

“Did you…?” Harry asked as Arcturus turned away.

“A difficult decision had to be made, Harry. I am only glad it was I that had to make it and not
you.” Arcturus replied after a heavy sigh. Harry nodded as he finally leaned back with his
shoulders hunching.

“Ron and Hermione?” Harry whispered.

“Hermione went to breakfast. Ron is still resting with Ignatius only a few beds away. All three of
you were incredibly brave.” Arcturus advised as he leaned forward and helped Harry to put his
glass high on his nose. He could finally see and just next to him was a pile of sweets and treats.
Arcturus chuckled as he noticed Harry’s wide eyes.

“I don’t know how they managed in a single night. I believe the Weasley Twins tried to bring you
a loo seat, but Lancelot caught them and nearly wrung their ears with a lecture on how unhygienic
it was to bring such in a hospital wing.” Arcturus explained.

“Uncle Lancelot is here?” Harry perked up.

“Yes, indeed. He and Madam Pomfrey have been having many spirit conversations on the
organisation of healing supplies.” Arcturus nearly chuckled. Harry felt a bit lighter at the action
until dread sunk deep into his chest.

“Grandfather, what about the other face? That wasn’t— it was Voldemort wasn’t it?” Harry
whispered as his hands clutched at the ends of the cloak for comfort.

“Whatever is left of him, yes. He seems to need a host to survive in his state, and when I killed his
prior host it seemed to have caused quite a frustrating and painful separation that made him flee
before I could do anything more.” Arcturus said with his lips in a firm line and the edges of his
eyes taunt. Harry gulped and felt a bit of embarrassment at the whole affair now. How had he not
seen Quirrell all along? The person trying to get into his mind all this time. It had to be what was
left of Voldemort. Arcturus seemed to catch his mood change as he gently placed a hand on
Harry’s chest.

“Don’t fret, Harry. He won’t be able to hide forever. We will look for him, but maybe you can do
something for me.” He said with a small smile.

“Anything.” Harry said with an immediate change of tune.

“Beat Hufflepuff at Quidditch today. I haven’t seen a school match in many years and I would love
to see my grandson win.” Arcturus said with his eyes crinkling.

“I can play Quidditch?” Harry nearly jumped out of his bed. Arcturus had to keep him steady with
a laugh.

“Lancelot said nothing is wrong with you other than a few bruises. He’ll want you to rest till lunch,
but I believe I can convince him that Gryffindor needs the win. It’ll help that you are not playing
Ravenclaw.” Arcturus winked with a bit of humour.

Harry couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Lancelot did roll his eyes at the idea of Quidditch,
but found no reason to hold Harry back. Though he did make Harry promise twice that he would
stay on his broom and forced him to eat a large plate of food beforehand. Harry did it all with his
cheeks hurting from smiling. He could have a few normal days. His grandfather had promised to
stay in Hogsmeade until Harry boarded the train and then he’d be able to see everyone again.
Apparently Regulus had nearly given himself a heart attack waiting for news and had gone on such
a long rant that his uncle Regulus I had stopped listening and given a shortened version when
 Harry visited Phineas’ portrait before his match.

“You’ll get an earful the moment you return.” Arcturus chuckled as he guided Harry to the pitch.

He left Harry just out of sight of his teammates. Harry was greeted with a hero’s welcome before
the match even began as Fred and George threw him up in the air at the protest of Oliver, who was
worried about their star player being hurt moments before a game. Angelia and Katie gave him
hugs and before he knew it they were off and into the air.

Harry had kicked off with a renewed vigour and circled in celebration several times before he
caught the Professor’s box. There in between Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall sat
his Grandfather and just behind them were Uncle Ignatius, Uncle Lancelot and Aunt Cassiopeia
with a bit of tiredness in the way they leaned on each other, but there they sat with excitement still.

“Can’t believe Uncle Ignatius made it out. Though I must say Arcturus Black is intimidating, best
keep it clean, Harry. He’s on the board of governors.” Fred called.

“Some say they tried to make him Headmaster back in the forties when something bad was
happening and they tried to throw out the old Dippet.” George added over the winds before flying
away. Harry waved at the box for only a split second before he flew off.

Arcturus watched with a gentle eye as the young children zipped around. The sound was thrilling
as a commentary kept up with the movement faster than he could. He pulled his cane forward and
leaned back to stare up at the highest part of the sky. There Harry was turning his head constantly
on the lookout. Arcturus could relax the tension in his shoulders. Harry gleamed in the bright sun
with a joy to his aura. He was safe. All that mattered was he was safe and free to be a joyful child.

Chapter End Notes

Aw the sweet end to the first book and a chance to go into the second, but first the
summer holidays! I am so happy for Harry to have happy summer holidays.

Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos and for continuing to read. I
hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thank you generously!
 The Letters That Never Came
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Regulus, you don’t have to smother me. I’m just fine.” Harry sighed, but he still snuggled closely.
Regulus smiled as he tucked his chin over Harry’s head and squeezed once more. The moment
they were back together, Regulus hadn’t let his eyes off Harry for more than a minute. Back in
Switzerland after a few days stop in Islington found Regulus finally being able to breath easily.
Even still, he’d crawled into Harry’s room a few moments ago before breakfast was to be served
and brought him close to his chest.

“Well, maybe avoid fighting trolls and I won’t have to worry so much.” Regulus mumbled as he
pushed his face into Harry’s head. The younger of the two wiggled slightly free of the tight grip
with a smirk on his face.

“I told you! Hermione was in danger and I was just trying to be a gentleman as you taught me.
Would it have been more respectable for me to leave her to fend for herself?” Harry said with a
glint in his eye. It was the same argument he’d written his letter, only shortened. The words of
friendship, respect, and gentlemanly behaviour in defence of his actions in chasing after a troll.

“Twisting my words to fit your agenda? Are you sure you shouldn’t have been in Slytherin?”
Regulus joked as he poked at Harry’s nose before untangling from him. Harry popped up with his
messy head of hair as it stood at all ends up as he patted around for his glasses with a goofy smile.
Regulus shook his head as he pulled the glasses from under a pillow and put them on Harry’s nose.

“You should be more careful with these, mending charms can only do so much.” Regulus teased as
Harry slipped from under the covers and stretched his body out.

“If they break it just means I get plenty of practice though.” Harry said as he followed Regulus out
towards the kitchen for breakfast. Cassiopeia was talking with Kreacher as they set the table with
fresh fruits and eggs and toast. Harry scrambled to his usual seat with a hungry look. Regulus sat
next to him, leaving the seat on the other side open for his brother. Sirius stumbled inside a few
moments later with his hair messily thrown up and mismatched socks. He ruffled Harry’s
disorderly hair before taking his seat and yawning.

“Marius and Arcturus should be here in a moment. They were out checking a potion they left to
brew overnight.” Cassiopeia said as Helena came in with fresh vegetables in a wicker basket on her
hip.

“The two of them brewing together isn’t going to end well.” Helena hummed under a small
chuckle. With the perfect timing of the universe, the door at the back of the house slammed open.
Cassiopeia and Helena exchanged a look and few carefully placed words in French. With a look on
his face Regulus had never seen, Arcturus stepped into the kitchen with his robes absolutely
covered in black and grey soot. He raised his hand before anyone could say a word as he stomped
over to the sink and began to wash his messed cover hands up to his elbow. There were a chaotic
few more steps before Marius stumbled in looking just as disarrayed.
“Please tell me the potions room is not on fire.” Cassiopeia said exaggeratedly. Both men looked
disgruntled as they cleaned off the best they could.

“It isn’t on fire any longer.” Arcturus grunted as he unclipped his first layer of robes and opened a
window to shake it off into the wind.

“I told you not to add the horn until after it had been stirred.” Marius coughed as Helena rushed to
his side and immediately started to examine him. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes as she leaned near the
counter by Arcturus. It was quite entertaining to see the different reactions, Regulus observed.

“I thought you said to stir the horn in.” Arcturus grumbled as he pulled his wand out and finished
cleaning off his robes.

“No, that causes flames to erupt in a room full of explosive ingredients.” Marius sighed before
Helena nearly forced a glass of water down his throat.

“I’ve never liked potions, one misread of the instructions and you end up almost burning yourself
alive in a shed with poor ventilation.” Arcturus huffed before making his way slowly to the table.
His breath finally caught in his lungs again. Marius rolled his eyes from the corner, but Helena
gave him a stern glance not to disrupt breakfast any longer.

“At least it isn’t a dungeon, Professor Snape’s classroom is like a cell.” Harry shook his head.
Sirius ears seemed to turn at the mention, but he hid it well from everyone. Except for Regulus
who snagged a brief glance at his brother that told him to leave the poor choice of words alone.

“Well they did use to hold children down there as punishment. There were shackles and all other
methods of torture. Granted they outlawed such punishments in the early nineteen hundreds, much
to my grandfather’s disappointment. He rather enjoyed unnecessarily torturing children.” Arcturus
explained.

“Wait, Filch isn’t lying? They really shackled children?” Harry leaned forward wide eyed in shock.
Regulus pushed him back slightly and passed him a plate of toast to try and distract him.

“I don’t know if this is an appropriate breakfast conversation.” Cassiopeia said with her eyes
piercing.

“He’s being threatened with it by an employed person from the school, I believe appropriate has
passed. It’s best not to lie to him.” Arcturus pointed out. Harry looked around with his mouth full
of toast, but still curious.

“Yes, Harry. Detentions used to see you shackled in the dungeons in varying degrees of pain
depending on the punishment. It was voted inhuman only a few years after I began at Hogwarts.”
Arcturus explained. Harry seemed to slow his chewing in a bit of disbelief. .

“Did he ever do that to you?” Harry asked quietly as a worried silence fell. Arcturus’ eyes went
glassy as his hand holding a fork paused in air and his grip made his knuckles grow white.

“Never in public, image was everything.” Arcturus replied even quieter than Harry had asked.
Regulus turned his head away. He’d known abuse ran rampantly in their family, but his grandfather
seemed untouchable. To think people would raise their hands to him and he would flinch as
Regulus used to seem unfathomable.

“None the matter though, Phineas died a long time ago and we are only left with his portrait and
thankfully he’s left to bother Dumbledore more than us. Now, Harry about that Quidditch match, I
think I have just a trick to help you get past those Hufflepuff beaters.” Arcturus said with the
immediate return of his normal demeanour. The switch happened so seamlessly. Harry jumped at
the idea of Quidditch and Hogwarts and Arcturus encouraged it. Regulus would have thought the
prior statements never happened if he hadn’t known better, but he was not one to challenge a more
light hearted conversation.

The first weeks went nearly the same. Breakfast around the table with everyone, besides the
mornings Aunt Helena had to arrive early to work. By dinner though, everyone would be present at
the table as Harry would recount his days. Most spent practising Quidditch strategies he wanted to
present to Oliver Wood, the captain of the Quidditch team. Other days on the potions he had
learned from Uncle Marius to do his best to outwit Severus, and the few occasional trips down to
the lake. Harry enjoyed recounting the stories of Regulus’ sheepish attempts to learn how to swim.
By the time the first few weeks had passed by, he could at least manage to float in the water, but
not much else without panic seizing in his chest. Sirius and Harry made it a game to see who could
splash water the furthest to try and hit him as he nervously breathed with his arms wide spread
trying to keep his body above water. Their laughter made his fear of water dim at least slightly.

Dedalus made his now annual visit in the middle of summer, just before Harry’s birthday. Arcturus
had slipped away with a less reluctant Sirius to the nearby town to purchase Harry’s presents.
Dedalus came bearing an ornate red and gold wizard's hat with lions sewn into the seams and the
point a perfect cone. He was cheering Harry for his admission to Gryffindor so proudly, it was hard
to imagine he’d been a Ravenclaw. As he offered his farewells before dinner, he mentioned that his
elderly aunt was doing poorly, but that even though Dumbledore said the visits could end. He had
found the time at least this once to come and congratulate Harry. He shook Harry’s hand at least
twice before tipping his own hat and disappeared into the hills. Regulus watched him retreat into
the fading summer sun with a shake of his head. He was a peculiar wizard, but he’d always treated
them all with respect no matter who they were. There was also no doubt he adored Harry.

The holidays were all going mighty well indeed, except for one glaring issue. Harry had heard
nothing of his friends back at Hogwarts. Not a single letter, note, or postcard made it into his
hands. Regulus had been able to excuse it for the first week as a delay in mail and the fact that his
own friends needed to settle home, but when nothing arrived by his birthday, Regulus began to
worry. He woke early to uncover the cake they had made the night before and put the final touches
on it. Only when he arrived in the kitchen, he wasn’t alone. Harry was sitting with his knees tucked
to his chest and Kreacher patting his arm as he placed a cup of tea in front of him. Regulus
approached quietly to sit next to him, but Harry scurried away from him, ducking his head down.
Not before Regulus could see small tears dotting his eyes.

“Little Master is upset. He sits by the windows late at nights and early in the mornings. Kreacher
be finding him and making him tea at least. Kreacher be thinking something is wrong with the
mail. Little Master’s friends can not be forgetting him otherwise Kreacher will be having words
with them.” Kreacher whispered as he walked by to put the kettle on for breakfast. Regulus felt his
lips quiver at the fact he had not noticed Harry slipping from his bedroom to check for mail that
wasn’t coming.

“Harry.” Regulus whispered as he brought a finger to wipe away a stray tear from Harry’s face.

“They can’t forget my birthday. They just can’t. There has to be mail today.” Harry sniffled as he
pulled his knees closer. Regulus bit into his lip. Ignatius and Lucretia were due to be here later this
afternoon and Regulus had hoped that if they didn’t come bearing letters, he could at least ask for
an explanation of the lack of communication.
“None the matter, Harry. Letters or not, it is your twelfth birthday and we’re going to celebrate
however you want.” Regulus tried to encourage as he pushed the tea closer for Harry to drink.
Harry sighed as he unravelled himself from his position and took a long sip.

“They haven’t forgotten me have they?” Harry said sadly. Regulus put both his hands on Harry’s
cheeks as leaned closer to smile at him.

“They haven’t, I’m certain there’s an explanation. We can ask Uncle Ignatius about Ron when he
arrives. Who knows, maybe their owl got lost on the way and hasn’t wandered his way back yet.
You said Ron’s owl was rather strange.” Regulus tried to encourage.

“He fell into a pile of bacon and didn’t get up for several moments one time. We thought he had
died, but it turns out he only passed out for a time.” Harry laughed a bit as he rubbed the few
glistening dots out of the corner of his eyes.

“Exactly, and that’s only to Hogwarts. I imagine he probably fell into the English Channel and
couldn’t figure a way out for days and when he did the letters would have just been soggy messes.”
Regulus said with an encouraging smile as he leaned back. At least for the moment it seemed to
help Harry. He wouldn’t let Harry be sad on his birthday.

“So you're telling me because you killed the prior Defence Professor, Dumbledore is asking for
your recommendation for a replacement?” Ignatius asked slowly. Arcturus had intercepted him
before Harry’s birthday could get into full swing. He needed only a few moments.

“It’s a ploy. A power move, but one I can turn in our favour. As well as have a spare pair of eyes
on Harry and those around him.” Arcturus replied quietly as he leaned back in his seat. Ignatius
was a smart man. It wouldn’t take long for him to piece together what he was asking.

“How exactly?” He said before the look in Arcturus’ eye made the realisation dawn on him.

“You're asking me to go.” Ignatius said with a shake of his head. “You know a good portion of
those teachers have ended up maimed or dead before their tenure is done.”

“Exactly why I’ve drafted a contract for exactly a single year of teaching, if this rumour of a curse
is true then I believe as long as you intend to only teach for a year you shall be fine. Not all have
met a frantic demise, some have simply taught and left.” Arcturus said.

Ignatius felt a bit of disbelief. He’d done many favours for his father by law over the years, some
falling in the illegality category. All with the idea that if it were to go poorly, Arcturus would have
his side. He hated to think it, but he had always felt that Arcturus had used him to replace the
model of his son after the falling out with Orion. Up until his death, Orion saw it as well. The thin
line of allyship and animosity between the two men had blurred for years. Now even decades later,
he felt the need to honour their commitment. Decades of history and secrets built between them
made it a heavy burden. Or maybe it was simply his Gryffindor nature. The bravery and loyalty
twisted a certain way.

“I’m doing this for Harry. If the first year is any indicator, he needs someone to look out for him.”
Ignatius finally replied. Arcturus looked at him with a satisfied gaze. He would have someone in
those walls that would be able to give him information on the inner workings of Hogwarts and
Dumbledore’s planning. If he trusted anyone to do the job, his son by law was the one he would
trust the most.
“If I die because of this, I want you to tell Lucretia it was your fault.” Ignatius said as he stood to
rejoin the celebration outside the room. Arcturus had one last question of Ignatius before he left.
He had noticed a troubling pattern the last few weeks.

“Ignatius, one last thing, is there a reason your nephew isn’t writing to Harry?” Arcturus asked as
Ignatius looked over his shoulder.

“That is peculiar. I was going to ask why Harry hadn’t responded to any of Ron’s letters. I even
brought one from him. He’s written since nearly the first day of the summer holidays, and he was
growing worried about Harry. I told him to give me a letter so I could send it myself and see if I
got a reply. I even have one from the young girl always with them, Hermione. She sent one to Ron
to forward because she thought her owl was lost. Has Harry not been getting the letters?” Ignatius
said with a confused look.

“He’s been sitting by the window almost everyday, willing for an owl to show up with a letter for
him.” Arcturus said as his eyebrows raised.

“Why would so many letters go missing?” Ignatius asked.

“A very good question, one I don’t know the answer to yet and one I won’t find today. Today we
focus on Harry and I believe his favourite present may just be those letters.” Arcturus said as he put
a hand on Ignatius’ shoulder to walk out with him. “Just don’t tell Sirius, he and I spent an entire
afternoon collecting the most extensive set of Quidditch accessories.”

“Oh don’t tell Regulus either. He custom ordered a wizard’s chess set.” Ignatius chuckled under
his breath. Both men shook their heads as they went to rejoin the festivities of a very excited and
spoiled young boy.

Dumbledore clinked the small metal spoon against his tea cup as the chilled summer air broke
through an open window across his face. He brought the tea cup to his wrinkled lips to slowly sip
the steaming sweet liquid. It was another late night of conversation surrounded by nothing but the
nighttime as a witness.

“I, myself, was puzzled by the whole affair. I mean Arcturus Black sat by his bedside the entire
time and I heard he even kept a room in Hogsmeade for the final week of school. It’s as if he didn’t
want to be far from Harry. I didn't know they would have that kind of care for the boy.” Minerva
said as she drank her plain tea. It was fitting of her own personality. Strong and straightforward.

“It is strange.” Dumbledore replied as he leaned back in his seat.

“Are you upset by this Albus?” McGonagall asked with one thin eyebrow raised and her accent
peaking.

“No Minerva, not upset. Though maybe a bit suspicious. I hadn’t expected such a reaction from
them.” He replied.

“Well, I for one wouldn’t mind if that poor boy was being cared for well. After all he’s been
through, he deserves a healthy upbringing. Though I am sceptical unless I see it for myself”
Minerva answered with a short nod.

“Indeed.” Dumbledore replied simply. His eyes turned towards the night sky with the bright stars
shining into the room. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky to obstruct the view.
“I know that look, Albus. You are thinking more than you are saying.” She pointed out rather
astutely. Dumbledore had known he enjoyed her company for more than just her vigorous chess
skills.

“Harry Potter in the care of the Black family, nearly sounds like a paradox.” Dumbledore mused
out loud. “Apparently well taken care of nonetheless. Several of them rushed to his side when he
was in danger. Harry having the forethought to warn them in some capacity of his impending
danger.”

“He is a smart boy when he applies himself.” Minerva answered an unspoken question.
Dumbledore nodded to continue the conversation, not necessarily in agreement.

Minerva left not long after their conversation ended. Dumbledore found himself standing next to
the window looking high into the heavens. So many stars and so many names, many of which the
Black Family had chosen to take as their own. The aspirations they must have held to pluck their
names from such untouchable forces. They weren’t so untouchable anymore, but the parts they
held onto were tightly wound. His thoughts were shattered by the rapt sounds of footsteps before
the snapping sound of knuckles on wood. He could tell his late night visitor before he emerged.
Severus had never learned to rest early after all these years.

“Severus.” Dumbledore greeted as the Professor stood in the entrance way of the office, looming.

“Headmaster.” He said quietly.

“To what do I owe the honour?” He asked as he took the shorts steps down to the first level to be
closer to his professor.

“I have come to inquire about Mister Potter.” Severus stated. “I have many questions about the end
of year events.”

“Well I have some time.” Dumbledore responded.

“I tried to keep Harry safe during the year. I warned you about Quirrell and still he nearly got to
Harry. Then the Professors speak of members of the Black and Prewett families showing up at the
end of the year. Is there anything I should know?” Severus asked with a twitch of his nose.

“The most important part for you to know is Harry is safe now and he has been returned to proper
care for the summer holidays.” Dumbledore responded. Severus' scowl obviously showed he was
less than satisfied with the answer.

“Will you do anything for the situation? It seems precarious that so many Blacks are at his side.
Nearly dangerous, they are much inclined to the Dark Arts and we know they were in line with
The Dark Lord before. What is to say they are not aligning themselves for this again? If it is true
The Dark Lord was in these very walls no matter the state he may have been in. Fraction of him or
not, it is a cause for worry ” Severus asked with mounting interest.

“At this time, I see no reason for concern. When Harry returns we will both watch over him and to
the best of our abilities. I will keep my ears open and reach out to my contacts to try and locate any
information on Voldemort. There is no need to be premature in a reaction when it appears
Voldemort has been contained and does not pose a threat. We can only hope for an uneventful year
and time to focus on preparing for what is to come.” Dumbledore advised. The knit in Severus’
brow did not ease at the words. Instead, he pulled his cloak tightly over himself and remained
silent.
 “Very well and about Quirrell, after his untimely demise have you found a replacement yet?”
Severus asked, trying not to show an interest in the question.

“Potions is still your speciality, Severus. I do not see a reason to remove you from the post no
matter the want. I have arranged a temporary solution. We will have a new Professor at least for
the year and then we will see where to go from there.” Dumbledore replied with a stern look.

Severus said no more and excused himself not too long after. The night rang with the quiet noises
of the nocturnal creatures stirring and crawling about as the moon rose high in the sky. The hoots
of owls and the shuffling of the underbrush filtered up into the distant reaches of the near empty
castle. Dumbledore picked up the fresh parchment on the table with the reply from a letter he had
sent some time ago. It had taken Arcturus a time to answer, meaning he was likely not in France as
he was expected to be, but even more interesting was the copy of a contract signed by his son by
law. Albus hadn’t so much found a replacement as had one dropped into his lap when he merely
asked for a suggestion.

He couldn’t complain. Finding people to employ for the position after so many years of constant
staff changes was difficult. Filling the role even for a year was a success. Though he couldn’t be
ignorant to the idea that Arcturus was putting someone loyal to him right under Dumbledore’s
nose. Ignatius had once been a Gryffindor and a loyal man, but when Dumbledore had seen the
spark start between the once young man and the heiress of the House of Black, he had known
Ignatius would befall an unfortunate fate. It seemed even now he could not escape it. He tucked
the contact away in his desk and picked up a quill to write to Ignatius himself. No matter the means
of employment, he would need to speak with Ignatius on the curriculum and required readings.
Best not to forget the students in the affair. The quill scratched against the parchment loudly as he
wrote. The sounds of the night were fading to the background.

Chapter End Notes

If I can speak for a moment, it feels a bit strange to be posting during such times, but
after much reflection I understand sometimes media is our only escape even if for a
few moments and with all that is going on in the world right now between the conflict
in the Ukraine to the laws being presented to roll back years of progress on LGBTQ+
individuals and the constant conflicts raging all over the world that aren't given the
coverage the deserve. It can be a lot and we are all but simple people in the grand
scheme of the universe, and sometimes we need a break to escape and time to reflect
and take care of our mental health. So I hope you all will do so, and I hope this story
can bring a bit of light to the confusing world.

Back to the story, as you can tell I am diverting from canon in the second book.
Gilderoy Lockhart is an interesting and humourous character, but I felt there needed to
be a change to freshen up the story and truthfully, I couldn't find a way to really
expand and change Gilderoy's character and I just have preference for Ignatius as he is
a character of my own creation ;)

Thank you all for reading, comments bring light to my world, and always take care of
yourself, stay informed, and be kind to each other. Till next time!
 A Summer’s Warmth
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus sat in the fading rays of sunlight on the edges of the steps facing the garden and the
distinctly not burned down potions sheds. There was a book on his knee he had been flipping
through for a few days but with no rush to finish it. He’d made a habit of sitting out here every few
evenings to be with himself. He’d often slip a cigarette from his brother’s stash that cluttered the
house and got him yelled at more often than not. He’d smoke it slowly as he read barely a few
words a minute, digesting the text and drawing out the cigarette as long as he could. It was his few
moments of peace and very rarely did anyone interrupt him.

This particular evening in the burning heat of August happened to be one of those rare occasions.
He heard the light footsteps before he heard the door creak open and then shut again a moment
later. He suspected it was his brother coming to tell him to stop stealing his cigarettes when he
could easily get his own or maybe Helena to remind him that no matter what cures magic may
have, smoking still wasn’t good for his health. Instead as he casually glanced over his shoulder
with a smart remark poised on his lips, and he was taken aback by the short pensive person behind
him.

“Harry?” Regulus questioned. He had thought Harry was resting in his room after spending a long
afternoon with his head bent over the kitchen table with half finished tea cups and spilled quill
wells clamoring over his schoolwork he’d been putting off to the last minute. Only the work he
couldn’t have been bothered with such as History of Magic pages. He’d ended up pestering his
grandfather for history facts. He could nearly hear Arcturus’ voice telling Harry the legends of
Emeric the Evil as he used to when Regulus and Sirius were small and they’d spend the holidays
with him in France. It was nostalgic in the strangest of senses.

“Reg.” Harry sighed as he plopped down next to him. Regulus closed his book quickly and went to
put out his cigarette, but Harry shook his head in a small fit of laughter.

“You don’t need to put it away. I know pretty much everyone in the house smokes.” Harry laughed
just before the end of the cigarette touched the scrubbed edge of the steps. Regulus pulled it back
tentatively, but kept it held out to the far side away from Harry.

“Smoking isn’t good for you.” Regulus said with his face twisting to the contradictory taste of his
own words mixed with the sharp taste of smoke.

“It won’t kill us quite like Muggles though.” Harry said. “Can I try?”

“No, you most certainly can not.” Regulus laughed as he shook his head.

“When did you first try smoking?” Harry asked pointedly.

“I was thirteen, but that does not make it right.” Regulus leaned back as he purposely took a drag,
careful to blow the smoke over his shoulder.
“You sound like a parent, Reg. Do as I say, not as I do.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I am practically a parent. You are a child and I raised you, I believe that qualifies for something.”
Regulus pointed out. Harry smiled as he leaned against Regulus and he placed his arm around
Harry.

“You are a parent, Reg.” Harry mumbled as his eyes stared up at the stars that were starting to peak
out. Regulus felt a tightness pull in his chest as he laid his head on the top of Harry’s head. They
sat in the quiet together for a moment not wanting to ruin the heaviness and care in the last of the
words spoken. The breeze coated them in warm air that only slightly alleviated the thickness of the
summer night. Eventually, Harry nudged his way out of the grasp and pulled a piece of parchment
out from his pocket. Regulus could hear the crunching noise of the crisp crumbled pages as it
drowned out the small noises of the night creatures beginning to wake.

“Uncle Ignatius sent another of Ron’s letters. He said it seems he can’t put my name on the letter
otherwise it goes missing. This one was sent with only the location and Uncle Ignatius’ own note
on the end explaining how he is still trying to figure out the mystery of the mail. Anyways, Ron
invited me to stay at The Burrow for a few days before term begins and I was wondering if I could.
I know we will stay at Grimmauld Place to make it to Diagon Alley before I have to catch the
Hogwarts Express, but I was wondering if we could go to England a few days early. I could spend
a few days at The Burrow and then meet you and Sirius at Diagon Alley.” Harry said as he batted
his lashes at the end of his words and held the paper close to his chest. Regulus could feel the
cigarette fading at the tips of his fingers as he tapped at it lightly, biding himself a few moments.

“A few days couldn’t hurt I suppose.” Regulus said tentatively. Harry threw himself at Regulus
before he could even register it and the cigarette went flying into the grass below as he had to
throw one hand back to catch himself before he and Harry went tumbling after it.

“Thank you, Reg. I’ll be so safe I promise, and I’ll write to you. Uncle Ignatius already said he
could bring me over and I’ll be back by your side at Diagon Alley in no time.” Harry murmured as
he buried his face in Regulus’ chest. He couldn’t help it as his nervous thoughts faded for a
moment as he wrapped his arms around Harry. Relatively, The Burrow wasn’t far from London.
He could apparate there in a moment’s notice if he needed. Harry was twelve, and he deserved to
flourish his friendships. Regulus was being shipped around from place to place to stay well before
that age. Granted he could understand the glaring differences in the situations, his parents hadn’t
wanted him and Sirius around. The long holidays in France, the summers in Wales, even a few trips
out to Italy had been to appease his parents of the burden of raising small children. Harry should be
allowed to visit with his friends and Regulus will have to deal with his own anxiety on the issue
away from Harry.

“Alright Harry. I’ve told Molly and Arthur I’m bringing you because I know the cousins you're
staying with from work I did out of country, but they know no more than that, and let’s try to keep
it that way. I myself have an announcement to make today that will likely distract everyone.”
Ignatius recalled as they walked up a winding dirt path. Harry nodded along only partially listening
as the sight came into clear view from where he walked between his aunt and uncle.

The Burrow in all its glory of fresh sunlight. The clucking of chickens and the rattling of a tea
kettle broke through the thick morning air. The Burrow itself was several stories high of a
mismatch of rooms that seemed to lean in opposite directions. Only by the powers of magic could
such a building be held upright. Harry couldn’t stop smiling as he walked through a small off-white
fence that clapped several times behind them. The kitchen door was wide open as they approached
and Harry could see a flurry of pans flying around followed by slaps of bacon and eggs. Mrs
Weasley was already busy. Ignatius knocked twice on the door frame as Lucretia came and gave
Harry a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“Harry! What a pleasure. Uncle Ignatius, Aunt Lucretia, how kind of you to bring him.” Mrs
Weasley said in a comforting tone. She nodded at her aunt and uncle with a bit of a stuffy smile.
Harry padded into a warm and inviting kitchen piled high with pots and pans that were scrubbing
themselves before shooting back to their place among the chaos.

Pictures and knick knacks hung on the walls and filled the shelves. Harry noted a long lopsided
shelf that had a photo of each Weasley in birth order. He squinted at the small movements caught
in the few second loop of life to see Bill laughing as he flung long hair back before tying it up,
Charlie leaned over a broom sans the metal ornaments he had dotting all over his ears and nose and
mouth when Harry had met him, Percy stood tall with his chest puffed out to show off the small
silver prefect pin attached. His short cropped hair was in wide contrast to his two older brothers.
The twins shared a frame with goofy smiles and mischievous glints in their eyes. Ron’s photo was
him sitting surrounded by a chocolate frog card collection with a smudge of chocolate still on his
nose. Finally, there was Ginny, she had a missing tooth in her photo and was wearing a rather frilly
dress that was covered in mud stains. Harry wondered what it must be like to have so many siblings
that they filled a whole shelf.

“Ah yes, I need a new photo of Ginny, but she insists that’s her favorite one. Didn’t have her dress
on for more than two minutes before she made a mess.” Molly shook her head as she noticed Harry
glancing.

“Ron! Harry’s here!” She yelled out the kitchen towards a rickety staircase. There was a long
minute filled by pounding feet and a bit of dust shaken loose from the ceiling as he descended from
his room. By the time he made it to the bottom, his face was as red as his stark hair, but Harry
hardly noticed as Ron jumped at him.

“Thought you went around a bend there, Harry. I don’t know where Errol was going with the
letters, but I was getting worried.” Ron gasped from his lack of air. Harry laughed and shook his
head.

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me.” Harry said.

“Could never not after the year we had. Thanks for bringing him Uncle Ig and Aunt Lucy!” Ron
laughed as the room filled with the rest of the Weasley. Fred and George came bumbling in first
with suspicious looks on their faces before they greeted Harry with a slap on his shoulder each.

“Alright, Harry.” George nodded.

“Ickle Ron was getting upset, you didn't answer. We were about to steal the car to go looking for
you.” Fred winked before his mother started chasing after him with her tea towel.

“You would have done no such thing. It’s bad enough your father has that car, not a single one of
you is to touch it.” She warned with a stern voice. Fred barely managed to miss the whips of her
towel as he and George clamoured over to their uncle who had begun making a cup of tea. Their
hushed whispers made Harry believe they were asking questions their mother wouldn’t be pleased
to hear, but for their luck she was distracted by the final two children.

“I promise Ginny, Potions isn’t as bad as they all make it. You’ll do just fine in the subject if you
keep quiet and respect Professor Snape.” Percy said as he was followed by the smallest Weasley.
Ginny was listening intently.
“Is it true, Aunt Lucy? Is Potions really not that difficult?” Ginny asked as she bounded over to her
Aunt and stared at her with wide eyes. Lucretia put a comforting hand on Ginny’s head and leaned
down to meet her eye to eye.

“Ginny, you’re one of the smartest witches I’ve ever known and you haven’t even begun at
Hogwarts. I am certain Potions will be an ease for you, but your brother has good advise. From
what I have learned of Professor Snape, it is best to do your work quietly. Keep your energy for
Charms or Flying.” Lucretia winked at her niece. Percy puffed out his chest as he had in the
photograph at being correct.

“I’ve got a troll bone to pick with you two.” Molly interrupted as she wagged a finger. “From what
I’ve understood from recollections Uncle Ignatius, is that you were there for Ron at the end of the
year. You and Uncle Lancelot both conveniently at Hogwarts when Ron needed you most. As I
gathered more information, it seems the young Miss Granger recalls being escorted to the hospital
wing by Cassiopeia Black no less. Then to my complete shock, she thinks she remembers facing
none other than Arcturus Black in the flesh. Here I had thought he’d gone and become a recluse in
his large manor in France. Would have done the world a favor if he had stayed there.” Molly
huffed as she slowly pushed the children out and closed the door. They all leaned against the crack
where warm air and words still drifted onto their curious ears.

“Now, I don’t want to make assumptions—” Molly started in a stern voice.

“Then don’t.” Lucretia said plainly in interruption.

“As I was saying, I find it rather peculiar that the House of Black found its way into Hogwarts just
before the Stone was set to be destroyed. Given their prior associations, I’m shocked there wasn’t
an inquiry with the Ministry.” Molly continued with a shrill to her voice.

“Molly, you know neither my cousin nor my father had anything to do with the war.” Lucretia cut
in with a ringing tone.

“No, but you had two nephews rather inclined to the dark arts.” Molly snapped.

“And I had two nephews who died fighting against it, or do you not remember?” Lucretia snapped
right back.

“Don’t talk about my brothers like that, act like you were their blood. I knew them!” Molly nearly
yelled. They didn’t need to be pushed up to the door to hear it as Harry flinched.

“Please, please. Not now, not with the children in the next room. Fabian and Gideon are still a sore
subject for us all. Molly, I came to bear good news and presents, can we just please forget this?”
Ignatius pleaded in much more hushed tones.

“I’d rather be pleased if you left my house. I’ll make sure Harry gets back with a full belly by
Wednesday.” Molly said rather finally as there was a snap of a tea towel and the sounds of
shuffling feet and a few words exchanged too muffled by the walls. Finally, there was a
heartbreaking sigh. Harry could tell it was Uncle Ignatius without a second thought.

“Keep the presents at least.” He whispered as there was a scuffing noise of the plain twine tied
books being pushed across the table that he had brought all the way with them.

“I’d rather not.” Molly sniffed, though there was a break in her stiff demeanor.

“It’s their new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. It is my book. I’ll be teaching at Hogwarts
this term.” Ignatius’ voice cracked as he spoke and Harry wanted nothing else by the push through
the door and tumble into the room and offer any comfort he could, but Fred and George were
squeezed too tightly around him.

“Oh.” Molly said faintly after a ringing silence. “Congratulations.”

“We will meet you with Harry’s cousins on Wednesday.” Ignatius said before there was a long
creak of a door hinge.

“Uncle Ignatius.” Molly called as lighter footsteps could be heard retreating. Lucretia had already
left. She was not present for these words.

“If Harry is involved with the Blacks, you’d tell me wouldn’t you?” She asked with a bit of sadness
tinted her infliction.

“Why would it be so disastrous if he were?” Ignatius responded.

“You know why Ignatius, they are nothing but trouble.” Molly huffed as her toe tapped against the
squeaky wooden floor.

“They are my family as are you Molly.” Ignatius sighed before there was the quiet click of a door
closing. No one hidden on the other side of the kitchen dared breath as the silence surrounded
them. Then there was the scuff of a chair being pulled back and the collapse of a body. Harry had
to press his ear so hard into the kitchen door it was smarted with pain and tinged red. Only then
could he hear the quiet sobs being muffled by a head that was tucked into folded arms. He pushed
away from the private moment instantly as did everyone else. They all gave each other grim looks
as they wandered one by one into the living room and took places in various positions trying to
look busy until after a few moments when everyone got tired of the charade and fell into a bit of
awkward silence.

“At least Uncle Ig is the new Defense Professor. That’s wicked.” Ron finally said through the thick
silence.

“As long as none of you expect special treatment from him. We will all have to earn our grades
fairly, if anything his teaching means we should work extra hard for our grades.” Percy said as he
wiped off his glasses. Fred and George exchanged a look that made Harry well aware they weren’t
planning to work any harder than they had the year prior.

“Honestly I believe it will be good of me to pick Uncle Ignatius’ mind. He was Head Boy during
his time at Hogwarts. He is even mentioned in my new book.” Percy said proudly as he held up a
copy of Prefects who Gained Power.

“Is Aunt Lucy mentioned?” Ginny asked up from where she sat messing with an old train set that
had lost a wheel.

“She wasn’t a prefect, she was chosen as Head Girl over the prefects. Which I find entirely unfair
truthfully, they should stop the practice, I mean spend years working towards being a prefect and
then two hard years being one only to be passed over for a random student.” Percy shook his head
before he pulled the book over his eyes, effectively shutting them all out.

“But Aunt Lucy is a great witch.” Ginny said as she ducked her head.

“Of course she is Gin. Percy is just nervous he might not make Head Boy, you know he only
managed twelve O.W.L.s. Only the third person in the past few decades to do so, but still not
enough for good ole Percy.” George joked as he nudged Ginny, making her head pop back up with
a grin.
“Now who wants to go take the car for a ride while mum goes to the market?” Fred whispered
under his breath, careful to keep out of Percy’s range of hearing. Harry and Ron both shared the
same joyful glee. Harry could already tell his few days at The Burrow would be a riot.

Arcturus found himself enjoying an afternoon cup of tea with his cousin in their childhood home
and for once it felt safe. He and Cassiopeia had enough trauma between the two of them to fill the
entire house and yet after generations the walls didn’t glisten with the blood of lies and smolder
with the burns of treachery.

“Do you think they made their pact here? In this very room?” Cassiopeia posed from where she
was comfortably cosied up on a sofa. The drawing room, the center of the home it felt. Where the
heart had once pulsed through all those who bore the name Black. Arcturus was sitting in his own
over sized chair with the sun cascading over his face from an open window that let in the noise and
steam of the street below.

“Our marriage arrangement that is. My father and your father as they tried to soothe the years old
fight between Blacks. Your father would have an heir and my father would have an heiress.”
Cassiopeia said as her fingers tapped on the edge of her porcelain cup.

“I’ve never given much thought on where it happened. Only on how to undo it, and then to undo it
yet again.” Arcturus sighed. He never had completely undone what his father before him had laid
out.

“You did not know what you did, Arcturus. You and Melanie deserved every day you got together
and then some. You had no idea how deep their promise lied and when you did you spent years
trying to undo it.” Cassiopeia replied. She knew how heavily it weighed on his heart.

“I understand that logically, but as a father, you never stop asking questions. Even when nothing
can be done to better the situation.” Arcturus admitted defeatedly.

“Nothing to make the situation better? It seems you forget what lies right in front of you. Your
grandsons, Harry, all of us who you strive to help everyday.” She pointed out.

“It did no good to help the person who needed it most.” Arcturus replied.

“Orion made his choices and he had to live with them, Arcturus.” Cassiopeia said almost sternly.

“Did he have a choice?” Arcturus posed. His cousin looked as if more words were brewing behind
her strong eyes that hadn’t faded a moment with age. However, she was interrupted by a small
feeble knock before the large wooden door was pushed inward. Kreacher came in with a pillowcase
dragged behind him. The elf rarely came unless called and even now with his found independence
in Regulus, he didn’t always come when called on occasion.

“Kreacher.” Arcturus greeted as the elf struggled for a moment to drag along his package.

“Master Arcturus, Kreacher be finding out information. Information he do not want to be taking to
Master Regulus.” Kreacher explained as he walked up to Arcturus with the pillowcase. He plopped
it at Arcturus’ feet and Arcturus opened it apprehensively. Inside there were dozens of letters, all
dated and postmarked from the beginning of summer to recent days. Even more shockingly, they
were all addressed to Harry.

“Kreacher, this is Harry’s missing mail. Where did you find this?” Arcturus asked in shock.
Cassiopeia got up from her place and padded in her slippers over to stare in amazement.
 “This is even his Hogwarts letter, we were wondering why he hadn’t received it.” She murmured
as she picked up the distinct letter.

“Kreacher been suspicious. Kreacher didn’t think little Masters friends forgot him. Kreacher went
looking. Kreacher was very good at looking and hiding for Master Orion, so Kreacher knows.
Kreacher found a disobedient elf. An elf that be taking little Master’s mail.” Kreacher explained as
he pointed a crooked finger.

“An elf? From what family?” Arcturus asked defensively.

“The Malfoys, Master. A little elf named Dobby be taking them. Dobby be speaking to himself
saying it was for the good for little Master. Kreacher snuck the letters away while Dobby be
punishing himself.” Kreacher said with several nods. Arcturus felt a cold chill go down his spine.
Why were the Malfoys messing with Harry?

“A Malfoy elf? You are certain?” Cassiopeia asked in disbelief.

“Yes Mistress. Kreacher be certain. Kreacher didn’t want to bring this to Master Regulus. Master
Regulus worries and Kreacher is worried about his heart. Kreacher lost Master Orion because of
his heart.” Kreacher mumbled as he wrung his hands a few times.

“Thank you for bringing this to us, Kreacher.” Arcturus said as Kreacher gave a small nod of
approval.

“What does this mean, Arcturus? Why would the Malfoys steal Harry’s mail? Do you think they
know of Regulus or Sirius?” Cassiopeia asked worriedly as she shifted through a few more of the
letters.

“Lucius wouldn’t be able to keep a secret like that for more than a moment to himself. I don’t
believe he knows, but this information is cause for concern. I will figure out more and then we can
bring the knowledge to Sirius and Regulus.” Arcturus replied with determination as he shifted the
letters aside and stood to cross the room to where a desk and supplies sat. He needed to start his
own letters. Cassiopeia gave him a wary glance.

“Kreacher had a point. There is no reason to unnecessarily worry the boys. Harry is away for only
a few days and Regulus is in a tizzy. Let me gather some answers to the endless questions they will
have.” Arcturus reassured her as she took his former seat to garner a better look at the letters.

“I have always trusted you. I do so now.” Cassiopeia sighed as she rubbed her temple. Arcturus sat
at the desk as he pulled parchment himself and began to compose a letter. There was much to do if
he were to find those answers in only a few day’s time.

Chapter End Notes

Feel the need to say I write characters with flaws and feelings and just because they
have such does not innately make them a bad person, only that they are human.

Thank you for all the comments and kudos and reading along. Nearly 70K hits and I
still can hardly believe it!
 Brawl in a Bookshop
Chapter Notes

CW: Fighting, Threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

After the first day, The Burrow was just as eventful though less emotionally compelling. The twins
had taken them out on a night joy ride with an old Ford Angela that had been transfigured and
charmed to fly. Harry had a joy allowing the passing breeze to cross on his face as he sat next to a
jubilant Ron, who was letting out the occasional howl of excitement. Fred and George were
laughing and shoving each other in the front seats. Harry had let Hedwig out of her cage for the
night and she was carefully following over them. She’d dive down to the ground occasionally and
come back with small game in her beak looking triumphant.

They spent hot afternoons in the nearby fields playing Quidditch with even Ginny scrambling
behind her brothers and then proceeding to outfly them all. She never seemed to catch Harry’s eye
directly even when they were tossing garden gnomes next to each other one afternoon. She
purposefully looked the other way and eventually Harry gravitated towards Ron.

“I was reading Gilderoy’s book on household pests. It says you need to dig them up and guide
them away!” Mrs Weasley called from the doorway. She had a thick book in her hand that seemed
to have a flashing photograph of the author larger than the actual cover.

“Gilderoy is nutter according to Uncle Ig. He doesn’t think a word of it is true.” George
commented under his breath as he yanked up a squirming gnome.

“Yeah, you’ve got to throw them over the hill to keep them away and make sure to swing real
hard.” Ron added with a nod at a passing gnome just under the dirt.

“There’s a potion to keep them away.” Harry added. He had helped Uncle Marius brew it on
several occasions to keep any gnomes from wrecking Aunt Helena’s prized vegetable garden.

“Ingredients are a bit expensive.” Ron mumbled under his breath before changing the subject.
“Hermione wrote me back, she said she’s pleased you are alright. Been working on schoolwork all
summer according to her letter. She’ll be in Diagon Alley on Wednesday as well, we can write her
back to meet outside Gringotts.”

Harry nodded as he allowed the first comment to slip without reply. The Weasley were prideful
people and even with their lack of funds they would not ask for assistance and Uncle Ignatius had
said it was fruitless to offer. They took it more as an insult than a pleasant assistance. Harry would
respect their wishes no matter how much he didn’t like it.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, Harry was almost upset to leave The Burrow. He missed
his family of course, but the fun and joy of being constantly surrounded by children his own age
had its own appeal. He wandered down to breakfast barefooted with Ron yawning over his
shoulder. Ginny was already there with her hair combed and dressed for the day, excitement even
Harry’s presence couldn’t disturb. She was going to Hogwarts finally after sending brother after
brother. Harry offered her a small smile that she returned for once before he sat next to Mr
Weasley.

“Now I find it so fascinating, Harry. Here we had all thought you’d gone to be raised by Lily’s
family and you were off being raised by cousins of magical origin. Tell me, are they still related to
Lily?” He asked as he cut into tomato slices on the side of his eggs. Harry’s smile dropped slightly
as he recalled Ignatius' warning to keep off the subject off his family. He had down a well enough
job waving off most questions his first year at school. He told people he lived with family out of
the country that were cousins and very distinctly wizards as it was hard to believe he was so
proficient in magic without prior knowledge. Harry wanted to point out that Hermione was well
ahead of him, but people tended to want to talk about him more to his disappointment.

“Oh no, they are distant cousins on my father’s side of the family.” Harry answered quickly before
stuffing as much toast in his mouth as could fit. Mr Weasley seemed to be fascinated by that fact.

“James’ family you say? And here we had heard they had all died off, not a Potter left in name
except for yourself of course.” Mr Weasley nodded. Harry just mimicked his movements as he
continued to funnel food into his mouth. Thankfully, Mrs Weasley was more than enthusiastic to
keep refilling his plate. She kept commenting he looked too small for his age, but he thought he
was rather normal even if slighter. All of his family minus Aunt Helena had extremely slight
figures. French appetites, Aunt Cassiopeia had joked before. Harry didn’t quite understand it, but
he assumed it was just normal for their family.

“Well Euphemia had a large family dear. Lancelot used to say she could take a tour around the
world and never pay for a night's stay.” Mrs Weasley replied as she piled more sausage on his
plate.

“Ah yes, speaking of which I should write Lancelot, we confiscated this whole bag of those
Muggle healing tools bewitched to sing a jive if touched from Mundungus Fletcher of all people. I
can’t figure out how half of them are used is the problem. I was hoping he could shed some light
on it.” Mr Weasley said as he turned to his wife with a gentle look. Harry was thankful for the
distraction.

“Well if you can tear him away from his work for more than a few moments. I’ll write to him, it
feels like he’s gotten even more invested in his older years. I keep trying to get him to retire, Aunt
Muriel did years ago, but he won’t hear any of it. Awfully stubborn man he is, would think he’d
have more common sense having been a Ravenclaw.” Molly replied, shaking her head as she
poured second cups of tea.

“Prewetts and their tenacious nature, almost as if it is their appeal.” Mr Weasley winked before he
placed a light kiss on his wife’s cheek who blushed as she waved her hand at him. Fred and George
made gagging noises from their end of the table. Harry just shook his head before catching Ron up
in a conversation on Quidditch teams for the rest of breakfast until they needed to Floo to Diagon
Alley.

Harry had felt a pull in his stomach when he’d grabbed a small pinch of a nearly bare bottom Floo
container. He’d wished he had the foresight to bring some of his own, but there was no use in
trying to argue it now as he stepped into the fire after the twins. With a twist of his stomach, he
fluttered past many fire places until he caught sight of two wrestling fiery redheads. Leaving the
twins to their fight, Harry slid along the side of the dusty Leaky Cauldron, the patrons sparse and
often slumped over cups of steaming coffee and tea. Harry found himself rubbing some fog off a
window to watch the early morning crowds start to line the street. He had planned a bit of simple
people watching before meeting with Regulus and Sirius at the end of Diagon Alley near
Gringotts. What he hadn’t expected was to see a cloaked figure creeping along the edges of the
crowd, careful to not be noticed, but Harry knew better. He knew his grandfather when he saw him,
and he had many questions as to why he was being so suspicious and there seemed to be only one
way to find out as he pushed off the windowsill and marched towards the swinging door without a
single person taking much notice.

Regulus was picking at a bit of loose skin on his thumb trying to distract himself from looking at
his watch for the tenth time. Sirius was smoking in his Polyjuice created body a few steps away,
clearly more casual than Regulus. Ignatius and Lucretia were speaking with a wizard Regulus
didn’t know. He had an obnoxious smile and hair a little too perfect. He spoke with his arms
constantly and wore a rather brash peacocking cloak. Regulus knew from the collection of black
clothes he had hanging in his closet he may not be the most fashion forward wizard, but even he
could tell the colors were ghastly and from the way Aunt Lucretia looked as if she had smelled
something bad and Uncle Ignatius tapped his foot continually, neither of them found his manner
precisely charming. He broke his oath to himself to not glance at his watch to avoid staring at the
nearly blinding white teeth clashing as the unknown wizard spoke.

“An entire two minutes, I could faint from shock.” Sirius said mockingly behind a curl of smoke.

“Bugger off.” Regulus hissed as he adjusted his watch and stared down the long alleyway to The
Leaky Cauldron. Minus a few tired looking wizards and witches with Daily Prophets tucked under
their arms, there had been no sight of the Weasley clan yet.

“They’ll be here. You heard Uncle Ignatius, they infamously run late. Bloody hell, I would too if I
had to keep track of that many children. Likely would lose one or two every now and then, but it
seems they always come back.” Sirius laughed as Regulus groaned.

“Don’t say that.” Regulus said under breath as he fiddled with the dial on his watch a bit. Maybe it
had been pushed ahead a few minutes by mistake. He was fiddling with it when he heard gasping
breath coming down the uneven cobblestone alley. His eyes shot up to see Molly Weasley
clutching her bag in one hand and a young daughter in her other. For a brief moment, relief flooded
Regulus until Molly opened her mouth to speak after gasping for air.

“Uncle Ignatius, tell me he came to you.” Molly said with a frazzle to her nature as children and her
husband seemed to pile behind her. The wizard who had been speaking to Ignatius and Lucretia
seemed to vanish in thin air with his colour cloak and bright smile nowhere to be seen.

“Molly, dear, has who come to me?” Ignatius asked as he held out his hand to take her bag from
her as she bent over her knees slightly.

“Harry! He went through the Floo just after Fred and George. They swear they saw him go to look
out a window, but then he seemed to just disappear. We searched the entire pub, but not a lick of
him. I was hoping he saw you and wandered out here.” Molly explained as she twisted and turned
as if looking behind the two for the small child. Regulus’ stomach dropped as his mouth went dry.
He watched as Sirius' cigarette tumbled out of his hand. Regulus couldn’t help it as he pushed past
his aunt and uncle to tower over the short corpulent woman with a bit of a menacing nature he
didn’t necessarily intend in his own settling panic.

“You’ve lost Harry?” Regulus asked in a rather deep voice as Molly took in a short breath. He
could hear Sirius come up behind him but didn’t bother to look as he kept never wavering eye
contact with Molly. Her reluctance to answer gave him the answers he needed. Harry wasn’t with
them.
“Well shite.” Sirius mumbled under his breath at Regulus’ shoulder.

Arcturus was not a stranger to Knockturn Alley, many useful queries could be found beyond its
narrow streets and sharp corners. Most certainly of all, he’d find a rather tall lurking man with long
blonde hair strutting about before too long. Arcturus himself had written the letter to tip off Mister
Weasley of the likely illegal items to be found in several ancient houses, careful to include the
Malfoys name in the midst of others to avoid suspicion. A dutiful, but grumbling Cassiopeia went
for tea at the Malfoys just this weekend to gather the last of the information he needed. How
convenient it was that Lucius and Narcissa were taking Draco shopping for school supplies the
same day Harry was due to. Made for an easy trip for him.

He waved his wand to ring the bell on the table as he entered Borgin and Burkes as he wandered
the edges of the shop. Dark Magic radiated from the corners as his wand brushed against tables
holding anything from poisonous candles to a cursed necklace. He passed by a cabinet that seemed
to be cracked open. Leaning forward, he’d nearly reached in to open it wider when a croaking
voice caught his attention.

“Arcturus! What a surprise, I hadn’t heard you were back in England.” Mr Borgin greeted him with
a crooked smile. Arcturus kept a distance between the two. The shop had a long history with the
Black family considering Mr Borgin’s partner, Mr Burke was the grandson of Arcturus’ aunt. It
only made the shop owners peeved they could not cheat Arcturus with their unfair pricing. His aunt
had taught him a thing or two about artifacts and their pricing for his own good.

“I’m staying with my daughter for a time. I hadn’t wanted to announce my presence if you
understand.” Arcturus replied as he continued to pace the artefacts.

“Of course sir, you know well enough we are discreet here.” Mr Borgin replied, showing his
yellowing teeth. “How can I be of service today?”

Thankfully, Arcturus did not need to reply. Instead the door opened up and revealed the person
Arcturus was truly needing. Lucius Malfoy stood proud and strong. His son followed along
rambling.

“I don’t know why Harry Potter gets the newest broom. Why he gets to break tradition for a stupid
game?” Draco droned as his eyes wandered around the shop. He caught a spark in his step as he
saw a glass eye sitting in a purple pillow. Lucius struck out with his own cane to pull Draco back
towards him.

“Don’t touch, Draco.” Lucius drawled on as Arcturus watched from the shadows before stepping
forward. Lucius had his attention on dragging his son along that he nearly knocked into Arcturus
and stumbled back with a snarl on his face until he noticed who was in front of him. With a snap of
his eyes, he fixed the look on his face that Arcturus would have gladly wiped clear.

“Arcturus.” Lucius said sharply with his long hair hanging straight down his back. “Narcissa said
you were visiting.”

“Hello, Grandfather Arcturus.” Draco said obediently with a sharp nod that didn’t move a single
piece of his slicked back hair. Arcturus nodded at him and in the process noted the slight
movement of the cabinet from before. His eyes narrowed.

“Mister Malfoy.” Mr Borgin nodded.

“Mister Borgin, I’m certain you’ve heard of the recent raids being conducted by that fool who is
the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Division of the Ministry, Arthur Weasley. What a joke
of a name, one letter and I could have the whole division dissolved, but then again sometimes it is
useful to have peddling men like Arthur under your thumb.” Lucius explained as he dropped a list
of different arefacts from the Manor. Arcturus huffed as he wandered back to look at a curious
Draco. He was suspiciously close to the cabinet before his attention was caught on the opal
necklace as he narrowed his eyes to read the small note next to it.

“A true wizard doesn’t need an object to do his bidding, Draco.” Arcturus commented as Draco’s
eyes grew wider as he looked up at the man he viewed as an additional grandfather.

“Father says—” Draco began before Arcturus raised a hand to silence him before lowering his tone
to reply.

“You will find, Draco, that fathers are not always right.” Arcturus explained as he shot a look into
the cabinet once again. He guided Draco back to his father as Lucius concluded his deal and put
his hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Well good day Arcturus. Write to Narcissa if you wish to join us and her father and mother for tea
one day. I believe your cousin, Pollux could find room in his simple manor for you if you choose
to leave the pitiful Welsh lands.” Lucius said as he quickly made his way to the exit.

“Do you have anything to sell, Arcturus? Perhaps a particular mask?” Mr Borgin waved his hand to
the line of masks held on a highest shelf and looked vigorously cleaned. Death Eater masks, ones
from those who had died in the war or been incapacitated. They were a bit of a hobby collection for
Mr Borgin and he'd on multiple occasions tried to bargain for Arcturus to bring Regulus’ old Death
Eater gear to sell. Arcturus cleared his throat with disapproval.

“I don’t know what you speak of, Mister Borgin. I had come to collect an edition of Magick Moste
Evile that I know for a fact you have stored in the back of your shop. One in original Latin and I
will give you no more than seven Galleons for it.” Arcturus demanded the old shopkeeper. Mr
Borgin snarled his thin lips and slipped to the back of his shop. Arcturus waited a moment to be
sure he was shuffling through his collection of old books. Then he took long strides against his
cane and pushed open the cabinet door wide. There Harry was pushed back into the far corner with
his wand drawn to his side.

“Harry, whatever are you doing here.” Arcturus hissed as he pulled Harry by his arm out and
leaned down to his level. “Knockturn Alley is no place for you to be exploring.”

“I was following you. Draco nearly saw me.” Harry shook his head violently.

“Sh, he didn’t, Harry. Take my cloak, wait out the door. Do not under any circumstances wander
outside of my sight from these windows and keep your head low. Do you understand?” Arcturus
said firmly as Harry nodded frantically in reply. With a gentle push, Harry was out the door,
cowering under the cloak Arcturus had wrapped him in. Mr Borgin returned disgruntled with the
text and took the payment as Arcturus said his sharp partings and quickly returned to Harry. The
poor boy was shaking slightly as Arcturus tucked him under his arm.

“Regulus has probably had three heart attacks by now, Harry. Why would you wander off?”
Arcturus said gentler than before.

“I was curious.” Harry mumbled as he pulled the cloak closer around him.

“I believe there is an old Muggle phrase, Harry. Curiosity killed the cat.” Arcturus sighed as they
approached the lighter streets of Diagon Alley. Just before they could break into the noisy streets,
an outline filled the narrow exit blocking their way.

Regulus couldn’t breath and yet his body seemed to be moving at double speed. He was flashing in
and out of stores and shops. Customers and clerks alike looked at him strangely, but he wasn’t
often there long enough to observe their stiff remarks and harsh looks. Once he knew Harry wasn’t
there, he’d leave as quickly as he came. Sirius was on his heel, looking in corners and crannies just
as eagerly. The Weasleys and Ignatius and Lucretia had shot to all corners of Diagon Alley.
Regulus was running low on breath when he caught a glimpse of the darkened side alley past the
ice cream shop. Regulus felt worry building as he shook his head.

“Merlin, Harry. Please tell me you didn’t.” Regulus whispered under his breath as he pushed
forward to Knockturn Alley. Just as he was about to descend on the seedy back corridors of the
popular alley, two people began to approach, one taller and one shorter. Before he could register
their faces in the shadow, the smaller one launched at him.

“Reg.” The voice whispered undertone as Regulus fell to his knee. Harry was in his arms once
more. His eyes shot up to find his grandfather above them with a worried look across his face.

“Harry, what were you doing in Knockturn Alley?” Regulus asked with concern when Harry let
loose on the hug. Guilt flashed in his eyes.

“I saw Grandfather Arcturus' head down there. I just wanted to see what he was doing.” Harry
shook his head as he squeezed Regulus again. “I’m sorry, Reg. I really am.”

“It’s alright, Harry, you're safe.” Regulus responded as he looked up at his grandfather.

“Do I want to know why you were down there?” Regulus asked quietly.

“For another time.” Arcturus replied as he nodded over Regulus’ shoulder. The Weasleys were
catching up through the crowd of people. Regulus nodded at his grandfather as he slipped away in
the opposite direction. With Harry’s hand in his own, he brought him back to his friends.

“Harry, Godric, you gave us a right scare.” Molly said as she dropped to her knees and squeezed his
cheeks.

“I can never apologize enough.” Arthur said as he clapped Regulus’ shoulder.

“All is fine, Harry just got a bit curious and wandered off. We always said his mind was too big for
his shoes.” Regulus said with a nervous smile. There was no reason found in pointing fingers at
anyone. It would get them nowhere when Harry was fine in the end.

Regulus followed with a hand on Harry until they reached Gringotts where he allowed the
Weasleys to accompany him to his vault. Afterwards they were joined by the young Hermione and
her parents who had strained smiles from the overwhelming nature of it all. Regulus couldn’t
imagine what it would be like to wake up one day and be exposed to this entire world. He imagined
it would be as if he’d been thrown out to the Muggle world. Regulus tried to be as polite as he
could in his short engagements with the Grangers. He felt a need to balance out his prior attitudes
even if no one would expect him too. He wanted to prove to himself he could overcome old
prejudices and see them as people with lives and stories that he could never completely know.

“The Grangers are dentists. From what I’ve gathered it means they are healers for teeth! How
exciting.” Arthur explained as they pushed past a larger crowd of people surrounding the store,
Flourish and Blotts. There were many witches vying to get into the store and Regulus couldn’t
piece together until he saw the same man from earlier standing and waving with perfect poise in
front of the crowd.

“Bloody hell.” Ignatius mumbled under his breath. “Gilderoy Lockhart, a real knob, not a chance
he’s done half of what he’s said. Constantly tries to sit down with Lucy and me to exchange
stories, but I’ve heard rumours that some wizards and witches that sit down with him to tell stories
are never the same afterwards.”

Regulus could understand why his aunt and uncle had been so peeved earlier. He’d heard them
complain about Gilderoy coming along and bringing a bad reputation to those who independently
studied magical beings and beasts. His stories read more as fiction than fact. Ignatius had spent his
life working towards gaining respect and admiration for his work and a man like Gilderoy brought
questions and a lack of professionalism. Now, he was parading around like the peacocks at Malfoy
Manor. Regulus didn’t like the feel of him, and he was careful to keep Harry away from both him
and the flashing camera of The Daily Prophet. He collected Harry’s books and checked out
quickly. He was trying to slip out without much notice. He was nearly successful.

“Leaving already Potter? I’m surprised you aren’t throwing yourself in front of the camera.” A
small blonde haired boy stepped directly in front of Harry. Draco, Regulus realised as he paused
with a grip on Harry’s shoulder and the Weasleys seemed to be slowly coming behind as they
fought through the crowds.

“Malfoy.” Ron sneered as he caught a glance of the starch blonde hair.

“Managed all those books, Weasley? Or trying to make a quick escape before they realise you
didn’t pay for them.” Draco snarled. Regulus bit his tongue as he tried not to think of his own
egotistical twelve year old self. At least, his childhood had humbled him with his parents'
punishments. Arthur came just behind Regulus with heavy breaths as he pulled along the twins and
his oldest son just over his shoulder.

“Alright Weasleys, time to go.” He called to all his children before a chilling voice overtook him.

“Arthur Weasley.” Lucius Malfoy called as he sauntered up behind his son who could not look any
more smug. Regulus felt a chill drip down his spine as his eyes averted Lucius, who wasn’t even
looking at him. Sirius came up to Regulus instantly as he grabbed his arm and whispered to him.
He couldn’t hear what he was saying but feeling the pressure of his brother’s hand on his forearm
helped to ground him. He did not look like himself, Lucius would never be able to recognise him.

“Well I’m surprised you could get the time off, Arthur. Well with all the overtime you’ve been
working.” Lucius peered menacingly at the stack of books Ginny had. “Appears it’s been unpaid
from the looks of it.”

“At least I have an employment I can name, Lucius. Lucky you were born an heir, otherwise who
would hire you with your history?” Arthur said back with a vengeance.

“Well I wouldn’t be foolish enough to lose my status, not that all are so astute. How is your dear
old mother? Your father's penniless self keeping her satisfied? I couldn’t imagine how hard she
must have fallen from the greatest of society to a glorified farmhand.” Lucius sniffed as he
wrinkled his nose and picked at a torn cover of the book on top of Ginny’s collection. Before he
could even place it back, it went flying to his face as Arthur attacked Lucius, throwing him off
balance into the shelving behind him. Lucius raised his cane in defense. Regulus pulled back at
Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione from the flying books being knocked off the shelves and away
from the cries of the crowd. Sirius went to the side to pull back the remaining three Weasleys. The
twins who seemed to be encouraging their father as their mother ran forward aghast.

Ignatius pushed through the crowd and wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him back while
raising his arm at Lucius, who had raised his cane towards Ignatius before realising who it was.
Suddenly a hush came over the crowd and a parting could be felt behind Regulus as he tried to keep
the four children in his care under his arms. Tapping could be heard moving slowly in his direction
as he looked up to see the cause of the sudden shift in nature. Arcturus Black had entered the store
and stolen the attention of everyone. He stopped short of the two grown men that had been pulled
apart from each other moments before.

“Well, I hadn’t expected this on my morning stroll through London.” Arcturus said carefully as
Lucretia came just over his shoulder. Her neck was extended and her nose upturned at the scene.
Arcturus looked at his son by law and nodded sharply as Ignatius pulled Arthur out of the store and
Sirius followed behind with three of his children. Regulus couldn’t leave without going directly
across Arcturus’ path. He watched as his grandfather stared down at Lucius as he wiped a bit of
blood from the corner of his mouth.

“How unbecoming of you, Lucius. Seems inferior of you to be speaking down at people from the
ground.” Arcturus said. Lucius struggled up on his cane and brushed off his robes roughly in front
of the crowd.

“Seems debasing for you to comment, Arcturus, when it is an extension of your family acting this
way.” Lucius growled. Arcturus moved so quickly Regulus couldn’t see it all happened. Arcturus
had his cane dug painfully into Lucius’ shoulder and had brought them face to face. Lucius had the
flush of panic across his face that was blocked from the crowd, but Regulus could see it. Arcturus
whispered under his breath at Lucius to where even he couldn’t hear the words before he released
the man and Lucius quickly grabbed Draco’s arm and dragged him out of the shop. Arcturus
turned to his daughter as he leaned on his cane and made his way towards the exit.

“Excitement has ended. I believe Mr Lockhart was just beginning to sign his rather invigorating
self biography. That I’m certain is full of nothing but truthful and honest accounts.” Lucretia said
with a high accent as she waved her hand at Gilderoy, who had hidden himself under the table his
books sat on. He sheepishly pulled himself up as he brushed back his bronze hair.

“Thank you, Mistress Prewett, for that kind introduction. Yes, just a bit of excitement to get the
blood pumping. Reminds me of my time in Romania with the vampires.” Gilderoy started with a
perfect smile plastered back on his face again. Regulus quickly used the distraction to pull the
children out with him.

“Bloody hell, that was fantastic.” Ron gasped once outside.

“Fantastic! That was horrid, Mr Malfoy was trying to provoke your father, Ron.” Hermione replied.

“Either way, Malfoy deserved it.” Harry said as Regulus shot him a pointed look.

“Arthur! Fighting in front of the children, if Ignatius hadn’t pulled you off!” Molly was gasping as
she looked over her husband, who was developing a black eye. He looked a bit ashamed out in the
alley way now.

“He’ll be alright, Molly. Arcturus made Lucius run off quicker than a unicorn. I doubt he’ll give
you much trouble, at least for now.” Ignatius reassured his niece. She gave him a nervous glance as
she twisted her lips.

“Thank you, Uncle Ignatius. Someone could have gotten hurt much worse had you not stepped in.”
 Molly said after a moment.

“Anytime, Molly. You are our family.” Ignatius said once again and this time Molly didn’t fight it
as she gathered her children to return to The Burrow via the Leaky Cauldron. Regulus had kept a
hand on Harry the whole time as they walked out with the Grangers to the street. It was safer for
them to apparate to Grimmauld Place than risk the Floo being tracked. Hermione reminded Harry
to stay out of trouble before bidding him farewell until they would see each other in a few days
time at the train station. Regulus was grateful to enter the cool air of his childhood home. After
such an eventful trip, he didn’t think it could get any more strange.

Chapter End Notes

I realised I have only updated twice in the past two weeks as opposed to the typical
four times. My apologies I have been a bit overwhelmed with all that has been going
on and had to take some time away from social media, but now I should be back to
regular updates! Comments are wonderful and thank you for all the kudos! Over 70k
hits on this fic! I’m speechless and always grateful! Till next time!
 A Jubilant Joyride
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Much as the year prior, Grimmauld Place buzzed with activity the early morning on the first of
September. Breakfast had been cleared away and Kreacher was now busy chasing after Harry to
make certain he had enough socks. Regulus was packing Vega and Padfoot into Harry’s truck at
the base of the stairs while Sirius tried to sneak in a side of fireworks before Regulus swatted his
hand away.

“Let him have a bit of fun, Reg.” Sirius complained.

“He can have perfectly safe fun without explosives.” Regulus responded as he snapped the truck
close without the fireworks.

“You know I had thought your thirties would bring less bickering.” Lucretia chided as she laid a
jumper in the trunk next to Harry’s own. Ignatius wouldn’t be taking the Hogwarts Express, but he
still needed supplies when he Floo to Hogwarts later in the afternoon.

“I still bicker with Lancelot, love.” Ignatius said as he took the stairs two at a time with a sharp
coat over his arm and bag in his hand. Pieces of parchment and ends of quills struck out at strange
angles as Lucretia sighed before taking her wand to clean up the mess and allow the bag to zip shut
properly.

“I hadn’t expected you and Lancelot to stop bickering until one of you was under the ground and
even then I can’t be certain one of you wouldn’t become a ghost just to spite the other.” Lucretia
replied as she reached forward to straighten her husband's collar.

“I can promise you once my time is done I will not be sticking around longer than necessary.”
Lancelot added as he appeared out of the kitchen with a tea cup in one hand and The Daily Prophet
in another.

“Truly? Because you're still here.” Ignatius said with a laugh as Lancelot paused and gave him a
stern look from over the edges of his glasses. Sirius snickered under his breath until Regulus jabbed
his arm.

“The two of you look after your aunt. Write her letters to make sure she isn’t too lonely without
me.” Ignatius said as he placed his coat over his shoulders and brushed out a wrinkled edge.

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much. Or do I need to remind you who
completed our work in Brazil for three months on her own.” Lucretia said pointedly before placing
a quick kiss on Ignatius’ cheek. Ignatius flushed a bit red as he recalled.

“In my defense, I had not realised that Muggle alligators could do so much damage, nor that they
could move so quickly.” He said defensively.

“Yes, you nearly lost a leg and ended up having to return immediately and I had to fulfill our
research on Caiporas. Thankfully, our Brazilian host was rather accommodating and I survived
quite fine alone. I believe I can do it again. Besides, it’s not like you are chained to the school, you
can leave on weekends if you are free, Professor.” Lucretia replied with emphasis on the last word.

“I'm not used to being called that yet.” Ignatius replied as he loosened the collar Lucretia had just
fixed. “Speaking of Professors, where is our student? Harry?” Ignatius called up the steps. Harry’s
head popped into view a few landings up.

“It’s ten after, we need to start heading out.” Ignatius reminded him.

“Be down in a minute.” Harry called back before scurrying out of view.

“What do you think he’s looking for?” Regulus asked as he strained his head to get a look. Sirius
shrugged as he sat on top of a trunk.

“Maybe the fireworks I tried packing him.” He replied before Regulus pushed him off the trunk.

“Honestly you two! You aren’t children.” Lucretia exclaimed.

Half an hour later they found themselves staring at the clock with a slowly ticking minute hand.
Regulus tapped his foot as he tried to scan above the crowds. They couldn’t be hard to miss with
there being so many of them. It was fifteen minutes till eleven and the train would leave soon.
Harry had already greeted Hermione and her parents before they disappeared beyond the barrier in
between platform nine and ten. Harry was insistent on waiting though.

“Harry, we could wait beyond the barrier. Get your trunk put away at the very least.” Regulus tried
desperately to suggest. Harry shook his head as he stood atop his trunk and balanced his hands on
Sirius’ shoulders.

“They’ll be here. They haven’t missed a train yet, though this is close for even them.” Ignatius
tried to reassure, but he flicked his wrist to look at his own watch.

“Look just there!” Harry cried, gathering a bit of attention from passing Muggles. Regulus had a
nervous smile as some of them grumbled about disobedient children. Harry was right though,
busting down the half crowded platform were the numerous Weasleys with their trunks being
pushed wildly. Regulus let out a deep breath as he saw the clock tick just past the ten minute mark.
They’d make it, though a bit tight. He hoped this wouldn’t become a habit.

“Goodness, Ignatius! Three times we had to turn around for forgotten items! I threatened them the
final time any other missing items would have to be done without until we could afford to send
them.” Molly huffed as she wrinkled her robes in her hand. Arthur was just behind her huffing with
a bead of sweat down his temple.

“Alright, Percy first. He has a prefect meeting.” Molly hummed as her tallest son quickly pushed
through the barrier with an owl hooting loudly as he disappeared.

“Fred George, with me yeah?” Uncle Ignatius offered as he put one hand on each of their trolleys.
The twins nodded quickly and when the crowd cleared they slipped away as well.

“Alright, Ginny, let’s get you through.” Aunt Lucretia offered as she put her arm around one side
of Ginny as Molly put her arm around the other. It took a moment for the Muggles to look away,
but eventually the three women made it through. Only five minutes remaining.

“I’ll go through with Ron.” Harry chirped up as he put his hands on the railing of his trolley.
Regulus was skeptical. Sirius nudged him forward as they followed Arthur. The steam hit his face
first before he could even see the train idling with its engine rumbling to life. Harry would have
mere moments to get his truck aboard and settled. Regulus stepped out of the line of path before
looking back waiting for Harry and Ron to come rushing through. He glanced at his watch and the
quickly ticking seconds hand and looked up again expecting Harry any moment now. A minute
passed. Then another passed.

“Probably the Muggles in the way. They’ll be through any minute now.” Arthur said nervously as
wiped at his brow again. Another minute ticked by painfully.

“I’m going back through.” Regulus said determinedly.

“You might get run over by a trolley.” Sirius pointed out, though he was even nervously chewing
on his cheek.

“Better than doing nothing. They have less than two minutes.” Regulus said as he stood in front of
the barrier. He walked forward with his shoulder forward to brace for any incoming trolleys should
they happen to come through. A trolley didn’t hit him though, his shoulder impacted painfully into
hard brick.

Regulus gasped as he took a step back. Before pushing forward in the barrier with as much strength
as he could find. He ended up only bruising the entire side of his body. With distraught eyes he
turned to his brother, who was shaking his head disbelieving. So Sirius stepped back and waved
Regulus away and went at it with a bit of a run. Only to collide painfully with the brick as the final
warning horn cries out from behind them. Sirius laid sprawled out rubbing at his arms in disbelief.
The barrier had closed.

“I-it isn’t supposed to do that.” Arthur stammered nervously as he turned to call to his wife who
was waving a handkerchief at all of her children that had managed to make it on the train. Regulus
reached out to help his brother up as they both stared at the red column before turning to each other
with worry erected into their faces and bruises forming on their skin.

“Harry.” They both said simultaneously.

Ignatius had felt awful stepping into the Floo, but his wife had nearly forced him to. If Harry were
to be anywhere, Hogwarts was a likely candidate and it would be best he be waiting for him there.
At least, that’s what she told him no less than three times before he stepped into the Floo with a bit
of powder pinched in his fingers. He didn’t feel any better as he stepped out into Dumbledore’s
wide office. It was more spacey and yet more cluttered than Headmaster Dippet’s office had been.
His office had been full of cozy rugs and photographs, while Dumbledore had windows with no
drapes and floating planets. He greeted the Headmaster who thanked him for the offer to teach for
the year before passing him onto Professor McGonagall, who showed him his room for the year.
Pointing out that hers was only a few steps away should he need anything. It felt strange to be led
by her down the old halls he had once roamed as a youth. He’d likely been wandering these halls
while she was still a child.

He placed his trunk and bag in the large, but sparse room. Nothing there but a bed, a desk and
bookshelf with a cozy chair shoved into a far corner. He sighed as he sat on the bed with a squeak
as he clicked the trunk open. There was a table next to the bed and he pulled out a handful of old
photographs to adorn it. A flashing picture of him and his family when he was only a boy, his sister
and of course his brother and parents smiling back at him. He missed them terribly, but their deaths
had been long ago and ached less now. Another photo of his honeymoon with Lucretia, she was
smiling in the frame with a wide brimmed hat on her short curls as she bathed in the sun of a
Spanish coast. He’d always loved how her hair looked like that, she’d cut it only days after their
wedding for a change. Another photograph of him finally starting to show a bit of age as he sat on a
blanket with his young niece and nephews surrounding him on the Welsh shoreline they had grown
on. Fabian and Gideon had matching missed teeth, and their sister was scolding them for feeding
the birds her sandwich. Finally, a photograph taken only a year ago, with young Harry in between
him and Lucretia holding him tight on the rolling hills of Switzerland. His face was lined with a
few wrinkles and his hair started to grow more silver than red, but he still smiled as he had. Harry
had given them all a reason to smile more.

“Oh, Harry. Please be safe wherever you are.” Ignatius whispered as he touched the gentle cheeks
of the boy in the photograph.

He placed it in between the rest as he stood to put on more formal robes. He knew everyone
available was doing their best to find Harry. Once the barrier had reopened after fifteen minutes of
loud cries and a bit of panic, they had discovered that Ron and Harry seemed to have taken the
Ford Anglia Arthur had modified. Regulus and Sirius had immediately hightailed it home to find
their brooms and a fresh batch of Polyjuice potion to take to the skies to try and hunt them down.
Thankfully, the two boys seemed to be leaving a trail of confused Muggles as they headed north.
Arcturus had already written three letters trying to find the reason behind the malfunction in the
barrier. Lucretia had Floo messaged her cousins in Scotland to be on the lookout for two likely
distraught boys in a flying car. Murdo had yelled something in Gaelic, but Lucretia was his
favourite cousin, so he agreed to have his sons in the air on the lookout until Harry and Ron were
found. Cassiopeia, Marius and Helena stayed tightly to Grimmauld Place in case Harry came home
and Molly and Arthur were doing the same at The Burrow. Lancelot was on call for any potential
injuries.

Ignatius knew rationally all was being done to find the boys and most likely they were somewhere
between London and Scotland trying to get to school. However, he did not like sitting and waiting.
It had been a fault all his life. Lucretia would often tease him for his inability to be still. Only now
in his later years did he find peace in the stillness, only after all the loss he had suffered would he
remind himself to remain in the quiet moments.

With this thought, he put on his robes and exited his room. He’d leave the rest of the decorations
and adjustments for later. He wanted a look at his classroom for the next year before the students
trickled in for the Welcome Feast and Sorting. It would be his first one in fifty years. He may as
well enjoy it as best he could and hope Harry stumbled in sometime before the night fell too
harshly.

He found The Great Hall to be nearly the same as when he attended in the late thirties and early
forties. A war had been raging then, but in the ignorance of students, he hadn’t really noticed. He
knew of the war in abstract terms of the way adults spoke in hushed tones and the way his father
had permanent lines in his face. He had been the Head of the Department of International Magical
Cooperation and the war had ravaged him. He could hardly be home during Ignatius’ teenage
years and eventually the war took his father from him and his mother from the heartbreak of losing
him.

It wasn’t until he was staring at the faces of cold bodies that he truly understood, but felt helpless
to do anything. By the time he could have been of much use, the war ended and he was left to pick
up the pieces. But before then, he was no more than a cocky Quidditch playing prefect with an ego
too big for his boots as he sat proudly at the Gryffindor table surrounded by fellow well to do
wizards and witches from notable families. He couldn’t plead he was perfect. He was never
blatantly discriminatory to students because of their blood status, but he certainly profited off the
system with his name. He could only hope he’d help these students who trickled into the Great
Hall before him try and be better than he had been.

He sat through The Sorting and clapped politely with each student no matter the house. He
watched with pride as Ginny bounced over to join Fred and George as they engulfed her into a twin
hug. Kindly standing when Albus introduced him to the crowd of students who clapped a bit
apprehensively. He couldn’t blame them given how the last Professor had ended up. Even Ignatius
was a bit worried about that fate, but he trusted Arcturus and he had faced worse foes than a
teaching position with a jinx. The feast sprung up with the same delicious food he’d remembered
as he listened gratefully to the other professor’s conversation. Pomona gleefully spoke on her
newest Mandrakes that had arrived just in time for the lessons.

Nervousness still wracked the back of his mind as he watched carefully at the entrance of The
Great Hall hoping for a pair of struggling late arrivals. He never caught sight of them, though he
did catch sight of a rather large tree whipping around wildly outside one of the windows for several
moments before falling eerily still. That tree had not been present during his time at Hogwarts and
he had half a mind to ask Pomona about it, but he didn’t have the time to get the words out as he
did catch another figure parading into The Great Hall rather proudly. Ignatius hadn’t had the
pleasure to meet Professor Snape yet, but he already had plenty of impressions of the scowling
young man. He watched as he leaned into Minerva’s ear from where she sat giggling with Filius.
Whatever he said made her mood turn rather unpleasant. He watched as she turned out of her chair
and stomped behind the Professor’s table to most shockingly stop behind himself.

“Mister Weasley and Mister Potter have just arrived by flying car no less.” She whispered in his
ear. He tried not to show the utter relief on his face too plainly as he quickly excused himself and
followed her down the halls and stairs into the darkened corridors of the dungeons. There shaking
close together were the two young boys of the hour. He was quickly overshadowed by the arrival
of the Headmaster.

“I believe the two of you have quite a story to share.” Albus said in a rather dim tone. Harry and
Ron cut into each other’s sentences and stumbled over their words as they gave a long winded
explanation of their logic and recollection of the recent event. Once it was over the two of them
while worried looked more exhausted than anything.

“Hadn’t you thought to wait by the car instead of flying it across the country?” McGonagall said in
a stern tone.

“Well we didn’t want to be late and we had missed the train.” Ron said rather weakly.

“Do you truly think you are the first students to miss the train? Had you simply waited a few
moments for the barrier to correct itself and been reunited with your guardians, we could have
easily made arrangements for you to return to Hogwarts. Your own uncle came by Floo, Mister
Weasley. Did you not think of that?” McGonagall posed as she stared down at the two boys.

“No.” Ron squeaked out like a mouse.

“Clearly.” She sighed as she shook her head.

“We can gather our trunks and go.” Ron said sadly.

“Why would you ever do that when you’ve just arrived?” Dumbledore asked in a curious voice.

“Aren’t we expelled?” Harry finally cut in. Ignatius had only seen one student expelled himself,
and that was only after the death of another student.
“No, Mister Potter. You are not expelled, though to impress upon you the seriousness of your
actions, Professor McGonagall will be handling rather rigorous punishment.” Dumbledore said.
Professor Snape offered several protests that were cut off before they could get too far.
Dumbledore escorted a steaming Professor Snape out.

“Detentions for a month for the both of you. Hopefully you’ll have learned some sense after that.”
McGonagall said before waving her wand and making a plate of sandwiches and goblets of
pumpkin juice appear.

“I’ll leave you to add anything you wish, and I look forward to working with you Professor
Prewett.” She said before curtly returning the feast. There was a beat of silence after the door rang
shut behind her. Before Ron’s voice cut through.

“How bad is it, Uncle Ig?” He asked nervously.

“Professor McGonagall will seem kind. Best to start calling me Professor Prewett lest you want to
get into any more trouble.” He warned as he sat next to them. The boys ate the meal in rather
defeated silence before he escorts them back to Gryffindor Tower. They were greeted by the
tenacious young witch he had the pleasure of meeting briefly at Diagon Alley.

“Save it, Hermione.” Ron sighed as Harry only hung his head. Her lips curled with words of
reprise, but she seemed to take sympathy on their haggard state. Instead she turned and faced
Ignatius.

“Professor Prewett, I’m so glad to be taught by you. I’ve been reading all your materials the entire
holiday. I would love to expand on your knowledge of the interaction of goblins and wizard kind
that you worked on.” She said with eagerness. Ignatius smiled as he pushed Harry and Ron gently
towards the portrait.

“It’s been many years since I’ve had a chance to work with the goblins, but I will gladly expand on
what I can after some much needed rest.” He responded. She nodded her mess of curls piled on her
head before determinedly stating the password and lightly chiding the two boys as they entered.
Ignatius could hear the minor celebration that greeted Harry and Ron from some of their school
mates. He may have applauded them too in his younger years. He made a stop by the owlery to
send a note to Murdo at the MacMillan farm asking him to Floo Lucretia and inform her Harry and
Ron had been returned safely. It would be the quickest way to get the information back without
having to wait for an owl to fly to London. Then he retired to his bare room and pulled out his
materials to scan over his first day’s worth of work.

“If only you could see me now, Enyalius. You said I’d never conform to a conventional days work,
and here I am a Hogwarts Professor.” Ignatius joked with his brother’s photograph. If only he
could see Ignatius in the flesh, he could express how truly proud of his little brother he was.

Regulus was pacing along the drawing room. He and Sirius had flown for hours north to the border
of Scotland. There they had been greeted by an unruly but certain bunch of Scottish Highlanders
who had been flying over Scotland in search of the car and assured them they hadn’t seen one. Still
racked with worry, they returned home to Grimmauld Place. Now, the entire family gathered in the
drawing room as they awaited news of any kind.

“Regulus, pacing won’t help.” Arcturus said from where he was sitting in an oversized chair.

“I don’t know how you can sit at a time like this.” Regulus snapped back as he ran his hands
 through his hand.

“Make it to your nineties and tell me how your hips feel." Arcturus grumbled, but didn’t chide him
for the quick remark.

“At this rate, I’ll be lucky to make it to my forties with all of Harry’s antics.” Regulus said,
distressed.

“Calm down, Regulus. They’ve likely already made it to Hogwarts and we will hear from someone
any moment now.” Lucretia tried to assure him. He nearly had a remark out when the fireplace in
the drawing room roared to life. Regulus quickly stepped out of view to the side as Sirius ducked
behind a sofa.

“Goodness Helga Hufflepuff, Lucy!” A face called from the emerging flames.

“I’m here Murdo.” Lucretia said as she bent over her cousin's face flickering in the flames.

“Ye ken a wild little bairn there Lucy. Ignatius wrote moments ago, the boys are sleeping soundly
in their beds tonight.” Murdo said in a thick Scottish accent. Lucretia placed her hand on her chest
as Regulus nearly fainted with relief.

“Goodness, thank you Murdo, and your sons for looking for them.” Lucretia said.

“Dinna fash yerself, ya kin Lucy and we do anything for kin. Though I must say hearing Ignatius
all proper as a professor is a sight, he wrote on official Hogwarts paper and all.” Murdo chuckled
heavily. Lucretia shook her head.

“Who would have thought we saw the day?” She laughed before bidding farewell to her cousin and
thanking him again for his help. Once the fire had gone still, Regulus plopped onto the nearest
sofa, overwhelmed with exhaustion.

“The pacing do you fair, now?” Arcturus snided as Regulus lifted his head to stare at his
grandfather’s satirical face before dropping his head into a pillow.

“Well look at it this way, at least Harry got his antics out early this year.” Cassiopeia said as she
rose to retire with her brother taking her arm as well as his wife’s hand.

“We can only hope.” Regulus grumbled under his breath as he pulled his arms across his chest and
rested his eyes finally.

Chapter End Notes

I love the absolute insanity of the flying car scene too much because it makes
absolutely no sense expect to a twelve year old mind.

Now to do a little math as a bit of a hint for what is to come. We know Lucretia was
born in 1925 according to the Black Family Tapestry, for my story’s purposes, so was
Ignatius and they attended Hogwarts at the same time in the same year. Now some
quick math would say they would be seventeen in 1942 and their final year would be
the 1942-1943 year and as said in the prior chapter Lucretia and Ignatius were the
Head Boy and Head Girl of that year. Meaning some old events are about to come up
from Ignatius’ past ;) 10 points to the house of your choice if you can recall what else
happened in the 1942-1943 school year! (Hint: it’s a pretty big plot line in this story)

Thank you as always for any lovely comments! I adore reading them when I have the
chance! I will return in a bit!
 Following Orders
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of an injury, prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Warming scents flooded his senses as he leaned out the window beckoning a summer’s breeze to
catch one of his open windows and provide any relief to the stifling heat that had layered the city.
Still a cup of hot tea was sitting on the window sill with steam curling into the oppressive
humidity. Remus picked it up and sipped it without a second thought as the floral notes of
chamomile and cinnamon danced on his taste buds. His mother used to make the same blend of tea
with approaching full moons with fresh cinnamon she’d gathered from a nearby market. She said it
would help his overactive nerves and sleepless nights, it never really did, but the comfort of his
mother rubbing his back and humming a song under her breath had brought him plenty of comfort,
maybe not the kind to ease his aching bones or sharpening pains, but for a few moments he could
ease himself into a fitful rest in a way he wasn't able to do so again until his nights at Hogwarts
surrounded by friends and people he loved.

Loved as in past tense. It struck into his heart painfully as the tea burned his tongue, quick and
sudden and then a dull ache. He shook his head as he ducked back into the flat with one hand
around the cup as he sauntered over the mess on his small table. A plethora of letters stacked over
each other with different words and sentences strung together. It felt familiar and comforting and
terribly exposing. He hadn’t thought sending that letter would cause a correspondence to begin. A
mysterious penpal who had access to the healing potion sent to him every month. At first, it was a
bit clinical, information on the potions and the side effects if any, then it seemed like the author
was looking for any excuse to keep writing to him. He couldn’t complain, it felt heartbreakingly
refreshing to be able to speak to someone openly again, someone who seemed to understand him
and with whom he held so few secrets. He traced over some of the more recent words fondly, a few
words had slipped in that were more than friendly.

He moved around the table with tea still warm in hand as he took another sip. With a careful hand,
he turned over the copy of The Evening Prophet that had been delivered the night prior; the
subscription was one of his few selfish purchases. Alphard’s vault funded it, but from the
collection of classical and periodicals that were tucked away from his old bookshelf, he figured the
man would approve. In bold letters, he glanced at the title and article written about a flying car and
runaway Hogwarts students. His scarred fingers tapped the first familiar name a few times. His
chest filled with a confusing mixture of pain and pride that twisted and turned several times over.

“Oh James, you'd be so proud of him.” Remus muttered under his breath as he swallowed tears
with a long sip of tea.

It was bright red and already smoking, Harry bit into his lip as he looked over at Ron who was
trying to hide himself under the table. Hermione was sitting with her book propped open looking a
bit satisfied as she took a bite of toast.

“Open it, Ron, Waiting only makes it worse. My gran has sent me one and well everyone forgets
after a few days.” Neville suggested as he slid behind the package of supplies he had forgotten at
home. Ron gulped, reached forward and ripped off the top of the letter before ducking his head
with his hands over his ears. It wasn’t enough as Mrs. Weasley’s voice rang so loudly it seemed to
make the windows shake.

At the very least. Neville was right. It went quick and once it was over and students started to turn
their backs just as Hedwig swooped overhead. Harry flinched slightly as a pile of letters dropped in
front of him. Perfectly trained writing was on the cover of all of them and the seals were a rich
black colour, but none were red and steaming. Harry sighed as he collected them and set them
aside with a few curious glances from his friends around him. Neville gave him a sheepish grin that
seemed filled with relief another Howler had not arrived and Hermione stuck up her nose, seeming
positively pleased to see some repercussions to their actions.

“How ye?” Seamus said as Dean nodded when Harry stood to exit. He said he’d meet the rest of
them at Herbology, but he was hoping for a moment to at least tackle a letter or two. He could see
Sirius and Regulus’ handwriting on the two letters on top written in quick quill marks. He was in
trouble and he knew it.

Harry nearly stumbled out of the Great Hall trying to preserve the dignity of his letters while also
hiding them away in his bag as quickly as possible. He wasn’t looking where he was going and his
glasses had gone a bit crooked on his nose and the hair he hadn’t let his aunts cut enough was
falling sideways in his face. So quite shockingly, a letter slipped from his grasp and fluttered
mockingly in a swirl and twist better than a Leviosa charm and slipped right under the pointed toe
of well made boots. Harry gulped as he looked up over the rims of his glasses to the blurry and yet
distinct face of Professor McGonagall.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” Harry said quickly as he pushed the last of the letters in his grasp into his
bag. Professor McGonagall tapped her wand twice and the letter under her boot flew into her hand.
She took a look through her spectacles and raised a single dark eyebrow.

“Letters from home? I suppose they heard of your adventure.” Professor McGonagall said as he
handed the letter back with a flick of her wrist. Harry reached out sheepishly as he pulled the letter
from between her thumb and index finger.

“Least I didn’t get a Howler like Ron. I made them worry. It was foolish of me, but Ron was going
to go with or without me, and I didn’t want him to go alone. If anything happened and I wasn’t
there to help, we nearly got taken out by the Whomping Willow and I’m still sorry we damaged it
even if it’s a bit of a prick.” Harry sighed. McGonagall made a sharp noise with her throat at the
last word.

“Sorry, Professor.” Harry said again as he looked at his toes.

“It’s quite alright, Mister Potter. You and Mister Weasley will serve your punishments as fit, but
there is no need to carry it over you anymore than that. Though I must say I hadn’t expected such a
sudden response.” She said, eyeing the letters carefully. Harry shrugged.

“My family says it’s a product of being the only child and I have a lot of family. I mean I know
you know about… well anyways, everyone says he’s always worried too much and with me it can
be a lot, but he means well.” Harry said as he looked up with half a smile. McGonagall gave him a
look that he couldn’t discern as she hummed.

“He means well?” She questioned with her Scottish accent thick in her words.

“Oh yeah, I mean he tried to suffocate me in a never ending hug after last year, but he eventually
let go. He just hovers sometimes, you know?” Harry shrugged again. He was aware how her eyes
went wide at the first half of his sentence, but then sharply dropped again by the end. Her nose
wrinkled and moved her glasses forward slightly, giving Harry a once over.

“Very well, Mister Potter. Best be getting on your way or I’ll make good on turning Mister
Weasley into a watch to keep you on time.” She said as she took a sharp step aside, her face once
again unreadable. Harry nodded and started down the hall to his class, not a bit too stunned by the
conversation. Quite the opposite of the Professor he left in his wake.

Professor McGonagall was an overly rational woman, or so she considered herself, but even she
had her limits. She took two more steps back as Harry rounded a corner and a few other students
passed her. Once no one was in range of her, she let out a deep breath and let her face screw in
confusion as she whispered to herself.

“Regulus Black gives hugs?” She shook her head before turning on heel and causing a new wave
of students to part to the sides of the wall as she passed them.

“Regulus, I get we didn’t get affection growing up, but you're cutting off my hand.” Sirius sighed
before he winced. Regulus’ hand was holding his brothers in a tight grip to keep his arm stretched
out and still.

“Look if you hadn’t taken the biscuit with the plants we wouldn’t be here. Stop pissing yourself,
I’ve almost got the last thorns.” Regulus said as he sucked in air before using his wand to delicately
pull out a clump of thorns.

“Be careful. It’s a Muggle tattoo there, I don’t know if they can fix it.” Sirius hissed as his face
scrunched in pain. Regulus shook his head as he stuck out his tongue trying to focus. Eventually,
the last of the thorns were sitting on the table beside them as Sirius moaned while rubbing his arm.

“Think Aunt Helena will give me ointment so it doesn’t scar.” He said as he rubbed at the cut
where a patch of thorns had sliced one of his tattoos.

“It isn’t even one of the Rune tattoos. I’m certain you’ll be fine, besides runes are hardly effective
on human skin when put them in ink.” Regulus pointed out as he cleaned off the table.

“I know ancient runes.” Sirius snipped back. “I said this was a Muggle tattoo. It… it just has
meaning to it and I don’t want it to be ruined.”

Regulus swept the last of the thorns into a bin and sighed as he took his brother’s arm and twisted it
to get a better look. He had to blot away some of the blood and run fresh water over it before he
could get a decent look at the cut and the tattoo that it had gone through. It was a deep cut, but not
wide and Regulus was confused by the tattoo drawn in his brother's inner arm.

“Why do you have a spoon permanently etched into your body?” Regulus asked. Sirius wrangled
out of his grasp and started to mumble. Regulus rolled his eyes as he went to the cabinet behind
him. He knew where Uncle Marius hid the extra supplies so he didn’t have to go to his wife
admitting he’d hurt himself again. He pulled out the jar of ointment and made his way back to his
brother, who was messing with the loose skin around it.

“Don’t pick at it.” Regulus said as he swatted away the hand. Sirius gave him an annoyed glance.

“Don't be a tosser.” Regulus said as he held out his hand. Sirius grumbled more but laid his arm
out.
“Such a bloody git.” Sirius said as the ointment hit the open wound.

“Don’t curse me for your mistake. I told you not to be so careless. Those plants shoot spikes if you
get too close.” Regulus huffed as he lathered on a thick layer of gel to try and prevent scarring.

“Never was any good at Herbology. Plants bore me.” Sirius grunted.

“Don’t tell Uncle Marius, he loves his plants and he wouldn’t want them hearing such negative
language. That should do it.” Regulus said as his wand spat out a roll of bandage around the arm to
keep the ointment in place.

“Hope it doesn’t scar.” Sirius sighed again.

“Even if it does, couldn’t the Muggles just put the ink into the scar, or whatever they do with their
markings.” Regulus said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“No sneaky little tattoos hidden anywhere, baby brother?” Sirius joked as he stretched out his arm.

“I have issues with permanent body markings.” Regulus said, twisting his left arm knowingly.
Sirius chewed his lip nervously.

“You can’t say, tattoo over it?” Sirius asked. Regulus grimaced, but shook his head.

“Tried it with my wand, but it didn't work. Tried to transfigure it and only ended up in pain. Even
tried putting runes in my own skin, but that just caused a bloody mess.” Regulus sighed, he’d tried
everything short of losing an arm. The Dark Mark did not go away, it had only faded as the years
passed and now it looked like a faded out scar with red markings lining out what used to be.

“It faded though, when he went away right?” Sirius asked softer than he usually spoke as he edged
closer.

“If you want to see it, you can just ask Siri.” Regulus said as he hung his head and gripped his right
hand on the counter.

“I don’t want to… asking seems like—” Sirius stumbled over his words until Regulus pushed his
left arm out and cut him off. There was a still silence until Sirius gently touched the edge of his
thin shirt and breathed deeply before pulling the fabric back. He could feel the sun from the glass
roof on the skin immediately. It was hardly ever exposed to daylight and had a sickly pale colour
because of it. It made the vivid outline starch against such a background. Sirius sucked in air
through his teeth as two cold fingers brushed along the edge.

“Did it hurt?” Sirius whispered.

“As bad as one of Mother’s worst Crucio curses.” Regulus said through barred teeth. Sirius’
travelling fingers faltered for a moment at the statement.

“She never used them as much on you.” Sirius mumbled.

“She did when you left.” Regulus said back sharply. Sirius’ whole arm froze.

“She— why would she?” Sirius whispered.

“Papa was dying, and she needed an heir. One that could take the pain.” Regulus said with his eyes
sharply shooting up.

“Je sais pas.” Sirius said as he looked down at Regulus’ arm again.
“Tu parles peu français.” Regulus replied. Sirius' lips twitched violently.

“You said papa.” Sirius muttered. Sirius never called their parents anything but their formal birth
names and Regulus tried to do the same as time passed. Not mother but Walburga, and not father
but Orion, and most certainly he did not call him papa. Except when he did, when he’d recall those
brief few moments he could see a human under his father. A person with thoughts and feelings and
drowning under pressures and responsibilities. Those warm days in France and cool evenings when
their mother was back in England and Orion seemed to look younger and he’d tell his sons they
could call him papa out here. Out from the eyes and ears of everyone else. He couldn’t make
excuses for his fathers behaviour anymore, but it didn’t make him yearn for a father any less.

“What did it do?” Sirius said sharply, pulling Regulus from the edges of his emotion.

“Called us, and stung a lot. For weeks after I got it, it still stung.” Regulus said bitterly.

“I remember seeing it for the first time. I hated you, every bit of you.” Sirius said with a shake of
his head.

“I wanted you to. At first, I wanted you to know, to spite you for everything I was that you weren’t.
Then as time went on, I saw what we were expected to do as I grew and learned. I started to hate
myself too and this Mark. Now it’s a reminder, I did a horrid thing, and no one has to forgive me
for it, but I have to ask anyway. It’s who I was and I can’t forget that, but I can move on. I can try
to be better.” Regulus said with a heavy weight crushing into his chest.

“You are better, Reg. I can’t say you weren’t a right piece of shite for a bit, you did and said some
awful things, but you were a kid and I wasn’t the big brother I should have been all the time. We
both made mistakes, but you don’t have to pariah yourself.” Sirius answered without missing
breath. Regulus bit into his own lip as he rubbed the outside of his arm.

“Are you going to tell me about the spoon, or are you going to make me ask?” Regulus inquired.
Sirius sighed as he glanced at his bandaged arm before dropping his eyes.

“It’s supposed to be a Welsh lovespoon, I don’t know if you remember learning about them.”
Sirius sighed as Regulus felt a twitch to his hands.

“A traditional folklore gift given to a romantic partner.” Regulus said, cracking his knuckles a bit
nervously.

“You sound like you just read a definition from a text. Anyway, Remus’ mother told him about
them, she even had one from his father from before he was born. He knew most people thought of
them as cheeky little souvenirs, but it was more to him and if it was more to him it was more to me.
Now, I can’t woodwork anything for the life of me, magic or not, but I went out and got this tattoo
just after Hogwarts. It was one of the first, and it’s one of the most important. It’s why I don't want
it to scar. Besides, I don’t even know anywhere I could get it redone.” Sirius said with a shake of
his head. Regulus took two steps to close the space between them as he reached out to grab his
brother’s hand.

“It won’t scar and even if it did, I’d find a way to fix it.” Regulus said. Sirius gave him an
appreciative look.

“Thanks, Reg, for all of it.” He replied with a shrug of his shoulder. Regulus nodded as he
squeezed Sirius’ hand before letting go.

“Come on, I think you’ve got a letter to write and I have a lead to follow.” Regulus nodded towards
the door.

“Yeah an anonymous letter to a man I love who thinks I’m a creepy research assistant trying to
crack on him through owl mail.” Sirius said with a roll of his eyes, “What lead do you have?”

“Before we left London, I made a stop back at Diagon Alley, inquired about a pet rat with a
missing toe at Magical Menagerie. It seemed to ring some bells of an old sale, but the saleswoman
was young and she wouldn’t have been around to witness the sale. After some convincing and her
trying to sell me an old orange half-kneazle, I was able to convince her to give me the address of
the retired salesman. Plan to write to him to see if he can give me any information.” Regulus
smiled as he locked the shed behind them and made their way back to the house.

“By convincing, you don’t mean a bit of banter, little brother?” Sirius said with a shove into
Regulus’ side. Regulus just rolled his eyes as he caught a glimpse in one of the windows.
Grandfather Arcturus was pacing in his room and mumbled to himself. Regulus paused and stared
for a minute, Sirius followed his eyeline.

“He threatened at least five people's employment and nearly shut down a whole department of the
Ministry because of the incident at King’s Cross. Sometimes I forget how much power and
influence he still has.” Sirius said looking up.

“We never really were able to see it for ourselves, Orion and Walburga only ruled by fear and the
influence of their parents. I don’t believe we ever learned much about influence or strategy from
them.” Regulus said as they ducked into the kitchen.

“No, we learned fear, but I remember some of those summers spent in France. He tried and he is
trying now. I can’t say how we’d get on without him.” Sirius mumbled as he started to search for a
tea cup in the cabinets. “Where is the elf anyway?”

“Kreacher, his name is Kreacher and he doesn’t have to serve us on whim any longer. He refuses to
take clothes, but at least he heeds my commands to be less bound by his obligations.” Regulus said
as he pulled the kettle and set it on himself. Sirius made a humming noise, but he knew Regulus
was right.

“He’s likely up there with Arcturus, the two of them have been spending quite a bit of time
together. Doesn’t he have his own elves, Teeny or Tiny?” Sirius replied.

“They take care of the rest of the empty homes, besides for all Kreacher’s changes, he still has
trouble watching anyone else serve us. Says it makes his skin itch.” Regulus sighed as he pulled his
own tea cup down.

“Probably just the old sheet wrapped around him.” Sirius said as he sat down and started to pick at
the edges of the bandaid. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“How close can you get to the Malfoys without being noticed?” Acturus asked as he tapped his
foot.

“Kreacher can not be seen, Kreacher is good at secrets.” Kreacher nodded from his place in the
corner.

“I know Kreacher, but Harry could be in trouble. We all could. I don’t know what they know or
think they know, but I need to find out. Go to Malfoy Manor to gather what information you can.
Don’t be seen and keep an eye on that elf if you can. I will not be outdone by Lucius Malfoy of all
 people.” Arcturus said just before Kreacher popped away without a second glance. He paced the
room once more for good measure before he sat down again. Teeth gritted as he dug his knuckles
into the painful spot that ached above his hip. He’d never known growing old until now and parts
of it had less appeal. After several deep breaths, he pulled out his quill again to write to his cousin.
Pollux may not enjoy his presence, but he’d been raised to be nothing but an obedient child and so
he had remained such in all his life. Through him, he was gathering information on the movement
of the Malfoys. Their weekly teas in the Black Manor, the raids being conducted by Arthur
Weasley that were the odd inconvenience, hidden in the words, had to be Lucius' plan, but Arcturus
couldn’t see it yet, and it frustrated him beyond measure. With one hand trying to ease out some of
his pain, his other swiftly wrote out more words to his cousin lauded in unnecessary pleasantries
and compliments as he dug for information. If anyone came for them, he needed to know. Sirius
and Regulus were ignorant to the fact that Lucius very well may be sniffling where he wasn’t
wanted and he may just be stumbling on more than he realised. Killing Lucius for finding out
would be an awful inconvenience.

Meanwhile, oceans away in the rolling fields of Wiltshire, the Malfoys found themselves host to an
unknown new guest. One who had hidden madams, money, and murders for his past master as
easily as he served tea in afternoons. He may be a simple elf, but Kreacher was loyal and learned.
With his family threatened, he did as any Black did. He slinked and watched and gathered the
peculiars no one wanted to air out.

“Narcissa, do not worry any longer. I have gotten rid of most of the damning evidence and I believe
Arthur Weasley will become rather preoccupied with his own issues soon.” Lucius' voice travelled
down the halls to Kreacher’s crooked ears.

“Lucius, I don’t like this. It endangers Draco with each Ministry official that stomps their boots
through our hall. My father has made it clear he is done assisting you out of any more unfortunate
situations.” Narcissa's pinched voice came next.

“Cygnus Black? Like I need Cygnus Black’s help any longer. I can take care of this family on my
own Narcissa and I have. You must just trust me.” Lucius continued as Kreacher heard the rapt of
shoes against the marble floors.

“I trust you Lucius, but Arcturus and the bookshop–” Narcissa started to say.

“Arcturus Black is an old fool, whose time has passed and whose line has died. If anything, him
wandering out of that chateau with his daughter in hand only shows he knows he is losing
relevance with each passing day. He is no threat to me or this family.” Lucius said with an air of
finality as his shoes continued to walk and there came the click of a lock and a snap of a door.
Narcissa let out a sharp breath.

“Never underestimate a Black, love. We have ways of rising from the ashes.” Narcissa said as her
heels clicked on the floor and the distinct sound of a window opening followed. Then came the
flapping sound of light feathers and a small hoot.

“Take this letter to my aunt Lucretia. Stop for no one and make sure she takes it. Her husband
being at Hogwarts and her father reemerging to society is no coincidence. I need answers, go
quickly and bring a reply.” Narcissa hummed before another hoot followed the scratching of claws
pushing off the fancy metal window frame. Kreacher had what he needed. He knew where to go
next. Wales was at least a quicker pop than Switzerland.

Chapter End Notes

Hi.... *waves slowly*

I went travelling and thought in my mind I would have time to write and edit without
taking into consideration I would be busy and then I returned home with a nice case of
Travel Flu (it's nothing serious I tested for everything under the sun and it just appears
viral and likely more from me not sleeping and not eating than the actual travelling,
but I have returned safely! And I am excited to dive back into COS the next chapter
was actual complete fun to write and I am going to work on that now!

Comments are love and kudos are so appreciated! I will be back!

 Professor Prewett
Chapter Notes

CW: Prejudicial Attitudes, Brief Violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Justin Finch Fletchley, though I know you lot already. Hard to miss after last term and your
entrance this year. Ay Ron, is it true you're related to Professor Prewett?” A smiley Hufflepuff
introduced himself when he paired with them for the Mandrake lesson.

“Oi, Fletchley, I told ya purebloods are all a bit related, you don't go around asking.” Ernie
McMallian added in from across the table. Justin went a bit red in the face.

“Sorry, Ernie is trying to give me the ropes with me being Muggle-born and all. He says family
can be a sensitive subject in the wizarding world. I was supposed to be up at Eton, but my mum
looked through Professor Prewett’s book and she was shocked to learn of some of the adventures
he and his wife had been on. She says the best my dad ever did for them is holiday to Brighton and
then fought off a rock crab.” Fletchley continued to talk.

Harry just nodded occasionally to show he was listening, Justin seemed to like the sound of his
own voice and maybe made up for his own nerves by filling the air with talk. Though today with
Mandrake replanting, there was little room for talking and Harry patted Justin on the shoulder
before leaving the Herbology sheds to avoid much else conversation. He was hoping for a less
talkative class in Transfiguration. He preferred the quiet contemplation and simple instructions of
Uncle Marius to the loud conversations and constant questions of a Herbology class full of second
years.

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall placed beetles in front of all of them and required a perfect
button that led to a lot of muttering and swishing of wands, but much quieter than the screaming
Mandrakes. He was able to impress Professor McGonagall by actually being able to change the
beetles to buttons, but they all came out different sizes and colours. Herimone was pocketing her
perfect silver buttons as they left for The Great Hall, while Ron was trying to clear off the soot
from his clothes caused by his smoking wand.

“You need a new wand. You're going to hurt yourself, or worse someone else.” Hermione pointed
out. Ron scowled as he waved frantically at the last wisp of grey streaming from the end of his
wand.

“To get another Howler? Besides we don’t have spare wands, this one was already Charlie’s old
wand. He cracked it a bit just before he left for Romania, and left it behind and mum thought it
would be good enough for me to use. Did always have to be held a bit strangely to work, but now.”
Ron sighed as he held up the wand pieced together by tape and still leaning heavily to one side.

“Is it common to pass down wands?” Hermione asked as they squeezed together to fit through a
crowd of students. Ron flushed a bit as he shrugged.

“Fred and George have our uncle’s old wands, but the lore is your own works better. A family
member’s wand is the second best though since it will be familiar with you, at least as dad
explained it.” Ron said as they sat together towards one end. Harry dejectedly stared at his plate, he
wanted to help Ron. He had seen Grandfather Arcturus buy a wand without a care for Sirius and
even convinced the shop owner to let him bring several home and keep a few as spares. One letter
and Harry could have all the spares in the world sent and let Ron have the pick of the lot, but he
knew Ron well enough to know his pride couldn’t handle the generosity and it would be an insult
to even suggest it. Instead, he pushed around his potatoes and offered to let Ron borrow his wand
for the Defence lesson they had next. At least that suggestion seemed to perk Ron up.

Harry was trying to enjoy the rest of his meal now that spirits were up again, but there was a
feeling of eyes on him. If one thing he had learned being raised, it was to be at least a bit suspicious
of such feelings. Vigilance and awareness were two values held in asteems by the Black Family
and maybe a bit too high as Harry swivelled in his seat rather quickly and nearly caused a small
student to fall flat on his back.

“S-sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” The student apologised with a stuttering sound.
Even after Harry had nearly knocked him down he offered Harry a smile. In his hand was a rather
larger camera that made him appear even smaller. Harry couldn’t imagine he was this small his
first year.

“Colin Creevy, we haven’t met yet. I’ve read all about you and I can’t begin to believe you're here
in the flesh and studying just the year above him and–” Colin paused as he fumbled with his
camera for a moment before continuing. Harry was distinctly aware of even more eyes on him then
before as he could feel a nervous twitch in his eyes.

“Anyways, I was wondering if I could have a photo. I told my brother I’d send him all sorts of
photos and letters.” Colin asked with a wide smile as Harry tried to shrink back into himself. There
were a few whispers starting to abound and Harry wanted this to disappear.

“Colin, I appreciate the offer, er, but can we do it later? Say tonight in the common room, then you
can show your brother two things in one.” Harry said under his breath as Colin gripped onto each
word he said.

“Oh of course, Harry! I can even get different angles if I have more film. It’s a great idea. I’ll let
you get back to your lunch then.” Colin nodded so often Harry was certain his head would fall off
as he retreated.

“Well, look at you Potter. A little fan club already, and asking for photographs, what next an
exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet on your tragic past?” A wiry voice called from across
the way. Harry clenched his hands into a fist so tightly his nails left marks on his palm.

“Oh shove off, Malfoy, like your father isn’t in the paper every other week.” Ron yelled back.

“Want to talk fathers, Weasley. Are you certain your father still has a job after the stunt you pulled?
Or is your family having to accept charity just to eat now?” Draco called back with several
Slytherin students laughing and pointing. Ron pushed himself up with his broken wand in hand.
Draco crooked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Ron looked seconds from storming over there
when a figure blocked his view.

“Gentlemen.” Ignatius said in his deep voice that Harry had heard him use many times before.
Typically at Sirius or Regulus if their tempers ran too high. Draco and Ron both instinctively
straightened their backs.

“Behaving I would hope?” Ignatius said with a careful look at both of them. Ron sat and nodded as
Draco unfolded his arms and did the same with only one last glare across the tables.
“Wonderful, wouldn’t want to write negatively to home for my first letters to your parents.”
Ignatius said before turning to face the three Gryffindors. “Class begins soon, may I suggest you
get there a tad early?”

Hermione dug her nails into both Harry and Ron as she dragged them away from the impending
confrontation. Harry didn’t realise how clenched his jaw was until halfway to their Defence
classroom. Ron was still mumbling under his breath as they entered.

An extra pair of robes was slung over the chair behind a desk. A pile of books on one end and a
roll of parchment and quills on the other. Harry and Ron sat next to each other as Harry could see
Hermione take out her book that was already annotated and a parchment full of notes she had
already taken. Other students slowly filled the room with quiet chatter and the scuffing of chairs as
people settled in.

“How can you already have notes? This is our first class.” Ron exclaimed as he turned to face
Hermione.

“He’s your uncle, he wrote the book, how do you not have notes?” She shot back as she placed her
quill carefully in an inkwell. Ron rolled his eyes.

“He wasn’t even at his home for half its creation. Some nonsense about getting a fresh perspective
in a different country.” Ron mumbled. Hermione looked as if she had more words posed on the tip
of her tongue, but a quick hush of the students drew their attention to the back of the classroom as a
shadow began to loom down between the desks.

“Morning class and welcome to your second year of Defence Against the Dark Arts. I am Professor
Prewett and I will be guiding you through this course this term.” Ignatius announced as sharp boots
rapt on the wooden ground. His hands clasped behind his back and his head raised high as he spoke
clearly.

“Now I’ve been informed that your first year instruction was unconventional to say the least. I am
here to try and do my best with all these bright young minds and to give you as much preparation
as I can. Our first subject matters will be revisions of the prior terms work and then we will move
into new subject matter. First a quick inquiry into what you may already know. Does anyone
happen to know the incantation for the freezing charm?” Ignatius asked as he rounded the desk and
leaned forward on both hands. Hermione's hand shot up faster than any other hand that lazily raised
a few moments later.

“Miss Granger, correct?” Ignatius nodded.

“Yes sir, the freezing spell is Immobulus. On the most basic function it freezes objects and
creatures even witches and wizards.” Hermione said with a satisfied smile. Harry and Ron
exchanged a look, but couldn’t deny that she was right.

“Very well, Miss Granger and the freezing charm will be rather useful for today's lesson. As I have
managed to capture a friend on the edges of the grounds and that charm just happens to be the key
to keeping them in check.” Ignatius said as he walked to the edge of the classroom and picked up
an object covered in a sheet. Harry watched intently as he set the object in the middle of his desk
and gripped onto the dark cloth covering it before pulling back to reveal a single bouncing neon
blue creature. A small shriek admitted from the creature as it threw itself against the walls of its
confines.

“Now, now, no need for that.” Ignatius said as he tapped at the top of the cage twice with a clink of
metal under his fingernails. The pixie shook its head harshly, but stopped slamming on the sides of
the cages.

“Now the freezing charm is useful for many situations. Whether shutting off a buzzing alarm clock
or safely incapacitating an foe, but more common than not, you’ll find it used to stop a pixie
infestation. The freezing charm causes them no harm and is temporary so you can simply scoop
them up and relocate them to a more convenient location. Observe first. Immobulus.” Ignatius
flicked his wrist once and the pixie went rigid and plopped to the bottom of the cage. The class
awed at the simple act as a few in the back stood with their chairs scuffing the ground to get a
better look.

“There is even a quick restoration charm to have handy, Rennervate.” Ignatius continued with
another flick of the wrist and the pixie shook its head away before letting out another loud shrill
from its small body. Harry wasn’t sure how such a small creature could make such a noise.

“Now pixies aren’t not innately Dark Creatures, they can however be a bit of nuisance and if given
the chance will wreak havoc for witches and wizards alike. One pixie has the strength to pick up a
small child on their own, get three or four and they can carry off a full grown man. Now does
anyone want to give it their own try?” Ignatius posed and immediately every hand flew into the
sky. Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself. At least this year, the Defence Professor wouldn’t
want to kill him and it seemed he’d be popular as well.

The word of Professor Prewett spread quickly through the school as students and Professors all
took a liking to him. Students stopped him along the halls to ask questions, the professors all grew
cheerier in his presence and for once it seemed many of the students were learning a thing or two
and not just scraping along with a standard text. Harry and the many Weasleys all were proud of
Uncle Ignatius, even if Harry could only show it so much.

The school year seemed rather calm for the time being. Harry had been a bit concerned after the
incident at King’s Cross station that he was in for another bumpy year, but it seemed to have been
a fluke as he eased into his routine. All except for Quidditch at least. He woke before the sun had
even thought of entering the sky to the looming face of his caption leaning over him with his short
hair still damp and his eyes wide.

“Morning, Harry. Bright and early now, lots to go over after a whole summer off.” Oliver said, too
chippier for Harry’s taste as he groaned and rolled over on his stomach only to feel his covers
ripped off his back and him exposed to the cooler temperatures radiating off the stone walls. Harry
dragged himself to the grounds with a rather excited Colin over his shoulder carrying his signature
camera. Harry was half tempted to ask Colin if he’d ever slept once since arriving at Hogwarts
since he’d seen the younger boy bounce around nearly nonstop. It made Harry even more tired as
he sat through a long and somewhat unmotivating speech from an enthusiastic Oliver. Fred and
George heckled him while the girls all slept slumped into each other’s shoulders and laps for a rest.

Hermione and Ron sat a few rows behind Colin, who’s camera started flashing immediately as
they emerged onto the still damp ground. Harry could feel yawns building in his throat as he sunk
slightly onto the Quidditch field. He admired Oliver’s passion, but he also missed his sleep. He
nearly missed the moving people approaching from the edges of the field until the whole team
jolted up and turned to face them.

“Flint, I reserved the field. I told all the captains. You have it tomorrow night.” Oliver said as a tall
boy with cropped black hair and a crooked smile approached surrounded by the other Slytherin
team members.

“Special permission from Professor Snape, we’re using the field this morning and tomorrow night
on account of needing to train our new Seeker.” Flint said smug as he shoved a piece of parchment
into Oliver’s hand. Oliver’s ears grew red as his eyes flicked over the words.

“Oi and who’s this special player?” Oliver accused as the paper crinkled in his hand. The team
parted ways like a sea of fish and revealed a pale short player holding a broom two sizes too big for
him.

“Malfoy.” Harry growled under his breath as Fred and George shot him a look. Angelina, Alicia,
and Katie were hovered too close to Oliver to hear.

“Lucius Malfoy’s son?” Fred scoffed as he switched his broom into a different hand.

“A rather generous benefactor. Look at his newest donation to the team.” Flint smirked as the
entire team held out their brooms. Bright and shining in the early sunshine with not a thistle out of
place. Dotted along the side was Nimbus One Thousand and One, the newest addition to the
Nimbus line. Harry remembers Sirius grumbling about how they could come out with a new
broom so soon, and just after they’d gotten Harry one. Regulus had hushed him and told Sirius that
Harry would do just fine with his broom. Talent made the player not the broom, it was only an
instrument. Harry had to say though the instrument in front of him was rather intimidating.

“What’s going on, Harry? We couldn’t hear a word up there.” Ron said with a short breath as he
came running with Hermione steps behind him.

“What did Malfoy buy his way on the team?” Hermione scoffed a bit too loudly as she tied her
curls to the top of her head. The wind caught her words and Malfoy’s lips curled as they slowly
revealed perfectly white straight teeth.

“Fancy a look at the finer things in life? Won’t find it with your lot, you useless Mudblood.”
Malfoy spat on the ground the second before chaos erupted. All three girls began yelling over one
another and pushing themselves in front of Hermione with their hands raised in offense. Fred and
George lunged at Malfoy, but were hit back by Flint and a beater from the Slytherin team that
threw themselves in front of him. The four ended up in a strange wrestling match on the ground as
Malfoy grew wide eyed and stumbled back. Ron raised his wand likely to hex him, but Hermione
slapped his wand out of his hand before he could utter the ill fated spell from his broken wand.
Harry didn’t have a broken wand though and he slipped it out in the mayhem surrounding him.

Regulus had taught him the spell. A warm summer evening with bugs buzzing in the distance and a
line of old objects sat on a cut down tree a few steps in front of them. Harry had been excited.

“Remember Harry, it is a powerful spell and if used incorrectly can harm or even kill a person. You
are to only use it when necessary. The incantation is Bombarda. There is a more powerful version,
but we will work on that another time. Now see that tea cup just there, focus your energy, relax
your stance, and aim accurately.” Regulus had explained as he crouched next to Harry before he
took a step behind him. The tea cup had exploded seconds later. It couldn’t be much harder on a
broom. He raised his arm and aimed as carefully as he could. With a flick and swish he watched as
the broom fell out of Malfoy's hand and then proceeded to splinter into a thousand pieces a few
arms length away from him. The explosion caused everyone to hit the ground besides Harry, who
stood smirking and proud until he could feel the pounding feet racing across the field. He tucked
his wand away.

Hagrid's feet were making the ground shake, but he was followed quickly by four other professors.
Professor McGonagall had a hand on her hat and a stern look in her eyes as she was followed
closely by Madam Hooch, who was already wearing flying robes. Trailing behind them was a
stomping Professor Snape and unfortunately Uncle Ignatius just next to him. Harry could feel his
eyes on him before he could even see them. Maybe the crowd hadn’t seen it all, but Uncle Ignatius
clearly had. Harry suddenly felt all the pride and accomplishment he felt a moment ago drain down
his toes with a cold rush.

“What is this foolery?” Professor McGongall cried out as she dug her feet into the ground. Uncle
Ignatius was using both arms to pull Fred and George off the two Slytherins and they tried to fight
back until they saw who was holding them. Professor Snape pulled up the two Slytherins and
pushed them farther away.

“Unsportsmanlike conduct. I should ban all of you for the next Quidditch game.” Madam Hooch
yelled over the crowd which caused a quick hush to fall. Madam Hooch’s spiky grey hair seemed
to straighten even higher as she raised her pointed eyebrows.

“I won’t, but I will be expecting all of you to be cleaning the Quidditch supply room. I want it
perfectly organized and spotless and I expect you all here at eight sharp tonight and not a word of
practice until I say so.” She called over them. They grumbled, but with the wicked stare over all of
them and the looming shadow of Hagrid it made them all stay silent. Slowly students slipped away
with hunched shoulders and narrowed eyes. Draco was complaining loudly to Professor Snape
about his broom but no one else seemed to have noticed in the mess of students. Harry tried to slip
behind Ron and Hermione but he felt a warm hand grab on the back of his neck gently. He
squeezed his eyes tightly as he listened for everyone to leave. Hagrid was the last to leave as he
stopped and asked Ignatius if he’d come by for tea later and recount the old Hogwarts days. Harry
had forgotten they would have gone to school together. Ignatius graciously accepted with his hand
still squeezing Harry’s neck the entire time. Once the grounds were clear and nothing but the
gentle breeze and few distant sounds of laughter could be heard. Ignatius turned Harry around and
looked directly into his eye.

“That was a stupid move you pulled, Harry. A reckless thoughtless act that could have ended
disastrously. Regulus taught you that spell to be used purposefully and only when necessary. How
do you think he would feel if he heard you use that spell to smash a broom into pieces near a crowd
of fellow students? What if you had missed? What if you had struck a person? Or if the broom
pieces sliced into people’s skin or caused harm to anyone? How would you have felt then?”
Ignatius' voice was quieter than usual and somehow it made the lecture more painful to endure. He
was used to the jovial loud tones of his uncle, not this quiet warning he spoke of.

“I didn’t think of that.” Harry whispered as he looked down at the dirt surrounding his feet.

“Clearly.” Ignatius said sharply. He took a deep inhale as he put his other hand on Harry’s shoulder
and after a moment cleared his throat which forced Harry to look up at his eyes.

“I know Draco can be a bit much.” Ignatius started before Harry interjected.

“He called Herimone— he said she was… he called her a Mudblood, Uncle Ignatius.” Harry barely
could even whisper the word as he licked his lips several times. Ignatius closed his eyes as he took
a deep breath.

“I’ll speak to Draco, but Harry we can’t resort to acts of violence against those who wrong us
otherwise we are no better than them. We can discuss it more tomorrow night, Professor
McGonagall assigned you to me to serve your detention for the flying car incident.” Ignatius said
as he patted Harry on the back.

Hanging his head, he walked out of the Quidditch field and parted from Ignatius to join Ron and
Hermione as they stood outside Hagrid’s hut on the edges of the grounds. He was patting one of
his pumpkins with a giant hand as Harry walked up.
“It was an awful thing to say, Hermione. Malfoy deserved a good hex to the face.” Ron was
grumbling as Hermione sniffed loudly.

“You likely would have ended up hexing yourself in the face. Strange how his broom just shredded
into pieces though.” Hermione said with a pointed look and her chin jutting towards Harry. Harry
gave her a glance to drop it and she wrinkled her nose, but said no more.

“Doesn’t even matter. He’ll have a new one sent first thing and Fred and George are stuck on
Cleansweep that can’t even turn right. How are we ever supposed to beat Slytherin?” Ron sighed
as they made their way into Hagrid’s warm accommodations.

“Hard work and talent. Gryffindors have double the spirit of any of those Slytherins.” Hagrid said
as he offered treacle toffee. Harry wasn’t much in the mood for sweets as he shook his head.

“Only goes so far without money.” Ron groaned before he changed the subject. “McGonagall
stopped me to say I’ll be serving detention tomorrow with Flinch polishing the trophies without
any magic at all.”

“For the best, you’d likely blast a hole through the trophies with your wand in such a state.”
Hermione pointed out as she picked at the tuft of unicorn hair sticking out of the end.

“She’s right there, Ron, as she usually is our brightest witch of her age.” Hagrid said with a
chuckle.

“I’ll be with Professor Prewett.” Harry sighed as he stared out one of the open windows as he
watched the grass blow gently and the scents from Hagrid’s garden gently comfort him.

“Tuft, you’ll likely get a work in. Uncle Ig is nice, but tough. At least he won’t breathe down your
neck like Flich will be with me and those beady eyes of Mrs Norris.” Ron shuddered. Harry
shrugged as he slipped into his own thoughts while the other three began to converse among
themselves.

Cleaning the Quidditch room with the Slytherin team was by far one of the most intense airs he
had been around with the snides and threats whispered under breath, but Madam Hooch watched
them all with careful eyes and they all made it back in time for the last of the meal. Harry somehow
felt less prepared to walk into Uncle Ignatius’ classroom the next night. He stood in front of the
scuffed wooden door taking deep breaths for several moments before pushing it open with his free
hand shoved tightly into his pockets.

“Gather yourself enough out there?” Uncle Ignatius asked without even looking up from his
lessons. He was writing with a quill in hand and a small pair of glasses at the end of his nose.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Ignatius. I shouldn’t have done it. I let my feelings get in the way of my
thoughts. I could have hurt someone and I know it was wrong. Malfoy is just infuriating.” Harry
apologized once he was in front of the desk. Ignatius gently set down his quill and removed his
glasses and looked at Harry.

“I’ve always wondered if you get your vocabulary from Regulus or from all the reading you do.
It’s certainly advanced for your age.” Ignatius pointed out as he shook his head. “When I was your
age I was sticking sugar quills to pages to see if the words would transfer. It doesn’t by the way,
just makes the lolly taste awful and ruins your book.”

Harry chuckled slightly as he looked around the room for some indication on how he’d been
spending his evening. The room looked rather the same as it did in his class. With desks lined up
neatly and remnants of old professors and lessons stored on shelves surrounding the classroom. He
didn’t see any parchment laid out for lines.

“I thought a bit of work would be good to sort out your thoughts. This classroom is a bit of a mess
and a good old Muggle cleaning never hurt anyone. I say we start with rearranging the desks. I
have interactive lessons for the older years this week, and we will need some space.” Ignatius
advised as he stood.

“Are you helping me? Isn’t this my punishment?” Harry asked as he removed his robes to allow
him more freedom of movement.

“I could use some movement to help clear my thoughts as well. Teaching has proved to be a task I
hadn’t expected and an hour or two of manual labor helps me focus. Now you take those desks
over there and line them in the back of the classroom. After that the shelves need a good dusting,
alright?” Ignatius said as he pointed to the back of the classroom. Harry nodded as he felt a weight
lifted off him. Uncle Ignatius was right, after nearly two hours of cleaning and pushing desks and
shelves to new places, Harry felt an ache to his muscles, but a satisfaction in the work done.
Suddenly, his feelings didn’t seem so large and overwhelming. He collapsed in one of the spare
seats as Uncle Ignatius broke out a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Now, Draco’s actions were inexcusable. Such a word should never be used, but if you were to go
back to that moment, how would you change your reaction?” He asked as he gently sat on a desk
with one leg dangling and the other still steady on the ground.

“I wouldn’t shatter his broom. I should have focused on Hermione. It was her that the insult was
directed at and she didn’t want anyone to fight or get in trouble. We all should have just walked
away.” Harry said calmly before gulping the juice down gratefully.

“My job here is to teach you how to defend yourself in the case of an attack, not to teach you how
to attack. Now the unfortunate part is, not everyone will take my methods and use them for good.
There will always be people who will use the good for the bad. We must work to be better than
them. That is all any of us want for you, Harry. For you to have the chance to be better than any of
us. Regulus, Sirius, Arcturus, myself and everyone else, we’ve all made mistakes and decisions we
regret, and while we want to protect you from ever making those same poor decisions, it’s an
impossibility. You will make mistakes and you will have regrets, how you grow from them lies
where your power is and we will all be there to help guide you. You need only ask.” Uncle Ignatius
said as he reached out and grabbed Harry’s shoulder again. Harry nodded and leaned his cheek into
Ignatius' hand affectionately. There were a few moments of simply letting the words soak in.

“Now it’s late. Go wash up and get some sleep. I’ll be doing the same in just a moment.” He said
as he squeezed Harry’s shoulder with a warm grasp before standing. Harry smiled as he gathered
his belongings and was nearly to the door when his steps slowed. A horrifying hiss and a hair
raising sound pierced his ears.

“Bring them to me… let me peel flesh and crush bone… let me kill.“ The sound wasn’t human in
the slightest as Harry whipped around with his arms spread and eyes wide.

“Harry?” Uncle Ignatius asked from behind his desk with his glasses perched in his hand.

“Did you hear that? The voice? It was talking about killing and flesh and bone? I swear… it
sounded so close and so far. I— Uncle Ignatius— I…” Harry’s voice failed him as he shook. A
simple few words and he felt paralyzed with fear. Uncle Ignatius came to his side at once.

“I heard nothing, Harry. Are you certain you heard it, it is awfully late.” Ignatius asked with his
brows knitting together.

“It came from everywhere and nowhere. Uncle Ignatius I swear I heard it.” Harry shook his head
violently with his words.

“I believe you, Harry. I can’t say I understand, but I believe you. I’ll walk you to your dorm. If you
hear again let me know and I will try and find the source.” Uncle Ignatius replied in a quiet
comforting tone. Harry didn’t hear it again, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. The sound of a hiss
noise and the chills down his back didn’t fade as he walked through the portrait to the common
room as Uncle Ignatius watched carefully from behind. Once the portrait closed, Ignatius clicked
his tongue twice. Hearing voices no one else could was never a good sign, not even in the
Wizarding World. He held his hands behind his back as he walked to his own room, perplexed.
He’d gotten a letter from Lucretia only that morning that the Malfoys seemed to be snooping for
information and now Harry hearing voices mixed with Draco’s overly cocky attitude. Ignatius had
been around long enough to know when coincidences were too close for comfort and this seemed
like a time.

Meanwhile, countries away, Regulus sat next to an open window as the stars started to twinkle and
shine through fading clouds. His hands fiddled with the edges of the book in his lap as he thought.
Many things were occurring at once, and he had the inkling of a feeling he was being left in the
dark. Uncle Ignatius going to be a professor at Hogwarts, Grandfather Arcturus mumbling to
himself, Kreacher’s random disappearances and now he hears of Aunt Lucretia having tea at
Malfoy Manor. He didn’t like the feel of any of it one bit.

“Reg?” Sirius whispered as he slipped into the room with something concealed behind his back.

“Yes?” Regulus asked with a bit of concern.

“I think something’s wrong and I think it’s with Harry.” Sirius said in hushed tones as he looked
over his shoulder.

“What do you mean? Is Harry hurt? Why haven’t we been told anything?” Regulus said loudly as
Sirius quickly shushed him and leaned closer pulling a parchment from behind his back

“Look, I may or may not have stumbled upon a letter between Aunt Lucy and good old
Grandfather Arcturus. They’ve been purposely digging deeper into the incident at King’s Cross.
They think it wasn’t a fluke.” Sirius whispered as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Why would someone purposefully close it when there were mere minutes before the train
boarded? They would have barely blocked anyone.” Regulus inquired.

“Exactly the point, they don’t think it was meant to keep just anyone out. They believe it was
meant to keep a specific person out.” Sirius said. Regulus felt his fist clench over the edges of the
book cover.

“Harry. It was meant to keep Harry out.” Regulus replied flatly. Sirius nodded.

“Aunt Lucy has been visiting Malfoy Manor more frequently than before and you know it’s not for
Narcissa’s peony garden. I think they believe they played a part.” Sirius said with a raise of his
eyebrows.

“Why would Narcissa want anything to do with Harry?” Regulus asked with a pit growing in his
stomach.
 “I doubt she would. No matter the differences, I can admit she was intelligent and she knows better
than to meddle, Lucius on the other hand would have plenty of reasons. Don’t take this the wrong
way, baby brother, but he was a Death Eater and what better prize than the boy who made them
lose it all.” Sirius said in a quiet, heavy tone. Regulus inhaled sharply through his nose as he could
feel the cutting pain in his palms from the sharp corners of the cover of the book. He couldn’t be
bothered with the pain when Harry was being threatened, especially from Lucius Malfoy.

“What do we do?” Regulus asked without hesitation.

“We make our own plan, on top of our other research. We figure out what exactly Malfoy wants
with Harry and we stop it.” Sirius said determinedly. Regulus took another short breath for
confidence before he nodded sharply. Harry wasn’t to be threatened with consequence and he
would see to that himself.

Chapter End Notes

This was such a satisfying chapter to write. I love Ignatius as a professor and I know
I’m biased but even still one of my favorites.

Also March is a busy month isn’t it? A belated Happy Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday,
(Happy Lent, unless you are fasting technology… then you’ll see this after Easter!),
Happy Purim and bless Esther, Lailatul Barat was recently and a blessed fast to any
that participated, as was Saint Patrick’s and Saint Joseph’s Day. And a Joyous Holi
and a bright Spring Equinox! I think those are all the ones I know of!

Thank you for continuing to read and leave comments they bring me much joy! A
wish you all a wonderful day and I will be back with the next chapter shortly!
 The Chamber
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of an attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“A wonderful party, Nicholas, and a very happy Death day, if that’s what one says. We really
should be going though, don’t want to be out late.” Harry said with a strained smile as he, Ron and
Hermione backed out of the freezing dungeons. They raced down the hall away from the cackles of
Peeves and the hoots of the Headless Hunt. The smell of rotten meats and cheeses still caught in
his nose as he removed his glasses to wipe away a bit of anxious sweat from his brow. Certainly,
Harry had worse Halloweens, but this one was still likely to not make his favourites. He was
appreciative of Nicholas helping him avoid detention from Flinch and the first few moments had
been interesting, but the night was taking a turn and Harry would rather not be present.

“Bloody hell, Harry, next time you’re invited to a party full of dead people. Please find an excuse.”
Ron sighed as they started up the stairs with their stomach growling. Harry was hopeful for at least
some puddings to hold him over, when a hissing sound seemed to surround them. He froze in his
spot nearly causing Hermione and Ron to topple over as they hit his back. He couldn't be bothered
with the feeling as he strained his ears to listen to the menacing words followed by a plethora of
hissing.

“Mate? You alright?” Ron asked as he put an arm out to touch Harry. Harry flinched as he put up
his own hand to stop Ron.

“The voices. The ones I heard before. This way it’s talking about killing.” Harry said frantically as
his shoes banged loudly against the stone steps and down the way from the Great Hall where the
faint sounds of laughter could still be heard.

“Harry! Wait, we should think about this!” Hermione called after him but he could hear her robes
fluttering at her feet as she tried to keep up. Harry couldn’t be stopped though as he pulled his wand
out to face whatever was coming. Screeching to a halt that made his ankles click he noticed a
glaring glistening message shining at the end of a corridor. Ron and Hermione caught up a moment
later as Hermione let out a shocked sound.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened? What the bloody hell is that?” Ron gasped as he
gripped one of Harry’s arms while Hermione dug her nails into the other. Hanging on the edge of a
torch was the frozen glassy eyed form of Mrs Norris. Harry knew enough about Dark Arts to know
that anything that involved a possible sacrifice wasn’t something he should face alone. Ideally, he
would desperately want his Grandfather by his side, but in lieu of him.

“We need to go. We have to find a professor. Professor Prewett perhaps.” Harry said as he took two
large steps back. Time ran out before he could go any further as the clattering and noise of
approaching joyfully ignorant students approached behind them. It took all of a few excruciating
minutes for a crowd to gather behind the trio and start gasping and pointing.

“Enemies of the Heir? That’s Mudbloods for your information.” Draco pushed through the crowd
and crookedly smiled when he saw the message. His eyes had cast over Hermione and in any other
instance, Harry would have enjoyed removing the smirk from his face, but there was much going
on and even Hermione seemed to brush him off.

With a bit of ruckus, the students parted to allow a collection of professors through with
Dumbledore at the head. A cry broke out from behind them, a loud messy cry. Harry never liked
Flich but even he could feel sympathy for the state of his beloved pet. McGonagall offered a
handkerchief as he loudly blew his nose while others inspected the scene.

“Prefects, please escort all students back to their Common Rooms. Professors and the three of you
with me please. Professor Prewett I believe your office is closest.” Dumblerdore said in a calm
voice. Harry felt his face flush as he turned and caught Uncle Ignatius’ worried eye. There was no
time for words as they shuffled into the office. Dumbledore carrying Mrs Norris in his arms like
how one would carry a small baby.

“My cat… my poor cat! He had to have done it! I caught him tracking mud earlier. He went
through my things. My mail, he found out… well he found out I’m nothing but a Squib.” Flinch
said before breaking into another sob. Harry felt his face grow even warmer as he tried to shift into
a corner. He hadn’t meant to look at Flinch’s mail, but it was there partially open asking to be read
and Harry, while he could hold many behaviors against Flinch, would not hold the fact that he was
a Squib in a negative light. Uncle Marius had taught him better than that, and even if it wasn’t an
excuse for his actions. Harry felt at least he could understand why Flinch was so extreme all the
time a bit better now. Squibs were treated rather poorly in the Wizarding World of Britain and it
had to be a blessing to even have found employment within it.

“She’s not dead.” Dumbledore said quietly as he set the frozen form of a cat on Ignatius’ desk.
Ignatius himself leaned over the cat as he looked curiously.

“By Merlin, she’s been petrified.” Ignatius murmured under his breath as his hands ghosted over
the worn fur of the cat. “I haven’t seen a petrifaction like this in many years.”

“Yes I believe it will take a mandrake restorative brew to bring her back to her prior state. Don’t
fret, Mr Filch, she’ll be in tip top state before you know it. For now, she is in no pain and is simply
taking what will feel like a long nap to her.” Dumbledore said as Filch sniffed loudly again.

“But what about punishment? These three were there!” Flich nearly screamed as he pointed a
crooked finger at the three children.

“Now Mr Filch, I understand you are upset, but in my personal experience no twelve year old
could have managed this. I’ve only seen this type of petrifaction once before and it was Dark
Magic that caused it. Magic well beyond anything a second year could try no matter how
intelligent.” Ignatius said as he stepped in front of Filch and held his hands up defensively when
the man tried to wrangle to get a better look at Harry and his friends cowering in a corner.

“Begs the question still Mister Prewett, why were they in the halls anyways? I don’t believe I ever
saw them at the Halloween feast and it is precarious they were absent to stumble upon such a
scene.” A chilling voice said haughtily as Professor Snape emerged from the shadows with his
hands folded in front of him and his hair hanging longer than usual.

“We were at a Death Day Party.” Hermione nearly shouted in defense. Ignatius let a small smirk
form on his face.

“Nearly Headless Nick’s I suppose? He does try to throw a bash big enough to impress the
Headless Hunt every fifty years or so.” Ignatius hummed quietly as he leaned back against his
desk. Snape snapped his neck to stare at the newest Professor.
“Needless, Professor Prewett is correct. No second year could have done this.” Dumbledore said
with a wave of his hand at Mrs Norris. “I believe it is an unfortunate case of the wrong place at the
wrong time for these three. Best to hop off to bed now, you’ve had a long night.”

Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He steered out of the office as quickly as he could and made
certain they were nearly to the stairs before he opened his mouth to speak. Ron and Hermione were
just on his heels.

“Should I have told them about the voices?” Harry mumbled as they paused to let the stairs connect
again.

“No mate, hearing voices isn’t normal, not even in the wizarding world. Best if we figure it out
first, or maybe you could tell Uncle Ignatius alone. I’d trust that he’d at least give you an ear
before calling St. Mungo’s and even then his cousin works there so maybe he’d pull you some
favours and have you checked out quietly.” Ron said with a hint of optimism to his voice despite
the night they had. Harry chewed on his lip. Uncle Igantius had been there the first night he heard
them and Ron was right and it wasn’t normal to hear voices, but maybe Harry did need to be
checked out. Uncle Lancelot and Aunt Helena probed his scar enough times, but they never told
him much about what they found. Just spoke in hushed whispers to each other about different
spells and ideas they had. Maybe the voices were connected to it in some way. Either way, Harry
needed to tell someone before he truly did go mad at least that’s what he told himself as he tumbled
into bed rather exhausted that night.

Everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin. Harry knew it. From the way Justin Finch-Fletchley
and Ernie MacMillian had gone out of their way to avoid him in the library and the way Collin had
passed him with quick words about how he didn’t believe any of it and was still on Harry’s side. It
wasn’t hard to piece together. Harry couldn’t blame them, not after the prior year. Still there was an
isolating feeling to it all as he watched Hannah Abbott stare at him his entire walk down the hall
one evening after History of Magic.

“Do you believe what Binns said there? I mean he’s a bit confused for a ghost at least.” Ron said
as they left. Hermione had asked the floating form of Professor Binns about the Chamber of
Secrets to the behest of the dead Professor. It started a line of questions he flatly refused to answer,
but before he went back to droning about Warlock Conventions, he had given them some
information. Salazar Slytherin had supposedly left a secret chamber before he parted ways with the
other founders over his pure blooded prejudices. Inside was a monster meant to purge the school
and make it pure once more. Binns said it was complete fiction, but Harry wasn’t so certain.

“Clearly something is happening. The Professors are rattled and a cat doesn’t just petrify on its
own.” Hermione replied astutely as Harry asked them to take the long way to dinner. Ron and
Hermione exchanged a look but agreed to his request. Maybe not incidentally though, the three of
them ended up right at the end of the corridor where Mrs Norris had been found.

“Can’t hurt to look around.” Harry shrugged as he beant down to get a better look. “Like here,
scorch marks of some kind. They look a bit funny though.”

“Come look at this.” Hermione called as she pointed to an old stone window frame. The window
had a small crack in its foundation and there in a perfect, but scurrying line was no less than twenty
spiders trying to retreat outside.

“Peculiar way for spiders to act. Don’t you think Ron?” Harry asked, but when he looked over Ron
was as rigid as a tree and several lengths away.

“D-don’t like spiders. Fred turned my old teddy into one when I was young. Its hairy legs had
wrapped all around me before mum came. Hated spiders since then.” Ron said as he shook his
head violently. Hermione had to cough to cover up her laugh.

“Don’t laugh. You have a spider covering your face with all its legs. Anyways here’s where the
water was, remember there was a puddle the night we found Mrs Norris, just behind this door.”
Ron said with his cheeks slightly flushed as he pushed open the door.

“Oh Ron.” Hermione called but he had already disappeared. Harry followed Ron in as Hermione
took small steps behind them.

“This is a girls' toilet and you don’t look like much of a girl!” Someone was yelling inside with
their voice catching on the tile walls. Harry looked around to see chips in the floor and sinks that
had cracks down the middle. This may have been a toilet at one point, but it didn’t look like it was
used any longer from the state of it and the empty cobwebs in the corners.

“You’re Moaning Myrtle.” Ron said as he backed up into Harry.

“I despise that name! I do not moan!” A floating ghost that they had met at Nicholas' party yelled
as she came and angrily shoved her face close to Ron’s own. He raised his hands up.

“Oh no of course not. It was a mistake.” He tried to defend as he took several steps back landing a
few of them on Harry’s toes.

“Myrtle, we didn't mean to bother you. We were trying to figure out about an attack outside your
toilets.” Hermione reasoned.

“Oh of course no one cares about Myrtle. Only about a stupid cat that was attacked, no one could
care any less about me.” Myrtle sniffled loudly as they reached the door. Harry reached for the
knob to free them only for the three of them to turn around and face the angry face of Percy
Wealsey.

“What in Merlin’s name are the three of you doing back here? Wasn’t it enough that you got
caught the first time, but now you’ve come back while everyone is at supper?” Percy said with his
nose scrunching. The three of them were trapped between Myrtle sniffing behind them and Percy
lecturing them in front.

“We had nothing to do with Mrs Norris! Dumbledore believed us and my own brother can’t even
do that!” Ron huffed.

“Well tell that to Ginny! She’s been having a row about it crying and blubbering about you being
expelled and now you're setting up to cause her more heartache and she’s only eleven.” Percy said
with his nose scrunching even more.

“Ginny! This isn’t about Ginny and you know it! You're just worried you won’t get to be Head
Boy like Bill was!” Ron yelled at his brother with his face growing red.

“Five points from Gryffindor and don’t make me take more, Ron! You can’t speak to a Prefect like
that.” Percy huffed as he crossed his arms.

“No, but I can talk to my brother like that, you just don’t seem to know the difference anymore.”
Ron grumbled. Percy pushed his lips together as if he was going to speak, but a looming shadow
fell on the group and made him go silent.

“Having a row in the toilet boys? Well I do remember your mum writing about Fred and George
trying to take a toilet seat once, but I wouldn’t suspect that’s what you two are up too.” Ignatius
said as he came into view over Percy’s shoulder.

“No Prefect Percy was just taking points from his own brother.” Ron snarled.

“It’s my job as prefect to be impartial!” Percy defended himself.

“Yeah well Bill never took points from Charlie now did he?” Ron accused rather harshly as Percy
pinched his eyebrows together.

“Bill was always too easy on Charlie.” Percy argued before Ignatius put a hand on Percy's shoulder.
Whatever Ignatius was going to say to end this argument was cut out by the rather hitched voice of
Myrtle, who Harry had forgotten was there in the heat of the discussion.

“Ignatius, Ignatius, my, my you’ve gotten old. Still hasn’t changed a thing about all your
handsomeness though. I remember you, parading around here all full of confidence with those
fancy friends by your side. Always the helpful Head Boy. I asked you for directions once and you
walked me all the way to the class to make sure I arrived even if it made you late.” Myrtle cries out
as she batted her eyes heavily at Ignatius.

“I remember, Myrtle. It’s nice to see you again.” Ignatius said with a strained smile as he gently
pushed all four of them behind him and waved behind his back for them to walk as stealthily as
possible away from the toilet. Percy was fuming as they slipped down a corridor and around a
corner while Ignatius carried a quiet conversation with a ghost.

“How does your uncle know moaning Myrtle?” Hermione hissed under her breath. Ron shrugged
with his cheeks still red and his jaw still set.

“Dunno, maybe she’s been a ghost awhile and she met him while he went to school here.” Ron
said roughly,

“Ghost don't go to classes, Ron.” Hermione said astutely.

“Sh, or I’ll take more points from Gryffindor.” Percy snapped with his eyes pointed behind his
glasses.

“For what?” Ron huffed with his arms balling at his side.

“Insubordination.” Percy huffed. Ron looked ready to reel his hand back when Ignatius rounded
the corner looking tired as he rubbed at his temple.

“Professor Prewett, I found these three messing with the scene and I was only trying—” Percy
started before Igantius raised his hand and waved it to signal him to stop.

“I appreciate you being a productive Prefect, Percy. However it has been a long few days and I
believe some grace is in order. Why doesn’t everyone take a moment and then all of you go and
have a quiet dinner and retire for the evening after?” Ignatius said in a tone that told all of them his
words were not mere suggestions.

Ron was still fuming hours later as he stared at his brother from across the Common Room that
night. His hand gripped to his leaning wand with force. Harry couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t use it
even with how likely it was to backfire. Thankfully, two bouncing boys dragged his eyes away
from shooting mental daggers into Percy’s pinched face.

“Hiya, Ron. Heard Percy put you in a bind recently. Can’t let the tosser get to you, wouldn’t
believe how many points he’s taken from us since getting that pin on his robes. Gives him a real air
of superiority.” Fred said as slinked into a chair and threw his legs over the edge. George sat less
obviously on the ground with his legs crossed.

“You know you're reading your book upside down.” Hermione pointed out as she scrunched her
nose at the twins. Fred was flipping nonchalantly through Professor Prewetts text, but it was in fact
held the wrong way up.

“Rumour has it there are secret messages in Uncle Ignatius book’s if you only look at them with a
fresh perspective.” Fred said with a raise of his eyebrow before loudly turning the page again.

“That sounds like a load of rubbish.” Hermione replied, turning up her nose.

“Mum thinks so too. Uncle Ignatius has a bit of a fan club though, mainly middle life witches who
get bored of their husbands and want a little adventure. Uncle Ignatius’ books give them that, they
just replace Aunt Lucy with themselves and suddenly their lives aren’t so boring.” George
explained with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well that’s rather insulting to your aunt.” Herimone said.

“She’s tough, Aunt Lucy that is, takes a lot to shake her. Besides, mum says women like Uncle
Ignatius for his status and his money. Him and Uncle Lancelot are the only ones left of their line
and well their vault certainly isn’t empty.” Ron sighed as he placed his wand down with Fred and
George distracting him from his glaring.

“You also hear that he might come into quite a bit of a fortune. Well with good old Arcturus Black
having lost his son and both his heirs, there is talk of him leaving a good portion of his vault to
Uncle Ignatius given he’s never gotten along with his cousin well enough. He’s the closest thing
the old recluse has to an heir anymore given he married his daughter.” Fred shrugged as he
continued his loud page turning every few seconds. Something about Fred’s statement made
Hermione perk up. Harry was trying to swallow the sharp insults of his grandfather when she
quickly started to pick up a book from her bag and flip through it quickly. Fred and George got
distracted by their friend Lee coming over and Harry leaned back to catch Herimone’s attention.

“That’s it. We could get the answers we need. We could find out from a Slytherin. An heir of a
prominent very long line of Slytherins!” Hermione whispered under her breath.

“What?” Ron asked as he turned over his shoulder.

“Well the Heir of Slytherin! He’s the key to all this and who better to know anything about it then
the most notorious Slytherin there is! We just have to get him talking to us.” Hermione said
excitedly as she pulled out a different book and began to flip through pages quickly.

“Malfoy? You’re talking about Draco Malfoy?” Ron questioned exasperatedly.

“Hermione, he’ll never talk to us.” Harry pointed out.

“Indeed he won’t, but with a bit of help, I think we could manage it. Goodness it’s not in this book
either, I’m going to have to find a way to get my hands on the one in the Restricted Section.” She
said, shaking her head.

“Going to clue us in, or do Harry and I just have to guess what you're thinking?” Ron asked with a
roll of his eyes.

“Malfoy might not talk to us, but he’d certainly talk to his friends. We just need to become them.
We need Polyjuice Potion.” Hermione said determinedly with a wicked grin across her face. Harry
could just feel this going poorly, but what other chance did he have.

“A death day party? Sir Nick is still throwing those? Godric, I tried to convince James and Remus
to sneak down to those from second year on. Never did, but it was worth the chance.” Sirius
interrupted Regulus' reading while he leaned over his shoulder. Harry had written and the two of
them were going over the latest accounts.

“Sirius, there’s more…” Regulus trailed off as he read on the words that made his mouth gape.
Before he could explain there was a ruckus coming from the stairs and Arcturus came flying
through the room without even a glance as Sirius and Regulus parted to let him through. Regulus
had the inkling of a suspicion his grandfather knew why was going on and he followed his flowing
robes to the kitchen not letting him get out of sight.

“Grandfather, this letter from Harry—” Regulus began before Arcturus swirled around with his
robes cascading around him like a prestigious cape.

“Mentions the Chamber of Secrets, I reckon? Yes, I know Regulus. Ignatius’ letter came just this
morning and filled me in on all the details.” Arcturus said with a huff as Cassiopeia came wiping
her hands behind her cousin with a crooked eyebrow and a glint in her eye.

“The Chamber of Secrets?” Sirius said from over Regulus’ shoulder, but he wouldn’t let his brother
cut him off.

“This is why Ignatius took the job, isn't it? You sent him because you knew something was going
to happen and you didn’t tell me?” Regulus said as he pointed the folded letter at his grandfather's
chest. Arcturus stepped closer with the ends of the parchment crinkling into his robes as he did.

“I had no confirmation anything was going to happen, but yes I sent Ignatius as a precaution. After
last year it seemed foolish to believe Harry would be safe under Hogwart’s roof. Better to have
someone poised and ready to look out for Harry’s best interest. Never in an eon would I have
guessed the Chamber of Secrets would have come into play.” Arcturus said firmly with the
wrinkles around his eyes going into strict lines that only emphasised his own words. Regulus felt
himself gulp instinctively as if he was still a child standing across from his grandfather in their old
Manor in France so many summers ago. This was Harry though, and Harry was his responsibility
and he couldn’t simply back away as was instinctional.

“The Chamber of Secrets?” Sirius repeated louder as he pushed past Regulus to stare just as evenly
at Arcturus with his silver eyes piercing. “That is a myth.”

“Foolish Gryffindors think it is a myth, but if one knows anything about Salazar Slytherin, the
Chamber of Secrets isn’t a stretch nor is this supposed monster of his. It can’t be proven, but that
does not make it untrue.” Arcturus continued with his harsh tone. Regulus couldn’t believe what he
was hearing. What threats could be laying in wait for that school, for Harry.

“Even if this insanity is true, Salazar Slytherin's line died long ago. No one has carried that name
for several generations, that much I know. That much I can prove with my old teachings staring at
line after line of marriages and childrens.” Sirius accused back.

“Then perhaps you didn’t study hard enough, because there was one family. Oh they died when I
was still considered young. I remember the triumph it felt to outlive them because they were the
only family older than us and they could track back to ancient British families while we were but
the French. I’d love to chat but I need to go.” Arcturus said as he wrapped his robes around himself
 and turned to pass Cassiopeia with a knowing look as she stared sternly at him, but let him pass
her.

“If this is about Harry, I deserve to know. I need to help.” Regulus said much louder than he
intended as he followed in step with his grandfather. Arcturus cracked his neck before looking over
his shoulder.

“Your intentions are good, Regulus. For that I will always commend you, you surprised every last
one of us with that nature, but you are dead and you are in prison.” Arcturus said with a nod to
Sirius. “And for Harry’s sake, if you wish to continue to raise him, you both need to stay that way.”

“I’ll explain it to them, just go. Please put an end to this Arcturus before we end up in a worse
position than before.” Cassiopeia said as she stepped up with her shoulders thrown back.

“I am, first is your brother locked away with his potions?” He asked and she nodded astutely.

“Perfect. I need to borrow him. Tell his wife I’ll bring him back in one piece.” Arcturus said before
he stepped out with another word.

Regulus and Sirius exchanged a look before they turned their eyes on Cassiopeia. Their aunt sighed
heavily as she placed the rings back on her fingers that she'd taken off to wash her hands. A basket
full of vegetables on the table said she’d been out in the garden. With an exhaustion in her
shoulders, she lowered herself into a chair and motioned for them to join her.

“Well, it all began with the letters.” She started with a crease to her forehead.

Chapter End Notes

It’s still last week somewhere… not where I am, but somewhere!

Please enjoy while I go to quickly edit the next chapter.

Thank you for reading and I adore every single comment and kudo and every reader!
 Plotting in Hand
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of an injury, mentions of a death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Arcturus, whatever you need I could have easily done at home and likely more comfortably.”
Marius pointed out with another heavy sigh. They had arrived in London moments ago and Marius
seemed visibly uncomfortable as they walked down the crowded pavements of the city.

“We need to get away from the city, I have something to show you.” Arcturus explained as he
pulled the strange Muggle coat over his shoulders. He never felt quite comfortable in the clothes as
they passed a young mother and her pram.

“Couldn’t have taken a picture? London is not my favorite city, or cities for that matter.” Marius
explained as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I know, but trust me on this.” Arcturus said as they turned down a smaller street lined with small
tea shops and confectioneries that filtered the air with sweet scents and warm air. The portkey
would be just ahead. It was supposed to be a broken tea kettle on top of a rubbish bin.

“Oh, yes, just here.” Arcturus whispered as he had to turn sideways to fit into a small alleyway.
Marius wrinkled his nose as he pushed his way past an overflowing rubbish bin.

“Lovely.” Marius said sarcastically.

“Portkeys have to be discrete, especially the ones I request.” Arcturus explained as he glanced at
his watch. “Best to grab on now, only a moment more.”

The pull and tug of a portkey made his back hurt and the landing made his knees ache no matter
how soft the ground. Arcturus grunted as he pushed deeply into his hip. Marius was at least a few
years younger and had likely been kinder on his body through the years as he held out an arm for
Arcturus to grab as he steadied himself.

“Helena has ointments and potions to help with the pain.” Marius pointed out as Arcturus pulled
his walking stick out and transfigured the Muggle coat into a cloak.

“Pain builds character.” Arcturus said as he took a look around the sprawling grounds of
prestigious maintained grass and the distinct scent of fresh flowers on their last bloom before
winter.

“You sound too much like our fathers when you say that.” Marius said grimly as he took in the
grey blue skies above with a few rolling clouds in the distance. “Where are we?”

“Wiltshire.” Arcturus said just before he heard Marius inhale sharply. “We are not at our Manor.
This is a different one. Your brother is not here.”

“Why would you bring me here? Why would you bring me so close to him?” Marius asked as they
began to take small steps forward to an overbearing house perched behind towering wrought iron
gates that surrounded the grounds.

“You are not like us Marius. I understand that after these few years, I must apologize for not
understanding sooner. I was ignorant. I have had to unlearn heavily, but now fear I must ask you to
be an accomplice in behaviors that are only becoming of our family. You do not have to participate,
but before you answer I wanted to give you a chance to see what we are facing. To understand the
world I have lived in even for just a moment before we make this decision.” Arcturus explained as
he paused them at the top of a hill looking down at the Manor from the rear.

“Arcturus, I’m confused.” Marius said, but Arcturus raised his hand and pointed at a movement
coming from the ends of the grounds. A stark blonde head and dark ornate robes as a tall man
made his way closer to the rear door of the house. He approached a wiry woman in a dark floor
length gown with a similar shade of blonde hair bright against the backdrop.

“This is Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa is Pollux’s granddaughter, the youngest daughter of
your nephew, Cygnus Black. Now the arrangement that married Narcissa and Lucius occurred
many years before. It's a long story involving my brother's last moments alive, you will have to ask
his portrait about it one day. He will likely gloat on it. Narcissa has spent many years carefully
distancing herself from the Black name, from her mad sister and her traitorous cousin. She is a
political and truthfully one of the smartest to come from us. She takes after her father in that way.
They are family, and that makes this harder what we must do. I need answers from them, answers
only they have, and I need them soon because otherwise I fear what will become of Hogwarts and
more importantly of Harry. I know they are involved. Call it intuition or life experiences. Lucretia
has been having numerous teas and I’ve been sending Kreacher to sneak about the Manor but with
the recent revelations, I fear none of this will be quick enough.” Arcturus paused as Marius knitted
his eyebrows together and watched as Narcissa kissed Lucius cheek before they took each other’s
arms and walked towards the bushes and trees that line one side of the manor.

“What do you need from me?” Marius asked slowly.

“You are quite possibly the best Potions Master I have ever had the pleasure to know and that
comes as no small compliment. Now I can get what I need, but with how delicate this matter is I
think it would be best for it to be brewed by someone I trust. I have written Lucius asking for an
audience with him. I’m an old friend of the family and while it may be irregular for me, it isn’t
completely out of character. What I need from you is a potion. A powerful potion, I need
veritaserum. I need to get straight answers from Lucius without leaving a mark on him. I can
manage to obviate him well enough, but I have never been a decent potions student. Now what I
ask of you is illegal to the highest degree and I would understand if you disagreed, but I thought it
only honorable if I brought you here and showed you the man we will use it on.” Arcturus
explained. There was a long pause. The only noise was the rolling thunder coming from behind
them and covering the sky in darkness as the threat of rain grew.

“And you are certain he is the one threatening Harry?” Marius finally asked. Arcturus nodded
firmly.

“I’ll do it on one request.” Marius said without hesitation.

“Anything.” Arcturus answered.

“Take me to the Manor. Let me see my brother from these distances.” Marius said without a waver
to his tone as Arcturus looked over at the firm set of his jaw and the determination in his faintly
blue eyes. Marius may not be as different as everyone wanted him to be.

“Of course.” Arcturus agreed.

“Good then we must hurry. It takes a month to brew Veritaserum and we may not even have that
amount of time.” Marius answered as he turned to face away from the Malfoys. Arcturus nodded
again before they set off towards the Black Manor not far from where they were.

Lucretia stood on the stoop of her home with a warm cup of tea in her hand. The seas were roaring
today and the air felt wet around her, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to. She’d been in Wales
longer than she had been in London. Wales was home ever since she’d stood across an aisle from a
bright eyed boy with a mischievous grin and promised to be together through thick and thin, for
better or for worse. She breathed in the salt air deeply. She couldn’t imagine living in a city again
after being by the sea for so long. The city had its appeal no doubt, but in her girlhood she had
always enjoyed trips to the beach cottage or even her mother’s family farm in Scotland. The fresh
air and the quietness that wrapped her in comfort.

She needed contemplation after the long few weeks she had. She’d spent many evening teas sitting
across from Narcissa and the two women playing a tactful chess game of mental fortitude. Narcissa
wanted information from her and Lucretia wanted information from Narcissa. Neither woman
would give it up freely nor would they slip up easily. It was not an easy game and time was
running out rather quickly. Her husband had written about a feat she had long suppressed. The
Chamber of Secrets long thought to be a myth and to many it still was, but she had been there when
it had first happened.

Granted she had little to worry about then. She was positioned perfectly to not be a threat. A pure
blooded Slytherin princess, if anything she should have been happy to have been around when the
Chamber was first opened. She hadn’t been. Seventh year Lucretia was a far cry from the naive
first year she had been. She had changed greatly and her views had already begun to skew away
from her families. Then when all that happened in her personal life and during the school term her
seventh year, it solidified her change of mindset. No one deserved to die for simply how they had
been born, and yet a young girl had suffered that fate.

Surprised was the last thing on her mind when her father and cousin showed up at her doorstep this
evening. Truthfully, she had thought it would have happened earlier. She thought her father would
come here the moment he got notice of the threat at Hogwarts. They were here now though and
from the hushed whispers and the scratching of parchment they had a plan. Soon enough, she
would find out, but for now she was taking a moment to herself. A quiet moment that was
interrupted by the sounds of small feet coming quickly from behind her.

“Good evening, Efa.” Lucretia called without looking to see her elf approaching. Efa was as good
as family and her small steps were indiscernible from anyone else.

“Mistress Efa having found someone. Efa have brought Kreacher to you Mistress.” Efa said in her
squeaky tone. Lucretia turned to see Kreacher bouncing and pulling at his ears. Kreacher had been
checking in with her frequently lately. He’d been doing background work at Malfoy Manor trying
to track down and follow the Malfoy’s elf.

“Mistress, Kreacher find out something. Kreacher is very upset. Kreacher be following Dobby and
Kreacher be finding him at Hogwarts. Dobby used elf magic to trick a Bludger. The Bludger made
little Master fall off his broom. Oh little master was in pain and Kreacher couldn’t help because
Master Arcturus told Kreacher to not get involved. Oh but Kreacher wanted to help. Kreacher
wanted to hurt Dobby for hurting little Master.” Kreacher shook as he spoke with small tears
glistening in his wrinkle surrounded eyes.

“It’s for the best Kreacher. Master Arcturus has just arrived with Master Marius. We will tell them
about Harry. I’m certain my father will want to see that Harry is taken care of.” Lucretia replied as
she bent down to offer a handkerchief that the elf took gratefully and blew his nose into. Lucretia
brought Kreacher to her father and Marius. Her father folded his hands under his chin as he listened
to the recount of events. There were a few drawn out moments of silence as his eyes glazed over
with thoughts.

“It’s time to let Harry in on some of this information we have.” Arcturus said thoughtfully.

“He’s only a child.” Lucretia posed.

“Yes but a child surrounded by those wanting to hurt him and he does not deserve to be left in the
dark. He deserves to know what happened last time the chamber was opened. To know we are
going to do our best to protect him.” Arcturus said as he stood with a huff of breath. It was strange
to see her father's age. She had thought of her parents growing old, but when she was younger it
was always her mother she could imagine with grey hair and small wrinkles dotting her eyes and
lips. Only it had turned out her mother would never live long enough to sprout a single grey hair or
wrinkle. She would die when Lucretia was only a teenager and live her father alone. Never would
she have imagined it, but now she could see nothing else. In her mind her mother was young and
fresh forever, and her father slowly grew older and smaller. Pain would strike her when she thought
of how much he had changed over the years.

“I’ll go and check on Harry. I’m certain Regulus will be up in arms the moments he hears. I have
faith that Cassiopeia and Helena can keep him wrangled at home, but it should give him comfort to
know Harry won’t be alone.” Arcturus said as he stretched out slowly. Lucretia made her lips
upturn slightly as she gently nodded. She would stay behind to help Marius with his project while
she herself waited for any news that could be helpful.

“So what are we working on?” Lucretia asked as she carefully eyed ingredients laid out on her
kitchen table. She’d never been handy at potions and could never piece together what was to be
brewed by ingredients alone.

“Well I believe we’re going to drug Lucius Malfoy.” Marius said quite quickly as he held up a
small vile to the light.

“Oh joyous.” Lucretia sighed as she fanned out her skirt and sat at one end of the table.

Harry’s entire body radiated with pain. The Bludger had likely shattered his elbow into pieces from
the way he couldn't move his arm and now his head ached from the way he’d landed on the
ground, but The Snitch was safely in his hands. The wings weakly fluttered a few times before
shutting back into the golden sphere. At least they had won, he thought before he slipped into a
peaceful darkness, the shadows of people leaning over him some of the last blurry images he could
see.

There was a quiet patter of rain striking thick windows.

Then came the pain again, less pulsing this time and more dull constant cramp. Harry let out a
small grain as he moved his sweat covered head over to a cooler side of a pillow. When he did he
could feel eyes watching him as he popped his head up to see who was with him in the darkness.
There was a pleasant surprise waiting for him.

“Harry, it’s good to see you awake.” Arcturus said quietly as he closed the book in his hands. Harry
had to rub his eyes a few times to get a good look at his surroundings, his one arm still smarted
with pain.
“Grandfather Arcturus, what are you doing here?” Harry asked as he tried to bring himself to a
sitting position.

“Sh, no lay down Harry. The bone needs to be set properly. I’ve come because I heard of your
accident. Nasty game Quidditch can be, my sister only got to play one season herself before she
was taken out with such an injury our father forbade her to play again.” Arcturus said as he pushed
on Harry’s chest gently to set him back on his pillow.

“Madam Pompfrey says I’ll be fine in the morning. Just a bit of a blow.” Harry shrugged as he
leaned back with his vision blurring as he laid farther away.

“Indeed, but Harry, it was foolish to play when you knew the Bludger had been hexed. A game is
not worth the risk to your life. I can only imagine the fit Regulus is in. He nearly came running the
second you wrote of this chamber business, I had to make him stay behind for his own good.”
Arcturus explained as Harry shifted uncomfortably in the shadows.

“Ah yes The Chamber of Secrets, I’m certain you have many questions.” Arcturus leaned back in
his own seat as he looked at Harry carefully.

“Well it’s just that… people are saying things and they aren’t very nice, but… oh it’s nothing
really.” Harry chewed on his inner cheek when he stopped speaking. A habit he had picked up
from Regulus no doubt.

“Harry, I will answer any of your questions wholeheartedly and truthfully, but only if you are
completely transparent with me as well.” Arcturus said firmly as he brought his hands to rest on his
walking stick in front of him. Harry twitched his lips for a second.

“We think it’s Draco, Grandfather. He’s being unusually cruel and he seems almost excited to have
the Chamber of Secrets opened. Hermione had this plan to brew Polyjuice Potion so we could turn
into his friends and could question him. I didn’t say anything against her even if I don’t love the
idea, because well she’s the one who threatened her. Draco has been tormenting her and other
Muggleborns and now there is supposedly a monster running around trying to kill them. She feels
helpless and she wants control again, but I don’t know if this is the best way to go about it.” Harry
spilled out before he promptly shut his mouth. Arcturus nodded a few times.

“Thank you for your honesty, Harry. You are correct to assume it is not the best course of action. I
understand your friends want to control her situation, but this is much bigger and much more
dangerous than any of you.” Arcturus explained.

“So it’s true the Chamber of Secrets exist and Salazar Slytherin trapped a monster in there?” Harry
said as he reached for his glasses.

“I’m going to tell you a tale, Harry. My only request is that you listen first and save any questions
for after.” Arcturus commanded. Harry swallowed gently before making himself cozy and quiet on
his pillow.

“Many years ago, before even your parents had been born, there were whispers of The Chamber of
Secrets and its monster being freed by the heir of Slytherin. Unexplainable instances happened,
noises that couldn’t be explained by the old aches of castle walls, the sights seen in the shadows,
and students going missing to only show up injured or petrified. Headmaster Dippet was in charge
then and he tried to keep the news out, but it continued to grow as things do when you don’t
actually attempt to solve them. Parents grew anxious and there was talk of removing the
Headmaster, putting in someone younger and more competent to handle the issue. Now Dippet was
a proud man, and he didn’t want that. So instead he considered his options, but before he could
even make a decision the worst happened.” Arcturus said with a brief pause of breath as Harry
leaned closer with each word.

“A student perished in between these very walls. There was no debate then, Hogwarts was going to
close until a full investigation could be done. Students would be sent home and Aurors would be
brought in. Then suddenly, the culprit was caught. A rogue creature had been brought in
unsupervised by a student. The creature was thrown out and the student was expelled and the whole
mess was quite pointedly pushed aside and considering all questionable actions ceased afterwards,
no one dared challenge. However, there were a select few people who believed it was all too easy
to swallow. Hogwarts had no leads and out of the blue just as all looked grim they were handed an
answer on a silver platter. No it never sat right with me, nor did it sit right with others. Now
whether it was the Chamber of Secrets or not I cannot prove, alas here we are again as history often
does. Repeating our same pattern, only I doubt there is as simple an answer running about these
halls as before. No, Harry, I will be the first to admit it is suspicious, but it is not your battle.”
Arcturus explained. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by the loud creaking of
hinges and the shuttering of the door banging against the walls.

“What has happened?” Poppy called as her sensible shoes clicked against the floor and passed
Harry and Arcturus without even so much as a glance.

“I found him, lying on the stairs. Albus came only a moment later, thank Merlin.” Minerva
whispered as a form dropped hardly into the bed closest to the doors. Arcturus stood, but made no
move as Harry leaned forward to catch a glimpse.

“It’s Colin, oh no he was likely out wanting to visit me. He tried earlier but the Gryffindor team
was all here.” Harry whispered sharply.

“Albus?” A voice called from the shadows. “Filius woke me. He said you were looking for me.”

“Ignatius, goodness yes. Come look, you're one of the only professors here that experienced this
the first time. I need to make certain my assumption is correct.” Albus said as he shuffled over to
allow Ignatius to observe. Ignatius huddled over the small form and Arcturus could see his
shoulders stiffen.

“The last time I saw this was fifty years ago and I wasn’t a professor, Albus. I was a student.”
Ignatius shook his head as he spoke.

“Then it is as I feared. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again.” Albus said. Minerva
pulled her night robes tightly over her chest as she shuddered. Poppy just clicked her tongue as she
ran a hand over the small boy in the bed. Albus pulled a camera from the young boy's hands and it
immediately started smoking when moved. There were a few weak coughs as he set it aside and as
Ignatius waved a bit of smoke from his face, he finally caught a look at Arcturus shrouded in
shadows by Harry’s bed.

“Well best to let Poppy work. Minerva, I'll walk you back to your room. Ignatius.” Albus nodded
as he offered an arm to Minerva. Ignatius nodded roughly and watched carefully as Albus and
Minerva slipped out the door and into the airy night of the castle. Once, they had gone and Poppy
had slipped back towards her office shaking her head. Ignatius covered the space in as few steps as
possible.

“When did you get here?” Ignatius asked quietly before he turned and realised Harry was wide
awake and eager in his bed. “Harry, you're awake.”

“I arrived late this evening after I had heard that Harry had taken a fall.” Arcturus replied. Ignatius
blinked heavily.

“How did you even know? It is impossible for my letter to have arrived.” Ignatius said. Arcturus
sat as he motioned for Ignatius to take the seat across in the other side of Harry’s bed.

“I was already in England following up on The Chamber of Secrets when I got notice that Harry
had been injured.” Arcturus said. Ignatius glanced at Harry.

“I told him about the Chamber. What I know to an extent. He deserves the truth, Ignatius.”
Arcturus explained.

“He’s just a child.” Ignatius pointed out as Harry’s head swiveled between the two of them.

“How did you know?” Harry whispered as he pulled the covers close. Arcturus looked at home
with a weak sigh escaping his lips.

“Kreacher told me. Harry, since this summer someone has been interfering with your life. Now,
just listen. I am going to handle this and you are going to be a student. Sh, I know you are worried
about your friends, Harry. The best you can do for them now is stay close together and report
anything suspicious to Ignatius.” Arcturus instructed with his hand reaching out to touch Harry’s
good arm.

“Er, there is one other thing.” Harry mumbled as he retreated from the touch.

“You can tell me anything.” Arcturus reassured.

“I’m hearing voices no one else can that are threatening to kill people.” Harry said so quickly the
words ran together. Arcturus blinked once. Of all he had expected Harry to say that wasn’t any of
the first on his mind.

“We will handle that as well, though maybe Harry, keep this one a secret and most certainly come
to Ignatius the moment you hear anything unusual again. You are the most important priority to
me and you know you can trust me. You aren’t alone nor will you ever be as long as all of us who
care for you can help it. Now get some rest, I’ll wait until the morning before I leave.” Arcturus
said as he pulled the blanket tightly over Harry’s chest. The young boy smiled slightly as he
murmured a sleepy goodnight and let his eyes flutter close. Arcturus’ hand stayed on his chest for a
few minutes to feel as his breathing slowed in his sleep before slipping off.

“I never believed the explanation they provided the first time. I knew the student, he was one of
my own when I was Head Boy, I can’t figure out what could be causing this. I was baffled then and
I am baffled now.” Igantius whispered once it was clear Harry was asleep.

“Well this time you have a wealth of knowledge and whatever resources I can provide to you. We
will solve this and truly solve this. Not just appease The Ministry with a digestible answer. We
must for Harry’s sake even if he may not be the target the tale speaks of. I can’t help but feel these
events are connected. My information points to Lucius as having a hand in it. I just don’t know
how much yet.” Arcturus shook his head as his weary eyes watched Harry sleep fitfully.

“Lucius? I didn’t think he’d have the gall.” Ignatius snorted slightly.

“Don’t underestimate him. He may be arrogant, but he’s done some unspeakable acts in his life.
Attacking children would not be a stretch for him. I’ve got a way to get him to speak, but it’ll take
time. For now, I need you to keep your eyes and ears open and with any luck that unfortunate child
will be the only one attacked.” Arcturus said with a nod to the statue-like form unmoving in the
hospital bed. Igantius nodded grimly as he reached out and rubbed the back of Harry’s hand gently
 a few times before leaning back and making himself comfortable.

“I suppose we will both be here for him when he wakes up.” Ignatius said.

“You’ve always been a better man than I, Ignatius.” Arcturus murmured as he crossed his arms and
let his chin lower into his chest.

“Only barely.” Was the final whisper he heard before drifting into a restless sleep that only lasted
moments at a time.

Chapter End Notes

Ah you thought I was going to let the Golden Trio run off into sunset with their
dangerous plan? No, not yet. Will they follow through on some of their more reckless
plans later? Possibly. When they are twelve? No, I have written adults for that. One’s
more than competent to take care of the issues at hand for the time being.

Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I adore reading all your thoughts! Enjoy
and take care of yourselves! Till next time!
 Parseltongue and Other Incidents
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of an injury; Emetophobia warning

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Convincing Hermione and Ron that the Polyjuice Potion idea was the wrong one was not exactly
going over well.

“Harry, I assure you I can brew it. Even if something goes wrong the odds of it being catastrophic
are minimal.” Hermione tried for the fifth time to make him change his mind.

“Yeah mate, I even heard Malfoy is staying over the Christmas holiday. It would be the perfect
time!” Ron added. Thankfully, he didn’t have to respond because the three of them were walking
into the newly established dueling club. It had been a grand idea to try and help ease the anxiety of
the students as well as provide some extra curricular work in the jest of fun.

“Good day all! Good day!” Professor Flitwick called from the table he stood on in the middle of
the room. There was a much longer table placed just in front of him. Professor Ignatius was to
Flitwick’s right and to his left was quite unfortunately the permanently sneered face of Professor
Snape. His hair freshly cut shorter and tucked behind his ears.

“Now you’ve all joined us here to learn the art of the duel. As someone who spent a good part of
my youth mastering the form, I am pleased to educate the next generation of aspiring duelers.”
Professor Flitwick continued. “I’ve asked Professor Prewett and Professor Snape to assist as well as
give a small demonstration before we begin. Gentlemen.”

With a swoosh of a cape, Professor Snape stepped up to the table and walked to one end with each
step of his heeled boots making a loud noise. Professor Prewett let out a small chuckle as he
pushed himself to sit on the table first before turning around and standing to walk to the end. A part
of Harry worried, Snape was a former Death Eater and had likely done his fair share of dueling.
While Uncle Ignatius had mainly dealt with magical creatures and beings who handled their fights
much differently than wizardkind. Add onto the fact that Snape had the youthful advantage and
Harry didn’t think it completely unfounded.

“Now these two are mature wizards and their duels will look very different from yours, but there is
still the chance to learn from them. Watch carefully. First, it is customary to bow to your opponent
out of respect and then the duel commences with the first spell.” Professor Flitwick explained as
waved his hands around. Professor Prewett bowed slowly and deeply out of respect, while
Professor Snape only made a curt gesture. There was a moment of silence as everyone held a harsh
collective breath in wait.

A loud zap that caused the room to jump and exhale all at once shot across the room. Professor
Snape had sent an unknown yellow spell across toward Professor Prewetts feet, but with a move so
smooth Harry hadn’t even seen it, Uncle Ignatius had moved two steps aside and there stood only a
scorch mark where his feet had been. Professor Prewett tutted slightly and Professor Snape looked
perplexed as he raised his wand against and shot a light blue spell that Professor Prewett quickly
blacked and pushed to the side. In quick movements, Professor Prewett shot a spell towards
Snape’s feet that caused him to jump back and then as he twisted around to avoid a counter spell he
sent two spells nearly simultaneously one at Professor Snape’s feet again and as he predictably
jumped back another spell lighter then the bright one that had masked the seconds one’s travels
struck Snape directly in his stomach and caused him to topple back onto the table and with his
wrist colliding with the edge of the wood, his wand fell to the ground.

“Bravo! Bravo!” Professor Flitwick applauded as did nearly all the students as they hooted and
cheered loudly. The twins had cupped their hands around their mouths to make their voices carry
higher than anyone else’s. Professor Prewett made a small bow to his captive audience before he
strode across the table to offer a hand to Professor Snape. Only for it to be smacked away by the
movement of a fumbling cape as Professor Snape forced himself up stumbling over his feet slightly
and trying to smooth out his hair that had frizzed at the ends.

“All in good fun.” Professor Prewett said quietly as he pulled his hand back in. Professor Snape
only looked furious.

“Alright and now I’ll allow the two Professors to pick a student of their own to give it a go.
Disarming spells only for the time being please!” Professor Flitwick said. The twins and Ron
looked anxiously at their uncle, who only gave them a knowing look that he couldn’t call on his
nephews as the first person. At least not his known nephews, as he nodded Harry forward.

“Draco!” Professor Snape bellowed before Harry had even made it take the outstretched hand
Uncle Ignatius had offered to assist him up.

“Bloody bastard. Reg is right, he can’t take a hit.” Ignatius said in between breaths as he hoisted
Harry up with a pulling stretch of his shoulders that was still a bit stiff from the Quidditch accident.
Snape was already bent over Malfoy whispering quickly in his ear as Malfoy began to smile ear to
ear. Harry gulped.

“You remember the shielding spell Regulus taught you last summer? Whatever Snape is
whispering in Draco’s ear won’t be anything too strong, the spell should protect you. Then if you
get a chance just disarm him. Don’t try any of those spells Sirius and Regulus have been teaching
you, I know he is a lot to handle Harry, but you can’t let your anger get the better of you. Be a
better person.” Ignatius whispered in Harry’s ear as he gripped onto his shoulder.

Harry wrinkled his nose as he pulled out his wand. He wanted to make Malfoy go flying into the
back wall as he’d seen Regulus make Sirius do one time when he made some comment Harry
didn’t quite catch. Then he thought about Uncle Ignatius standing just behind him and how his
shoulder still felt warm from his touch. He didn’t want to disappoint him by letting his feelings get
the better of him. No matter how tempting it was. When Malfoy raised his arm with a sinister
twitch to his eyes, Harry already had his wand held high to reflect whatever soaks came flying at
him. Except no bright lights or quick flashes of energy came instead there was a loud thump and a
Ed static hissing sound that made several students muffled their cries. A composing slithering
sound drew h to stare eye to eye with a slinky black snake hovering half its body up.

Harry could hear Uncle Ignatius let out a dry sound as the table creaked under his weight. Clearly,
he was coming to handle the creature and thankfully because Harry had never been level with such
glass round eyes and there was a pit in his stomach that made him want to twist away. For being
raised surrounded by Slytherins this was his closest encounter with a snake and he had no idea how
to handle it. Unfortunately, before Professor Prewett could step in from Harry and banish the
snake, a crashing sputtering came from the side that made the slippery winding snake twist its body
towards a whimpering figure. Justin Finch-Fletchley looked to have been backing away when he
stumbled over a chair and seemed to have injured his leg from how he held it rocking in his arms.
The snake had found a more interesting prey as it let out a menacing hiss. Harry didn’t know how,
but he knew from the way it wound up into a tight circle and pushed its forked tongue out to the
side. The snake was going to attack and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Stop it!” Harry could have swore he cried out as he flung his arm forward and wrapped a
shielding charm as best he could around Justin. He thought it was rather impressive, considering
the snake slink back instantly and coiled around itself with its tongue out away. Justin was safe and
he expected his face to show it, except instead of appreciation Harry was staring into a blank fear
he’d never seen before. He parted his mouth the question but he felt a hard tug to his middle that
knocked the breath out of him and before he could think much, the world went blurry with
movement and he was halfway out the door when he realized he’d been carried out into a corridor
and taken into an empty classroom.

“Harry! Where did you learn that?” Uncle Igantius was asking with a stricken face that made him
look much older than he was. “Did you read it somewhere? Did someone teach you?””

Harry could feel the shaking in his uncle's arms as he clutched almost painfully onto his arms. The
world had just gone back to straight lines instead of blurred colours and he felt vaguely nauseous.

“Did I speak French? Or Latin? I thought I spoke English, I was just trying to distract the snake so I
could cast the shielding charm.” Harry swayed as he spoke and if not for his uncle’s firm grip he
would have fallen to the cool stone which almost seemed appreciative as his head was starting to
burn.

“No, Harry. You spoke Parseltongue.” Ignatius' entire demeanor had dropped lower than Harry had
ever seen and somehow that worried him more than the words. Except he couldn’t focus for long
because he tumbled forward, losing his stomach on the ground and hitting his head on chilled stone
with the feverish pitch in his head reaching a peak before his vision slipped from blur to darkness.

Regulus was pacing. He did that a lot. Uncle Marius used to joke he was happy Regulus had the
ground floor so he didn’t have to listen to the constant steps at night. It wasn’t unusual for him.
What was unusual was his brother pacing just next to him in nearly identical fashion and truthfully
it was making him more irritable.

“It would be irresponsible.” Regulus said as he turned on heel in the large living space.

“Harry could be in danger. I mean we have indefensible proof the Malfoys have been interfering
with him since the summer, it is nearly the Christmas holidays.” Sirius argued as his heel dug into
the rug only a second later.

“Grandfather went and Uncle Ignatius is at the school.” Regulus pointed out.

“And they all lied to us, Reg!” Sirius argued as his hands swung wide and nearly struck Regulus’
side. Sirius mumbled an apology as Regulus shrugged it off, but took two steps to the side. The
room felt much smaller with two pairs of pacing feet pattering one the parlour floor. The sun beat
into the room warmly even with the decreasing temperatures. Uncle Alphard was watching with a
crooked amused smile from his portrait as he often did when the two disagreed. He’d mutter about
it reminding him of himself and his brother when they were younger. Regulus had a hard time
imagining Uncle Cygnus as any younger than his permanently creased and stoic face was.

“Besides, you still need to speak to the owner of the Menagerie. We need to be in England.” Sirius
argued again. He’d been pushing for Regulus to go to England and get a hand in whatever was
going on with Harry. Maybe pay old Lucius a visit, which Regulus found ridiculous.

“Grandfather took Uncle Marius with him. He didn’t leave any Polyjuice Potion around even if we
were to go we’d need it. It’s not like you and I could walk around Diagon Alley for a casual stroll.
The Aurors would think they properly lost the plot!” Regulus refuted.

“You can brew the potion. You’re nearly as good as him with how often you lock yourself up in
there. Besides, I’m going mad looking at these walls when we could be doing something.” Sirius
pleaded.

“Weren’t you in a prison for years?” Regulus shot back.

“Shite and had it not been for Grandfather Arcturus I would have gone mad, but that’s not the
point.” Sirius said with his anger mounting.

“That is exactly the point. He got you out and we can’t be sodding off what he did for you, but
directly going against him.” Regulus paused his pacing to throw up his hands.

“And you can’t act like doing whatever he says will give you the approval you always wanted
from Father! Orion is dead and you can’t still be searching for his approval, Reg!” Sirius nearly
shouted as Regulus froze in his place with his mouth half open. A little shudder ran through him as
Sirius face dropped and his colour drained from his body.

“Reg, I didn’t mean it.” Sirius said as he reached out, but Regulus stepped back painfully.

“Shut it, Siri.” Regulus said with his eyes sharply denying any other advances from his brother.
Sirius shrunk back into himself with his arms wrapping around his middle. Regulus could feel his
fingers curling with mounting anger as he tried to remind himself to breathe. They were not
children. They weren’t children, Sirius just had a moment. He’s worked up. They all are with
Harry’s predicament so unstable.

“Well that was a bit pathetic.” Someone called breaking Regulus from the strange frozen trance he
was in. Great Grandfather Phineas was standing on the edge of Alphard’s portrait. Alphard had
moved himself to the background, peaking around the tree apprehensively.

“If you are done with this squabble. It may behoove you to know a bit has happened at Hogwarts.
In fact, I have just left a meeting with young Harry and Albus. What a pity he’s become, he needed
a stricter hand growing up most certainly.” Phineas began in a vice that sounded like he needed to
clear his nose.

“Harry, is he alright?” Regulus said, blocking out Sirius and stepping closer to the portrait.

“Well let’s see. In the span of a few days, he has passed out, been present at the petrification of
another student and a ghost, and revealed his hidden talent for Parseltongue.” Phineas struck off
each pet with a finger snapping from his fist.

“Parseltongue? Harry doesn’t know Parseltongue.” Regulus recoiled significantly as if he’d just
been struck. Phineas tutted his tongue loudly, but he was cut off by the sound of objects striking
the floor behind him. Both he and Sirius turned to find Helena in the doorway with bags at their
feet and a unreadable expression to her face.

“Time for us to go to London.” She said astutely. Regulus could feel his heart rate rising.

-
Harry had woken to find Uncle Lancelot hanging over him. Ignatius had written to him to do a full
inspection on Harry, but nothing could account for his fever and loss of consciousness. Even worse
there was no explanation for the sudden Parseltongue fluency. Lancelot and Madam Pomfrey had
spoken a lot behind curtains and she’d even had him give a look over Colin and Mrs Norris to no
questions answered. Harry lost a day give or take and the entire school erupted in anger.

When he tried to find Justin to explain himself he only found Ernie trying to rile the entire
Hufflepuff House onto him. Harry confronting him in the library in front of an entire audience of a
quarter of the school likely didn’t help his reputation, but it was nothing compared to what
happened next. He stumbled quite literally into Justin. Only he was frozen on the floor, in a state of
petrification and behind a strangely grey coloured Nearly Headless Nick. Peeves had made certain
the entire school found him gapping at the scene, neatly caught red handed for most people.

Harry had wanted to sit on the floor of Dumbledore’s office curled around himself and ask to be
sent home. To Regulus and Sirius and his aunts and uncles, between the lot of them there was
enough knowledge to educate him at home. He could spend his days making potions with Uncle
Marius or maybe train to be a healer with Aunt Helena and live a quiet life in the grassy hills of
Switzerland. Instead he watched a Phoenix be reborn and eyed the Sorting Hat menacingly, maybe
this would be easier if he was in Slytherin. Either he could play into this role and have the whole of
Slytherin House behind him or he could debunk it with their reinforcement. Hagrid had even
rushed into his defence with a dead chicken still in his hand explaining he’d seen Harry only
moments before until Dumbledore calmed his pubblering words from the verge of tears and said he
didn’t believe Harry was the cause. When he finally dragged himself back to The Common Room,
Hermione and Ron nearly tackled him.

“Not in the mood.” He grumbled as they approached him with concerned glows in their eyes.

“Harry, we must absolutely try the Polyjuice Potion now.” Hermione said as she teetered on the
tips of her toes.

“Hermione, I can’t possibly break any more school rules. The Ministry will be involved before
long.” Harry sighed as he deflated onto one of the oversized chairs as far away from the glowering
looks he was receiving from his own classmates, minus the Weasleys. Fred and George were
having fun with it and Percy was distinctly trying to ignore it with his head buried in prefect duties
whatever that entailed. Ginny nearly broke into tears each time she looked at Harry, but Harry had
enough on his mind that he couldn’t be bothered to know why she was so concerned for his well
being. It’s not like his schooling hinged on her actions.

“Er mate Hermione might have a point. We should at least give it a try.” Ron said with his eyes
coasting over the entire room before landing on his feet.

“Even if we could, it takes a month to make Polyjuice Potion. Christmas holidays are in a week
and I didn’t sign up to stay.” Harry pointed out. Both Hermione and Ron went silent and couldn’t
meet his eyes. Harry pushed himself up and eyed both of them as they slowly grew red behind their
cheeks.

“Well what is it?” Harry asked. Ron kicked his leg out towards Hermione who squeaked before
looking underneath her full hair with her dark eyes filled with what looked like guilt.

“I may have brewed it anyways.” Hermione said quietly. Harry’s mouth fell open and suddenly he
felt dizzy again. He couldn’t believe his friends would do this.

“Harry, I had to do something! What if I was next? Or if someone actually does get hurt? The only
lead is Draco and he’s threatened me before. I just couldn’t sit back.” Hermione pleaded with her
eyes growing warm with tears. Harry sighed as he put his hands on her shoulders.

“It’s alright Hermione. I understand, but it’s dangerous and the professors are working on it..”
Harry tried to assure her.

“I have to know!” Hermione said astutely. Harry bit on his lower lip a few times.

“What if there was a way to know without the Polyjuice Potion?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Draco will never talk to us, Harry.” Ron pointed out with his face still flushed.

“Not Draco, but what if I could get another Slytherin to tell us? Would you take that for now? At
least until the holidays are over and if it’s still bad after we can try and do something else?” Harry
said, rushing over his words. Ron and Hermione looked at each as Ron shrugged. Hermione blew
air out of her mouth frustrated, but nodded.

“Good, now follow me, I think I may know where to find one.” Harry sighed. This may just blow
up in his face like a bad potion, but he had to try. So even with people clearly the corridors
whenever they saw him coming, Harry dragged his exhausted self down to the dungeons. He’d
found him here a few times before tucked in the back of a small classroom brewing on his own.
Harry had snuck down here a time or two just to get a few practices in. Potions was unbearable
with Snape, and yet Harry still enjoyed the subject. The two of them had silently agreed to ignore
one another and allow the other to brew in peace. An agreement Harry was going to break today as
he pushed open the squeaky door and revealed the half torn part old potions room not even half
way down the hall from the classroom.

“Blaise.”

“Potter… Weasley… Granger.” Blaise said with shifty eyes and a drawn pause. Harry had kept his
breath held before he says Herimone’s name, her surname was the nicer version of addressing her.

“I know we’re not exactly friends.” Harry began.

“We aren’t.” He replied sharply as he crushed up an ingredient and sprinkled into the cauldron.
Harry tapped his foot anxiously.

“Ok well as acquaintances I was wondering if we could ask you something.” Harry said carefully
as Blaise continued to sort through ingredients.

“You want to know about the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin.” Blaise said with
determination. Harry was visibly taken aback as he opened and closed his mouth, having to flip
over the carefully planned conversation in his head. Blaise let out an exhausted sounding sigh more
becoming of someone much older.

“It isn’t hard to piece together, Potter. It’s all anyone is talking about and everyone knows the
rumour is your the heir of Slytherin particularly after the stunt you pulled in dueling clubs. If you
take advise, snake speak won’t get you any friends. For what it counts, hardly a soul in Slytherin
believes you’re the true heir. The Parseltongue is a bit tough to get over, but your personality
seems to do the trick.” Blaise said as the potion started to boil.

“Well if Harry isn’t the heir, then who is?” Ron tutted from over Harry’s shoulder.

“Bollocks if I know or care for that matter. My family may not be one of the Sacred Twenty Eight,
but we’re as pureblood as they come. I’m surprised you’re worried, Weasley, as far as I can tell this
monster won’t go after a pureblood whether blood traitor or not. Even you Potter, half blood as you
may be, Salazar wouldn’t want to end an ancient line like the Potters over a bit of a technicality.”
Blaise shrugged as he leaned over the potions and wrinkled his nose before turning his back to
them to hunt for another ingredient.

“Well unlike you Zabini, some of us care for our friends.” Ron huffed as his foot stomped and
made a loud thud on the stone. Blaise looked with disgust over his shoulder before he went back to
his hunt.

“I don’t have friends, Weasley.” Blaise said nonchalantly.

“Oh yeah— wait.” Ron cut himself off from whatever argument he had in his head once he
registered Blaise's response.

“I have family, I have acquaintances, I have people who it benefits me to be seen with, but I
wouldn’t call any of them friends. I don’t make friends, too much of a burden.” Blaise shrugged
again as if nodding off dinner plans. Harry felt a patting in his chest at how sad that seemed.

“That seems an awful lonesome way to live.” Hermione finally spoke. Blaise looked up from under
thick lashes as his pitch dark eyes searched her up and down. Harry was worried they may have
crossed whatever tentative line they had with the Slytherin.

“Look if the two of you are so worried for your friend, it seems like a pretty easy solution. Don’t
leave her alone. If this monster really was trained by Salazar it will look for easy prey to take out in
masses. Think about the attacks already: a cat alone in a corridor and a Muggleborn sneaking
around at night. Stick tight to her and any other Muggleborn you care about and it’ll make the
monster's job ten times harder. Can’t say it’ll work forever, but it’ll likely delay it. Maybe the
teachers will come up with a solution by then.” Blaise explained as he paused his potion making
for a moment. Harry tapped his foot harder as he thought. It was nearly the same advise his
grandfather had given him. Don’t let Hermione out of their sight and she should be fine for the
time being and Harry could tell the rest of the school the same. Or well maybe not him, that would
look suspicious, but he could get the word around.

“And you're certain you don’t know the real heir, not covering for your fellow Slytherins.” Ron
pressed one more time. Blaise was beginning to look rather bored as he lazily leaned on his hands
against the counter.

“You clearly have an opinion, so why not share it so I can give you a straight answer.” Blaise said
with a cock of an eyebrow. Ron shifted his weight between his feet as contemplated.

“Er, Malfoy.” Ron finally said sheepishly. The dungeon was surrounded with the sounds of
booming laughter as Blaise tumbled over himself with how humorous he found the suggestion. It
took several minutes for the noise to subside and the shelves to stop rattling with it.

“Malfoy? Really? That tosser? Merlin if he was the Heir the whole school would know by now. He
wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. No, it’s definitely not Malfoy.” Blaise said with a few
chuckles escaping as he began to stir his potion.

“You seem rather certain.” Hermione said a bit unsure how to respond to the outburst. Blaise gave
her another hard glance as he stirred with the clinking of the metal spoon on the cauldron the only
sound for a moment.

“Let me explain how you’ll understand, Granger. With facts, now Draco is the Malfoy heir and the
last of The House of Black. This makes him a Slytherin prince, of course, albeit an unfitting one,
but I’ll skip over that monologue for now. However, the Heir of Slytherin is supposed to be exactly
that a descendant of Slytherin himself. Now I know none of you may be familiar with this, but
families like the Malfoys and the Blacks they are obsessive about the heritage and they track it as
far back as it can go, granted they may purposefully lose some people that don’t fit their criteria
along the way, but the most certainly would not lose someone as prominent as Salazar Slytherin.
Even more so, they would never let anyone forget it. No, the last of Slytherin’s line died a while
ago, and the Blacks and Malfoys are not it. They are old French lines that immigrated to Britain. So
clearly, whoever is doing this has either found away around that part of the key or is some
illegitimate child. Neither of which fits Malfoy.” Blaise rested his case rather thoroughly now that
Harry had heard it. He felt rather foolish for thinking it was Malfoy in the first place.

“Now, if that’s all I really do need to focus on this next part.” Blaise said with a finality.

“What are you even brewing?” Hermione said, ever too curious. Blaise grunted before answering a
sign he was growing annoyed as Harry took a few steps back to grasp Hermione’s arm to guide her
out.

“It’s supposedly a cure to the Draught of Living Death.” Blaise said with a hint of another emotion
hidden in his words.

“That’s a sixth year potion, how can you brew that?” Hermione asked in awe as Harry started to
pull away before they blew all boundaries out of the water.

“I don’t know if I can, but I have to try. I like this husband, I don’t want him to go.” Blaise
mumbled under his breath as his eyes lowered onto the bubbling surface. Harry didn’t dare ask
what he meant and Ron was helping to pull Hermione out of the classroom before she could ask
any further questions and ruin the only decent relationship any of them had with a Slytherin.

Ron and Hermione grumbled a bit that night, but it wasn’t until the next morning that they tried
one last time to convince Harry to use their methods. Harry was just trying to enjoy his toast
surrounded by all the Weasleys as the spirit of the seasons was pulsing through all of them. Well,
mostly, there were a lot of underlying issues it would seem.

“I can’t believe Uncle Ignatius is making us all go home. I’m a prefect and I should be helping the
professors through this hard time and he is a professor! He should be here trying to solve this
issue.” Percy was complaining loudly as Fred and George tried to make bits of egg land in his hat
he was wearing. When one of them would make it the other would push them over and try to beat
them. Ginny sat shivering, staring into her tea as if it were going to grow legs and attack her, but
when anyone tried to say anything to her she just shook her head violently and went a shade paler.

“Draco isn’t at breakfast. Look, it could mean something.” Ron whispered under his breath as he
poked at Harry and pointed to the empty space between Grabbe and Goyle. The two large boys
looked rather confused without their usual leadership and had piled their plates high with food and
shoved anyone who tried to reach over at the food in front of them. A few Slytherins gave them
disgusted looks and moved to get food from elsewhere. Harry could see Blaise sitting next to a
small pretty brunette at the very far corner whispering quietly to one another. Maybe he was
finding friends after all.

“Do you think he’s planning an attack?” Hermione asked as she threw her thick hair over her
shoulder to gather her own glance. Harry sighed and set his toast down, suddenly a bit too tired to
eat. Thankfully, the loud roar of a collective hoot followed by a smattering of flapping wings
interrupted them temporarily. Hedwig came bearing a single letter and from the perfectly poised
script, Harry could tell it was from Regulus. I’m all the chaise and exhaustion, he’d only been able
to pin a letter to him yesterday. Likely, Ignatius had been keeping him updated, and Harry was
about to read a very worried letter. He cracked the seal to give him a few more moments of Draco-
 less talk and the first words struck him strangely.

We’ve returned to England early. Pollux is dead, please stay safe for us until the holidays begin.
We will discuss more later.

Suddenly, Draco’s absences made more sense as he sighed and stuffed the paper back into the
envelope to finish reading later. Percy was flinging open his copy of The Daily Prophet loudly as
the paper crinkled with each movement.

“Well I suppose it’s better this be front page then father’s inquiry at work.” Percy mumbled as he
glanced over the cover. Harry thought he saw a recognizable face on the front page.

“Sorry, Percy, what’s the first story?“ Harry asked leaning over Ron to speak to his brother as Ron
wrinkled his nose.

“Oh well, it appears Pollux Black has died.” Percy said with a lick of his lips as he held out the
paper for Harry to take a glance. There, surrounded by bold letters and with a flashing photo, Harry
could indisputably see a face that looks uncannily familiar. He’d never met Pollux in person, but
Blacks had a way of all carrying the same look. His face was stricter and thinner than his brother’s
own, but Harry could see a clear resemblance in the face. Then Harry’s stomach dropped as it hit
him. Uncle Marius and Aunt Cassiopeia, this was their brother. He could feel his face dropping as
he thanked Percy and leaned back in his seats.

“It’s alright mate, the world is better off without so many of the Black Family. Aunt Lucy is one of
the only good ones, and she has a niece that’s pretty alright. Her daughter and Charlie are good
friends. Get into a lot of trouble together, but what friendship doesn’t? She’s actually an Auror for
the Ministry of Magic, real bloody hard as nails.” Ron tried to encourage as he nudged at Harry,
only his words had the opposite impact as Harry swallowed heavily and could feel his throat
getting tight.

“Well, it’s pointless now. Draco likely won’t be here for Christmas any longer.” Harry tried to
change the subject as he pulled at his collar. Hermione perked her head up from her book she was
buried in and gave him a questioning glance.

“Remember what Blaise said? Heir of the Malfoys and last of the Blacks, he’s probably already
been pulled from school. Pollux would be his family.” Harry said with as casual a shrug as he
could manage as he chewed on lip and pushed his plate away. It was a rather inconvenient time for
a death, but at least he could use it to get Hermione and Ron off Draco for the next few days until
they boarded the train home.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you forever and always for reading <3

 The Brighter Twin Star
Chapter Notes

CW: mentions of prior abuse: mentions of an injury; mentions of blood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus couldn’t place the exact feeling that hung in the air. He didn’t know if they were all in
mourning because of Pollux or if it was the growing face of their own morality. Maybe it was both.
There was a blankness in the faces as they passed quickly from one task to the next and Regulus
found himself retreating into corners again. He never did well with the overwhelming senses of
grief.

Mindfully, he didn’t necessarily mourn Pollux. He’d always been cruel, but there was something
pathetic about him. The secondary state he lived in. Being second to Arcturus, to having a daughter
as an heiress, but never having a son as an heir. He was an absolutely awful grandfather. He liked
to use Regulus and Sirius as prodding posts. Death might suit him better than life, but to look in his
aunt and uncle's eyes and know they had lost a brother and even if they didn’t care for him, there is
always this creeping guilt and pain that sinks down your throat like a bitter potion.

There was relief when Harry finally returned from Hogwarts, though his face looked tired. He
chose to stay tucked close to Regulus or Sirius while Aunt Cassiopeia and Grandfather Arcturus
shuffled around and between houses constantly. Funeral arrangements needed to be made and a
wake arranged. They’d wanted it all finished before Christmas and apparently Uncle Cygnus had
his hands full keeping his mother in line and his wife alive. Aunt Druella had the poor experience
of a drawn out death, but Regulus again had a hard time feeling too much pain for the people who
he’d almost made into figments of imagination. Narcissa had offered to send notices to the people
of pureblood society, keeping herself away, but still keeping herself in good graces. Merlin,
Regulus could feel the sour taste in his mouth from it all. He’d been impressed with her if he was
any younger or any more naive. The perfect pureblood princess putting herself in a precisely poised
position. Even death was political.

Regulus kept himself in the drawing room with Harry close to his side most days. He read him
stories even if he was a bit too old for any of it anymore as he let him lean back on his chest and
kissed his messy dark hair. His skin was paler from the winter months as he would rub at an
unknown bruise or two that he shrugged off as Quidditch and then would curl into Regulus and ask
for Regulus to read him something in French. Sirius would sit across from them, his pencils
scratching painfully loud onto a sketchbook. They were dark clouds and shadow figures that didn’t
make much sense, but they all had their ways of handling this. Harry eventually fell asleep with
Regulus’ chin tucked on his head.

“You know he’s the first one.” Sirius grumbled as he darkened the page more than Regulus
thought possibly. Regulus turned his head as much as he could without disturbing Harry.

“Pollux, he’s the first one to die since I got thrown out of the family, who I can actually see the
downfall of it all. I didn’t get to go to Orion’s wake, or mother’s and then yours—” Sirius cut
himself off as dug his pencil so deep into the pages it shredded with a curt sound. Sirius shook
from toe to head as he let the crumbled dusty pieces fall to his lap.
“I don’t even care for him. He enjoyed hitting us around. Always was so angry Orion kept the line
going and he lived in that stupid manor like he was a king with Arcturus gone. Felt like he was the
heir even if he wasn’t, and I’m just so angry and I don’t know why.” Sirius gasped for air as he
spoke. Regulus shifted again as he put his hands into Harry’s hair as the young boy’s breathing
hitched for a moment before calming. He and Sirius haven't really been speaking since that
incident in the sunroom.

“And I said that stupid thing back in Switzerland because I was angry and I didn’t mean it, but it
came out anyways and I—I feel like I’m losing it. Which is mad because I lived with dementors. I
lived with our parents and I survived and some how fucking Pollux is the one getting under my
skin.” Sirius pushed the sketchbook to the floor with a clatter as Regulus flinched away from the
noise. It made Sirius pause halfway up from his seat as his hands started to tremble and his jaw
clenched tightly.

“Fuck, Reg. I’m sorry. I—” Sirius couldn’t finish his words as he collapsed back onto the seat into
a small messed up crouched form with his eyes staring blankly ahead. Regulus felt frozen.

“You know, I’ve found over the years. It’s not the events you expect to tear you down, but the
cumulation of trying and trying that eventually breaks us.” Arcturus said in a whispered tone as
Sirius and Regulus jumped. They hadn’t heard him enter and neither knew how long he had been
listening.

“You know contrary to what the two of you might believe, I personally don’t think you're the worst
of brothers. My own brother and I tried to actually kill each other on several different occasions.
Usually in a fit of rage, we got those from our father, but we never quite finished the job.” Arcturus
continued to speak as his walking stick dug into the ground with a soft tick sound in every step.

“I don’t doubt it’s not Pollux causing these fits of passion. Just as I don’t think spilling wine or
selling favourite ornaments were the ones that caused myself and my brother to be at each other’s
throats. Oddly enough, Pollux was the one to thrive off those interactions. I supposed he hoped one
of us would off the other and he’d get what he felt was rightfully his.” Arcturus continued his story
before he paused to put a soft wrinkled hand on Harry’s head with a gentle touch. “Anyways, all
these babblings of an old man are to say, you may fight. Merlin knows we know you two can fight,
but you both have something greater than you to worry about now. When all is said and done, he
will be what you have to look back on your life with. And as someone who has lost a child already,
no matter what you may have thought of him. They are the most precious gift and I would do
anything to make life have worked out better than it did. It’s too late for me, but it isn’t for the two
of you and I can only hope you both can see that and be the better men I know you can be.”
Arcturus said a bit humbly with each step soft against the floor. Regulus threaded his hands
through Harry’s head again as he watched him sleep. There wasn’t any response he could give that
would feel enough at the moment and as Sirius kicked his feet it seemed he came to the same
conclusion. Silently they were forgiving, but maybe one day the two would grow better at words.

Arcturus sat in his own place and set the walking stick aside as he pulled out a pipe from within
the layers of his thick cloak. As his wand lit the end, and the room filled with the vague smells, it
felt as if he was transported backwards for a brief moment. When he was young and sitting side by
side with his brother in this very sofa with their backs rigid and feet not reaching the ground. Their
father, their uncles and their grandfathers all gathered together in a tense silence and then Arcturus
would light his pipe and the room would ease a bit.

“What about Harry?” Regulus asked gently, breaking the moment. “What haven’t you told us?
What do you know?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know it all yet, but I will and I suppose it is best to not leave you with
questions. That is unfair of me. I have a plan. First, we must bury Pollux. Salazar cursed him. He
did always have impeccably poor timing, even in death. Second, Lucy and I have tea at the
Malfoys before the New Year begins. Marius has been hard at work perfecting a brew of
Veritasium that I will dutifully have Kreacher sneak into Lucius’ tea while Lucy distracts Narcissa.
She is much too strong a Legilimens to attempt to do so on her, but Lucius can only go so far. I
would just search his mind, but I fear he may just keep me away from what I need. They know
more than they let on. Once we have the information from them, I Obilvate him as I can, and we
reconvene with their information. Ignatius is poised at Hogwarts and if the Chamber of Secrets
truly has been opened and a beast unleashed, well there isn’t anyone else I would want to face
against it. He has defeated banshees, and manticores, and dragons alike in his life. Whatever is
coming, he will be prepared as best I can make him with no expense left unturned. He has seen this
before.” He paused as Regulus’ eyes widened.

“He was a student when the Chamber was supposedly opened. They blamed it on an Acromantula,
but Ignatius never believed it. Said the behaviour was not characteristic of such a creature, but the
attacks ceased and the poor girl who died, well her parents were a bit lost as Muggles in a magical
world and as done best, it was swept away. Even then, we could not find how to open it. I had even
worried that suspicion would fall on our own children. Mind you we are not related to Salazar nor
have we ever possessed Parseltongue, but we were prolific life long Slytherins. I had gone hunting
to try and find the answers, to follow the last line I knew could be connected to Slytherin, but then
life found a way to knock me off course. My beloved Melanie died not months later in a war that
shouldn’t have taken her, and I admit my own faults. I retreated. I gave up after a while. Left the
house to my son, who was never prepared to take the mantle, and with it left behind many
unfinished business, but I swear to you now. I will find this line again, and I will do all I can to
connect them to the culprit.” Arcturus’ firm tone wafted as high as the rafters of the old house it
felt. A solid determination that seemed to make Regulus’ heart beat faster.

“What about the Parseltongue, the voices? Lancelot said he found nothing.” Sirius pointed out with
his eyes flashing over to Regulus briefly before he sighed and stared back at their grandfather.

“I can try to look into his mind when he wakes up. Maybe it will tell me something, but I can’t be
sure it will give us any answers. I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how he could speak
Parseltongue. It is not a language that can be truly taught and the Potter line has never been
connected to a Parseltongue. We can research together to see if there may be a chance it slipped in
somewhere. For now, we care for him and we tried to find resolution as quickly as we can.”
Arcturus responded with his eyes growing slowly heavy as he let the pipe grow colder.

Regulus could only imagine the pressure his Grandfather had to be under as Sirius stood to take the
pipe from him and pulled a blanket on him. Arcturus let out a small grunt of protest at first, but
eventually took it appreciatively. He watched peacefully as their grandfather fell asleep with his
head nodding into his chest. Sirius sat back silently with his hand on his chin.

“I don’t know what we would do without him.” Sirius whispered.

“We’d survive I suppose, but it wouldn’t be easy.” Regulus answered just as quietly.

“I’m sorry again, Reg.” Sirius said, shaking his head.

“It’s forgotten.” Regulus answered before he turned his attention to Harry stirring on his chest. He
wanted more than anything to keep him safe and away from this painful world.

-
Arcturus walked down the middle of the rows of chairs laid out in the dying crisp ground. It hadn’t
snowed yet thankfully, but the way his knees ached it would be coming soon. Harry had been
hoping for fresh snow for Christmas. He scanned the crowd as he held onto his daughter’s free
arm.

The seats were filled with an older crowd of ancient families. As he took a seat in the front rows of
the crowd mainly full of older people from old families. Draco was the youngest one here it
seemed and he was at the end of the row fidgeting and leaning over to whisper to his mother often
as Narcissa would raise her pointed eyebrows. He’d huff and smack into the back of his chair. This
is how they gathered now, not at powerful meetings or ornate balls, but in the grim moments of
mourning. How the mighty do fall, he thought. The crowd grew quieter as an imposing figure took
the center.

“Irma in her grief has asked me to make a few words on her account as well as a few sentiments of
my own.” Cassiopiea addressed the crowd of mourners with a clear voice. Her eyes determined if
her hands appeared a little frail. Arcturus knew better than to take her words at value. He had seen
that state Irma was in, she may have strongly disliked her husband, but she had hardly known a life
without him. He had watched as Cygnus had slipped tonic after tonic in his mother’s drink just to
calm her. Otherwise she would go about storming the manor ranting and raving about one matter
or another. It distrubed Druella, who by some miracle was still holding onto her life. Arcturus did
not blame Cygnus for his methods, he was growing older and the mounting realisation of how
alone he truly would become was growing more clear with each passing year. He would live to
bury his wife and his mother and if Bellatrix spent much longer in her confinements it is likely he
would bury her as well.

His only hope lay with his youngest daughter. The one that had almost taken his wife from him
many years ago. Arcturus had been in the very next room with the rest of the men when he could
feel the air change. The Blacks gave birth at home, as was tradition, with the women of the family
helping and a single midwife. Melanie had been their midwife for many years, making it a true
family affair. Once she was gone, a distant cousin took her place and helped Druella through her
three births. They should have known there was bound to be an issue one day, but they were all
much too arrogant. His own daughter had nearly missed the birth, arriving in a whirlwind with her
husband on her tail. Ignatius had made his place quietly in a corner of the room sitting stiffly next
to Orion when they heard the scream. Not the typical cries of childbirth, a more horrific noise and
it did not come from the mother. The sounds of loud boots banging across the short hall and a
shoulder slamming into the doorway greeted them next as the quiet tones of conversation died out
and Cygnus had jumped to his feet away from his father and brother. Lucretia came in with a
horror stricken face and arms coated in blood to her elbows.

“Ignatius, call for Lancelot immediately. Something is terribly wrong, we cannot get the bleeding
to stop!” She had gasped before turning to try and exit before Cygnus crossed the room in two
strides without even a blink of an eye.

“What is wrong? What of the midwife?” He panicked.

“Some midwife, she fainted on the job. I have to go, she doesn’t have much time. We need
Lancelot. I must go, Cy. Burga can only do so much.” Lucretia shook her way free as she whipped
around with the long braid down her back nearly striking her cousin. Ignatius had wasted no time
and disappeared into the Floo before she had even finished speaking. He returned seconds later
with frantic breathing and only a moment later the tall distinguished healer came running out of the
Floo with a bag half open floating to his side and another healer just on his heels with her hands
frantically catching all he threw at her.
“Keep the blood replenishing potions in each hand, Euphemia. We need to check for pelvic
fractures and confirm any internal bleeding if we can stop the haemorrhaging. I need you to check
on the child first, see if any medical care is needed. Listen to Lucretia, she has rudimentary healer
training from her mother. She may have already pinpointed any major issues. If the child is fine I
need you by my side immediately.” Lancelot had ordered without a single glance to anyone else as
he raced down the hall toward the crying and screaming.

The room had fallen so silent after that. Cygnus had to make many difficult decisions that day. He
chose to save his wife, but at the cost of her never bearing another child. They hadn’t learned the
sex of the baby until after it was all done. Most people would have broken over it, but Cygnus had
always been a bit different. He thought his final daughter was so beautiful he couldn’t find a star in
the sky pretty enough for her. So he named her after the flower he adored. Arcturus felt his mind
snap from the memory as Cassiopeia’s voice fell on his ears again.

“My brother was a strong head of his House. He faced many tragedies in his life and he handled
them with a strong will and an iron fist. Anyone who knew Pollux understood his intentions within
moments of meeting him. He was not one to avoid the subject at hand and we all respected him for
it. His greatest pride was his family. He’d spent his entire life dedicated to them and doing
everything in his power to allow them strength and authority. He was never perfect, but at the end
of it all, he was a father, a brother, and a husband. His presence will be greatly missed by us all.
Thank you for your respect and your honour during these trying times. Pollux would want us all to
remember him at his greatest and to care for the family he does have remaining.” She concluded to
quiet hums of approval. Arcturus could feel pinpoints on his back as he looked over his shoulder.
A cough hid his small sad smile.

People came and went rather quickly as they made their final goodbyes. A few white roses stood
stark against the solid black casket closed to the vaguely fading winter sun. Arcturus stood and
took Cassiopeia’s arm as they followed the last of their family out. He paused for a moment though
to catch the movement in the shadows as he listened to Cygnus’ weak thanks before he slipped
away to take care of his wife and mother.

Marius was hidden under a dark cloak that shadowed half his face and obscured his outline except
as a floating cape to the darkening backdrop. The grounds had been cleared of all but the lone
groundskeeper who was limping off into the main storage room of the manor. He was only there
for the day to make the burial arrangements complete. They would lower his brother into the
ground tonight and cover him in dirt once and for all. This was his only chance, his last chance to
have any time with him. He took careful steps over fallen branches and starch leaves until he was
standing looming over the coffin. It was the only time in his memory he had ever stood over his
older brother.

“You bloody bastard.” Marius’ words shook with each syllable. “You bloody fucking bastard.
They tell me you went quickly in the end. The healers made you as comfortable as possible until
you slipped off in your sleep. Dragon Pox, I’m sure you're kicking yourself for dying so plainly.
Always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, but then Regulus stole that from you didn’t he? He
was a bastard just as you, but he at least had his redeeming qualities. Did you hear our sister’s
speech? A father, a brother and a husband. No caring words of adornment, no extra flair for
dramatics, just simple titles. You didn’t even deserve those. What was it you told me? You’d rather
cut out your own tongue than be a brother to me. Merlin, if you could only see me now. If only
you could have known how all your torture and torment would turn me into a force of a man. A
man you could never be. I have a wife, one who loves me. Not one forced to marry me for the sake
of sons. I never could have children, but you knew that. You knew every horrific act of our parents.
Each morsel of pain they extracted from me until I was on the brink of death. The constant
reminders, the colossal disappointment I was. You probably enjoyed hearing me scream and beg
 for mercy. I always wondered if they would do it. If I had stayed, would they truly have killed me?
They threatened it so often. The moment I was of age would be my last moment alive.” His voice
caught in his throat. He couldn’t stand here in the dark for much longer.

“Our sister has cared for me and I for her in ways you would never understand. And what of
Dorea? Her family, her husband and son? You never cared much for her. The baby, the forgotten
one. You should have saved her. Arcturus trusted you with her safety and what did you let happen?
Death Eaters. The Death Eaters took them all. Left me and Cassie in mourning for years and you
were probably so proud when your granddaughter became one of them. You always grovelled after
the power of others. You were never even half the man Arcturus is. You never deserved to sire his
spare. Yet here we are, you likely died believing your son would be the last of us. Your grandson
as the last of our heirs. I want to be the one to tell you. Sirius and Regulus are alive and well and
free. They carry on our name and they do it better than any of us could. After all this, after all we
have suffered, this is the end.” Marius could feel a chill in his bones not caused by the frosty winter
night.

He let the shuddering of emotions pent from decades flow through him before he took one long
calming breath, catching the glittering stars beginning to peak throughout the sky. His middle name
was Castor. It was to be his first name, but paperwork had gotten mixed up and instead of being
named after the stars like his family. He had gotten the name of his mother’s uncle. It had worked
out in the end when they realised what a disappointment he would be. It was better he had a plain
name. The connection was there though and when he was but a small child he desperately wanted
his name to have been Castor. To have been the brother he always had dreamed he could be. To be
the lesser star to his brother’s brighter yet it wasn’t written in the stars.

“I hope you find peace brother.” He whispered as he pulled the single flower he had out from his
cloak and placed it at the end, away from where the pile of others was located. His hand brushed
against the smooth edges for only a moment before he took one final glance and slipped away into
the shadows.

Arcturus had watched the entire scene unfold from the darkness beyond, just barely able to catch
the words. He had known in his heart Marius would come to pay his final farewell. It is what made
him a better person than his brother. He had watched and waited and confirmed no one would
bother his younger cousin as he did. Marius deserved his animointy. The world would not be kind
to him if he was exposed. The world was never kind.

Marius became smaller and smaller in his descent down the dark dirt path. Arcturus wondered if he
wanted to be buried here one day. In the old family grounds under the shadow of the looming
manor and the expansive flat land. Or if the old French tombs were more comforting. Arcturus had
chosen to bury his entire family there. His wife, his brother, his sister, and even his son after a
funeral in England he’d paid to move his body to France. Orion had always felt free in France, it
was one of the few places he had experienced happiness. Maybe he wanted to be buried far away
from the entire family, and share a grave with his wife’s people. There was only one thing for
certain. Arcturus would likely never live to see him buried and for that he was thankful.

Chapter End Notes

Hi all who read these!

I just wanted to give a quick note for some context. I have had a rough two weeks in
my personal life, and while I am handling it as best I can. I do only have so much
energy. Thankfully for all of you, writing is my solace and I retreat to it when things
get rough. Hence the technically four chapters this week. However, if you notice me
taking longer to respond to comments or shorter notes at the end. I just likely have not
had the mentality. I like to put my all into all my replies and not leave them half
hearted. Know I have read every single one and they have brought me so much joy
and I will reply when I can. Thank you for understanding and to all a good week <3
 Tit for Tat
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse; threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Harry, you behave for Uncle Ignatius today. It’s just going to be him looking after you with Aunt
Lucy at tea.” Regulus advises as he tries to yank a brush through the back of Harry’s hair.

“Her and Grandfather Arcturus are going to the Malfoys today, right? To find out about the
Chamber of Secrets?” Harry said with an innocent enough grin as he turned with the comb still
stuck in his hair. Regulus rolled his eyes as he took his wand to pull it out. No method Muggle or
Magic seemed to work for his hair. Which was quite ironic given the most recent Potter Potion’s
usage.

“How do you know that?” Regulus asked as he defeatedly let the mess of hair stick up however it
wanted. He was going to Prewett Hall for the night anyway. Knowing the Weasleys, his hair
would be a mess within minutes.

“Not hard to piece together. All the scheming and whispering. Uncle Marius is muttering and
pacing a lot, so he has something to do with it. Besides he’s gone three shades paler from being
trapped in the basement. There is a potions room down there, yes? I remember when I was little
you always kept it locked.” Harry perked up as Regulus went to put the brush away in the room
Harry occupied while they stayed here. Sirius had offered years ago to let Harry take his room so
he could be closer to Regulus, but Harry chose one of the empty rooms closer to the ground floor
and left Sirius and Regulus’ room reflecting against each other still. The black wooden doors
staring emptily down at each other, but maybe not as anxious as they once had.

“Maybe we should have raised you to be a bit more oblivious.” Regulus said as he pulled thick
robes out for their travels. Wales would be colder than London.

“Are they going to hurt anyone?” Harry asked rather incautiously. Maybe they hadn’t raised him
perfectly, but they’d done the best they could.

“Not if they can’t help it. Violence isn’t always the way to answer.” Regulus said as he motioned
for Harry to stand and raise his arms while Regulus slipped the robes over his shoulders.

“Sometimes it is though.” Harry stated plainly. Regulus couldn’t respond before the door to Harry's
room flung open carelessly and nearly bounced off the walls with a thud.

“Sirius!” Harry called as he jumped over excitedly to where Sirius was leaning in the doorway.

“Alright, little Prongs? Reg, the potion, also does Uncle Marius look ill to anyone else? Seems he’s
lost some weight and he’s always been a thin little wire.” Sirius said as he tossed a vial of Polyjuice
Potion to Regulus who caught it without a move of his head in his weaker arm. Sirius snorted
appreciatively.

“He just lost his brother. I think him and Aunt Cassiopeia both deserve time.” Regulus said as he
crossed the room to face his brother and stare down at the bag to his side as he lowered his voice.
“Did you grab extra?”

“You two are planning something too.” Harry said in a slightly higher pitch as he turned to plop
down on the bed with a squeak as he reached under for the shoes he had evidently kicked there a
time ago.

“Harry—” Regulus started before Harry popped up, shoes in hand.

“I know, I know, I’m just a kid.” Harry rolled his eyes as he passed between the two of them to the
cooler air of the hall.

“You don’t need to worry yourself about this matter. It’s something for Sirius and I to sort out.”
Regulus replied as they followed him down the stairs with a shuffling of his sock covered feet. He
didn’t respond until he reached a bench by the front hall and slipped his boots onto his feet.

“Well, whatever it is I hope you two are safe and I wouldn’t keep it from Grandfather Arcturus for
much longer. He’ll find out one way or another, you’re just lucky he’s preoccupied right now.”
Harry shrugged as he buttoned the top of his robes just under his neck.

“How’d he get so smart? That’s gotta be Lily, James wouldn’t have seen us even if we planned it
in front of him.” Sirius whispered to Regulus. Regulus sighed as he grabbed onto the potion and
downed it without another word. Sirius snorted as he followed suit. Polyjuice potion never went
down easily and he could feel the twitches before they started anymore, but thankfully as soon as
they began the end was only a moment later.

“What happens in a few years? I mean not ageing for a year is one thing, but with the hair Aunt
Helena collected from those Muggles won’t it keep turning you into the same version of them.
How are you going to explain not changing for seven years or even more? I mean if you can ever
reveal who you really are.” Harry said with his chin tucking under his head sadly.

“One day Harry, maybe we will be able to show the world, but it’s not today and besides Helena
says these Muggles still live a few villages over. If we need to, I think we could manage to get a bit
of hair as they get older.” Regulus said as he brushed onto Harry’s shoulder.

“Or just say we have great genes? I mean it can't be worse than the inbred ones right?” Sirius joked
to lift the mood as Harry let out a chortle and Regulus gave his brother a look over.

Ignatius was waiting for them with his hair at all ends and Lucretia dressed in her tea clothes by his
side as she stood on her toes to wipe at his hair. Regulus and Sirius approached slowly, as Harry
dashed ahead and said quick hellos to Ignatius and Lucretia before disappearing into the vast house
to hunt down Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. Lucretia was giggling with her eyes crinkling in the
corner.

“Did you bring home some of those Blast-Ended Skrewts?” Sirius asked as his bag clanked loudly
to his side. It was filled with the extra Polyjuice potions they would need for the day. Lucretia eyed
them from the side.

“Filibuster Fireworks, Fred and George set them off by accident when they were racing to tackle
Percy. Broke the picture window in the living room and nearly killed Ron’s pet. Lancelot
practically threw them over the cliff while I did the clean up. He has them down by the water
collecting seashells for what I’m pretty sure is a nonexistent healing potion.” Igantius said flatly as
he shook off even more ash from his greying hair.
“Well whenever they get too much, I like to remind myself of two boys who would have
appreciated every little antic.” Lucretia said softly as she wiped off her hands away from her fine
clothes.

“Fabian and Gideon would love them.” Ignatius said softly with his eyes growing darker. “Though
it was easier to keep up with them when I was twenty years younger.”

“Nonsense, because if you're admitting you're old, then I am just as old darling and we simply can’t
have that. Now keep everyone alive, I have to go. Being late to the Malfoys will do us no favours. I
will be back tonight my love, and you two whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t get caught.”
She said with a stern look as she waved vaguely at the bag strapped over Sirius’ shoulder. She took
a few steps away from the house before a loud snap shook them in their place and she had
disappeared back to England.

“Suppose I can’t fancy a cup of tea to convince you to stay?” Ignatius said as he eyed them both
separately.

“We actually have errands to run.” Sirius said nonchalantly.

“Does Arcturus know what you’re doing?” Igantius asked with raised eyebrows that looked
slightly singed.

“I mean he may, or he may not.” Sirius answered with a cheeky grin plastered across his other
face. The Muggle’s face had a single dimple to one side that stood out when he did it. Ignatius let
out an exhausted sort of sigh as he kicked his legs forward with a snap of the slippers he was still
wearing.

“Best let him know soon, you know it’s impossible to keep secrets from him nor does it do you any
favours.” Ignatius replied.

“Harry said nearly the same thing.” Regulus said under breath.

“I’m not surprised, you raised him. I am surprised he’s convinced you of whatever this is. It’s a
nice change, but don’t be doing anything foolish. If anything goes pear-shaped, you reach out.”
Ignatius said with a quick jut of his chin.

“Don’t worry Uncle Ig, we’re just having a look around. Reg here is just thinking about getting a
cat.” Sirius winked before the two of them stepped off the front and disappeared in a flush of wind.
Ignatius shook his head as he heard a crashing noise that sounded distinctly like his grandmother's
old vase hitting the wooden floors.

“Merlin, let’s hope everyone survives today.” Igantius sighed as he turned back towards his home
with the sound of the door snapping shut rebounded off the walls.

“Cassie.” Arcturus called from where he sat with glasses perched at the point of his nose. The thick
frames barely helped to keep in focus the faded and worn words of the cracked spined book in his
hands.

“Dear cousin.” Cassiopeia said as she came sweeping into the room with a thick shawl over her
shoulders.

“Can you read this? Is it about ancient pureblood societies?” Arcturus waved her over vaguely. She
sighed as her thin legs sat on the edges of the sofa and her long fingers reached for the book gently.
She pulled her own pair of spectacles to the highest point of her nose as she looked down at the
words.

“Arcturus, this is shadows in darkness, I can’t be sure anyone could read this anymore.” She said
as she flung the thinnest pages over a few times.

“I had hoped it looked better to younger eyes. There’s a spell to restore the words, I’ve just never
had the patience for it.” Arcturus grumbled.

“Marius is rather good at the spell, he did meet Helena at a bookstore looking for first editions in
between the shelves. I could have him take a knock at it, but something this size will take days if
not weeks to restore. What exactly are you looking for?” Cassiopeia replied as she gently closed
the softened covers together.

“Information, on an old family, one that died out a time ago. They would have been the last of the
descendants of Salazar Slytherin. I had never given them much mind when they died off. The folly
of being young, never realising in my own life I may watch my own line die away.” Arcturus
sighed as his head leaned back into the sofa that had been there since before he’d been born.
Cassiopeia shifted a few times in her place.

“I’m sorry, dear I hadn’t meant it in that way.” Arcturus corrected as he dug his two fingers into his
temple trying to ease the tension.

“I don’t wallow in my grief. Pollux cannot be brought back nor did he ever care to redeem himself.
I’ll take this book to Marius and if you give me the name of the family I can search the books here
for any notice of them. I’d rather be kept busy and with the house half empty and quiet, a task
would be good for me.” Cassiopeia pointed out. Arcturus turned to run his hands over hers in
gratitude. She smiled briefly.

“The Gaunts, my dear. It’s the Gaunt family, Morfin and Marvolo were the last men of the line.
They died in the early nineteen hundreds, I can’t recall exact dates but I believe one was in the
twenties and the other in the forties, but they both served time in Azkaban. I don’t recall there ever
being any children born, but there was a daughter. She went missing and no one cared to look for
her.” Arcturus explained as he lifted himself from the couch. His own daughter would be arriving
any moment now to leave for tea at the Malfoys. He had a long evening ahead of him and if
Cassiopeia was willing to help with his search, he’d be graciously grateful.

“The Gaunts, I’ve heard of them. They went mad and destitute in the eighteen hundreds if I recall
correctly.” She mumbled as she turned to face the towering bookshelf overstuffed with ancient
collections of pureblood records and Dark Arts practices.

“Yes the father of the two children had married his half sister I believe, made for some rather
precarious conditions in them. Maybe Lancelot has medical records, though I severely doubt it.
They weren’t ones to trust Wizarding society.” Arcturus shook his head as he heard the sounds of
the front door opening come up the stairs. Lucretia had arrived.

“By the way, have you the foggiest what Regulus and Sirius are doing? Marius says they took
extra Polyjuice Potion this morning while he was bottling the Veritasium.” Cassiopeia asked as she
leaned gracefully back into a seat with a new book opened across her lap.

“Something about chasing a rat. They've been studying it for a while now, but have gotten
nowhere. I haven’t bothered them with it yet. If it becomes an issue I’ll push, for now they are
grown men and can search as they please.” Arcturus answered as he crossed the room with his
walking stick catching the afternoon sun rays and sparkling them across the far wall.
“A rat? I swear those two. Well Marius and I will be hard at work and whenever Helena returns
from covering at St. Mungo’s I'll see if she wishes to help. Good of Lancelot to give her work to do
while she’s here. She never sat still well, quite like someone else I know.” Cassiopeia raised an
eyebrow as she licked her finger before turning the page. He always found the strange habit a bit
endearing.

“Quite like someone I know as well.” He chuckled over his shoulder as he took the stairs carefully.
The sounds of conversation hinted along the bannisters as he descended.

“Merlin, I hope this works. I’ve never had the need to brew such a potion. If I did it incorrectly it
could be useless, or even worse deadly.” Marius was humming with the rhythmic tapping of a toe
nearly drowning out his words. Lucretia held the clear vial up to the light with her eyes squinted.

“It’s the correct consistency. It isn’t my first time with such a potion, thankfully, a certain astute
wizard raised his children to be resistant to its effects.” She answered with a glimmer to her eye as
her arm lowered and she nodded to her father.

“A talent Abraxas often complained his son had little fortune in. Thankfully enough for us.
Narcissa could resist the strongest brew though, so we must be careful to make certain the potion
only finds its way into Lucius’ tea.” Arcturus said with a tilt of his chin. On cue, the quick flash of
a small brown blur appeared at the end of the stairs.

“Kreacher will do just fine, Master Arcturus. Kreacher will just need Mistress Lucretia distract the
bad elf Dobby for a moment.” The elf croaked as he padded over to take the vial and tucked it into
a pocket sewn into the grey outfit that Regulus had pieced together for the elf when he refused to
take real clothes. It appeared at one time to have been an old pillowcase.

“I’ll find some excuse for Narcissa to call him. I’m hoping she’ll be looking for her own
information. She will dismiss something she sees as insignificant, such as an elf.” Lucretia said
quietly as she smoothed out an nonexistent wrinkle in her dress.

“No time to waste then. We all have our roles and we have goals. If successful, we shall have our
answer by the end of the night and hopefully can extinguish these happenings at Hogwarts before
Harry and the other students need to return.” Arcturus said. He held out his arm for his daughter,
who took it carefully in between her small hands that looked much like her mothers. Strong, but
petite in form and slowly growing aged in a way that Melanie never could. Before their feet even
struck pavement the two of them whirled onto softened grass. The soft flakes of snow had begun to
fall farther away from London. The chill and low clouds made the towering Malfoy Manor a
frightening sight to behold as the windows fogged over appearing to hide secrets within.

“Arcturus, Lucretia, how pleasant to host you once again. Just so sorrowful what it took to join us
together.” Narcissa greeted them with slimming robes swaying just below her knees and a tight
smile pulling to the edges of her temple. Her poised stop found heels together and her hands
pristinely placed seemed to show she was less than upset about the recent events and more trying
to feel the reasoning behind the tea.

“I do hope Aunt Cassieopia is coping, it's a pity to bury all your siblings.” She said with her teeth
peeking from behind her lips when they had approached closer in the echoing hallway. Arcturus
and Lucretia had a shared glance for a moment as Lucretia let out a small flared breath. What did
Narcissa know of loss? Her family had survived intact all these years and even with her mothers
waning health, their relationship had always been strained with the former Rosier. They were never
known to be a kind family.

“Lucius should be joining us in just a moment. He had to stop for a quick session with the
Ministry, but I have the table set.” She said over her shoulder as they swept into the tea room. The
windows had been freshly cleaned and the light shined up the walls even with the grey skies
outside. An exemplary arrangement of sandwiches and sweets without a single flaw to the placings
was laid out. They had only just sat when the jingle of a walking stick struck their ears as it paced
down the hallways at a rather measured pace. Arcturus fixated his eyes on the entrance to the room
as he placed his own walking stick against his knee and waved Narcissa’s hand away when she
offered to take it. Her eyes narrowed at him as she fluffed out her skirt around her waist and sat
with her ankles crossed. Lucius’ hair was vivid against the washed out skin of winter.

“Afternoon. Apologies for my delay, but it was for a good cause. Measly Arthur Weasley’s actions
have finally caught up to him thanks to that useless son. Clearly, they should have stopped with the
children sooner with how much trouble that one manages to find himself in. They were only going
to fine him ten Galleons for the bewitched car, but I was able to convince them fifty was a more
amable amount. Whenever he returns from visiting yet another of his spawn, where is it, Cissa? Oh
Africa, yes working for the Goblins, he will be in for a sore surprise. I reckon it will take a good
many months to scrounge the amount together.” Lucius smiled wickedly the entire time as he took
lackadaisical steps to his place. Lucretia’s lips twitched for a moment before she controlled her
facial expression.

“And how much did such a fine cost you?” Arcturus asked piercingly. Lucius' eyes flicked to him
with a foul gaze.

“My Galleons and his have a greatly different value when his funds are sparse and mine are
plentiful.” He answered in a drawn tone.

“Yet to punish one man costs you more than he will have paid. Is that power or pettiness?”
Arcturus posed. A quick silence fell. Lucretia took her moment to clear her throat and draw away
from the animosity growing over the table.

“Well, before we begin, Narcissa, I was hoping for a favour from you. My roses have been a bit
lacklustre this season, yet your gardens seem to thrive. Have you any advice? I would adore any
bits of information.” Lucretia said as she tossed her hair with a shake and grin on her face.
Narcissa’s eyes shined. She was particular in what she was involved in, but her garden was as a
second child to her and the easiest way to slip into her good graces was to compliment the lush
grounds.

“It's this new fertilising potion. An exorbitant cost, but brings out the colours in wonderful ways.”
Narcissa said, beaming.

“Oh, I know there is a nip in the air, but could I trouble you for a quick stroll? We’d only need a
moment and these two can settle their matters of business.” Lucretia said as she shot a glare at the
two men. Narcissa let out a short laugh as she stood quickly.

“A bit of fresh air could do well and I can show you the potion. It is just working wonders.”
Narcissa replied.

“Perfect. Oh could I bother you for a pair of winter robes? Maybe your elf could fetch a pair. I
must say winters are growing harsher it seems.” Lucretia poised the request with perfect ease.
Arcturus couldn’t be more proud. He had raised a powerful daughter. Narcissa complied with a nod
as they left side by side with quieted conversations. Lucius watched with his head moving slowly.
His back was to the entrance. Arcturus had made certain to leave that the only place for him to sit,
knowing Lucretia would guide Narcissa to the place next to her.

“Ignatius has a good wife. They seem rare to come by anymore. I worry for Darco’s future with so
many of the old ways falling out of fashion.” Lucius commented before he turned back to face
Arcturus. “Of course, her original courtship did fall to pieces, but how convenient it was for your
old friend Alwyn Prewett’s second son to step into the place so perfectly. Does make one nostalgic
for the old marriage arrangements.”

Arcturus let Lucius speak. Dragging up the old business of how his daughter had been meant to
marry another man before Ignatius was a cheap tactic, but Lucius never did miss a chance to try
and dig into the old gossip. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be surprised if he let him continue if he’d bring
up his own flawed marriage. He was too old for these games. Time had begun to tick the moment
Narcissa stood.

“Mind if we begin tea while they are away?” Arcturus requested. Lucius shrugged as he flicked his
wrist and called a name without looking behind him. In the far corner, a familiar face peaked into
the room. Kreacher gave a short nod before he slipped away without a sound. The tea cups
appeared without a single movement in the room beside the small shake of the dark liquid. Malfoys
elves are always there but rarely seen.

“That elf my father left me with has been a hassle. He sends his regards and regrets for being
unable to attend Pollux’s wake. His health has been a concern and it’s best if he stays in the
warmth. A man of your age can relate I am certain.” Lucius said as he bent forward for the tea cup
closest to him. Arcturus watched with each careful movement calculated in his mind. He could feel
a smile behind his lips as he heard Lucius take the first fateful sip. He’d know in only a moment if
Marius had been successful as he picked his cup up, but left it in his lap as he looked out the wide
windows and soaked in the scenery for a beat.

“Do you enjoy throwing my own misfortunes in my face, Lucius?” Arcturus asked with a smirk
pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes.” Lucius answered without hesitation. There was a strong ring in the silence that followed as
Lucius shifted in his seat and sipped again to cover his uncomfortable stance

“Does it help with your own insecurities of the position you take from your father? He never was
able to outdo me.” Arcturus asked.

“Of course.” Lucius answered blatantly. There was a shuffling and small clink as the tea cup hit
the saucer. Arcturus couldn’t help it. He let out a small laugh.

“What did you do?” Lucius asked with his eyes flickering and his hand twitching to where his
wand was concealed in his walking stick, but he had set his aside against the table. It was out of
arm’s reach.

“I wouldn’t try. Unless you truly believe you can outdo me and mind you, how could you explain
such an act to my daughter or to your father by law? Cygnus is watching over Draco today is he
not? I believe Druella wanted some time with her only grandson. Her time is so precious now.”
Arcturus said as his free hand tapped at the top of his own walking stick. The end of his wand
sticking out menacingly already half pulled from its place. Lucius weighed his options while he
roughly set down the tea with a huff of air, he evidently decided to lean back in his place.

“Good boy, Lucius. Always trying to please. Now, we don’t have long and my request is simple.”
Arcturus said. Lucius’s jaw was strained painfully.

“Never were very good at countering Veritasium. Lucky for you, it couldn’t be used during the
trials. You would have confessed to every heinous crime you’ve ever committed. I promise this is
easier than the ways I’ve used in the past. How is it you said? I am a man of a certain age.”
Arcturus settled in his spit, never wavering his eye or his hand on the end of his wand.

“You are no innocent Arcturus. You’ve done just as I have, if not worse.” Lucius viciously spat
out.

“I never claimed to be such, but I never did it in the name of another man, Lucius. Now, enough
talk. Tell me about the Chamber of Secrets.” Arcturus demanded.

“What about it?” Lucius shot back.

“How has it been opened once more?” Arcturus replied. He needed to be quick and succinct to get
answers.

“A diary.” Lucius said through clenched teeth.

“Now Lucius, do not make this more painful then we must. Who’s dairy?” Arcturus questioned.

“The Dark Lord’s diary. He gave it to me before he went to face the Potters.” Lucius answered.
“Why would he give such an object to you? How does it open the Chamber of Secrets?” Arcturus
asked.

“He wanted it protected and guarded. He said it was the key to opening the Chamber of Secrets. I
didn’t ask questions of him.” Lucius responded with his nose flaring in anger.

“And you have what? Given the diary to Draco to accomplish this mission?” Arcturus prodded as
his ears strained for any steps of arrival, but the halls around them were silent.

“Ha, you think I would endanger my own son, my only heir. I am not you, Arcturus. The diary is in
the poor unfortunate hands of Ginny Weasley. I slipped the book to her that day you came upon us
in Flourish and Blotts. I wanted to use the action to discredit Arthur Weasley and his nuisance raids
and that pesky Muggle-Protection Act. I hadn’t figured it would take so long to kill a simple
Mudblood. It happened much quicker last time.” Lucius snarled in reply.

“You’ve given the task to an eleven year old girl to open an ancient Slytherin Chamber and you
expected this to go easily? I can’t imagine how this daft idea made any sense.” Arcturus said in
shock as his eyes flustered over Lucius’ tense form.

“I was told the diary would work in the hands of anyone with its enchantments. The girl seemed
the easiest target. The lanky pointed nose one is a prefect, those twins are too unpredictable and for
reasons likely selfish, Ronald has aligned himself rather precariously close to Mister Potter. For
having so many children, it left me with few options.” Lucius answered.

“Pathetic, using a child to get your way.” Arcturus began as he heard the keen sound of heels
rattling on the shining floors. He had seconds remaining.

“How do we close it? End the Chamber of Secrets for good?” Arcturus asked quickly.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how it was opened.” Lucius said with a sharp inhale.

“Drink this, don’t make it difficult otherwise I will begin asking very uncomfortable questions with
your wife present.” Arcturus commanded as he tossed a small vial of antidote to Lucius. His
wicked eyes never looked aside as he downed it in a single sip.

“I won’t forget this Arcturus.” Lucius said as he wiped the corner of his lip.
 “Actually, you will. Obliviate.” Arcturus said as he unsheathed his wand and the spell struck
Lucius squarely as his eyes clouded over and his face went slack. A moment later the small sounds
of voices caught in the tea room. Lucius smacked his lips a few times as Arcturus vanished the tea
cups in front of them.

“I do hope your roses will benefit from it, I have always admired how you grow them in such rough
conditions.” Narcissa said with her chin held high.

“Good chat, the two of you?” Lucretia asked with a glint in her eye.

“Business as usual, my dear.” Arcturus answered with a satisfied smile.

Chapter End Notes

How many thinly veiled insults can I fit into one conversation?

Thank you for all the comments and for reading along! I always appreciate it!
 T M Riddle
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior violence; descriptions of a panic attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The soft edge of whiskers rubbed against his hand as he stuck a finger between the wired cage to
pet the small creature. He’d always enjoyed cats. Something in the eyes drew him to them, but he’d
never owned one. His family was not the kind to enjoy the company of animal companions. They
had owls out of necessities and other small creatures who met differing levels of demise for potions
or magical practices. Never anything as mundane as a cat though.

“She’s part Knealze. We have a nice older woman that breeds them. It's a tricky matter to get a cat
and Kneazle together, but she’s got it spot on.” A fresh young voice said. Regulus turned to face
the same cashier he’d met before.

“I remember you. You were here during the summer. With the Potter boy right? Do you know him
well? I couldn’t believe I got to see him with me own eyes.” She said in an Irish accent. Regulus
retreated his hand to the loud protest of the creature in the cage as he smiled politely.

“Still looking for a rat? I must say you seem more of a cat person to me. Midnight there seems to
enjoy you. Between her and our old orange fellow over there, they are the two longest residents.”
She continued as she pulled a few boxes from above a glass container of sleeping toads.

“Midnight huh?” Regulus said as he brushed his hand towards the black fluffy animal.

“Seemed fitting given the fur. It’s rather rare for a Kneazle, but I suppose not for a half breed one.
She’s about ten so people often want younger ones even if I explain that part-Kneazle can reach
near Kneazle life spans of forty or so years.” She called over her shoulders as she disappeared into
the tall leaning shelves. Regulus gave Midnight another scratch before following her.

“The owner went to the Three Broomsticks for his mid day drink, but he should be back any
moment. It’s nearly half past the hour. You’re welcome to wait for him.” She said kindly before
blowing dust around the shop from the drop of the boxes. Her hands made quick work of
unpacking feed and supplies.

“Thanks.” Regulus murmured as he leaned on the counter and glanced around the overstuffed shop
and the noises that filled it from various creatures. A rat was sitting next to him strangely and a
Puffskein batch was filling his ears with an off tuned hum as the saleswoman unloaded a batch of
lacewing flies.

“Name is Sarah by the way.” She said as went to stop a Niffler from reaching its short arms out to
snatch at a shiny talon clipper.

“Reg.” Regulus answered quietly. Maybe he should have thought of a less obvious name, but no
one had ever called him it besides his brother before and from the look of the young saleswoman,
she wouldn’t have been old enough to have attended Hogwarts with them.
“Well Reg, going to give me any idea why you're so obsessed with a rat possibly missing a toe.”
She laughed as she wiped her hands on her front jumper. Thankfully, the bell to the shop rang out
loudly before he had to come up with a viable excuse. The sounds of two people laughing and
conversing bounced off the walls of cages and spooked more than a few animals as the sounds of
squawks and hisses rose up into the air as well.

“Alrighty bloke, proper jammy you are, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. Let me have
a look at me records here. See if I can’t find what you’re looking for.” A croaky voice not unlike a
toads said before a short heavy man that was balding at the top of his head came from behind a
large covered cage that was still snoring even with the noise. After him came the rather pleased
face of his brother. Sirius was sauntering around casually with his hands in his pockets as he
moved closer to where Regulus was leaning on his arms.

“I thought you went to run an errand.” Regulus grumbled. Sirius kicked his feet around and leaned
with his back to the counter.

“I did, happened to see the owner enjoying a pint at the Three Broomsticks and thought I was
proper thirsty myself, a bit of charm and a few tricks and I had him telling me every order he’s
ever filled. A rat missing a toe was memorable, but he couldn’t remember who bought it exactly.
He’s hoping he’s got a record of it somewhere.” Sirius nodded over his shoulder where the ruffling
of papers and the moving of boxes was coming from.

“Wanker.” Regulus whispered. Sirius just smiled even larger.

“Oi, alright here we have it.” The short man came back out with a faded page in his hand. “Not
sure the lot it will help it’ll be given, this sale seems to be nearly ten years old. Most rats wouldn’t
make it that long and from what I remember this one was in poor shape. A neighbor of mine found
him in her garden one day and called for me to take him off her hands. Already looked wiry and
thin then, I practically gave him away. Yes, here only three sickles. Ah, I can’t read the signature,
but now I recall. It was two young boys about so tall. They were getting a gift for their brother who
was starting Hogwarts and apparently in a tizzy for it. I was going to make them get their parents to
sign for it, but the younger one, he was bloody impressive. A niffler slipped out just then and I
thought for sure my store would be ruined, but the little bloke jumped right into action and scooped
the pesky little git in a moment. A real Newt Scammander in the making he was. So I gave them a
rat at a discount for their troubles.” He explained as he passed them over a small scrap of paper
with a sloppy signature at the end. Regulus couldn’t make out a single letter in the word.

“It’s not much, I don’t recall the names. Hopefully it helped a bit.” The store owner said with a
shrug. Sirius and Regulus gave each other a bit of a hopeless glance. It was barely anything, but it
was technically more than they started with. The owner must have noticed their defeat as he let out
a sigh.

“How about this? I have copies of all my records. You two can keep this one.” He said as he patted
the counter and gave them a lopsided smile.

“Cheers.” Sirius said weakly as he folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket. The owner
nodded before he disappeared into the back again and Sirius chewed on his lip and teetered on his
feet. Regulus hated the feeling that they had barely accomplished anything as he turned to face the
crowded store once again. The small cry and bright yellow eyes caught him again. He let out a
small huff before he turned to the young cashier, who had made herself busy not far from the
counter.

“How much for Midnight?” He asked. She looked up with a glint in her eye.
“I knew you were a cat person. I can always tell.” She replied happily as she rushed over to the
cage that held the part Kneazle.

“I’m going to kill him.” Lucretia repeated for another countless times. Arcturus was walking
beside her down the streets of Muggle London with his cane hitting every crack in the pavement it
seemed. After the day at Malfoy Manor, he’d figured a walk in the cool nighttime would be the
best way to provide the information to his daughter. She could have his temper at times, and he
made certain they were well away from the Manor when he told her so she wouldn’t rush straight
back in there to hex him into his own walls.

“My niece! She is my niece, and he is using her as a pawn in his game against Arthur! His
differences with Arthur are ridiculous as is, but he could at least deal with his issues face to face.
Instead he’s using a child to prove a point and at what cost? The loss of an innocent child's life
because he sees them as lesser than. Oh father, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind one day
and not even you can stop me.” She rambled as her hands balled into fist.

“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you, but for now we have greater concerns. First we must find this
diary and remove it from your niece's possession. Her safety should be our utmost concern. We do
not know what kind of hexes or dark magic lie within the pages. Then we must see exactly how this
diary opens the Chamber of Secrets. As long as it exists, it is a threat to the safety of Harry and
everyone within the school. Once we have more information, we can devise a plan.” Arcturus
answered her as they rounded the final corner onto Grimmauld Place.

“At first light, when all the children are at breakfast. I’ll go through Ginny’s things. I normally
wouldn’t do such an act, but this is a difficult situation. She’s been jittery all break, constantly
hiding away and sniffling. I thought it was first year nerves and missing her parents and Bill and
Charlie, but I had never thought it was this dangerous.” Lucretia shook her head.

“You’re doing the best you can my dear. Children are never easy.” Arcturus encouraged as he
patted her arm.

“Once you have the dairy, bring it to me at once. See if I can’t take a crack at it myself.” He said
firmly as the house creaked open in front of them. She nodded astutely with a determination set in
her jaw.

By the next day, she arrived before he had even finished his morning tea. Her face was flush while
her hands seemed pale and cold. It was only him in the drawing room as the rest of the house was
slow to wake.

“Harry’s already asking to stay another night.” She said shakily with her bag clutched in her arms
fiercely.

“Let him, I’ll explain to Regulus and Sirius. Oh, please sit. You look faint.” Arcturus motioned as
she took quick rapt steps into the closest chair to him.

“I fear it’s worse than we imagined, father.” She whispered under her breath as she revealed a
rather plain black diary and handed it with shaking hands. “Look at the inscription.”

Arcturus took the book carefully into his hands and he thumbed at frayed binding at one end as he
turned it over in his hands. The pages looked pristine for the age of the book. As if no one had ever
stained the parchment with ink. His hands flipped it to show the inscription etched into the book,
the small neat letters read T M Riddle. Arcturus took in a deep breath that expanded his chest as far
as it would go.

“This boy.” Arcturus nearly hissed under his breath. He should have known.

“Rion should have killed him. When they dueled all those years ago for school fun. Would have
helped us all.” Lucretia said with bitterness dripping in every word. “If we had only known what
he’d become.”

“That is the way of evil, you don’t see it until you can’t ignore it.” Arcturus replied as he ran a
wrinkled finger over the pages and cracked the spine gingerly. Dark Magic could be felt as crisp as
the cool morning, but the pages were entirely blank and nearly as fresh as if it had been bought
only a few days prior.

“Well I didn’t expect this to be easy.” He said as he undid his wand from his cane. He didn’t get a
spell off before the drawing room opened with a small squeak of the hinges. A rather tired look
Regulus emerged into the room with his hair thrown around his head and his slippers only half on
his feet.

“I heard voices.” He mumbled as he shuffled into the room. For half a second, Arcturus could have
sworn he was seeing the small child he had once known. The flash of a young Regulus sneaking
into the room where Arcturus and Orion had been spiting each other only moments before. The
eyes were not quite open enough from the disturbed sleep and the meek posture of his shoulders
was still the same years later.

“Well if you're awake might as well have you take a look as well. We’ve managed to gather a piece
of this puzzle.” Arcturus said as he waved Regulus over. The diary was laid out and opened to yet
another blank page. The magic was palatable and oozing with darkness, but Arcturus couldn’t
place the feeling it had. His eyes were trained intensely forward that he didn’t see Regulus
approach, but he could hear the intake of breath he made when he was close enough and then his
eyes caught the way he was shaking as if he’d been shoved into freezing waters. His mouth was
open, but his breathing was ragged and short as he clutched to the middle of his stomach. Lucretia
moved faster as she wrapped an arm around him and tried to speak to him in hushed tones, but he
didn’t respond. Arcturus knew the look in Regulus’ eyes. It was panic.

“Oh, you might hate me for the next few seconds.” Arcturus said as he pointed his wand just above
his head. A spurt of water came out the ends but he needed to rile Regulus back to his senses.
Except it seemed to have an even more violent reaction on his grandson. Regulus let out a loud cry
as he started rubbing his arms, scratching red marks into the flesh and mumbling about the water.
His words were pleading to not take him to the water as he flung around and forced Lucretia to the
side. Now Arcturus stood as he held out his hands and tried to call Regulus, but he was in a fit that
Arcturus couldn't understand. The most unlikely help seemed to pop into the room.

“Master Regulus is alright. Kreacher saved you from the water. Kreacher kept Master Regulus
safe. Master Regulus is okay.” Kreacher called loudly as he ran up bouncing on his toes to
Regulus. The small elf with some force pushed Regulus into the seat behind him and kept yelling
at him that he was safe. That he had saved him from the water and the bad things. Eventually after
a moment or two, Regulus' hands moved less frantically and he managed to take in a deep breath.
Arcturus stood puzzled as Kreacher conjured up a tea cup from somewhere and patted Regulus’
knee. Regulus’ eyes had gone so bleak as a shaking hand took a sip of steaming tea.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Arcturus said to himself.

“A panic attack. A bloody bad one as you Brits says. Come Regulus, let me have a look at you.” A
voice said as feet scurried across the floor. Helena seemed to have appeared from nowhere and was
to Regulus within a blink of an eye pushing his tea cup back to his lips and pulling his eyelids back.
There was the tumbling of feet coming down the stairs now and the dawn had barely broken
through the windows behind him.

“Marius, dove, can you have everyone give us some space?” Helena said quietly to her husband
who was hovering just beyond the doorway with a look of concern.

“Of course, love.” He responded before there was a click of the door shutting and the quiet sounds
of conversation and the noise of hushing being passed around a group of people. Eventually the
feet retreated farther away and down the stairs to the ground level.

“Why is his hair wet?” Helena asked as she combed through the hair a few times with a mystified
look.

“I splashed him with some water when he first looked panicked. I thought it would help him snap
out of it.” Arcturus said as he finally stepped out from behind the desk with the dairy forgotten.
Helena clicked her tongue a few times as she kept forcing tea down Regulus' throat.

“He’s never liked water. You must have made him recall a memory that caused the attack. Did he
ever have any bad experiences with water?” Helena asked as she fawned over him. His eyes were
slowly breaking down the barrier he had hidden himself from.

“Not that I know of. Orion and Walburga disliked the sea and never took the beach home, and the
French Manor is by a small stream, but I never let the children go there without supervision.
Unless something happened in Wales?” Arcturus said, turning to Lucretia. She shook her head.

“He never liked to play in the ocean with Fabian and Gideon. They tried to take him out to at least
teach him how to swim, but he wouldn’t go. I’d go out there to find Fabian and him just sitting
reading books together while Gideon and Sirius gave me a scare swimming out so far.” Lucretia
continued. Kreacher was shifting uncomfortably in his spot with his hands cracking every few
seconds.

“Kreacher?” Arcturus asked with raised eyebrows. The elf let out a small cry of surprises as if he
hadn’t expected to be noticed.

“Oh Master Arcturus, Kreacher isn’t suppose to say. Master Regulus commanded it. Oh, poor
Master Regulus.” Kreacher said as he reached out and patted Regulus’ leg again.

“It’s alright, Kreacher.” Regulus finally croaked out with a rough voice. Helena popped up as she
nodded enthusiastically and tipped back the last of the tea.

“I drowned.” Regulus muttered as his eyes stared fixed at the rug in front of him. “I was dragged
under a lake and drowned. Kreacher saved my life. He pulled me from the lake and got us out of
the cave and then he jumped on my chest until I could breathe again.”

Arcturus took a few more steps forward as he watched his daughter clutch at her chest with worry.
Helena gently wrapped him in a blanket as she asked Kreacher to bring more tea. Once the second
cup was in his hand Regulus began to look more himself.

“The locket, it’s when I went to get the locket. There was a cave and a lake and a small island
made of rocks. I had to drink this potion. The Drink of Despair if I’m correct. It made me see
things and I was so thirsty. I tried to drink the lake water and then these hands. They were just
bones really, cold and covered in slim came out of the water. I tried to fight them off, I did. I was so
weak though and there were so many of them and they grabbed so tight onto my ankles I couldn’t
move. The water was freezing, but when it filled my lungs it burned. It burned worse than anything
I had felt before. My arms went limp and I couldn’t move and the hands just kept dragging me
down. I told Kreacher to go, I told him to leave me behind and take the locket and destroy it. He
didn’t listen. Merlin, I’m so glad he didn’t listen.” Regulus was shaking again, but his eyes were
less dilated.

“Kreacher could not leave Master Regulus. Kreacher could never leave Master Regulus.” Kreacher
said with his ears twitching side to side. Regulus offered him the weakest of smiles.

“I hadn’t known.” Arcturus said in apology. Regulus shook his head.

“It wasn’t you. Not truly, the water didn’t help, but it was the book. That book dragged me back to
my darkest memories.” Regulus whispered as he pointed his chin towards the desk with the bare
pages loosely hanging open.

“Why?” Arcturus asked as he turned to face the dairy once more trying to piece together what his
grandson knew that he did not.

“It’s a horcrux.” Regulus said.

The silence was nearly screaming afterwards. He wasn’t sure anyone dared to breathe. Arcturus
forced himself to take a breath as he leaned over the desk and used the end of his wand to tap the
book closer to him. He examined it with care. He knew a horcrux could be any mundane object,
but to look at a plainly bound book and imagine a soul inside it. His mind couldn’t quite wrap
around such a concept as his finger tapped methodically on the old desk.

“We’ll handle it.” He finally said. There was still a collective hush to the room.

“Lucy, can you have Ignatius meet me as soon as he is able? I hate to be the bearer of worse news,
but we need someone to speak to your niece. Let the children wake and play, but afterwards, a
discussion must be had.” Arcturus continued. Lucretia nodded solemnly as she peered at the black
covers.

“Helena, I’ll need Marius back. He and Cassiopeia were working on information for me.” Arcturus
said over his shoulder. Helena wrapped the blanket a bit tighter around Regulus before she stood.

“I recall, I walked into them hovering over hundreds of pieces of parchment.” She sighed in
agreement.

“Regulus, you rest. Harry is staying with Ignatius and Lucretia for one more night.” Arcturus said
as he turned and looked at his grandson's worn face. He’d only woken and he looked as if he could
do with another full night's sleep. Regulus weakly turned his head with no protest in his eyes.
Arcturus felt rather accomplished in his morning, if not a bit overwhelmed.

A light scratching noise came from the hall just as they all broke from their frozen stances. Eyes
turned to the door. Regulus popped up from his place rather rejuvenated.

“Midnight.” He whispered as he cracked open the door and a rather large furry creature slipped in
rubbing against his legs. Arcturus had to blink to confirm he was seeing correctly.

“Regulus, why is there a cat in the drawing room?” Arcturus asked.

“She’s actually part Kneazle.” Regulus said with a shrug. The patting of paws sauntered across the
room and sniffed at Arcturus slippers before letting out a small purr and flicking its tail towards
him.
“I think she likes you.” Regulus suggested hopefully. Arcturus stared down at the bright amber
eyes and then back at his grandson.

“Does this have to do with the rat endeavor you and your brother are on?” He asked with a flick of
his wrist trying to encourage the cat to find a new companion.

“You know about that.” Regulus said. Arcturus just continued his firm stare.

“More pressing matters abound. However, this,” he waved at the small fluff as he tried to step to
the side to nearly trip, “will be your responsibility.”

He closed the dairy and tucked it into his robes. Before any dark magic was to be conquered he’d
at least need a solid base in his stomach and another cup of tea to wake him. He could hear the
conversations picking up behind him as his cane hit the first step.

“You know we had a part Kneazle for years. We got him just before Marius and I got married. It
tore him to pieces when the poor baby passed. I quite think he’d like Midnight.” Helena said in
comfort to Regulus as he left.

A whole country away as the rocky weather covered the land of Wales once again. Harry was
staring out at the rolling clouds as lightning cracked far into the sea and the white cusp of the water
fought with one another underneath it. Ron had gone down to find a tray of biscuits that Aunt Lucy
left in the kitchen. He had to sneak past the twins who had been in a fit most of the holiday,
constantly breaking things and causing almost too much havoc. Uncle Lancelot was at his wits
end. Though for now he and Uncle Ignatius were being questioned by a pestering Percy armed
with a roll of parchment, a fresh quill, and a hoard of questions on the best approaches to being a
prefect in trying times.

Harry laughed to himself as he leaned his face on the cool glass of the window and watched as his
breath fogged up half a pane. The few moments of peace were nice in the chaos. The Weasleys
were always moving and always making noise and having been raised as an only child, sometimes
the abrupt change in pace could give him a bit of a headache. The cool touch at least helps alleviate
a bit of the tension. Only for it to be shocked back when there was a banging noise outside. Before
he could completely turn around there was a muttering and shuffling that burst into the room.
Ginny searched with her eyes frantically for a few seconds before she realised Harry was in the
room. Once she did, she leaned back towards the hall.

“It’s alright. Ron is downstairs if you were looking for him.” Harry said kindly. Ginny seemed to
just tremble more in her place. She’d been acting rather strange. He hadn’t taken much notice at
school, though she did seem to cling to Percy a bit more than he thought any one person would.
Her eyes always had a glassy look to them as if she was on the verge of tears. Now, being away
from the school and near her for a few days he noticed she appeared smaller and fearful.

“Were you looking for something? Maybe I could help?” Harry asked. Ginny went rigid and her
paler skin went exceptionally light. Truthfully, her skin seemed to be turning a shade green.

“Er or maybe you’d just want some fresh air?” Harry suggested with his finger pointing towards
the windows. Ginny shook her head violently as she stumbled even farther back. He was worried
about leaving her alone with how ill she appeared.

“I-I have to go.” She replied with her eyes shooting around nervously. Before Harry could get a
word out, she had gone missing in a whip of red hair. Harry blinked and took a few steps forward
and noticed the hall was empty. He hummed before going back to his place by the window. Ginny
was agitated clearly, but Harry couldn’t tell what was causing the issue. He didn’t have much more
 time to think on it as Ron came with an arm full of biscuits and a story of how the twins were
trying to shake the portraits out of their places and had accidentally ran across Lancelot’s parents
and his mother had yelled at them in French and caused Lancelot to find their antics and then it
became a loud battle between Welsh and French and a bunch of running feet. Allowing for Ron to
sneak into the kitchen and speak kindly to the elf, who always had a soft spot for the children and
looked the other way while Ron gathered as much as he could before dashing out of the kitchen.
Harry quickly forgot Ginny and what she was worried about as he stared down a plate full of fresh
ginger biscuits.

Chapter End Notes

Is Harry more observant in this FF? Yes. Is he also still a twelve year old boy
distracted by ginger biscuits? Yes and honestly I relate.

Thank you for all the lovely comments lately! I’ve been enjoying reading them all and
I will get around to responding when I can!

Have a wonderful day!

 The Musings of a Curse-Breaker
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Brisk winds blew in from the open window causing a rustling across the kitchen. Loose pans
clattered and tea towels snapped, but the cold air was keeping him there, in the present. His lips
were cold, but he pulled a cigarette in between them to warm them and the edges of his fingers for
a few seconds. His eyes were focused on the horizon and the white crest tips of untamed waves.
Anything to keep his eyes forced ahead and not trained on the black book teetering on the edge of
the table behind him. Ignatius hated everything that was about to happen. A part of him couldn’t
help but feel guilt by association or proxy or whatever word fit for regretting any decision that led
him here. Tom Riddle had haunted his nights for far too long and he refused to go away.

“Love?” The calm voice of his wife called from behind him. He took one last drag of the cigarette
before flicking it out the open window. His chest shuddered with his breath as he turned to face her
with stone cold eyes and clenched jaw. It took restraint to not immediately stare at the journal
mocking him from the side.

“Lucy.” He said with a slack finally coming into his face.

“You know I told my father Orion should have killed him. I didn’t even flinch. They fought, Tom’s
last years at Hogwarts, we were away in Egypt when it happened.” Lucretia said, picking at her
fingers nervously.

“Alphard stopped them. Orion probably would have killed him otherwise.” Ignatius continued her
story. She chewed in her lip as she nodded.

“Tom was mocking him. Orion was prideful. I don’t regret it, saying it. If Orion had just done it
then, we may not be in this predicament. Everything would have been different.” Lucretia
whispered. Ignatius stepped close to her and placed a thumb on her temple and rubbed gently. He
could see the stress mounting in her head, the pent energy would give her a headache. He was
trying to ease it before it happened.

“Your brother would have been sent to Azkaban.” Ignatius pointed out as his hand slipped into her
hair. A few greys had sprouted near her temple and streaked through. He didn’t mind, as he grew
older he realised making it to an age where hair would colour grey was a privilege. Far too few
people he knew ever made it there.

“My father would have never allowed it. He would find a way around a sentence. Maybe Orion
could have moved to France like he always wanted, spent his days painting instead of drinking.
Maybe we would have only seen one war in our lifetime instead of two. Maybe people we loved
would still be alive.” Lucretia mumbled under her breath as she leaned into his touch. They did this
sometimes, reflecting on the past. On everything they could have done differently, on the regrets.
They could have come home sooner. They could have been harsher. They could have joined. It
wasn’t healthy. Nothing could change what had happened, but sometimes one learns from their
past. One thing he knew was they were not going to let Tom Riddle get the best of them again.

“Molly and Arthur will be home soon. We have to do this, love. They need to know.” Ignatius
whispered into her ear, holding her close to him. Her hair was soft in his palms and the warmth of
her smaller form brought the little comfort he could find.
“They are going to be upset. Molly particularly, she’s going to be beside herself when she knows.
We know her and we love her and if anyone comes for her family she becomes defensive.”
Lucretia sighed.

“We are her family.” Ignatius said weakly. Lucretia shuddered in his arms for a brief moment.

“These are her children.” Lucretia replied.

Ignatius nodded as they parted from each other's arms. The sounds of feet striking the floor was
coming from above them. The children were waking and after breakfast their parents would come
to collect them for the last few days of holiday. Before then, they would need to sit down with
Molly and Arthur and discuss the journal and the contents. Bring in Ginny, face the consequences
of whatever her actions were. Inform Arcturus. Find a solution.

“Aunt Lucy, Uncle Ig.” Ron fumbled down the stairs trying to pull a sock on his foot while
hopping into the kitchen.

“Ron, did you and Harry have fun the last few days?” Lucretia asked as her face transformed from
the sombre cloudy look in her eyes. He had always been mystified by her ability to suppress her
own feelings for the benefit of others.

“We had so much fun, I’m glad he got to stay the extra days. His cousins are kind of funny, always
shifting their feet, but he says they aren’t bad. Do you know them well? Harry never talks about
family much. I don’t push it because of his parents. I figure if he wants to talk he will one day.”
Ron shrugged. Ignatius patted his head as he went to the table with his eyes growing at the plates
stacked with food being set by Efa. Ron’s empathy was overlooked all too much, he cared quietly
and easily without expecting anything in return.

The rest of the children eased in. Percy with his nose stuck in a book. Fred and George whispered
between each other in a way that any other time would have made him separate them for the sake
of his windows. Ginny came last. Her eyes downward and her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her
sleeping gown. Darkness coated her swollen eyes and the skin around her lips was dried and
cracked from nervously licking them.

Plastering a smile on his face, Ignatius listened to Fred, George, and Ron debate Quidditch games
and awe at Harry’s inspiring performances. Percy kept his book propped up as he ate porridge with
only an angry wrinkled nose shot at his younger brothers occasionally. Lucretia was trying to
convince Ginny to at least take a few bits of toast, but the poor girl looked pale and ill in the face at
even the idea. Efa was balancing plates in the air as a loud pop rang outside. All the children smiled
as they turned to one another before plastering their faces to the window looking for their parents.

“Wait? Who’s with mum and dad?” Ron asked as he jumped to get a different view.

“It is Bill, innit?” Fred called as he cupped his hands around his eyes. Even Ginny perked up from
where she had sunken back into her seat. The eldest and youngest did always have a special bond.

Molly and Arthur arrived with bags still in hand and their faces brightened visibly as they dropped
everything to swallow their children in hugs and bury them in kisses. Ignatius let them have their
moment as all of them clamoured and swormed for Bill’s attention first. Percy rattled off questions
about being Head Boy, Fred and George asking if he’d brought back a particular darkness powder
only sold in the Middle East, and Ron and Ginny just trying to catch up with their older brother's
life.

The conversation filled his kitchen with warmth. He and Lucretia held onto each other’s side and
enjoyed the moment for as long as it could last. Bill eventually made his way to his aunt and uncle
and kissed both their cheeks as Lucretia pulled at his long hair with a smile as he bashfully tried to
tie it back. She’d swatted at his hand and did it for him as she tied in a knot on top of his head.
Ignatius had seen her do it time and time before with her younger brother and her younger cousins.
The Blacks and their traditional long dark hair. Molly caught his eye though as he watched the
interaction. She had this uncanny ability to see through people. She had gotten it from her father.
How often had Ignatius’ own brother given him a similar glance? Her face dropped and her nose
flared as she nodded her head. She knew something was wrong and she wouldn’t stop until she
found out what it was. Gratefully, Lancelot came sauntering in at that moment with Muriel in his
arms. One look and he took the cue to the plan they had already talked on.

“My darling nephews, why don’t we step into the other room? Your aunt would like a moment
with you all.” Lancelot called over the mounting noise. A bit of a hush fell on all of them as they
exchanged a disgruntled glance. Muriel may not be the most welcomed guest to the children, but
she could talk their ear off and loudly. It would give the privacy they needed.

“Ginny, love can you wait a moment.” Lucretia whispered under her breath. Ginny went as stiff as
if she had been struck by an Immoblus spell. Lucretia rubbed her back comfortingly, but it only
seemed to make the young girl’s anxiety grow. Ignatius brought the book out into her view. Her
wide glowing eyes would not be torn from the book as she sat trembling with her parents taking
seats on either side of her. Ignatius was not ignorant to their suspicious looks.

“Ginny, you know this book, don’t you?” Ignatius said as he let a tentative finger tap the corner.
Ginny’s face was growing paler with each word and by the time he’d finish the question she looked
near passing out.

“Ginny dear, you look a bit peaky? Have you been eating?” Molly said. Her voice was flooding
with concern as she leaned closer to Ginny. Ginny crouched over as if she might be sick right on
her feet, but after a swift glance at the book before her eyes darted back towards the ground, she
nodded briefly.

“Ginny.” Ignatius began as he rested his arms on the table and pushed himself closer to her. “This
is a very dark book. Your brothers say you’ve not been doing well at school, does this book have
anything to do with it?”

Ginny’s lower lip was trembling. Small tears began to peek out from the corner of her eyes, but she
held on long enough to nod her head weaker than before. Ignatius sighed as he caught Molly and
Arthur’s eyes. Their questions were bearing down on him for answers.

“Ginny, this book has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets doesn’t it?” Ignatius asked. It
was the final tipping point. Uncontrollable shaking and nonstop tears fell down her face as she
trembled and nodded and sobbed out apologies. Molly engulfed her in her arms as Arthur stood
from his seat, putting his hands on her shoulder to steady her. Ignatius felt his stomach dropping.
The creeping feeling he was betraying his own family, dragging Ginny through this sunk into his
stomach. It wasn’t fair, but nothing had been fair when it came to Voldemort and his followers.

Taking steady breaths as he put weight on the back of his heels and let Ginny cry it out. Lucretia
was sitting with her hands folded perfectly and her eyes trained on them. He could tell she blamed
herself as well. Malfoys were family even if distant, and Lucius had caused the pain Ginny had
suffered. He would have continued waiting if not for the interruption in the entryway.

“Gin, what’s wrong?” Bill asked as he hurried across the room and knelt in front of her. His arrival
only set her off farther as she pulled her knees closer to her, shaking her head with a new batch of
tears streamed down her cheeks.
“What’s going on?” Bill asked as he shot a look at both his parents. Molly jutted her chin towards
the book and by extension Ignatius. He could feel the confusion in his nephew’s glance as he stood
carefully and approached the other side of the table.

“May I see it?” Bill nodded with his sharp eyes dialling into the book with force.
Ignatius pushed the book carefully across. He worried about handing it to Bill, but he was one of
the best Curse-Breakers he had ever known. Besides, they had all handled it without any issue as
long as Bill didn’t pull any sudden moves he could handle it for a few moments.

Bill’s lower lip stuck out as he brushed on the binding and then the pages before snapping the
spine. He felt the paper between his fingers. Brought it to eye level and examined it from several
different angles. Minutes passed as Ginny’s sobs turned into drawn out sniffles and hiccups. Her
parents whispered silent comforts to her as the pages sliced through the air with each movement.
Bill hadn’t said a word.

“It’s heavily cursed. Did Gin have this?” Bill asked as he rested it back on the edge of the table. It
was Ignatius' turn to nod.

“How did she get her hands on it?” Bill asked, perplexed as he glanced at his sister. Everyone’s
eyes turned to her face as it grew red at the attention.

“I-It was in my cauldron. I just wanted-d a journal to write in. I t-thought he was nice.” Ginny
hiccuped before she became overwhelmed with emotions again and fell into her mother’s arms.

“Who was nice, Ginny?” Arthur asked with concern, wrinkling his face.

“Tom Riddle, I suppose.” Ignatius answered, shaking his head and reaching one hand to his
temple. All eyes whipped around to look at him. This would be the most difficult part of the
conversation.

“Tom Riddle, Slytherin, prefect, all around brillant, but troublesome student.” Ignatius started as
his eyes wandered to the wind pulsing over the sea again. “No one could have known what he
would have become or what he would do. Last I had heard, he’d gone to work at Borgin and
Burkes once he’d completed his N.E.W.Ts, seemed lost as to what to do after he’d left Hogwarts. I
truly didn’t pay him much mind. It was mine and so many others mistakes. If we had only known,
if we had only paid attention. He has caused innumerable losses and immeasurable suffering.”

“I’ve never heard of Tom Riddle.” Molly said with a twist of her lips.

“You wouldn’t have.” Lucretia cut into the conversation. The eyes travelled to where she had been
sitting silently. Her eyes had never wavered from her hands.

“Bill, can you take Ginny to Aunt Muriel? It would be good for the two to see each other.” Ignatius
suggested with a quiver to his lips. Bill raised his eyebrows, but he went and picked his sister up as
if she was still a young child and whispered the entire way out of the kitchen. Ignatius waited until
he heard Muriel's shrill voice before he turned back to his niece and her husband. Their hands were
interlocked with one another. Over their shoulder, Bill slipped back into the room silently with his
arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at the book on. If his parents knew he was there, they’d likely
make him leave even with his age. It was better he knew. Knew what was out in the world and as
they all waited there was the potential that each passing day made him stronger. Bill and Charlie
would be the young adults this time around and Ignatius couldn’t bear the thought of them facing
the threats that had arised last time without proper knowledge.

“He lost that common name along the way. We had all made a point of telling him just how
common his name was. He liked to play the part of a high society pureblood and well we were
children, children with the right names and the elevated status. Anyone of the other was reminded
they were different. Riddle didn’t accept that. He wanted to be more and was set on it. He created a
group of capable boys and girls from the right type of families. With money, power, and fame, the
type of people you want by your side if you wish to create fear. By the time any of us who weren’t
on his side heard of him again, he had a new name. Lord Voldemort.” Lucretia said as a sharp
inhale followed from Molly and Arthur’s knuckles cracked. Bill didn’t move though. Only
continued to burn a look into the book. Ignatius put his hand over the cover and Bill finally broke
his eye contact to look at him.

“This book? It belonged to him? How does Ginny even have it? What does the Chamber of Secrets
have to do with this?” Molly questioned rapidly and with her tongue sharp as Arthur took off his
glass and dapped under his eyes.

“I’ve told them all never to touch books they didn’t know. This one nearly looks to be drowning
with Dark Magic. Oh, our poor girl, is she going to be alright?” Arthur asked.

“Lancelot has looked her over. We were waiting for the two of you to return before administering
anything. He thinks she could benefit from a dose of a Calming Draught and a few supplemental
potions for the lack of eating she’s been doing. Besides that she just needs a few good nights of
sleep and a few warm meals and she will recover fine. There does not seem to be any lasting
impacts.” Ignatius explained as he watched some of the worry emlt from both of them.

“How exactly did a book cause her all this trouble?” Molly asked. Ignatius didn’t have an answer
for her, but an unlikely source did.

“Write in it.” Bill called over them all. Molly swivelled to gape at him.

“How long have you been listening?” She asked him with an accusation in her tone.

“Write in the book, something simple.” Bill said as he pushed off the wall and ignored his
mother’s protest. Ignatius slowly pulled the book closer to him and opened to the first blank page.
Lucretia’s eyes followed carefully. He used his wand to call for a quill.

“It could be cursed in ways we do not know.” Lucretia whispered.

“Ginny would be in worse conditions then she is if it was used to hex her for months on end. Most
likely the dairy contains similar magic to that of portraits. A morsel of a person’s essence binded
into the pages and only to reveal itself when it interacts with others. I’ve seen objects cursed in this
way before, in relatively short interactions, they are mostly harmless.” Bill explained as he placed
his palms on the table to achieve a better vantage.

“Knock me down if it enchants me.” Ignatius told his wife. She let out a noise of understanding as
she took her wand from where it usually was stored by her ankle. With her elbow crooked on the
edge of the table, she pointed it at him.

“Well, let us say hello to Tom.” Ignatius muttered, unenthused. His hand hovered for a moment at
the top corner of the page before he clicked his tongue and dotted the ink into the page. A simple
hello was written out in his large print. A collective breath was held as the words were written as
any other ink would and dried into the page. Ignatius tilted his head and for a moment, felt as if
nothing would occur. Until the words began to sink and fade into oblivion. The page was as blank
and fresh as it was the first day it would have been purchased. Then a rippling took over the
parchment before faded words slowly grew more visible.
Hello, I suppose Ginny has lost her journal. Whom am I speaking with?

The dark print was tiny and immaculate as each stroke was written with careful calculations. A
chill pulsed in his chest and made all the way down to his toes cold. The memories of old prefect
round schedules with handwritten notes being made by a pale thin hand and a worn old quill with a
pitch black feather. The words were a perfect replica. These were Tom’s musings and he could
recall it as if he was thrust back to his eighteen year old self.

“I can’t use my name. If this is his memory, he’ll remember me. I was his Head Boy when he was
a prefect.” Ignatius mumbled more to himself then those around him.

“Use mine. It’s a common enough name and I wasn’t alive when he was at Hogwarts.”
Bill said without a second thought. His mum let out a startled sigh.

Ignatius shot his nephew a look. With the clock ticking behind them counting out the passing
seconds, he carefully poised the quill below where Tom’s words had already disappeared. His lips
pushed together in concentration as he wrote out William in larger letters. The pause was shorter
this time as the black ink soaked through the pages.

William, my name is Tom. How did you come into possession of my dairy?

Ignatius paused again as he tapped his free hand on the table. He didn’t want to feed too much
information into this diary yet. He needed a plan and time to think. The added knowledge that this
was not simply a cursed dairy but a horcrux as well was daunting in the back of his head. With
rushed strokes of the quill, he wrote out a simple message.

Someone is coming. I will have to discuss more later.

He shut the book with a bang before he could be tempted to write more. His quill rilled to the edge
and teetered for a moment before deciding to stay. He hardly noticed as he ran a finger on the edge
of the cover. There was a quiet he knew he would have to break.

“I need to study this. It will take time to understand exactly its power, but it is out of Ginny’s hands
now. We should join everyone. I implore you to stay for a meal. You must be ravenous after the
travels.” Ignatius smiled weakly at the awed gazes he was receiving. They wanted more from him.
More information, more answers even, but he could not provide it to them. They all fell out of their
shock slowly and seemed to agree as they rose and went to join the rambunctious children in the
other room.

Ignatius locked the book into a drawer as lunch went long into the evening. Everyone spoke over
one another and then asking for seconds as Efa was happy to oblige as she popped around with
more food then they'd had on the table in sometime. These were happy times with a dark cloud
tucked behind him looming over every move he made. The sea was barely visible in the fading
light by the time the kitchen had been cleaned and long gone silent. His hands reached into the
drawer and pulled the darkness to him only when he was alone. Lucretia had retired to bed and
Lancelot was escorting Muriel home. If he knew her at all, Lancelot would return well into the
night after being trapped in her conversations. His thumb dug hard into the corner, but not harsh
enough to break his skin. Maybe the pressure would reveal secrets he thought ludicrously. The
steps that rebounded off the high ceilings of his home didn’t even warrant him to turn around as
they came to a pause just behind him.

“Did you find its secrets?” Arcturus asked from the shadows.

“You can write to him. Well a part of him is trapped in the dairy. A memory of sixteen year old
 Tom Riddle and all his lavish ideas can communicate through these pages.” Ignatius said nearly
out of breath from the thought.

“Fantastic. You will need him to guide you.” Arcturus replied. Igantius looked over his shoulder,
his eyes having adjusted as the sun fading behind the cliffs surrounding them into the tenebrosity
that covered Prewett Hall. The outline of the man was just visible, but Arcturus was not looking at
him. Instead, his eyes were trained out the kitchen window that still had the thin curtains fluttering
around its frame from the salty breeze that chilled the entire room.

“Guide me?” He questioned.

“Yes, I need you to open the Chamber of Secrets.” Arcturus said emphatically. Ignatius couldn’t
even let shock hit him as he delicately brought the diary close to his face. There was a stark
contrast of the light pages catching in the rising moonlight as he tilted it side to side.

“Have you ever thought you ask too much of me?” Ignatius muttered into the night.

“Constantly, but you have yet to fail me.” Arcturus responded without pause as his walking stick
struck the ground lightly. Ignatius filled his lungs with air as he dropped the book back into place
and shoved the drawer close. He would find no more answers in his exhaustion. The diary would
do best to be locked away until he could return to the stone steps of Hogwarts and hope for a light
of inspiration to propel him forward.

Chapter End Notes

Oh Arcturus and his grand ideas, what could he possible want to achieve? ;)

Thank you kindly for the comments! They keep me going and I am blown away that
this fic has reached over ninety thousands hits! To each and everyone of you I extend
my greatest gratitude for being on this journey with me.

I will return with more!

 A Rooster’s Crow
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior death and attacks

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus was nauseous. He’d been so for days on end and no amount of ginger tea eased the twisted
spasm of pain in his stomach. Yet he sat with another one in hand as he looked longingly down at
the streets below. Remnants of snow were still in the corners and pushed into grey mounds. Parents
had to shoo their children away from the messy melting mess. Watching other people love their
lives helped him pass his days. Since Harry had returned to Hogwarts the day prior, he hadn’t
found it in him to do much besides sit and stare.

His nightmares had returned. No matter where he was in the house, the icy cold chills never
stopped. He could feel the diary. The way it pulsed throughout the home. It was as if a dark
shadow had engulfed him and he couldn’t escape no matter how much he clawed his way out. He
was entranced with the journal. Having memorised the very curve and imperfection in his mind.

When the door to the drawing room opened, he startled out of the chair he was curled into. Hot
liquid splashed over his hands as rushed to set the cup down on the nearest flat surface. His waving
hands were caught by much smaller ones as he felt a cooling layer encompassing them. His eyes
looked up to find his Aunt Lucretia whispering under her breath the wandless charm.

“I had thought I’d find you here.” She whispered once the swelling red marks on his hand had
faded significantly. “My father says you’ve practically lived in this room.”

“I can’t feel it as badly up here. I’d go to the attic, but the portrait’s screaming is a bit too hard to
tune out.” Regulus sighed as he used his own wand to dry the places on the chair and floor that had
been attacked by the steaming tea. Then he collapsed back into his prior state. The Muggle couple
and young child he’d been watching had left their place on the loopside bench.

“You could come stay with me for a few days. I know my father has extended the stay here until
he can piece together the issue with the Chamber of Secrets.” Lucretia offered as she sat at the edge
of his bed and looked around solemnly. Regulus gave her an appreciative look, maybe Wales
would be better. He couldn’t bear a horcrux being only a few levels down for much longer. He’d
wither away and when Arcturus had asked them all to stay in London longer neither he or Sirius
had been thrilled. Marius and Helena had offered to take them back to Switzerland when they left
the day after tomorrow so she could return to work, but Regulus hadn’t given them a reply yet. On
one hand, he and Sirius could look farther into Peter and the horcruxes and the Chamber and
whatever other issues arise if they stayed, but on the other Switzerland was a safe retreat away
from the life he’d tried to leave behind.

“I had thought I was done when I destroyed the locket. Thought I was taking myself down with
him, but at least I would have destroyed a part of him. Yet here I live with proof that it wasn’t
enough. Nothing I did was enough.” Regulus said.

“It was enough, Regulus. Voldemort thinks three steps ahead and yet on your own you exploited
what is likely his greatest weakness. If it hadn’t been for you, this may have been delayed for
years. Now we know there are more hidden out there. We will find them and you're not alone this
time.” Lucretia reassured. Regulus tried to be hopeful, but a part of him felt a dark cloud beating
down on him.

“Come, your grandfather asked to see you. Then you and I should go back to Wales together. While
my long walks on the shoreline alone are wonderful, I think today I could use some company, and
you could use a new view.” She said with a pat on his arm. He abandoned yet another cup of tea
for her arm as they walked together down the narrow stairways to the drawing room, where the
door was opened hallways into the hall. Once inside, he could see his grandfather leaned over
books and papers with his own tea half finished in the corner and his quiet words mumbling over
the cracking fire and the soft snoring of the portrait over the fireplace. Arcturus had moved the one
from the front room to the drawing room and in the early hours of the morning when Regulus
would sneak down to the kitchen, he could often hear his grandfather consulting with the
memories of his brother and sister. A vaguely comforting and sobering moment that Regulus
would rather leave between the three of them.

“Regulus, please sit. I don’t mean to keep you long.” Arcturus said as he offered the seat across
from him. Regulus let his hand glide over the smooth back of the chair before taking it with his
aunt making herself comfortable in the chair next to him. His eyes drew to the dark bound journal
teetering on the edge of the desk. Pushed aside as if an afterthought when it consumed so much
time in his mind constantly.

“It was at one time just paper bonded together and sold and a local Muggle chain store.” Arcturus
explained as his quill strikes against his own paper harshly. Regulus gulped and felt childish for his
fears.

“Now, it has been cursed to hold the worst of Dark Magic. You have every right to worry, and to
be fearful, but you must not let that control you. It is a thing and it can be defeated as you have
done before. You are greater than what you fear most, Regulus. You’ve proved that and much
more.” Arcturus said as his quill lowered and the parchment snapped into a perfect square on its
own and slipped quietly into a letter. The aged hands wrapped around the base of the old stamp that
had once been covered in cobwebs and pushed it into pitch dark wax to seal it close. Regulus
couldn’t catch the address on the front, but his grandfather wrote letters often.

“I will not prolong your exposure. Even I have difficulty handling it for a long time. My soul has
long been dotted with darkness. However, I need the information you have on this cave where you
first found a horcrux. If I have any hope of tracking down anymore, than I must unfortunately go
back over the steps of a wary and intuitive young Riddle. This dairy and that necklace would have
been some of his most guarded possessions. They may lead us to more.” Arcturus said as he folded
his hand in front of him. Regulus’ tried to keep his eye contact, but he couldn’t help but be drawn
to the side.

“I have most of the research I conducted tucked away in a box in my closet. I can drag it out and
find what is left about the cave.” Regulus replied after a long pause.

“Good, bring the entire box, I wish to go through it all. Then I believe my daughter asked to have
you for the evening. Get this off your mind for a night and for Merlin’s sake, let Kreacher feed
you. You look as if a breeze could take you down. You need to be in good shape for whatever we
are facing.” Arcturus implied with a demanding tone. Regulus reluctantly complied as he stood to
leave.

“One last matter, should I be inquiring about this business with a rat?” Arcturus asked. Regulus
shifted in his place and cast his eyes away.
“Not now, there are more important matters at hand.” Regulus answered waving at the general area
of the journal.

“Very well, I trust you. Now go and prepare yourself then come back to me tomorrow and we will
go over what I have found.” Arcturus dismissed him. Regulus nodded and left with a click of the
door. Arcturus listened as the softened steps paused for half a beat outside the door before they
slowly made their way to the kitchen.

“He’s a good boy.” Lucretia said once Regulus was gone.

“He’s a man now.” Arcturus corrected.

“There will always be a part of me that sees them as boys. The curse of aging as you would say.”
She laughed gently as she relaxed more comfortably into her seat. His lips couldn’t help but upturn
at the way she could so reflect him at times.

The moment was broken by the soft sound of an uneven door striking wood. The room was filled
with the sounds of quiet whispers and shuffling pages as Arcturus breathed deeply and prepared for
more information to take over his already untidy desk. Years ago he would have thrown a fit at the
state of it, but now he knew there were greater matters at hand.

“Have you three any success?” Arcturus asked as he cupped his hands over his chest and leaned
back. Part of him felt fifty years younger being in control again and working on so many moving
parts. Another part of him felt fifty years older. It wasn’t as easy when he was younger and he’d
had almost been at ease to coast into his timely demise without being involved ever again. Almost
wasn’t certain though, and he would not leave his family behind again.

“Merope Riddle’s death certificate was filed with the Muggles; it's why no one knew of what
happened to her.” Cassiopeia said as she swept into the room and took the chair Regulus had
vacated and leaned close as he pushed an aged yellow paper towards him.

“A common Muggle name and she died among Muggles.” Arcturus muttered as he gingerly took
the corner of the paper which read in bold letters that she had died the last day in nineteen twenty
six. Only a few years after she had last been heard of.

“Complications of childbirth are listed as her cause of death, but look here. The location where the
doctor signed.” Cassiopeia pointed out. He had to reach for his glasses to see the smaller print near
the bottom of the page. The location’s name faded out at the last few letters, but he could piece it
together well enough.

“Wool’s Orphanage?” He asked.

“Yes, but I doubt how much help it will be.” Marius added as he placed his hands on the desk
holding a timeworn newspaper lacking any of the moving pictures known to the Wizarding world.
“Helena and I went to check the address, it’s been replaced with a block of offices and a rather
good tea shop, but that’s not important. We were able to find old newspapers from an overly
friendly old woman who has lived in the flats down the way for a rather long time. The orphanage
burned to the ground in the mid nineteen seventies, destroying all the documents and killing a few
of the workers as well. Thankfully, the children were away on a trip to the sea.”

Arcturus rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. This was all a perfectly befuddling puzzle of knowledge
that had slipped through when the greater society had dismissed the entire Gaunt family. He
reached for the paper and studied the wrought iron fence that surrounded a rather square large
building with the still images of children smiling perfectly by the front gate.
“One would wonder if Lord Voldemort himself had anything to do with this.” Arcturus thought
aloud.

“Any clues to his childhood would have been eradicated quite well and burning the orphanage
would have destroyed the final vulnerability he had.” Cassiopeia pointed out.

“Tom was not a fool. You know I met him once. Walburga was captivated with him, nearly
pleading with her father to allow them to marry even if he may not be as pure-blooded as he
claimed.” Arcturus said.

“What do we know about the name Riddle?” Arcturus asked as he turned to face them.

“I was able to gather some information there. Knowing how to look through both Muggle and
Magical Newspapers is useful and the woman who runs the old archives department in Little
Hangleton just so happened to be a lovely German woman and my father’s German finally came to
use.” Helena added as she whipped out her own old papers. His hand reached for them instinctively
as he shuffled through the covers.

“The Riddles were a wealthy and influential Muggle family from Little Hangleton. There was a bit
of scandal from the gossip articles. The only son disappeared for several years into the night, only
to reappear suddenly to his family home distraught. He went on rambling about mad women and
their tricks. Spoke of a wife he had never intended to marry and how she had tried to ruin him and
make him penniless. Well his parents were thrilled to have their son back and said some rather
slanderous words about the povertous family that lived in the woods. Though from what I can
gather neither Morfin nor Marvolo would have been bothered by such comments. Coincidentally
his return corresponds closely with Merope’s death. Even more suspiciously, the entire family
befall an unlikely fate of dying in their home with no known causes in nineteen forty three. The
Muggles in town seemed to have a distaste for the Riddles, they questioned the gardener, but never
pushed very far for answers. Rumours said they looked terrified and people thought they may have
been scared to death.” Helena explained. Arcturus turned to a final page of a familiar Daily
Prophet page.

“I recall this one.” He said pointing to a wildly untamed man screaming in his photo with matted
hair covering most of his face and the few spots of skin that were exposed were covered in puss
and warts. “Morfin Gaunt was arrested for the mass murders of Muggles near his home. He was
sentenced to life in Azkaban for it and when he died so did his line since he never sired any
children. There was a collective sigh of relief in the community. The Gaunts had finally perished
with their madness.” Arcturus added as he stared into the wild eyes

“I’d bet my last galleon that Morfin didn’t commit the crime.” Cassiopeia grumbled.

“Morfin was cruel, but he wasn’t talented. Three killing curses would be difficult for him to
conjure in quick succession.” Arcturus nodded. Tom’s past was all coming together rather neatly
with some research and hard work, but that was only half the problem.

“We know how a horcrux has to be created. You need to take a life. What if that is what Tom did
with his family? What if he used them to create one of his horcruxes?” Lucretia posed with her face
grim.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Arcturus mumbled as he ran his hand over an article tucked in the
back of The Daily Prophet. The article was one of the reasons he could recall this specific issue of
the newspaper. Familiar old names danced in his vision and made memories tug at his brain.

“Well all of this is wonderful, but where does it leave us? We have a horcrux with no way to
destroy it sitting at the desk and only ideas of where to begin looking for more. I mean for Merlin’s
sake, Regulus found one buried in a seaside cave and nearly died, but the other was just sitting in
the library like an accessory of Malfoy Manor. I can hardly think of such different locations to hide
such objects.” Cassiopeia pointed out. Arcturus had just been thinking along the same line.

“Well I believe a trip to Little Hangleton will be in order. Go back to where Tom came from. It
may not be much, but it will be a start. As for the matter of destroying the horcrux, I’ve begun
working on the matter.” Arcturus said.

“Did your brother have another Basilisk fang hanging about?” Marius asked with an eyebrow
raised as Regulus grumbled in his portrait above them about the destruction of his precious artifact
for at least the tenth time in recent memory. Arcturus shook his head as he watched his brother roll
over on his side and drift back to sleep on the sette painted in the corner. It was strange to see how
much the drawing room had stayed the same, yet had indisputably changed.

“I’ll worry about the matter. I believe the two of you have to begin to pack, no?” Arcturus said as
he let out a long held sigh. Helena and Marius mumbled something about procrastinating, but it
would be better for them to return. Normalcy after a loss helped the grieving process or so he’d
been told. He was never one to follow the rules. His grief was his fuel.

“I suppose that matter is on your plate as well trying to piece together the matter with Harry?
Father, you must be mindful not to take on too much.” Lucretia said thoughtfully. He smiled at her.

“Better I than anyone else.” Arcturus replied with his eyes lining heavily as he spoke. He had his
own ideas for Harry. If his suspicions were correct about the monster locked beneath the grounds
of Hogwarts, he had both a solution and a very large problem.

Once the room had cleared once again, Arcturus was alone. His hands gingerly handled the letter
by the corners. The words on the front had only just dried as he opened the window to the
incoming owl. Hedwig was cozily at Hogwarts with Harry and besides he’d rather have a less
recognizable own deliver this letter. A rather brawny barn owl clawed onto the window sill with a
peck at the long feathers.

“It will be a long journey, my friend. Take care and be well.” He whispered as tied the letter onto
the ankle. There was one loud hoot before the claws were pushing off and the owl flew into the
dark low clouds. The snow had melted off much of the ground, but it appeared the weather had
more in store for them before long. With a deep breath of the cold air, he turned his back on the
window and pulled the dairy onto the top of his mess. He lifted his quill above the ink well and
dotted it only slightly. The crack of the spine was as normal as any other, but it felt nearly human
in his hand. With a steady hold, he put the quill to paper and wrote a simple phrase.

Hello Tom faded after a moment of drying. He stuck out his neck as he waited for the light reply.
The clock ticking and his brother’s snoring mixed into the background as he counted the seconds.

Hello Arcturus Black

The writing was in normal black ink but it may as well have been blood red.

Ignatius sat tapping at the cover of a book on a pile of books. His lower lip was well chapped and
chewed and his stomach groaned with hunger. In his life, he’d taken many risks and done plenty of
foolish actions. This one may outdo them all. The idea Arcturus had put him in grave danger and
for once, he wasn’t sure if he could honour the request.
The title of the book was faded to be nearly illegible. Ignatius knew it well though, when at its
height the words were in a menacingly yellow and read as Most Macabre Monstrosities. A book
he’d carried with him for many years and had prided himself on facing against several of creatures
described within. Never did he think he’d find himself against one of the most fearsome beasts
within.

“If I survive this, I’ll take it as a sign to officially retire.” He mumbled to himself as he flipped for
the hundredth time to the page he’d marked the night before he left for Hogwarts. His wife had
been asleep in their bed peacefully. He hadn’t the heart to tell her yet. Instead he found the page
dedicated to the Basilisk and read it well into early morning hours as if an answer would leap from
the pages. His neck was aching as he bent over the page again with his fingers tracing the words.
He didn’t notice he was alone until he looked up and startled in his seat.

“Harry.” Ignatius whispered as he slammed the book shut. Harry was staring at one of the
skeletons in his office. An old relic from Egypt of an extinct species.

“I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were lesson planning.” Harry said silently, but the slump
of his shoulders and downturn of his face appeared there was more on his mind.

“Just my own pleasure reading, shouldn’t you be at dinner with your friends?” Ignatius questioned
as he glanced at his watch to confirm it wasn’t later than he believed.

“Shouldn’t you be at the professor’s table?” Harry questioned back with his lips twitching
playfully.

“Fair enough.” Ignatius smirked. “Is something on your mind?”

Harry let out a long sigh as he wandered the edges of the small office. Ignatius had lined it with
different artifacts, relics and books. He wanted it to be engaging and when students came they
often questioned him on one or another of them and he could recount stories and lessons far
beyond what he could in the classroom. He hoped by the twinkle he could see in their eyes, he was
encouraging more than one of them of the wonders that lay out for them if they only had enough
courage to try. Harry’s posture told him he was wanting to be less than forthcoming as he held his
shoulders tight and his chin tucked close to his collarbone.

“Fancy a walk, Harry?” Ignatius asked as he reached for his robes. Harry perked up a bit at the
mention. A stroll after hours in the moonlight seemed more interesting to him than a stuffy old
office full of objects and memories Harry had already heard before.

Ignatius guided them out a side exit he’d found years ago. It led them out to flatter ground not far
from a corner of The Forbidden Forest. He always found the name rather foolish, at least for young
people as he had been. Name something Forbidden and he was going to be hellbent on finding
every way he possibly could to explore it. He and Harry walked for a few moments with only the
rustling of underbrush and the distant howls of wolves. Ignatius had learned patience over the
years, he would wait for Harry to speak first.

“Is Ginny acting strangely to you? I mean I’ve only really known her this year, but she’s your
niece. I reckon if anyone knows her well enough it would be you.” Harry finally asked as his eyes
strained to the depths of the woods. Ignatius nodded to himself, Harry wasn’t foolish.

“She had some difficulty adjusting to the new routine, but I think you’ll find her to be much more
herself this term.” Ignatius replied. He’d agreed to Molly and Arthur to keep the nature of Ginny’s
strange behaviours a secret for now, but he’d told them it best not to keep her siblings and by
extension her friends in the dark for very long. The burden of such a secret was not good in
someone so young. Harry nodded in agreement as he kicked at a loose stone and fell quiet again.

“How did the first term treat you, Harry? Classes going alright?” Ignatius asked.

“Classes are well. Everyone’s taught me so much already. I know plenty, the workload can be a bit
overwhelming, but Hermione keeps Ron and I in line most of the time.” Harry replied softly.

“You and Ron could try keeping yourself on track.” Ignatius suggested as Harry cracked a rare
smile.

“I think she enjoys it half the time. I’d get along just fine on my own if I wanted too. Ron on the
other hand, well he’s good at a lot of things. Keeping track of assignments isn’t one of them, but
he’s good at making us all laugh and I think Hermione needs more of that right now. She’s really
worried about the attacks. Ron makes himself or Fred and George walk with her everywhere. We
think with a pureblood by her side she’ll be safer.” Harry said as his smile flattered as he was
brought back to reality. Ignatius rubbed his shoulder thoughtfully.

“Good, Harry. It’s good for all of you to look out for one another.” Ignatius encouraged. Harry
slowed and eventually paused as they rounded the forest and had ended up close to Hagrid’s hut.
Hagrid was out wrangling with something in his hand as they approached.

“Evening Professor Prewett. Oi Harry, I almost didn't see you there. Have a good Christmas?”
Hagrid asked as he closed a small coop door as the cries of chickens could be heard.

“It was very well, what do you have there?” Harry asked as he stepped to peer into the coop.

“Aye, I had to replace my roosters. Something got to them and killed all the ones I had before the
holidays.” Hagrid said as he shook his head. Ignatius’ interest peaked. Harry clicked his tongue as
he waved at the wildly flapping chickens and roosters.

“Harry, looking a bit tired. I have some rock cakes on the fire. Did I ever tell you about how
Professor Prewett was Head Boy my second year? Oh, he always did treat me kindly even when
not everyone else would.” Hagrid said as he grinned behind the heavy beard.

“I’d love to hear about it, Hagrid.” Harry said as he bounced back from the chickens.

“Let me round these roosters to bed, why don’t you go ahead and give Fang a snack? Just don’t let
him get into the cabinet again. He made himself sick eating my cheese.” Hagrid called as Harry
rushed inside to the barking greeting of the large dog. Ignatius helped Hagrid round the roosters to
the pen and stared at them wondering as Hagrid washed his hands near the vegetables.

“Hagrid, mind if I borrow a rooster?” Ignatius asked quietly. Hagrid walked over with loud steps.

“Need ‘em for a lesson? Take one anytime you need. You know, I’ll always owe you Ignatius.
You were one of the few to stand up for me back then. You know Aragog couldn’t have done
those attacks, and hardly anyone but Newt Scamander would know better than you.” Hagrid
nodded.

“Thank you, Hagrid, truly.” Ignatius said as the tow turned back to the hut. Harry’s laughter could
be heard out the open window as the shadows of him and Fang playing danced on the walls. That
small moment reminded him why he was doing this. To save the innocence of many children, not
just Harry. He knew what would happen if this was left without being handled. An innocent child
would die and Igantius wouldn’t let that happen without giving his all. Even if it was at great
personal risk.
Chapter End Notes

We are nearing the end of COS! Thank you to any and all who have made it this far
and continue to read! I thank you tremendously and hope you continue to enjoy.

Be back soon!
 Headmaster Black
Chapter Notes

CW: Attacks, General use of Threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Did he feel a bit foolish walking into Hog’s Head with a rooster in his arms? Possibly, but it was
far from the most embarrassing act he’d ever committed. When the door swung open, there were a
few glances towards him and maybe a suppressed laugh. After a moment as the door swung shut
behind him and caused the room to return to its typical dingy state, nearly all eyes were off him.
All except the two pairs of eyes tucked away in the back corner.

Arcturus blinked his eyes heavily as he watched him put the rooster into the chair next to his seat.
The animal let out a small cry before Ignatius scratched its head and it lay down. The calming spell
was keeping it from prancing all over the pub.

“Are we a pet family now?” Arcturus asked as he eyed between the rooster and Ignatius.

“Grohl is a very important weapon.” Ignatius replied as Grohl let out another small call. Ignatius
had to keep scratching at his head.

“You know Melania always wanted us to have pets. She thought it would be good for the
children.” Arcturus sighed as he settled more comfortably in his chair. Lancelot was sitting next to
him looking positively concerned.

“That does sound quite like her.” He added hesitantly.

“Well yes until I had to explain to her my father would find quite a bit of joy in boiling them.”
Arcturus said with a shrug and a sip of whatever was filling his cup today. Ignatius hoped it was
tea.

“You know I do have a fair bit of training in mind healing.” Lancelot offered.

“It’s fine he’s dead.” Arcturus retorted.

“That doesn’t fix the lasting issues.” Lancelot grumbled.

“Worked for me so far.” Arcturus said casually. Ignatius let out a shallow breath. He had never
would have thought his father by law and his cousin would be spirited friends, yet it was the least
of his surprises. In the course of a few years, one nephew had returned from the grave and another
had escaped an inescapable prison.

“I need the rooster for this mission you’ve sent before me. It’s one of the only known foes of our
problem.” Ignatius explained as leaned over the table, careful of overhearing ears.

“We may have another issue in our hands.” Arcturus said smoothly as he pulled out the dairy and
slid it across the table towards him. Ignatius stared at the book for a moment before glancing up.

“Dear Tom and I have been having nearly daily conversations. Through some long nights and a bit
of trickery, I was able to get the secret on how to open the Chamber of Secrets.” Arcturus said.

“I assume I shouldn’t be celebrating.” Ignatius replied as he crossed his arms.

“No, because the only way to open it is with Parseltongue.” Arcturus said sharply.

“You can’t learn Parseltongue.” Ignatius pointed out as Lancelot shifted uncomfortably in his seat
as the idea dawned on Ignatius.

“Harry can though.” He said quietly after a moment. Arcturus nodded grimly.

“You will need to use him to open the Chamber and then you need to assure he does not follow you
into it.” Arcturus said.

“Yes, because he’ll handle that so well.” Ignatius said with an eye roll. Arcturus ignored him.

“Our main issue is, no matter my efforts, I have yet to locate the Chamber’s entrance.” Arcturus
pointed out as he nodded towards the dairy. Ignatius finally caved and picked it up. The fluttering
of the empty pages filled the silence around them for a minute.

“You want me to write to him, or whatever part of him is in here.” Ignatius stated more than asked.
He’d know Arcturus wouldn’t call a face to face meeting without there being a request involved.

“There may be more he will reveal to you. Details and memories of the prior attack that I am not
aware of.” Arcturus said. Ignatius nodded slightly as his finger ran over the edges, nearly slicing
the thin skin. It had been many years since he’d spoken to Tom Riddle. None of the interactions
had been particularly pleasant.

“Have you told Lucy yet?” Arcturus’ voice cut through the wandering of old memories that had
begun to swim in his head. Ignatius shook his head.

“I suggest you do. For all of our sakes, if she finds we’ve all been conspiring without her, well I
will gladly find the first portkey back to France.” Arcturus said, leaning back on the bench with a
loud creek.

“Do not lump you in with you lot. I am only here because you owed me a drink. Granted I had
expected a bit more of an atmosphere.” Lancelot chided as he glanced around the darkened walls.

Ignatius shifted his lips side to side as he continued to think. He’d write to Lucy tonight. Explain
the entire situation to her and hope that she didn’t find the need to rush to his side. A basilisk was a
more formidable foe than they had faced before. He didn’t want to risk her. Not when she’d only
gotten the life she had always wanted. Her family together again as best as it could be anyways. A
child to dot over. A chance to age gracefully and be surrounded by love. No, this was his battle to
fight. There was a grunting noise that interrupted his self-sacrificing internal speech. Aberforth was
towering over the table shoving a letter towards Arcturus.

“Bloody owl was hooting at the window the whole time I refreshed the kegs. Got your name on it.”
He said gruffly as Arcturus thin hand met his rather rough and wide one. Arcturus opened the letter
carefully as Ignatius noticed the seal on the back was familiar with a menacing M royally stamped
onto the seal. Arcturus eyes shot up and down over the words as a crease formed on his forehead.

“Bloody bastard just couldn’t keep his nose out of anything.” Arcturus uttered as he rose from his
seat leaving more than amble funds for the two drinks half finished on the table.

“Lucius?” Ignatius said as he rose. Lancelot let out a sputtering sound as he downed his drink and
fell in step behind the other two men as they left the pub.

“We’ve got a much more pressing problem now. Lancelot, my apologies but our additional errand
will need to wait.” Arcturus grumbled. Ignatius shot a look over his shoulder at his cousin who
only shrugged unhelpfully.

“What other errand? What did Lucius want?” Ignatius questioned.

“He needs me to take over as Headmaster at Hogwarts.” Arcturus replied before shutting his mouth
astutely and digging his walking stick into the ground on the long walk uphill into the quickly
fading sunlight.

Harry was holding a letter to Regulus in his hands. He desperately wished he could see him right
now. Late at night when he couldn’t sleep because of his worries, he dreamed of the days by the
fire over the Christmas holiday with Regulus holding him close and rubbing circles on his back as
Sirius drew or tapped on the piano nearby and other members of his family wandered in and out.
He supposed he was homesick.

The first year had been so full of change and excitement that he hadn’t the time to notice as much
how different it all was. Now, a pain in his gut made him fear it wouldn’t quite be the same. The
green grasses of Switzerland seemed to be fading in colour. He twirled the letter over again as he
stepped out into the corridor. It wasn’t nightfall yet, but it nearly was. Harry hadn’t heard any
voices for a long moment and he almost had himself convinced it was all a feverish dream. Only if
he thought too much that made him feel mad. He’d tried to write it all down, but he wasn’t certain
it made sense.

He knew Regulus was still in London, and somehow that seemed to ease his anxiety. Regulus was
close. He felt safe if he was nearby.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice called from behind him as he huffed to catch up. Harry slowed his steps to
make it easier.

“Where are you going? Hermione left me for the library. She was mumbling about a restricted
book.” Ron asked before he saw the sealed envelope in hand. “Oh writing home? My mum keeps
complaining I don’t write enough. Maybe I should send her a letter.”

“It’s for my cousin.” Harry shrugged. He also noticed the second year how much harder it was to
evade questions about his family. He swore he even caught Hermione going through an old book of
Wizarding families to try and draw connections to who his cousins could be. Thankfully, he was
technically a cousin to nearly half the Wizarding World and it was unlikely she’d choose Sirius and
Regulus as her first options. It had hurt Harry’s heart when she flipped to the Most Noble and
Ancient House of Black pages. The glaring numbers that were listed under Regulus’ name. To
think that the rest of the world thought he was dead, it did not sit right with him.

“They alright? Your cousins I mean? They don’t seem to talk much.” Ron asked casually, but there
was a glint in his eye.

“One of them is like my dad. I mean, not my dad, he never lets me forget who my dad was. Or my
mum, or anyone else from my family really. He struck up all these photos on the walls in my room
across from my bed when I was younger so I could see them every night before I go to sleep.
Sometimes, I’d hear him whispering to them, asking them for advice.” Harry said with a small,
nearly sad smile. Ron shifted as he followed him up the steps of the Owlery. He called Hedwig
down and she ruffled her feathers and stuck out her claw happily. She enjoyed the late night flying
towards London. Harry suspected Regulus gave her extra treats and chin scratches.

“She’s a beautiful owl. Better than Erroll, he can’t even fly in a straight line.” Ron said with a
shake of his head as Hedwig flew off into the starry sky.

“She was a gift. From the man that’s closest to a grandfather as I have I suppose. He chose her
specially for me.” Harry said this time his lips upturned honestly.

“So you have cousins and a grandfather, anyone else?” Ron asked innocently enough as they made
their way back to Gryffindor Tower, but Harry couldn’t keep talking about them. He’d give too
much away, or get too happy to speak about them. At first he was thankful when he rounded the
corner and Ron froze. Until he finally looked up from his feet and saw the cause.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled as he ran towards the mess of curly hair laid out around her fallen face.
In her hand was a cracked mirror and to the other side of her was a tall prefect that Harry had
hardly spoken to.

“Harry.” Ron was shivering as he dropped to one knee and stared wide-eyed. Harry’s hand touched
the tips of her fingers and was terrified. She was so still and he could feel his heart going ice cold
plummeting into his stomach.

“Harry!” A much louder voice came and his head jerked up painfully to see a group of people. The
tightness in his chest lessened as he let out a short breath. His family, they would know what to do.

“Unc- Professor Prewett.” Harry hardly caught himself in time. Ron was too flabbergasted to take
mind.

Uncle Ignatius raced to his side and put a hand on Hermione’s wrist as Uncle Lancelot did the
same for the other young girl. Harry held his breath as he watched with teary eyes. Ron’s hand was
digging into his forearm, but the pain was barely registerable.

“Petrified. How? Arcturus if we had the— this shouldn’t have been able to happen.” Uncle Ignatius
said breathlessly. Harry’s eyes turned up to his grandfather. If anyone could help them, it had to be
him.

“We need to get these two young ladies to the hospital wing, then we can speak.” Arcturus said
under breath as he pulled his wand out and levitated Hermione midair. Harry could barely stand to
watch as his legs and arms hung limply.

“Ignatius, I suggest you get Albus.” Arcturus said as he turned with Hermione slowly. Uncle
Lancelot was beginning to lift the other girl, Penelope. Harry remembered her name was Penelope.
He and Ron had run into her one night trying to make curfew and she’d given them a stern talking
to, but let them off without any points being deducted. Harry couldn’t help but feel it was partially
his fault she was here. Misfortune seemed to follow him.

Meekly, he walked on the tips of his toes behind his grandfather and uncle as they whispered in
hushed tones. Him and Ron interlocked arms and if Ernie MacMillian was seeing this he’d likely
make a joke of it, but Harry didn’t care. Their friend was hurt and it might be his fault.

Madam Pomfrey let out a surprised sound at the unexpected guests, but immediately on seeing the
students went straight to work making them as comfortable as physically possible in the row of
hospital beds, all were filling rapidly.

“Harry, did you see what happened?” Arcturus whispered as he pulled Harry aside by both
shoulders the moment he could, out of sight of anyone. Harry shook his head as he extended his
neck to try and see what was happening with Hermione.

“Is this my fault?” Harry said as his throat grew heavy. His voice was faltering, but he was trying to
not cry.

“No, Harry. This isn’t your fault.” Arcturus whispered as he put a cold hand on the side of Harry’s
face. His lips twitched and he had to blink hard.

“But I can hear it. Usually I can hear it, but I didn’t hear anything this time. Did I do something
wrong? Could I have stopped this?” Harry said as his breath came in raggedly.

“Harry, breath. This isn’t your problem. We had just come from talking about a solution. It’s
unfortunate your friend was endangered, but she is going to be fine. If I have anything to say about
it, everyone in the school will be as safe as I can make them.” Arcturus tried to reassure, but Harry
felt the room spinning.

“What if I leave? Will it go away? I just want to go home. I just want Reggie. I—” Harry’s words
disappeared into a painfully sob as he felt his grandfather pulling them behind one of the curtains.
Harry laid his head on his chest and even if it was a bit foolish, he cried. He had wanted a normal
year at school. To struggle in Transfiguration, to study with his friends, and not to worry about
dark magic trying to track him down. It was childish to cry, and he was happy no one else could
see.

“I know, Harry. I know. Take your time.” Arcturus said softly. “I’ll get you Regulus. I can have
him here in the morning, you've just got to be strong until then.”

Harry sniffled and gripped onto the robes hanging off his grandfather. His throat had grown raw so
quickly and he felt a strange warmness taking over his face from the stress. Even his stomach was
turning and he didn’t feel well. He wanted to hold on to his grandfather until the morning, but he
knew Regulus couldn’t come. His grandfather had to be saying that just to calm him down. He was
only beginning to catch his breath when the door to the hospital wing opened and Madam Pomfrey
yelled about the amount of people entering.

“Harry, I must handle this. You stay here and drink this.” Arcturus said as he pulled a glass from
one of the storage shelves and filled it with water. Once, his grandfather went beyond the curtains
and he felt rather cold and alone. Until a ruffling caught his attention and Ron came crawling from
under the white sheets with a bewildered look on his face.

“Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy are here.” Ron hissed before he saw Harry’s matted hair and
runny nose. “Oh, mate. I know I thought she was— here drink some more.”

“Minister, Lucius.” He could hear Arcturus greet the unexpected guest.

“You arrived rather quickly, Arcturus.” A bumbling voice said. Harry guessed it was the Minister.

“By a happy accident, I was in Hogsmeade.” Arcturus said as his walking stick clinked and
rebounded off the otherwise quiet wing.

“Oh well, yes anyways. Albus my apologies, I hadn’t suspected an audience. Did you ask for
him?” Cornelius continued as there was a clearing of throat every other word he spoke. Harry could
hear the loud footsteps bouncing down the hall. The doors crashed open as a small apology was
said.

“Oh, hello Hagrid.” Cornelius said nervously as the sound of a handkerchief snapping out of a
pocket broke the silence that fell.

“Minister, Professor Dumbledore, I got your owl.” Hagrid said gruffly. “Oh goodness, another
attack. No, not Hermione, is she?”

“She will survive, Hagrid. Fret not. Unfortunately, this isn’t the only news that has to be delivered.
Minister.” Dumbledore said.

“You must understand Hagrid, it must be stopped. It would be temporary until a cause can be
found. If we find the creature once again, you’d be freed of course. If you happen to know where it
is or at least an idea. We could move along and put all this nonsense to rest.” The Minster said.
Harry could feel his nervousness from here.

“No, not Azkaban. I swear Minister, I ain’t got nothing to do with this. Not then and not now.”
Hagrid said with a trembling voice.

“Minister if I may, an Acromantula is not able to petrify people. Truthfully, it would be a waste to
them, they’d more likely eat them.” Ignatius cut in. Harry could hear the sound of Hagrid's head
nodding in agreement.

“All the same, I have been backed into a corner. Action must be taken. Professor Prewett, the
Ministry knows your fee and we’d be willing to double it if you were to catch this creature.”
Cornelius said quickly, stumbling over a few words. Harry could only hear his uncle's defeated
sigh.

“Quite interesting how well versed you are on these subject matters, Ignatius.” Lucius said in a
dark tone. “Tell me when did you finish Hogwarts? Nineteen Forty Three?”

“I do hope Lucius you are not implying what I believe you are directly in my face.” Ignatius said in
a rising tone.

“Only stating pertinent information to a current inquiry. You were at Hogwarts the last time this
occurred. Head Boy if I recall with your wife as Head Girl, and she would have had several
prominent Slytherins in her social circles.” Lucius replied.

“Albus.” Ignatius demanded.

“I know your suspicions still remain the same, Ignatius. Unfortunately, my hands are tied in
Ministry affairs.” Dumblerdore said quietly. Harry wrinkled his nose. According to lost accounts,
the public favored Dumblerdore to Cornelius. If he spoke out publicly on an issue, people would at
the very least have to listen.

“And as of today, you have no say in the matters at Hogwarts.” Lucius said rather pleased with
himself as there was a ruffling of papers and a small gasp escaped Madam Pomfrey. Even Harry
and Ron exchanged a concerned glance as they strained their ears.

“All the governors have signed, I see. Effective today, I am being removed pending an
investigation and in my place they wish to appoint Arcturus Black as temporary Headmaster.”
Dumblerdore read out loud. Harry had to place his hand across Ron's mouth to keep his
exclamation from escaping.

“I had thought the Deputy Headmaster, or in this case Headmistress took over in these instances.”
Arcturus replied calmly.

“Typically, but the board can make exceptions if they deem necessary and it so happens they
unanimously agreed you would be the more proper fit.” Lucius said smoothly. Harry had an
inkling there was more than meets the ears here. Lucius sounded suspiciously how his grandfather
did when he made arrangements.

“Do you agree with this, Arcturus? As a generous donor and longtime supporter of the Ministry, if
you had to speak on behalf of the people.” Cornelius said and Harry could nearly feel the sweat
dripping down the Minister’s brow.

“I think Azkaban being the only option to hold people is a flaw of the system.” Arcturus said
pointedly.

“I assume because your family has a vested interest in its most prolific occupants.” Lucius snided.

“I wonder if we compared correspondences Lucius, how many old acquaintances and friends of
yours would be found within its walls.” Arcturus stated without pause. Harry chuckled in silent
breath. Even Ron had to suppress a smile as they leaned closer to the curtain carefully to be as
unnoticeable as possible.

“Yes, yes. Unfortunate as it may be, it is our only choice. Come Hagrid, the Aurors are waiting.
Please tell me you will come quietly.” Cornelius said. Hagrid let out a devastating sob that struck
at Harry’s chest painfully.

“I’ll be a comin’. Professor Prewett, if you could look after Fang for me and the other creatures.
They’ll be looking for me.” Hagrid said through loud sniffles.

“I promise Hagrid. I believed you then and I believe you now. I’ll find this monster and you’ll be
home before you realise. Keep your spirits up.” Ignatius said as Hagrid blew his nose loudly and
mumbled several more gratitudes. Harry almost wanted to jump from behind the curtain and latch
himself to the leg of Hagrid and plead for them to let him stay. Instead, he stood frozen and
weakened, clutching his arms around his middle as he heard Hagrid’s step retreat far out the castle.

“I will inform the Professors and collect my belongings. The school will be yours tomorrow,
Arcturus.” Dumbledore said with the swishing sounds of robes at his feet. Arcturus said nothing,
but Harry could imagine the stone cold set to his eyes and the way his jaw would tense. The
sounds of Dumbledore’s feet were small taps compared to Hagrid’s thunderous steps moments ago.

The only noise for a moment were the hushed voices of Lancelot and Madam Pomfrey speaking of
care for the victims of the attack. Madam Pomfrey's heels clicked rather close to Harry and Ron’s
tucked away spot. He couldn’t tell if she remembered they were there.

“I hope you will do your best for the school.” Lucius' voice oozed with smug arrogance. Harry’s
mood switched in an instant as his head shot open, startling Ron to stumble back. Thankfully, no
one seemed to hear. They were all distracted by the striking of Arcturus’ walking stick hitting the
cold tile ground.

“I hope you're pleased with yourself, Lucius.” Arcturus answered with a sharp lash of his tongue.

There was a satisfied grunt of approval and another softer hit of a walking stick rhythmically
exiting the room. Harry waited for the click of the door and then counted to five under his breath
before dramatically throwing the curtains back and stomping halfway to his grandfather when he
remembered Ron was behind him. He turned to see him completely horror struck and cowering
behind a still flapping curtain. His eyes spoke hundreds of words, but the most prominent one was
pleading with him not to walk up to their new Headmaster so determined. Harry’s chest dropped
instantly as he hung his head.
 “Best off to bed you two. Miss Granger is in good hands.” Ignatius said as he stepped in front of
Arcturus. Ron didn’t have to be told twice as he grabbed Harry’s hand and nearly dislocated his
shoulder as he dragged him down an entire flight of stairs before stopping to catch his breath.

“Mate! Are you bloody mental? You know who that is right? Arcturus Black, the last heir to the
House of Black. He might look plenty aged, but I swear he’s got as much magic up his robes as
Professor Dumbledore, and none of it good.” Ron exclaimed before shooting a glimpse over his
shoulder and quickly taking Harry’s hand again to put distance between them and the hospital
wing.

“Lucius Malfoy, he has to be behind this. Arcturus being Headmaster means all muggleborns are in
danger. He’d likely round them up for the monster himself.” Ron said, shaking his head as Harry
dug his heels into the slick ground to free himself from Ron.

“Mate.” Ron said apprehensively.

“Do you know him?” Harry questioned. Ron titled his head. “Do you know Arcturus Black? Have
you had interactions with him that prove this?”

“I don’t and for good reason, mum says the Blacks are never up to any good. I mean look at them,
two of them in Azkaban, several of the family were the most respected Death Eaters. I even heard
Bill and Charlie talking one night after a few pints, they said one of them died for the Dark Lord.”
Ron said with his eyes wide in disbelief at Harry’s indifference.

Harry could feel his skin growing warm and bile rising painfully in his throat. Swallowing only
made it worse as he balled his hands into fist while taking deep breaths. Ron didn’t know any
better. If Harry had been raised any differently, he’d likely think along the same lines. Still it was a
difficult accusation to hear.

“Professor Prewett is right. I’m exhausted. We should get to the Tower as quickly as we can.”
Harry grumbled as he pushed past Ron. He hated being angry with him, but his loyalty ran deep.
Even if no one else knew, he did. Regulus was redeemable.

Chapter End Notes

Hi!!!

I am speechless this fic is almost at 100k and I am blown away! Never did I imagine
this when I started! It is all thanks to you all my lovely readers.

Also, please everyone take care of yourself. I know the world has been crazy for years
now and I personal have had to take care of two friends who have fallen sick in the last
two weeks so wash your hands and get lots of rest!

I’m working on the next chapter now, I know I went awhile without an update for me,
but I should have this next one up in the next day or two! Thank you for waiting and
thank you always for reading!
 Mon Bébé
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of attacks; Faked attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Walking through the empty halls early in the morning felt serene. A morning chill snuck its way in
through old cracks in the castle as Harry shuffled in his socks, he hadn’t wanted the sound of his
shoes to wake anyone. A small handwritten note had been sitting by his bed when he woke up.
Even in the darkness without his glasses on he knew the neat script. As he stopped in front of the
towering statue that led to the Headmasters office, he unfolded the paper carefully. His eyes
crinkled at the side as scanned the writing. A small smile pulled at his tired face.

“Il n’y a pas de verités moyennes.” Harry mumbled in French that would get a disapproving look
from most of his family, but the staircase was revealed. His feet dragged against the harsh stone as
his weight made the old stone groan. He’d not slept much from the knot in his stomach. His eyes
were barely open when he stepped onto the plush rug at the entrance way.

“Harry.” He heard as his head snapped up, but his sight was swallowed in a warm embrace. Harry’s
hands clutched onto fabric and pushed his head as far as it would go into a thin chest. The smell of
warm fire enveloped him as he held Regulus close and wouldn't dare let go. It was several long
minutes of holding each other as Regulus supported his back with one arm and had his other hand
in his unbrushed hair.

He felt home. It was tempting to wrap his arms and legs around and hold on forever. Reasonably,
he knew it was not going to happen.

“Oh, Harry. My baby boy. Mon chéri.” Regulus whispered as he rocked him back and forth.

“I want to go home.” Harry whispered back as he clung as tightly as he could with each word
wavering on trembling lips. “What if it’s me? What if trouble is following me? It could be
Voldemort coming after me. If I leave, maybe everyone will be safe.”

“Mon bébé, it is not you. Even if you leave this monster will still run free.” Regulus said as he
pulled them apart gently and ran his hands through Harry’s hair. It was only then that Harry
realised he was staring at Regulus’ true face. He had no Polyjuice potion in his system.

“Reg, your face, what about the portraits—” Harry suddenly looked around and noticed the walls
were barren except for a single empty portrait hung on the farthest walls.

“Oh.” He said quietly.

“I did some redecorating.” A gruff voice said as his Grandfather came into view leaning heavily on
his walking stick. His free hand was digging into his hip as he looked down at Harry.

“Grandfather Arcturus, I— what about Dumbledore? Or this monster? I don’t know what’s going
on, I just want to help.” Harry said as he still clung to Regulus.

“I know, Harry. Come sit with me. It’s time we’ve told you what is happening, you will be of help
I promise, but only in ways that keep you out of danger.” Arcturus said as he motioned for Harry to
meet him at the large arm chair in front of the roaring fire. Regulus kissed his head and patted his
back for him to follow. Harry was careful to lean against his grandfather’s better side as he put
most of his weight on the edge of the large chair. His grandfather poured two cups of sharp
smelling ginger tea.

“Your uncle Lancelot says I need to switch from caffeine and drink tea to help with inflammation.
So ginger tea is all I have at the moment.” Arcturus said as he carefully drizzled a small bit of
honey in them both. Regulus was curled up in the smaller chair across from them already sipping a
much darker tea.

“It’s alright.” Harry said as he took it gratefully. Truthfully, ginger tea sounded fantastic with how
often his stomach was tossing.

“Now, this monster within the walls of Hogwarts, we do believe we’ve identified it. In fact, we
even know part of how to get to the Chamber of Secrets. We have a book from the person who
opened it last time.” Arcturus began as he paused to sip the tea. Harry hadn’t realised he was
holding his breath. He had hundreds of questions already boiling over in his mind, but he knew it
best to wait until his grandfather was finished speaking.

“We believe that Salazar Slytherin trapped a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, and that back in
the nineteen forties when Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia were students, Tom Riddle, now
known as Lord Voldemort, opened it. We have a journal that he has trapped part of his
consciousness into and I’ve been corresponding with it for several weeks. Now in order to open the
Chamber, we need your help Harry. It will only open with the use of Parseltongue.” Arcturus said.
Harry felt his face flush as he quickly sipped the tea to gain a few seconds before responding to the
knowing look in his grandfather’s eye.

“I don’t really know. I mean I do. I spoke to the snake, but to me it was like how I spoke English. It
isn’t like how I speak French or Latin, I know when I change languages. Parseltongue, it was as if
something came over me and spoke for me.” Harry tried to explain. Arcturus took a deep breath as
his hand brushed against Harry’s forehead barely touching the scar he tried to keep covered. Harry
swallowed. There was a sad sort of look in Arcturus eyes as he nodded when his hand fell back
towards the armchair.

“I understand, it is a complex matter speaking Parseltongue. My belief is if we can find the

entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, the ability will come over you again and you will be able to
speak it.” Arcturus said as he looked over Harry’s head towards the entrance way. Harry craned his
neck to look as well. Somehow his grandfather had heard them coming when Harry hadn’t. Uncle
Ignatius was an expected sight, his Aunt Lucretia wasn’t. From the look in her eye, Harry thought
it best not to ask her about her visit. She had that glare in her gaze that she only gave so few.

“Were you going to tell me?” Aunt Lucretia snapped under her breath.

“Lucy, please.” Uncle Ignatius said as he eyed Harry. Her own eyes softened as she looked at him
and her mouth shut sharply, but there was a curt twist of her lips that made Harry suspect once he
was gone, there would be another conversation beginning.

“Welcome.” Arcturus said with a waning tone.

“I see you are where your grandfather always wanted you.” Lucretia sighed as she acknowledged
her father.

“Minister would have been better! Hogwarts could have gone to Lycoris and Regulus could have
taken his role as spare. Run the affairs in France, but no, not one of you followed as I wanted.” A
cracking voice yelled into the room. Harry winced at the appearance of Phineas. He’d likely be just
out of sight listening to everything they said.

“Did you find whom I asked for?” Arcturus said as he rubbed at a temple with his ring finger. The
early morning rays caught the large silver ring he wore with the Black family insignia engraved
perfectly.

“Find him? Yes, did he listen to a word I said? Not for a moment, just stood looking perfectly
disobedient and drowning himself in more wine than appropriate.” Phineas huffed as he settled into
his portrait with his nose wrinkled and upturned.

“I knew it was unlikely.” Arcturus mumbled.

“Who was he looking for?” Lucretia cut through. Harry leaned closer to his grandfather, who met
his daughter's fiery eyes.

“Your brother. As I recall, he and Tom had several violent interactions the year the Chamber was
opened. I was hoping he’d found the young Mister Riddle in the same place frequently so we might
have an idea of where to begin the search for the entrance of the Chamber.” Arcturus said with a
large sigh that followed.

“Was no one going to ask my input in anything? I helped you get the information out of Lucius
Malfoy and I am the one who has been by my husband's side at every beast and monster he has
encountered. I was the one following Orion around like a mother geese with her flock, and yet I am
asked to do nothing? To sit back and wait and hope my husband and father return? No, I won’t
stand for this. For your information, Tom often used the abandoned classrooms at the other end of
the dungeon for his tortuous sessions of Muggleborns with his group of Slytherins. He also had a
strange habit of lingering around a girls' lavatory on the second floor. I had my own suspicions
back then, but I suppose for respect of the dead.” Lucretia said with her arms crossed and nostrils
flared.

“The girls' lavatory.” Ignatius whispered with a clouded look in his eye.

“Yes, you caught him and Walburga out after hours one time. It’s where I got my suspicions from,
Walburga already knew at that point she’d been promised to someone, but she blanataly pursued
Tom anyways.” Lucretia said with a disgusted look.

“No, the girls’ lavatory. That’s it Lucy.” Ignatius said as Lucretia snapped her neck at him and
gave him a reproachable glance. Igantius took a step back with his hands held up.

“The poor girl, the Muggleborn who died. She died in the lavatory. Don’t you remember? We had
to set prefects to guard it afterwards. It required us to completely rework the rounds schedule.”
Ignatius explained.

“The entrance is in a lavatory?” Harry asked. Several eyes shot at him and he suddenly wanted to
melt into the chair.

“The pipes.” Arcturus mumbled. “It would explain why no one has heard the beast moving about.
Ignatius, Basilisks can they elongate their bodies?”

“Yes, for a short period of time, they can’t make themselves the size of a common garden snake
mind you, but they can make themselves smaller.” Igantius answered.

“That could explain why the attacks have been concentrated to one side of the castle; it can only go
so far before it has to return to its chamber.” Arcturus answered. Harry’s head was flooding with
information. He hadn’t known half of what he’d suspected. There was a gigantic deadly snake
crawling through the pipes of Hogwarts attacking Muggleborns from an old journal of Lord
Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy had apparently set all this in motion. Likely for his own personal
prejudicial vendetta.

“I just need to open the Chamber. There’s nothing else I can do?“ Harry filled the momentary
pause with his question. He felt less flustered when the eyes came this time.

“That will be enough, Harry. Your Uncle Ignatius—” A loud throat cleared over from the corner
where Lucretia stood still fuming. “and your Aunt Lucy will enter the Chamber. The Basilisk is not
a monster to be taken lightly. I’m certain they have extensive plans to bring safety to the school
again.” Arcturus finished. He looked at Ignatius and Lucretia expectantly.

“I have a rooster.” Ignatius said with a shrug. Arcturus blinked heavily at him.

“In his defence, our plans usually go to shite anyway and we end up having to make it up as we
go.” Lucretia added with a slightly less angered look at her husband. Arcturus made a strange
chuckling noise deep in his throat as Harry gave him a worried glance, but he felt the reassuring
touch to the back of his head before he had even turned fully. His grandfather opened his mouth
and promptly closed it as he tilted his head.

“Well considering Minerva is halfway up the stairs, I suppose that is as detailed a plan as we have
time for. Harry, go to Regulus while I greet my Deputy Headmistress.” Arcturus said as he tapped
Harry twice on his back. Harry scurried over to Regulus and wrapped his arms around his middle as
he leaned into him. He tried to be as quiet and as still as possible to avoid being sent away.

“Arcturus, if you are going to insist on French passwords could they at least be simpler ones.” She
said holding her skirt in her fist and stomping on the stairs before she came to a halt at the top. Her
small eyes narrowed further as she took in the room. Harry was aware of how her eyes caught him
and Regulus together. He could feel Regulus tug away when the gaze held for several seconds, but
Harry just interlocked his hands and refused to move. McGonagall’s expression seemed completely
unreadable.

“I had come to discuss the matter of the children's safety within the school.” She finally proclaimed
with her jaw set and an intense look in her eye as if she was ready to fight.

“What is your recommendation?” Arcturus said as his hands leaned on his walking stick.

“My recommendation?” McGonagall said with a startled shake to her head.

“Minerva, may I use your name informally? Yes, please sit. I am quite aware I have been given a
position in which I have little experience aside from raising my own children. You have been here
many years and you are a successful Deputy Headmistress. I trust your opinion and in fact lean on
it heavily. So please, what do you suggest we do?” Arcturus asked again as he motioned for her to
take a seat. She did slowly, her eyes never wavering in the constant glances it made.

“Albus had implied you had reconnected with your family. I was just unaware how widely.” She
commented as she smoothed her robes over her legs while she sat. Her hands took a cup of tea from
Arcturus as he weighed his response, but her eyes were staring at Regulus. Harry could feel
Regulus staring back as his hands clenched onto Harry’s pyjamas.

“And I do suppose Albus had trusted your discretion?” Arcturus questioned as he leaned back into
his seat with his hands cupped over his lap. She took a small sip before giving one sharp nod.
“Very well, Harry, as you have likely figured, has had a difficult few months at school. As
Headmaster and partially biased family member. I thought it best he be allowed a family visit to
help cope with the strain. My daughter and my son by law are here to help bring this matter to a
close. Ignatius will keep up with his duties as a Professor and Lucretia will need access to the
school unquestioned to take necessary measures for its safety. None of this will come out of the
Hogwarts funds, I will be personally financing all needed precautions. There are my plans, but
when it comes to the children. I am willing to hear and assist in whatever way you seem fit.”
Arcturus explained. Harry watched as McGonagall’s eyes shifted a few times behind several long
sips.

“I propose an escort between every class by Professors and all free blocks to be spent in the library
under the watch of Madam Pince and for all years to be escorted to each meal by prefects. No
student is allowed to travel alone, even trips to toilets must be done in groups unless within their
Common Rooms. To allow for ample fresh air I suggest one hour prior to supper that the years be
allowed outside under the supervision of the professors before being escorted directly to Common
Rooms after supper with no one allowed to leave except for prefects who from this time forth will
be paired with a professor. The students will not enjoy these rules, but consequences need to be
swift though not overly severe. They need to understand we are taking their safety seriously. As
well, I would suggest letters written to all the parents and guardians explaining in detail the safety
measures being taken for their students.” McGongall said in her firmest tone. The one she took
when you were only moments away from a point deduction. Arcturus’ fingers tapped on the back
of his hand as he mulled over the words.

“I agree on all counts. I will make the announcement of the new rules at breakfast and if you could
gather the Professors and staff just before so I may make them aware. Only addition I believe is I
will pen a letter to The Daily Prophet giving reassurances that Hogwarts is safe.” McGonagall let
out a small cough.

“Not for my own sake, Minerva, but the Governors replaced Dumbledore. The general public is
uneasy and if we wish to keep Hogwarts' reputation, best to get in front of the issue.” Arcturus
replied.

“I still find it hard to believe the Governors would replace Dumbledore in a time of need”. She said
with a disapproving scowl on her face.

“Indeed, I do intend to write them sooner rather than later.” Arcturus mumbled under his breath to
where Harry couldn’t barely understand the sentence.

“Well, I best gather the Professors before many more students wake. They will be waiting for you
in the staff room.” McGonagall said as her tea cup made a small clicking noise on the table and her
boots rustled a bit of dust around her ankles.

“I will make my way there promptly in just a few minutes.” Arcturus assured with a nod as he
stood to show her out. Harry squeezed tight to Regulus knowing their time together was nearly
over.

“Harry, it will all be alright. It’s only a few more weeks and you’ll be back with us all. Uncle
Marius has a fresh batch of gillyweed he wants to work on with you and Aunt Helena is working on
allowing you to come observe at the hospital so you can see being a Healer as a career option.”
Regulus tried to encourage him. It did sound rather nice. He could almost feel the soft dirt in his
hands while he listened to Uncle Marius hum under his breath, or the way the knitting needles
would snap together as Aunt Cassiopeia worked on mending the winter clothes. He could even feel
the warm water lapping at his ankles as he walked along the shores of their lake with Sirius and
Regulus. Summer holidays were only a few short weeks away. He only hoped they could all go
unharmed until then.

Ignatius had walked Harry to breakfast that morning before returning to the staff room to listen to
Arcturus address the Professors. He couldn’t help but feel the glances that came his way. He kept
his head held high and eyes forward. This was not his first time listening to his father by laws
commands and these were by far some of the tamest.

The students were less receptive of the rules, though rather quiet with their protest. He could see
the fear dotting the soft young eyes, both from the attacks and from the new Headmaster standing
above them. Dumbledore may seem unapproachable at times, but Arcturus had that aura
constantly. Not to mention the generations of sigma that followed the Blacks. Was Arcturus
perfect? No, but he was working on unlearning his prejudices. Ignatius had known him since he
was a boy and of all the Blacks, Arcturus always seemed the centrist.

He escorted several Gryffindor classes to various parts of the castle throughout the day all with the
diary tucked under his arm wherever he left. Otherwise it was securely locked in the deepest
drawer in his desk during class. Eventually, he ended up with Harry and Ron’s year and was
transporting them to Herbology when they came across a rather unseemly sight. Peeves was laying
flat on the floor with his legs awkwardly sideways and a tongue stuck out. Ignatius remembered
the Poltergeist from his own years at Hogwarts. He paused the group as several people hushed
exclamations, likely believing he had been petrified.

“Peeves, you know I am appreciative of a good prank or two, but now is not the time.” Ignatius
said in a loud stern voice. Peeves poked open one eye before he let out a loud laugh and bounced to
his feet with a little jig.

“Ah ickle Ignatius, conqueror of many beasts and spirits. Tell me, have you found out how to
banish a poltergeist yet?” Peeves cackled as his shimmering form shook. Ignatius knew the best
way to fight Peeves was with humour.

“My life’s work, Peeves.” Ignatius grinned as he switched the book to be under his other arm.

“I’ll make you a deal, old friend. I’ll tell you on your deathbed if I can find you.” Peeves continued
to cackle before he flew high above their heads and down the hall.

“Professor Prewett?” A young girl asked with her hair plaited to one side and the same warm toned
skin as Harry.

“Yes, Miss Patil?” He asked.

“Is it true you can’t get rid of a Poltergeist no matter how hard you try?” She said as she pulled at
the end of her hair with a nervous look back at where Peeves had disappeared.

“Peeves isn’t the only Poltergeist I’ve encountered, they all like to say there is a way to remove
them, but wizard kind nor any of our allies have ever found a way. Let me tell you a secret though,
the best way to deal with Peeves is with humour. If you give him a good laugh, he’s often satisfied
and will move along.” He said as he offered a gentle pat on her shoulder.

“In fact, the next class reminded me to spend some time on the Rictusempra spell. A good laugh
can cure many ails.” He said louder to the rest of the class. The excited whispers helped to lighten
the nearly always sombre mood that followed them everywhere. Ignatius left the class in the
capable, albeit dirty hands of Professor Sprout. Her brow was in a constant knit as she tried to keep
the Madrakes under control. She mentioned something about their eyes having the glint that they
were about to start hopping into each other’s pots and Ignatius nodded excitedly with her even if
plants had never been his subject.

He came back to his office with the book tucked under his arm still. There was a block free before
he would be faced with the eager faces of his older nephews. Fred and George never made it easy
for him, but Ignatius couldn’t complain. They reminded him terribly of Fabian and Gideon and he
knew that behind their antics were strong hearts and a good work ethic. It would just take time and
experience to show. His curiosity had him humming under his breath as he brushed the back of his
hand on the dairy, he could feel it. Not as strongly as Regulus could, but he could feel Tom as
strange as those words sounded. The cocky grin and perfect teeth mocking him silently seemed as
fresh in his mind as he remembered it fifty years ago. He couldn't bear it. He sat and opened the
book as he knocked the edges of a ink well with a quill before letting it plop into the liquid. His
hand hovered. What does he say to a semi-sentient book of binded paper? Hello seemed to suffice.

“I was wondering why I had been left so alone.” Came the cruelly written words back.

“This isn’t Arcturus.” Ignatius paused.

“No?”

“Whose company do I have the pleasure of now?” He could feel his breath hitch.

“Ignatius Prewett.” He wrote back and watched painstakingly as the words slowly sunk away until
they had faded into nothing. The clock overhead ticked the seconds loudly. The quill was digging
into his grip as his knuckles cracked a few times.

“Ignatius. What a pleasant surprise. I hear you’ve managed to keep bright Lucretia by your side.
Oh, what I would bet my galleons on how you’ve managed to do that.” Tom wrote back. Ignatius
snarled under breath. He could hear the pitch of the accent in his head now. The way Tom always
enunciated his vowels into high class English. He could hear the light mocking of the
Pembrokeshire sound of his own voice. Growing up, he’d wanted to sound like everyone else. His
father was a proud man though, and he never caved on his sound even as he rose the ranks of the
Ministry to his position as Head of his department. They were the last Welsh purebloods and the
world was going to know it. He blinked his eyes as light writing began to appear line by line
achingly slow.

“I don’t believe I ever offered condolences on your father’s tragic passing.” Came first

“Truly, I was sorry to hear of your brother’s passing. He could have been great.”

“Then the mishap of your nephews' misfortunes. Tell me, is their sister well?”

Ignatius felt his blood starting to boil. Tom had no right.

“And do pass my condolences to your wife on the many losses in her once great family. I cannot
say I am displeased to hear only Cygnus remains in your family name. Orion and Alphard were
always too arrogant.”

“Uncle Ignatius!” Came the unison cry as he snapped the book shut with a thud and prompt swiped
it into the drawer and locked it tight. He could see the shimmer in Fred and George’s eye as they
exchanged glances.

“I’ve told you the entire term. Professor Prewett around your peers.” Ignatius said as he nodded at
 a short dark skinned boy tailing behind them.

“Lee doesn’t count as a peer, he’s practically family. He should be calling you Uncle Ignatius too.”
Fred said as he looped an arm around Lee.

“Alright, Professor Prewett?” Lee said with a nod and half a grin.

“At least one of you has manners. Now, tell me, has your class gone over the defensive uses of
tickling charms?” Ignatius said as he stood and leaned one hip onto his desk. The immediate
excitement rose to all their faces as they gathered around him the diary temporarily forgotten as
they all spoke over one another trying to volunteer for demonstration as the rest of their class
trickled in quietly behind them.

Chapter End Notes

A hundred thousand hits.

I cannot express my gratitude in words enough. I’ve never imagined such a response
and I am grateful always! Thank you and thank you again!

One last chapter in COS until we get a brief relief in the summer holidays and then,
well then it is POA. One of my favourite characters to writes comes to the forefront
and I can’t wait for you all to read.

Always appreciate comments and kudos!

 Into the Chamber
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Blood; Attacks; Injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Observing his grandfather command the halls and divide the students in their steps was astounding.
Harry watched every move carefully as he’d step aside in the halls. The way the eyes would follow
every move Arcturus made. Each one filled with an anxious energy. Then the immediate rush of
whispers once he’d turn a corner and the smack of his walking stick couldn’t be heard rebounding
off the walls anymore.

Harry’s eyes always lingered a bit too long until Ron would nudge him in the side as they raced to
keep up with whichever teacher was escorting them that day. Not telling a soul about Arcturus and
how underneath he was kind, maybe a bit strict, but always comforting. It was difficult and it made
Harry fall rather quiet. Ron assumed he was upset about Hermione and he kept the conversation
going even when Harry could only nod in response. Fred and George kept making random jokes at
every student they saw trying to lift the spirits and after a few days it seemed to work. Even Ginny
was smiling behind her long hair that constantly fell in her face. Percy was the only Weasley
completely out of sorts. He was working himself raw trying to keep up with exams and the
overload of rounds. His hair was in a constant state and the bags under his eyes seemed to stretch to
his cheeks, but he’d only snap at anybody who asked him how he was.

The worst part wasn’t Percy though. No, it was Draco. His smug expression filled the halls
because he was allowed to tell everyone that his family ran Hogwarts. And he did, loudly, at every
chance he got. One day, Harry was dragging his feet along the corridor as he tried to stay out of
Professor Snape’s eyeline while he escorted them from Potions with the Slytherins. Harry had
already lost five points for touching the wrong ingredient on a shelf. He didn’t want to risk any
more points.

They rounded a corner in the dungeon and came to the sharp raps of heeled boots pacing in front of
a wall. Aunt Lucretia had been found in every nook and cranny of Hogwarts. From the lavatory to
the library shelves, she wasn’t missing a chance to press her ear against the wall for the possibility
of hearing the slithering sounds. To Harry’s knowledge, the walls had been quiet and he hadn’t
heard any strange hissing voices.

“Miss Prewett.” Snape said in a grovelling voice as the class all halted. Lucretia took two steps
back from the wall and turned astutely with her hands clasped behind her back.

“Professor Snape.” She greeted back with a flip of her wildly curly hair.

“Any success tapping on walls?” He asked in a tone that made Harry’s eye twitch, but he stayed
grumpily to the rear of the group. He could already hear Draco’s haughty tone from just the way
his lips pressed together.

“I do hope Hogwarts is compensating you for your time, Aunt Lucretia. Not that you need it, but
our family’s time is precious and worth every bit of money spent.” He said loud enough the
Slytherins could have heard through the thick walls into their Common Room.
“Now, Draco. Miss Prewett is doing a service for the school and we’d be mindful to remember
where we are and how to address the staff.” Snape said with a twitch of his lips on the last word.
Harry figured it was an insult.

“Are the walls threatening to fall on students? I have a few that could volunteer for a test.” Snape
said while eyeing Neville. The poor boy tried to hide between Dean and Seamus who both stepped
up defensively, but Snape had already looked away. From down the hall, the distinct sound of a
walking stick hitting stone could be heard and every student straightened their back. Arcturus
rounded the corner with Ignatius just over his shoulder. Harry tried to perk up, but the effort was
lacking.

“Well, well, a whole family reunion.” Snape said quietly as his hands folded over each other.

“I am a part of that family.” Draco said with a snotty sound. Arcturus' stick hit the ground hard one
final time causing a collective gasp to bounce off the walls.

“Boasting is for the weak minded children, it would do good to remember that. Professor Snape, I
believe the next block begins in only a few minutes yet there are students milling about in the
halls.” Arcturus said. Snape's nose seemed to flared under a deep breath as he crossed his arms,
hiding his hands inside the wide arms of his robes.

“I was merely using a learning opportunity as we came across one. I see you’ve been rather
efficient in moving your students around Professor Prewett.” Snape replied as he glanced around at
the empty space behind Ignatius.

“My students only needed to go to Charms class and I have a free block after. There is still a
monster that needs catching. Perhaps you’d wish to be of assistance since you seem so keen to
observe.” Professor Ignatius said with a small forced smile.

“Last I checked I was the Potions Master. I believe I will leave the monster hunting to the two of
you who have made it a bit of a paid hobby. It is not as if there is any need for you to work. With
so few left to claim the Black fortune, I’m certain you have made good use of Arcturus’ vault. He
has only one heir left to claim it, no? A pity, but Cygnus must not mind sharing his family’s fame
with a Prewett. They were once a great line.” Snape said smoothly as Harry bit his tongue so hard
it stung. Ignatius only smiled more with his lips pressed tightly together as he stepped aside and
waved the class onward. Snape’s footsteps snapped loudly down the hall as Draco was on his heel
with his nose in the air and whispering that Cygnus Black was in fact his grandfather. As if anyone
with ears hadn’t heard it already.

Harry lingered for a moment. The three adults had huddled closer together whispering under their
breath. His footsteps nearly came to stop as he watched with wide eyes. Until his grandfather saw
him.

“Harry.” He said once and finally. Harry shook his head and picked up his steps to meet Ron at the
top of the stairs. His friend hissed at him again about being alone with Arcturus Black and its
dangers, but Harry barely listened as he kept checking over his shoulder wishing he was doing
more.

Ignatius walked down the halls with his robes cut short to his ankle. He’d been told most his life
the longer the robe the more regal the person, but he came from a working family. Lancelot with
his rushing feet pounding across St. Mungo’s for years. His father with his boots freshly shined as
he’d stand in front of an entire room filled with witches and wizards from around the globe and
address them with ease Ignatius could never understand. His mother would dance around fields and
rooms creating the most beautiful and powerful charms with her robes pinned up. His brother who
would fall so deeply down a hole of research his robes would be forgotten on the chairs and floor
alike. The Prewett name had meant something. It would still mean something if Ignatius had any
say about it. They may be few and he may be the last of his name when his time comes, but he
would not let a name his family had tried so hard to preserve die in silence.

His shoes squeaked to a stop outside a small door. He took a deep breath as he knocked twice. Not
that he needed too. No one came here. The door let out a groan as he pushed it open. The room was
dingy and carried a strange smell of old water. His feet squeaked with each step and he looked
around.

“Boo.” Came a cry from behind him as he turned on heel to face the shimmering form of the one
he’d come to see.

“Myrtle.” Ignatius greeted as she giggled loudly.

“Ignatius, I had thought you’d forgotten me.” She said between her giggles. “It gets rather lonely
here. I could always use some company.”

Igantius ignored the way her translucent eyelashes batted as he took a few steps closer. If Myrtle
had been alive he’d assume she was blushing from the ways she covered her face and crossed her
ankles. She sat on top of a broken sink with a faucet dripping water methodically every few
seconds.

“I have a few questions Myrtle.” He said with a kind face. He knew if he came off too strong or too
inquisitive she’d scream and fly off. Myrtle appeared a bit wary but nodded once with her glasses
falling to the end of her nose.

“The day you died, you came into the bathroom straight away, yes?” He asked. Her form
shimmered a bit brighter for a moment.

“Yes, Olive was being mean again. Saying my glasses looked funny on me. You don’t think they
look funny do you?” Myrtle asked pointedly. Ignatius shook his head.

“No Myrtle, they suit your face quite well.” He replied. Her giggles were back, meaning they were
on the right track.

“Did anything happen? Anything strange right before?” Ignatius asked.

“Well I had locked myself at the end, just there. It was my favourite toilet to cry in. Someone came
in. I heard their footsteps out in the hall as I tried to stop crying. Then there was this strange hissing
sound and a rumbling making the floors shake. Worst of all though, it was a boy! I had set my mind
that I would tell him to leave me to cry alone in the girls' lavatory. Well, once I opened the door it
just happened. One moment I was me and then next moment I was me, but dead.” Myrtle explained
as she let out a small sniff.

“It was a Basilisk that killed you wasn’t it?” Ignatius asked as he leaned forward.

“I dunno, I stepped out and saw bright yellow eyes as large as my head. Then everything changed. I
was still here but it all felt different.” Myrtle replied with a louder sniffle. Ignatius put his hand
close to where she sat and her frozen hand sat on top of his.

“I’m sorry Myrtle. I should have done more.” Ignatius apologised. He carried the guilt of what
happened to her with him for many years. It had been his school. He had been Head Boy and a
student had died under his tenure. A young innocent student who had done nothing wrong but in
the eyes of some who said she was born to the wrong type of family.

“You could stay with me if you want. Death isn’t too bad.” Myrtle said with a bat of her
translucent eyelashes again as her tears slowly subsided. Ignatius smiled weakly.

“I don’t fear death Myrtle. When I die, I’m going to a place beyond here and I can only hope there
are people waiting for me as I have desperately waited for them.” Ignatius answered. Myrtle
sniffed one more time before moving her hand away from his.

“One final question, did you see any openings or anyway the monster had come in?” He asked
knowing his time was short. She let out a small cry as she floated down from the sink and her
shoulders shook. Ignatius followed and stood behind her gently trying to be as supportive as he
could.

“Yes.” She croaked out after several minutes. “It was just there.”

He turned to see where her small finger pointed. It was to the very sink she’d sat on with the leaky
faucet dripping into the drain loudly. He had found it. He had found the entrance to the Chamber of
Secrets.

Harry picked at his food. Exams were only days away even if he couldn’t understand why they had
been cancelled. The rest of the school had eased into quiet conversations. Ron was talking to Dean
and Seamus about Quidditch with his mouth half full. Neville was speaking to Ginny, who finally
looked a normal shade of pale. If he looked over the room towards all the other filled tables he
could see other students doing the same. Ernie MacMillian was doing a strange reenactment with a
slice of ham and a fork while Hannah Abbot snorted up some pumpkin juice. Even Draco was
pruning his way with the Slytherins both younger and older. Pansy Parkinson has smushed herself
directly in between Draco and Gregory Goyle, which Harry couldn’t imagine was comfortable. He
knew the old ways though, some purebloods still cling to them. Pansy was just doing as she was
taught. He even saw Blaise in between the mess of people moving about. Sitting at the end of the
table slowly eating a salad while a potions book was propped up for him to read in his solitude.

“Aright, Harry?” Someone asked, breaking his trance. He shook his head as he saw many eyes had
fallen on him.

“You looked a bit in a tizzy.” Parvati said as he recognized she was the one who spoke to him
earlier. Harry mumbled under his breath as he stabbed at a tomato. Parvati reached out and put her
hand on his wrist as he was forced to make eye contact with her.

“Hermione will be alright. I overheard Professor Spout talking to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital
wing. The potions should be done in only a day or two. She’ll be back and doing better in exams
than all of us before long.” Parvati said in encouragement. Harry managed a weak smile. It was
good news. He had felt a gaping hole in his life without Hermione taking quick steps on his heels
or sharply correcting his pronunciation when he’d mumble. He even missed the way her hands
would always go around his neck when she’d hug him.

Walking out of the Great Hall behind Percy, whose feet were dragging as he tried to give a lecture
on the importance of staying in the Common Room, Harry was almost content to curl into his bed
and count the days left until he was under the warm sun in grassy hills again. That was until he saw
Aunt Lucretia standing purposefully outside the Great Hall’s door.
“Aunt Luc- Miss Prewett.” Percy quickly correctly as he halted and nearly caused Seamus to
crashing into him. Harry didn’t know Irish Gaelic, but he was certain whatever word Seamus
muttered was not one he should repeat.

“Percy. Students.” She said with a gentle nod. Her hair was pinned back and she was wearing form-
fitting trousers. The hairs on Harry’s arms went rigid.

“Ginny, love, how are you?” He heard Lucretia say quietly under her breath.

“Better.” Ginny squeaked out as she shuffled closer to Percy. Lucretia nodded kindly with her eyes
wrinkling.

“Mister Potter, the Headmaster was looking to speak with you.” She said in a more authoritative
tone. Harry gulped as he stepped forward. He could feel the burn on his back.

“Come along everyone, must not idle.” Percy called loudly as he pushed the students along. Harry
glanced back to see the look of horror on Ron’s face as he was being pulled away by Fred and
George. Harry’s face fell as he walked in step with Aunt Lucretia.

The office was still rather the same as it had been under Dumbledore. Only with many of the
objects pushed to the side and the severe lack of portraits on the wall. His grandfather had his head
bent over his desk with flickering candlelight casting shadows over the room as a quill scratched
against paper. Uncle Ignatius was standing to the side fiddling with a ban of leather he was
holstering over his shoulders. Harry thought he saw a glint of silver.

“Harry.” Arcturus said as he placed the quill gently in the inkwell before wiping his hands. Harry
straightened his back. It was time, he knew it was.

“We’ve found the entrance. We believe it best to enter tonight. The year is coming to a close and
before the heat of exams begins we need to finish this. Your Aunt and Uncle have their
preparations made. You and I will accompany them down there. The Chamber needs to be opened,
and then you will come with me. I do not want any protest on that, do you understand?” Arcturus
said in a tone he rarely used. Harry felt his lips twitch in protest, but it was futile.

“Yes, Grandfather.” Harry replied.

“Good.” He answered as he folded and sealed the letter he’d been writing and tucked it into his
robes. His daughter helped him stand as he leaned into his walking stick. Harry waited until his
grandfather put his hand on top of his head.

“The students should nearly all be in bed and Professor McGonagall is briefing the prefects and
Professors for a few moments. We must go now so we won’t be disturbed.” Arcturus explained as
Harry felt his mouth go dry.

The walk down was eerily still. Harry had slipped out a few times after hours hidden under his
fathers invisibility cloak. He enjoyed the cool nights of fall when the owls would go flying into the
night cooing loudly, or when he could sit in a window and watch the giant squid splash along the
shoreline. This felt different. Tense.

His grandfather kept a grip on his shoulder as his walking stick clanged every few seconds. Aunt
Lucretia’s boots followed quickly behind as she whispered to Uncle Ignatius, who had a covered
box under his arm that Harry hadn’t a chance to ask about. They entered the cold bathroom and
Harry felt it. The slow slither of cold dripping down his back and his neck went stiff. He could feel
the Chamber. He paused.
“Harry.” Arcturus said as he turned and knelt before him slowly. Harry felt a shake through his
shoulders as he looked around. No one else was fearful and they had much more worries than him.

“It’s here. I can feel it now.” Harry whispered. Arcturus put a comforting hand on his shaking
shoulders and squeezed.

“Do you hear anything? Can you hear any voices?” Uncle Ignatius asked as he placed the box
down. Harry closed his eyes and strained his ears. The drips of water and the rumbling of old pipes
could be heard and even the near silent snaps of house elves running about the halls doing their
nightly duties but no voices. Harry popped open his eyes and shook his head. Uncle Ignatius
looked serious, but not grim as he nodded in response.

“It must be deep in the Chamber.” Lucretia muttered as she bent down to fold the end of her
trousers and expose a small knife hidden in her socks. Harry couldn’t see how that would help
against a snake the size of a train, but he wasn’t the expert.

“Come, Harry.” Arcturus said as he gently guided Harry in front of a cracked mirror over a broken
sink. The distorted image of him and his grandfather stared back at him.

“It is just here. Behind this mess of a sink.” Arcturus said with his walking stick raising and
tapping the dirty porcelain. Harry felt the hissing of a cool breeze hitting his forehead and pushing
at his scar. His hand reached out instinctively as his grandfather clasped it. Harry turned and
watched as their hands were folded together and his grandfather looked at him with expectant and
encouraging eyes. Harry squeezed his hand as he turned and faced their image again. His eyes
screwed shut as he searched his mind for the words. It was like chasing a rabbit down a hole.
Everytime he caught a glimpse of the words they scurried away out of reach in the depths of his
mind. He swallowed as he let out a small gasp for breath.

“Take your time, Harry. Focus on the voice in your mind, the smallest one you have. It never
speaks much, but when it does it always has the right words to say.” Arcturus whispered. Harry
could feel his hand breaking into a sweat, but his grandfather never wavered in his hold. He took
one slow breath.

He could hear it vaguely pulsing in the back of his mind. It wasn’t his voice. At least it didn’t
sound anything like him. Their accents may be similar, but this voice sounded cruel. The smooth
slips of constants and the sharp clicks of vowels. The voice was growing louder and louder. The
pulsing in his head was moving behind his eyeballs now. The voice was changing. Less words and
more sound now, the hisses come clearer with each second that passed. He licked his lips. It was
nearly there. The words he needs to say. He didn’t hear his own voice make the sound, but he felt
the rumbling as he lost his balance and fell into his grandfather, never opening his eyes as he
buried his head into the warm shoulder. The rumbling lasted a moment and then it was quiet.

He dared to peak up and stare at his grandfather’s face. His jaw was set and his eyes strained, but
his hand had never left Harry’s. He swallowed and turned to face the sink. Only there was a black
void of space now in the shape of a sphere with large droplets of water falling from the top where
the sink had been. It was the largest pipe Harry had ever seen.

“Well, I can’t say it looks inviting.” Ignatius broke the silence as he stepped forward tightening the
leathers over his shoulders. Harry could see it now. A much larger knife was strapped to the side.

“Why do you have a knife if you have a wand?” Harry asked before he could stop himself, he tried
to cover his mouth but Arcturus was still holding his hand.

“A wizard who believes in his wand is smart, but a wizard who believes in himself is smarter. A
wand can be taken, it’s one of the simplest spells in duelling. I’ve brought this knife with me on
every journey I’ve been on and it has served me well in all of them.” Ignatius replied with the
grimmest tone as he clutched at the hilt. Harry watched with a bit of wonder.

“Harry, why don’t you wait outside? I need only a moment and then I have a few plans of our own
for tonight.” Arcturus said as he finally stood from his crouched position and gave Harry’s hand
one final squeeze. It would be pointless to argue, but Harry had one last thing he needed to do. He
flung himself towards his aunt and uncle barely being able to reach around both of them as he
squeezed them tight.

“Please be careful. Please come back.” Harry said in a voice more sniffling than he had wanted. He
felt the warm hands embrace him and the small kisses to his head.

“We always do, Harry.” Lucretia whispered into his ear before letting go. His hands lingered for a
second as he took a long comforting look at them both before he let them collapse to his side.

“I love you.” He whispered as he stepped back.

“We love you too, Harry.” Ignatius replied. His eyes weren’t worried and that comforted Harry as
he took a few more steps and exited into the warmer air of the hall. The door clicked behind him
quietly. As the breeze continued to flow from the opening in the wall.

“Do be careful.” Arcturus said as he stared down the darkness. Ignatius and Lucretia both touched
his shoulder as they began to prepare. Ignatius uncovered the box to expose Grohl as his beady
eyes stared back at him and he clucked angrily.

“Alright, Grohl. I want you to know that if we don’t make it out of here. Your sacrifice is well
noted.” Igantius said as he pulled out the rooster. Grohl squawked and pecked his way forward.

“The one true enemy of a Basilisk. How do you plan to get him to crow?” Arcturus asked as he
nodded at Grohl moving about.

“If put into enough danger, a rooster should instinctively crow to protect its flock. In this case, it’s
us, it’s why I've kept him close to me. His loyalty needed to be earned.” Ignatius explained.

“We just have to get him close enough. We don’t know how far this runs underneath the school.”
Lucretia added. Arcturus nodded as he slipped his hands into his robes. He pulled out the well
bound diary as he faced Ignatius.

“Take this. You may need it.” Arcturus said as he held it out. Ignatius gave him a bewildered look.

“That was—” He began.

“Locked in your office. Clever enough to keep a student out, but you didn’t truly think it could
keep everyone out.” Arcturus said with raised eyebrows. Ignatius shook his head as he took the
diary. Arcturus held tight to it for a moment as he stared at the knife just under his arm.

“I didn't know you kept it.” Arcturus said. Ignatius pulled the diary free and tucked it away.

“It’s a reminder. Even mighty men fall.” Ignatius replied more gruffly than he intended.

“My brother didn’t intend for the knife to be used for the purposes it was. Your father was one of
my greatest mentors.” Arcturus said as his eyes lingered on the silver glint that could barely be
seen from where it was sheathed. Ignatius knew as much, but it didn’t change the past.
“Your brother was trying to do what he always wanted. Sacrifice himself. It just happened that he
wouldn’t get the chance until years later. I know he did not intend for this knife to kill my father,
but it did and now it is mine.” Ignatius said as he placed his wand tightly to his side.

“He killed a great many people with that knife.” Arcturus mumbled as he broke his gaze finally. He
watched his daughter for a moment as she double checked that her clothes were snug enough to not
catch and her shoes tied tightly.

“Keep her alive. If I do not have her, I do not know if I have anything left.” Arcturus said. Ignatius
paused as he watched his wife pull her curls once more. She was beautiful, she was always
beautiful, but her determination brought out a side of her only he could see. Only he was allowed to
admire.

“I do not have anything without her either. I promise she will always return.” Ignatius answered.
Arcturus tapped his walking stick twice as he stepped forward and kissed his daughter on the
cheek before he left them alone.

“The plan?” Lucretia asked as she looked over him once. He smiled at her and held out his hand.
She intertwined her fingers with his and pulled closer as they stared down the dark opening.

“We survive.” Ignatius said quietly as she squeezed her hand for good measure before pulling his
wand out of his robes.

Harry walked in silence next to his grandfather through the winding halls. The night sounds only
began to settle into the castle as they reached the edge of the long winding stairs of the Owlery.
The smell wasn’t always pleasant, but the kind faces of the night creatures were.

“Do you mind if I borrow her? I only trust her to get this letter where it needs to be.” Arcturus
asked as he held out his hand and Hedwig swooped in pecking happily at the small bites of turkey
in his hand. Harry nodded as he reached to scratch her chin. Hedwig enjoyed a few moments with
them before the letter was tied to her feet and she was fluttering her wings into the night.

“She’s a good owl. Loyal.” Arcturus said as they turned to leave.

“You choose the best one.” Harry replied with a genuine smile.

“I suppose I did.” Arcturus chuckled as they entered the hall. Only a few steps in and Arcturus
paused. There was a distinct clicking sound coming in unison from around the corner.

“Harry, under this.” Arcturus said as he made the invisibility cloaks appear from thin air.

“How did—?” Harry couldn’t even finish his question in amazement as the cloak was wrapped
around his shoulders.

“An old man has to keep a few tricks.” Arcturus said with a wink before he tucked Harry’s head
under. It was distinctly warmer under the clock especially on a late spring night. He stepped to the
side of the hall hugging the wall as he watched a bright light come around the corner before he
could see the two faces behind it.

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout.” Arcturus greeted them as he crossed his walking stick
in front of himself.

“Headmaster. I didn’t know you would be patrolling tonight.” McGonagall replied.

“I hadn’t intended to, but I find sleep comes less and less as I age. If I am going to be up with the
owls, I might as well be protecting these halls.” Arcturus replied smoothly. McGonagall seemed to
weigh his words for a moment.

“Very well. Pomona and I were doing a few rounds as we waited for the potion to finish brewing.
Professor Snape says it should be done at first light. He is spending the night monitoring along the
dungeons and Flitwick and Madam Hooch have the grounds while the rest of the professors and
prefects have been spread throughout the castle in pairs and shifts.” Professor McGonagall replied.

“You’ve done a splendid job, Minerva. I wouldn’t know what to do without you and I do hope once
this matter is resolved and Dumbledore likely reinstated, that he shows you just as much
appreciation.” Arcturus said. Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall stunned before. It was
more demure than he expected or maybe that was exactly what he expected.

“Thank you, Arcturus, for your kind words. I will say I have been pleasantly surprised at your
efficiency and willingness to help the students during these trying times.” McGonagall replied
kindly. Arcturus bowed slightly as he stepped aside and let them pass. Professor Sprout gave a few
happy yet anxious nods as they did. Harry waited until he could no longer hear the sounds of their
shoes before popping his head out of the cloak. Arcturus only glanced at him.

“I thought we would visit your friend in the hospital wing while we waited.” Arcturus said as he
stepped forward. Harry kept the cloak tight around his shoulders as he followed.

The ringing splash of water could be heard echoing all around them. Ignatius stepped carefully
over puddles when he could and other times stepped as softly into them when it was unavoidable.
He had Grohl floating just behind him in a sleeping trance so his small pecking sounds wouldn’t
push the Basilisk deeper into the school where they may never be able to reach it. Lucretia was on
her toes as she used the blade of her knife around every corner and down dark halls they passed.
Besides the sounds of water, it was ghostly quiet. Any small noise they made could be heard. It
was making their progress painfully slow.

Lucretia pushed her back up against a wall and held her knife out once more. He felt her jolt and
she turned her head away quickly as he grabbed onto her worried she’d fall stiff. Her body
remained upright as he slowly let go of his grip. Her eyes met his in a silent conversation as he
reached for the knife and angled it once more, his body pressed against hers to shield her from
whatever may lie ahead. He examined the long winding skin that was piled in a large heap on the
floor. The flaking white coloured told him it was only the moulting.

“We’re safe. It’s just the skin.” Ignatius said as he stepped out first with his wand drawn still.
Lucretia’s hand was on his shoulder as she crept along behind him as the edged along the wall. He
knew a Basilisk was giant, but until he saw the skin lying dead on the floor, it had been hard to
imagine exactly how large.

“I may be a proud Slytherin, but even this is too much for me.” Lucretia hissed under her breath.
Ignatius had to agree. At least Godric hadn’t let a Lion loose in the school.

They reached a tall long wall with serpants guarding what appeared to be another entrance. The
intertwined figures with their sparkling emeralds stared at them. Ignatius cast a light over it to see
if there was any handle.

“Don’t tell me we need a Parseltongue again.” Lucretia whispered. Ignatius had come to the
worrisome conclusion himself, but he didn’t want to drag Harry down here until he was certain it
was absolutely necessary. His hands slithered into his robes as he pulled out the diary. He passed
his wand to his other hand to keep Grohl steady behind them as Lucretia used her own wand to
provide a gentle light over the pages. He pulled a spare quill and began to pen his words.

“Tom.” He wrote hesitantly as he waited to the words to fade.

“Ignatius I suppose? I hadn’t thought we’d speak again. You seemed so upset at our last
conversation. I promise it wasn’t my intention. I respect those who deserve it and your family has a
long respectable line. I wouldn’t let a few rogue members ruin you.” Tom wrote back quickly.

“What conversation?” Lucretia hummed in his ear but he waved his hand to dismiss it. Then he
paused. He peered at his wife.

“Ig.” Lucretia said sharply under her breath. He held out the quill.

“Write to him.” He said. Her eyes blinked heavily.

“To say?” She asked but her hand wrapped around the quill.

“He always admired you, Lucy. You didn’t fall at his feet in worship like Walburga and you didn’t
hex him like Orion. He saw you as a true political. He may tell you how we need to get through.”
Ignatius explained. She looked wary, but her other hand reached for the book. He watched as she
scratched her first worst.

“It is Lucretia.” She put it simply. The pause was long as a scurrying sound ran past them. The
small animals whose bones were littered throughout seemed to have companions.

“My dear Lucy. How wonderful to speak to you again.” Tom wrote back. Ignatius grabbed her
hand before she could write again.

“This isn’t Lord Voldemort, not yet at least. This is teenage Tom Riddle. We have to appeal to
him.” Ignatius said with a knowing glance. Lucretia gave him a disgruntled look, but the quill
touched paper once more.

“Tom, I know what you did to my niece. I don’t know why you would go to such great lengths.
You could have simply asked.” Lucretia wrote quickly. It faded and the reply came instantly.

“Asked?” Tom questioned.

“You may not know, but my father has been given his rightful place as Headmaster of Hogwarts
and we’ve intended to keep your mission. To make it pure once more.” Lucretia wrote with her
nose twitching angrily.

“My, my Lucy. I am surprised. You seemed so centrist when you were younger.” Tom wrote back.
Ignatius could nearly hear his cocky tone.

“I am not the girl you once knew. The war you fought so strongly in. It changed me. It showed me
the true ways.” Lucretia wrote back.

“I am pleased.” Tom replied.

“I have also found the Chamber of our great Salazar Slytherin. However, I need your assistance
Tom. I cannot open it.” She wrote with her knuckles white on the quill. A minute ticked by as
Ignatius’ eyes narrowed around the room. It seemed to be growing colder.
“Age has done you well. If you didn't have a husband, I’d offer my hand. Take my diary and place
it at the base of the entrance. I will need a singular drop of blood. The diary works as a sort of
conduit, but I need a bit of life force. One drop should do. Once it sinks into the pages, step back
and I will open the Chamber for you.” Tom wrote. Ignatius stared at his wife as they lifted the
book together and put it under the tails of the serpents. Ignatius already had his hand over it when
Lucretia pushed it down.

“Lucy.” He protested quietly, but she shook her head as she held out her smallest finger. He
couldn’t even react before she had poked the base and a small trickle of blood flowed. With
determination, she pushed at the small cut and a perfectly shaped blood drop fell onto the diary.
They took two steps back. Ignatius pushed her behind him as she healed the cut under her breath.
There was nothing for a moment and then the room filled with raspy sounds. The hisses and slits of
tongue made no sense to him as he crouched down pulling Lucretia with him. The serpants
slithered as if alive across the walls and away from the door. Underneath them was a plain handle.

They exchanged a look. Their wands were pulled and Ignatius brought Grohl in tighter. This was it.
Their final stand.

The hospital wing always had a chemical smell that wasn’t entirely unpleasant if not for the
implications of the hospital wing. Arcturus had Harry walking closely behind him with the cloak
safely tucked away for now. Madam Pomfrey was busy checking on the petrified patients ghost,
cat, and human alike. She barely even paused when Arcturus entered.

“Headmaster.” She said sharply as her shoes hit the ground. “Is Mister Potter unwell?”

“No, madam. Not physically at least. I believe with your permission, a short visit with his dear
friend would help calm his spirits.” Arcturus called after her. Madam Pomfrey eyed them both
heavily. Harry couldn’t believe anyone would give Arcturus such a strict look.

“As long as you both remain quiet and don’t bother any of my patients.” She answered before
flinging a curtain open and disappearing behind it.

“Yes, madam.” Arcturus said almost humorously as he opened a curtain close to them. Hermione
was laying frozen on the bed with a blanket tucked around as best as could be given her position.
Harry felt his heart tug as he rushed to her side and put his hand over hers.

Arcturus pulled a seat behind Harry so he could sit and watch her. Someone had tied her thick curls
into a rough knot on top of her head and her clothes had been changed into a hospital gown. Harry
rubbed her arm appreciatively. Arcturus pulled another chair and sat just behind him.

The curtain opened sharply again as Harry nearly jumped. Only it wasn’t Madam Pomfrey. He
blinked a few times to confirm he was seeing visions.

“Lancelot. I didn’t know you were visiting.” Arcturus said as he settled into his chair.

“Poppy wrote to me. Told me the cure was nearly ready and asked for a hand. I’m sure there is a
notice on your desk that you ignored.” Lancelot replied without looking up from the sheets of
paper in his hand. He went to the other side of Hermione and waved his wand over her. The magic
of healing spells always amazed Harry. The strange pulses and beats that would rise out of a patient
and the different colours that swirled around as healers had to interpret them.

“A bit dehydrated, but pulse and heart rate are steady and her oxygen levels are normal.” Lancelot
mumbled as he dotted the paper with a quill a few times. He pulled out a small vial from his robes
and tilted it back to Herimone’s lips and had to cover her mouth with his hand to force it down her
throat slowly. Harry watched wide eyed.

“Petrified patients, especially of this degree, can be difficult. The first few hours after waking are
typically painful from the muscle cramps and the light headedness. Hydration and nutrition potions
help, but getting them down can be difficult. Thankfully, Hermione has been a star patient. You
should have seen me and Poppy trying to get anything down that damn cat's throat. I will say
Nearly Headless Nick is the easiest, given he’s a ghost and we simply have to make sure a strong
breeze doesn’t blow him down the corridor.” Lancelot explained as there was a strange gurgling
sound as the last of the potion went down Hermione’s throat. Harry winced slightly, but held her
hand still.

“Healing isn’t pretty, but it is rewarding.” Lancelot explained as he pulled a handkerchief from his
pocket and wiped at Hermione’s mouth. He made a few more notes and then went to check on
Penelope in the next bed over. Harry rubbed his thumb on the back of Hermione’s palm hoping
somewhere deep inside, she knew she wasn’t alone right now.

“She’s a bright witch.” Arcturus said after a few moments of silence has slipped by. Harry turned
to his grandfather and nodded in agreement. Arcturus pulled a small crumbled paper out of his
hand. He motioned for Harry to take it. When he unfolded it, he noticed it was a page from a book
torn and creased. On it were words speaking on the Basilisk and in the corner was the neat
handwriting he knew well from all the times he copied her notes. One simple word was written,
pipes.

“She had figured it out before any of us.” Arcturus said as he leaned forward. Harry smushed the
paper in his hand as he turned to smile at Hermione.

“I’ve never been perfect, Harry. I don’t want you to be illusioned by that idea. There was a time in
my life when I would have been disgusted to have even been in the presence of your friend.”
Arcturus began. “Now, I consider it an honour because she very well may go on to outsmart us all.
Her blood status does not matter, even her intelligence does not matter nor make her more worthy
in my eyes. She is just a child. A child and fellow witch who needs help and I am here to bring it.”

Harry’s lips pushed against each other as he glanced between Hermione and his grandfather. His
one hand crumpled the paper further and the other gripped his friend. A long sigh followed.

“You’ve made mistakes. I’m sure many awful ones, but I still choose to see you how I do. As my
wonderful and imperfect grandfather.” Harry said after a moment of thought. The smile that
crossed Arcturus face was one he wouldn’t soon forget.

“I believe that is my greatest accomplishment to date.” Arcturus replied.

Once in the Chamber, Ignatius had his eyes peeled. Even the thought of movement had him
shutting them tightly and feeling around as best he could. The diary was weighing heavily in his
robes. They walked down a tall long hallway filled with pillars. Eyes of snakes carved into stone
followed them with every step.

The end opened to a wide room with towering ceilings and perfect stones everywhere. The largest
design was a multi-level statute of Salazar Slytherin’s face. Any other time, Ignatius would have
been rolling his eyes.
“Well that’s just narcissistic.” Lucretia said under her breath. Ignatius grunted in reply as he slowly
circled around himself.

“I’m noticing a severe lack of gigantic snakes.” He whispered. Lucretia gave him a pained
expression.

“The diary.” She nodded. Ignatius hated that she was right. They backed themselves up towards
the hall near a wall while she kept her knife trained on any dark corners. Ignatius took out the quill
once more and traded places with her, taking the knife from her. He kept one eye on the reflection
and another on the words.

“I have made it inside.” Lucretia wrote.

“I need another drop of blood.” Came back in dark ink. Ignatius had a sinking feeling in his gut.

“If he speaks Parseltongue in here. We won’t know what he’s said to it.” Ignatius said. Lucretia
licked her lips.

“We came here to slay a beast. Get Grohl in position, set your wand on him and hope to Merlin he
crows at the right moment.” Lucretia said as she pulled out a pair of scarves from inside her pocket.
She handed one to him.

“Remove any temptation to look. Put Grohl right at the entrance of the room just in the shadows,
we hide behind the last of the pillars. If anything goes wrong we run to the end and blast the room
to pieces. By my memory, we are deep under the lake. If it caves in the Basilisk is crushed and
even if it manages to survive it drowns. I’d prefer to not destroy part of one of our world's oldest
landmarks, but if it is our only option, we drown the snake.” Lucretia said as she tied the scarf just
over her eyes making it easy to push it down when needed. Ignatius agreed as he knotted the fabric.

He put Grohl just out of sight under the shadows of a pillar as Lucretia pulled the diary once more.
They retreated to a pillar not far away, both of them mapping the way out of danger in their minds.
Lucretia poked her finger again, and the drop hit the book once more. It was silent for a moment as
Ignatius aimed his wand at Grohl. The moment he heard any noise he’d wake the rooster and hope
his theory on roosters crowing would work. Between just being woken up and being around people
he had bonded with he hoped it would cause a loud and robust crow.

“Lucy, my dear. How thankful I am for you seeing the way.” The silky smooth voice of Tom came
out of the diary. Ignatius’ stomach dropped but he kept his wand steady.

“Tom.” Lucretia whispered.

“Your husband there? I wonder how you ever convinced him to join you? Love is such a strange
emotion I could never understand.” Tom’s voice still radiated from the pages. Ignatius felt his nose
flare.

“You know I spent quite a bit of time with your niece. She is so very lonely. She doesn’t feel like
she has anyone to talk to. She misses her older brothers, what were their names? William and
Charles I believe, she wants to be just like them. Oh, the dreams of a young woman. I remember
you had dreams once, dear Lucy.” Tom said as his voice wavered slightly. Ignatius looked over his
shoulder, he could feel it. So could she. They had done this long enough. Something wasn’t right.

“You'd never open the Chamber to kill mudbloods, not after you risked your reputation to save one,
or do you not remember Lucy?” Tom’s voice raised.

“Close it, close it Lucy.” Ignatius said as he reached back but there was a loud rumbling and the
floors shook beneath them as she fell one way and he fell the other. Even in his disorientation, he
could hear the threatening sounds of hissing. He pushed himself up from the ground.

Grohl was still snoozing soundly pushed up against a wall. Whipping around he saw Lucretia
rubbing her head, but looking unharmed otherwise. The diary. They needed to find it. His eyes
scoured the floor and the pages were flipping slightly just out of reach. He scrambled to get to it
just in time for another shake to rumble him to the ground hitting his chin on the floor. He could
taste the blood as he spat.

“Lucy?” He said hoarsely.

“I’m fine, get the damn book.” She called as she heaved her chest heavily while leaning on a pillar.

“It’s too late. I’ve told her to kill you.” The voice of Tom called from somewhere behind him now.
He turned, only to see the mouth of Salazar Slytherin opening wider and wider and the light
rumbling shaking the floors beneath their feet and causing small loose rubble to fall in balls of
dust.

“Lucy.” He whispered as he reached for the fabric still clinging to his forehead.

“I see it.” She said as he watched her pull down the blindfold. Ignatius searched for Grohl, but the
rooster had stumbled out of sight.

“Find Grohl. I’ve got the diary.” Ignatius said before he covered his eyes in darkness. Keeping his
wand steady and he heard Lucretia crouch down and scurry cross the hallway. She was searching
for Grohl in the shadows as Ignatius preened his ears for the sounds of Tom’s hissing voice. It
seemed to be growing weaker with each passing second. His hands felt uneasily as he heard the
opening groan into place. There was a moment of stillness as he felt along with his hand
occasionally scraping his skin on rough debris. He felt like he was right on top of the diary. Tom’s
voice was nearly directly in his ear. He just needed to reach out.

Then the slithering came and with it the most menacing sounds of hissing. Ignatius froze for only a
moment. The Basilisk was here.

“Oh Ignatius. You’ve tried so hard, but once again you’ve fallen just short and this time you can’t
use blood to get your way.” Tom’s voice sent a chill down his spine as he heard a large and slimy
body hit the floor with such force it caused the ground to shake again. He fell forward again as he
put his hands out to brace his fall this time. The bruises could be felt instantly as could the edges of
paper cutting into his elbow. He was weakened, but he could grap it if only he could manage to
twist his body before the next rumble of the room.

“But I could always use your blood.” Tom’s voice said before the room shook painfully and the
blunt feeling of rock crashed into his skull.

Lucretia was gasping up against the wall as she clung to a loose vine to stay upright. She needed to
find the damn chicken and put an end to this. It took a moment to find her footing after the latest
violent shake. Her feet were sweating in her boots. Her hand slipped off the vine as the room
seemed to steady. Only now could she hear the hissing sounds. They were much closer than the
diary could have been. She stayed perfectly still.

The sound of a tongue sputtering against scaly skin confirmed her worst suspicions. The Basilisk
had been freed. She moved her hands against the wall and her feet shuffled as slowly as she could.
It was just another snake, even if gigantic. It wasn’t known for its eyesight.

She placed her feet firmly on the ground and felt the way it tilted. One foot was distinctly lower
than the other and Grohl could have only fallen to the one side. She stayed low to the ground
crawling on her hands and knees at points. The snake wasn’t moving much from the way it
slithered slowly with its tongue constantly batting around. She breathed as deeply as she could and
stuck her hand out again. She felt it. The lightweight touch a feather. Grohl had to be nearby.

“Lucretia.” Tom’s voice rose above her as she whipped around forgetting she was blindfolded for a
moment. Tom’s voice sounded clear as it did every day they were at school together.

“Take that foolish thing off your face. I want to see you.” Tom said. Her mind raced through
thoughts, but she was lost prominently in how he could see her.

“You can hear the Basilisk. It is behind you. She will not come unless I call her. Raise the
blindfold and look at me.” Tom said cruelly. Her ears trained on the sounds of the tongue still
slithering well behind her. Against her better judgement, she raised the blindfold with her eyes still
shut.

“My you’ve aged well. I had always wondered. Well with us never getting to see how your mother
aged that is. A pity. I heard people say she was a good woman. A bit soft if you ask me.” Tom
sneered as Lucretia kept her eyes closed and herself crouched as she felt for her knife at her feet.

“Looking for this.” She heard the flick of a silver blade distinctly. How was that possible? Tom
was trapped in a book. She took a deep breath and stared at her feet when she opened her eyes as
thin as possible while being able to see. She moved them slowly upward ready to crash them shut
at even a flicker of yellow or scales. Instead, she was met with shoes. Well shined Oxford shoes.
She followed them up well tailored trousers and into the glaring young face of Tom Riddle.

“I didn’t lie to you. She won’t come for you unless I instruct her too.” He said as he fiddled with
the end of the blade pushing it gently into his finger without piercing the skin. His form was
shining and blurred at the edges as if he was a ghost, but with colour to him.

“How?” She questioned as she raised slowly. Her eyes trained on his.

“Your dear husband is helping me. You see a part of me, the largest part of me is trapped within
those bindings and with the right motivation I can be restored nearly to my true form.” Tom said
with a clever grin. Ignatius, her heart dropped to her stomach as she scanned to either side of Tom
for him. There was a tutting noise that broke through.

“Oh, he’s well hidden, my dear. Even if you could find him, I fear he doesn’t have much time left.
Head wounds, they bleed so naistily. No, as his life force bleeds out of him and onto my pages, I
only become stronger.” Tom replied. She could see it already. The outline of him was coming more
and more into focus as he spoke. Her hand still clasped the feather hidden in her fist, but she
couldn’t look around for Grohl without meeting the Basilisk eye. If the damn chicken was even
still alive under the rubble.

“That is my knife.” She said, eyeing the way he lazily twisted it around.

“This? Do you really think this little thing can save you?” He laughed as he held out the knife
between two fingers leaving it dangling down mockingly.

“Here. Take it. I promise you it will do you no good against me.” He said with a weak toss. Her
arm whipped out from her side and grabbed it perfectly on the hilt. Tom tutted again.
“I almost forgot. Your Uncle Regulus taught you to throw knives, yes? Most young women would
take up sewing or a more practical hobby. You never were most women though. How fascinating I
have always found you.” Tom said as he casually took a step forward over some rubble. He was
right. She was a perfect shot when it came to knives. Her only problem was she only had one.

“How ironic.” She said with a wide faked smile. “Because I have always found you so terribly
ordinary.”

The glimmer of anger in Tom’s eyes gave her the motivation to listen intently one last time at the
methodical hissing before she pulled her blindfold down and threw her arm around with the knife
leaving her hand as perfectly as she had hoped. The strangled hissing came next as she used the
distraction to slide down the cracked flooring and start wildly looking for any further feathers.

“Impossible!” Tom screeched above. “No one could have made that mark.”

She didn’t have time to listen as her hand touched another feather. Grohl had to be close. As she
manically went in the direction of the feather.

“You still have one good eye! Find her! Kill her!” Tom yelled above as the thrashing serpent
hissed loudly in protest.

Lucretia’s hand landed on a sharp shard that cut open her thumb. Instinctively, she winced away,
but then she grabbed it firmly in her hand. The slither sounds of the huge snake we’re getting closer
and closer. She needed to buy more time, or at the very least be able to see if she was ever going to
have a chance to get her and Ignatius out alive.

She stood to full height in perfect view with her one hand just hidden behind her thigh. She could
hear Tom speaking in Parseltongue as she felt the vibrations of the movement at her feet. It was
nearly on top of her. She had to wait until the last second otherwise she may miss. She had no line
of sight, she was going by instinct alone and praying she’d correctly assume which eye she had
already taken out.

The nostrils' warm air was just above her as he flung her good arm out and tossed the sharp shard
into the air before she threw herself to the side and rolled farther down the floor. Bruising and
cutting her body along the way. The wailing hiss was unmissable.

“No!” Tom screeched as he hissed in Parseltongue again. She took a calculated risk and ripped her
blindfold off and began searching the floors. Only a few steps away laid the rooster blissfully
unaware of her predicament. She leaned towards it with her one hand outstretched and pulled her
wand at the ready. She broke the sleeping curse and Grohl’s eyes popped wide open. He took one
glance at Lucretia and the gigantic trashing snake behind her before he tried to scratch his way free
of her grasp.

“Merlin.” She hissed as it cut into her torso, but she held firm and as she squeezed the rooster right
into her arms she heard the most blissful sound. It crowed so loud she was certain the entire school
had heard.

The thrashing stopped immediately. There was a half second where time felt frozen. Then the room
jumped with the colliding of the body to the floor and Lucretia let out a painful breath she had not
realised she’d been holding. Grohl finally slipped from her grasp as he cried and ran away as
quickly as he could. Her breath was thready as she touched the warm bloody spot on her side. It
ached terribly already as her hand pushed into it to try and ease the flow of blood.

“You unimaginable blood traitorous bitch.” Tom screamed as she dared look up at him. He was
 leaning over the dead body of the Basilisk.

“Call me names all you want.” She hissed as she climbed over the debris. She needed to find her
husband. She could hear Tom’s breaths as he followed her.

“It’s too late. Even if you find him, I have enough of his life force to come back. You won’t be able
to stop me.” Tom hissed and the way he said it made her thoughts clear for a moment as she
abruptly stopped and turned around nearly causing teenaged Tom to run directly into her.

“I have to destroy you.” She said as she started back up the way towards the Basilisk.

“You can’t. That’s the trick of it all, Lucy. I can not be destroyed.” Tom said haughty as could be.
She knelt down next to the dead Basilisk with one hand still pressed to her side. She manoeuvred
the mouth open and used her wand to dislocate one of the fangs. Very carefully, she grasped it in
her hand.

She turned with it raised and from her heightened view and the way the last fall of the Basilisk had
happened clearing the debris, she could see him. She could see Ignatius laying face first in a large
pile of his own blood. Her heart nearly stopped. Her knees buckled and there was a burning too
terrible to name. He had to be alive. He had to survive.

“Accio, diary.” She said with gritted teeth as the diary flew through the air and over Tom’s head as
he ducked before staring her down. His smile hadn’t faded yet. He was too conceited. He thought
he was safe. Until the diary was at her feet and her arm was raised with the Basilisk fang. She
watched the realisation dawn on him. The fall of his smug face as he tried to lunge forward, but
there was too much space and not enough time.

“Goodbye, Tom.” She said before she plunged the fang into the diary with as much force as she
could muster.

Chapter End Notes

A tad misleading statement in my prior note there is now one chapter left in COS
originally it was all one chapter and then I looked at the word count and realised it
was 15k words when my chapters are usually 4-5k. This one is still really long, but I
liked it too much to cut it into two chapters. I’ll be back shortly, do not be angry on
how it ends… (backs away slowly while thanking for all the appreciation)
 And Back Again
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of an injury; Blood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 76

Harry could feel his eyes growing heavy even as his mind worried. His hand was growing heavy as
it held onto Hermione. His grandfather had pulled a book from some place he hadn’t seen as he
leaned back reading casually. The smooth rhythmic sound of pages ruffling every few moments
was soothing to him. Arcturus had offered twice for Harry to return to the dorms for rest, but he
would not leave until he knew how the night went. His eyes must have fluttered closed for a
moment because the next moment he felt himself jerk awake to the sound of the curtain pushing
back.

“If you won’t leave, Harry, I could at least make you a bed.” Lancelot murmured quietly as he
came to the other side of Hermione holding her wrist for a moment before dotting on his papers.

“I can’t sleep.” Harry said, shaking his head as he watched Lancelot push a bit of hair out of
Hermione’s face.

“They will return. They always have, sometimes a little beaten and bruised, but mostly in one
piece.” Lancelot replied as he lowered the papers and looked at Harry reassuringly.

“Mostly?” Harry asked, half joking and half concerned. Lancelot chuckled as his eyes started off to
the side.

“Well there was the time Ignatius came back with his leg only attached by a bit of skin. Or the
pinky finger I had to reattach to Lucretia. Their job is not without risk. It used to worry my family
to no end. Ignatius is on speaking terms with the centaurs, as well as any wizard can be. They
always say the stars predict a violent end for him, and everytime he returns to them still alive. We
must trust them.” Lancelot said with his smile straining a bit.

“How?” Harry sighed heavily as he looked sadly at Hermione. If anything had gone even slightly
different, she might not be in her predicament.

“I’ve known a lot of violence in my life. More than most people, I’m afraid. I don’t always enjoy
the dangers my family and friends have put themselves in, but I have to trust that they are doing
what they believe is right. What I’ve found is no matter how it ends, many times they were
standing for the right side of history. I have to respect that sacrifice.” Lancelot said as he picked up
his paper and mulled over them again, his foot tapping towards the curtain.

“Haven’t you sacrificed as well?” Harry asked with his eyes wide and curious. Lancelot froze for a
moment with his eyes glazing over, Arcturus finally looked at him with a bit of worry. Harry
hardly noticed as he waited for a response.

“I heal those who sacrifice, that’s how I choose to see it.” Lancelot said with his composure slowly
coming back to his face. He pulled a small vial from his robes after and Harry perked up. It wasn’t
the same vial that he’d given her earlier.

“The potion is finished, it needs to rest in the vial for fifteen minutes and then we can administer it.
We are going from the first victims back. She’ll be awake shortly, Harry and then maybe we can
convince you to get some rest. It’s nearly morning. Please excuse me, I have to go hold a cat while
Madam Pomfrey tries to get the potion down her mouth and hope she doesn’t attack me when she
wakes up.” Lancelot explained with a bit of a worn look in his eyes. Harry watched as he pulled the
curtain closed behind him and could feel a renewed energy come over him as he whipped his head
and stared at the vial.

“Give it time, Harry.” Arcturus said calmly from behind his book with a careful eye on him. Harry
nodded as he leaned back in his seat and squeezed Hermione’s hand with a bit more vigour.

“You’ll be back soon, Hermione.” He whispered under his breath. He knew she couldn’t move, but
he swore he saw a shine in her eye that meant she’d understood he was there with her.

He found himself checking the clock nearby every thirty seconds or so, constantly underwhelmed
with how slow time was moving. Finally, the clock was ticking to the five minute mark and Harry
could feel his lips turning upward as he scouted to the edge of his chair. His grandfather watched
him over his book with his eyes softened at the youthful anticipation. Harry was on his feet by the
time the curtain pushed back again and Lancelot walked in rubbing ointment across the back of his
wrist.

“The cat?” Arcturus said as he comfortably crossed his legs with his book marked in his lap.

“Bloody menace that one is. Midnight is much kinder.” Lancelot grumbled.

“I wouldn’t say she’s an angel. She drank my tea one day. Can cats even have tea?” Arcturus said
as he turned to Lancelot.

“Well if it would have been harmful you’d be asking a bit too late. I wouldn’t give a cat tea
willingly, but a few licks will usually be safe, especially since I’ve been telling you to switch away
from caffeine.” Lancelot said pointedly as he pushed up the ends of his robes. Arcturus grumbled a
bit under his breath, but Lancelot’s focus had changed to Hermione. A small pop rang out as the
top of the vial was poured and Harry was at the tip of his toes watching each moment carefully.

“She’ll be very groggy when she wakes up. Her muscles will be stiff and tired and she’ll likely be
very hungry and thirsty. We have the elves preparing stew and tea to bring up, but she needs to eat
slowly. Can you make certain she follows those instructions?” Lancelot asked as he tipped back the
potion. Harry nodded enthusiastically as he watched with waiting eyes for the first show of
movement.

He didn’t get a chance to see it as a loud noise interrupted any train of thought he had. Arcturus
stood first, his book clattering to the side as he stepped out into the airy hallway. Harry stood
frozen over Hermione unaware of the small clicks of her knuckles as she balled a weak fist. With
steely eyes, Lancelot came to stand just over Arcturus shoulders.

“Arcturus what—?” He began and never would be able to finish. A desperate breaking of voice
could be heard through the walls. Harry couldn’t call it a scream and a screech didn’t seem to fit
either. It was broken and anguished.

“Lucy.” Arcturus said in a small cry as he rushed towards the door faster than Harry had ever seen
him move. Lancelot paused with one foot pointed forward before he looked at Harry’s distressed
face.

“Stay, Harry. Whatever you hear or see, you stay with Herimonie. Do you understand me?”
Lancelot said with all the authority of a man of his experience. Harry gulped as he meekly nodded
his head once.

“Lancelot!” A distinct scream cried out now. Harry could tell it was Aunt Lucretia now. Lancelot
waved his hand and the curtains snapped shut tightly with not even a sliver to peek through. He
could feel his lips trembling already as he sunk into his seat. Painfully, he squeezed his eyes shut
and rocked himself forward trying to tune out the knocking of feet and loud conversations
occurring just down the hall and bouncing closer and closer with every moment.

A cold touch made him nearly fall out of his chair as he clung to the farthest arm rest. The
pounding in his chest made his temples pulse as he popped open a single eye. Hermione’s pale
sunken face was staring horrorsticken at him as her hand weakly tapped him. For a half a second,
he’d forgotten Lancelot had already administered the potion.

“Oh Hermione, one moment.” He said before he scrambled around until he found a spare glass and
pulled his wand. “Aguamenti.”

With shaking hands he filled the glass halfway before he brought the cool edge to Hermione’s lips.
She drank quickly before Harry recalled he was supposed to help her go slowly. There was a
smacking of lips once before she started speaking.

“Harry, the monster, it’s a Bas—” she began.

“A Basilisk.” Harry whispered, unintentionally cutting her off. Hermione’s brow tightened before
she winced slightly.

“How do you—” She started. This time it wasn’t Harry who cut her off. They both flinched as the
wooden doors slammed hard into the stone walls.

“Poppy! Blood replenishing potions!” Lancelot was yelling more uncomposed than Harry had ever
heard him. The urge to jump out of the curtains and race towards the actions ahead had his feet
tapping on the ground, but he remained hidden for the moment.

“Lancelot Prewett I do not care about your accolades, you will not be yelling—Oh, great Merlin!
What happened?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice went up an octave before her sensible shoes were
pounding against the floor towards the back of the wing where the supplies were located. Harry’s
stomach fell even further when he didn’t believe that possible.

“Lucretia, what happened exactly?” Harry could hear Lancelot asking over the ruckus.

“The snake, we defeated the snake, but Tom was making the room shake. A piece of the roof must
have fallen and hit him. Merlin, Lancelot, is he going to make it? There was so much blood and
there was a pool of it in the Chamber.” Lucretia asked back hopelessly.

“Tom was here? Is he still in the school?” Arcturus asked, his voice heavy.

“No, it wasn’t really him. Or it was but it was him as a boy. I don’t know, it’s not normal. It’s
destroyed though, I destroyed it how you said. I know we were supposed to wait, but I couldn’t.”
Lucretia said with her voice scratching.

“You destroyed what, Lucy? You’re shaking, please my daughter sit down?” Arcturus pleaded.
“No, not until I know how he is. Lancelot, please!” Lucretia begged and Harry wanted to be sick as
Hermione gripped his arm and forced him to stare into her worried eyes. Harry put his hand on top
of hers and leaned closely so she wouldn’t have to speak harshly.

“Harry, what’s happening?” Her voice croaked out. He shook his head slightly.

“Professor Prewett and his wife went after the Basilisk, they’ve been hunting at the school for
weeks.” Harry said simply. Hermione seemed poised to ask more questions, but paused as Harry’s
head swiveled over his shoulder again.

“We need to close the wound, these potions will be useless if he keeps bleeding.” Madam Pomfrey
was saying.

“No, if we close the wound without fixing the damage there may be no hope for him.” Lancelot
grunted as the sparks of magic could be felt on the hairs of Harry’s arm. Madam Pomfrey let out a
long sigh as she uncapped a vial loudly.

“Lancelot.” Arcturus said quietly at first. Lancelot didn’t reply as the sounds of his feet and hands
were hard at work.

“Lancelot, are you certain?” Arcturus demanded louder.

“Cer i grafu, yes! I know what I’m doing and I must do this. I’m not losing anyone else!” Lancelot
yelled back and it all fell silent except for a few small sniffles and the strange sounds of liquid
dropping mixed with a strange sound of magic Harry had never heard before. His stomach was
turning with each drop he heard hitting the stone floor. He was swaying and his vision blurred.
Hermione’s grip on his arm was the only thing keeping himself upright.

A few seconds passed in a haze of squelching noises and shoes squeaking. It felt like hours. Harry
heard the pop of another vial followed by Madam Pomfrey’s long sigh again. Harry tried to
swallow down a completely dry throat.

“Lancelot.” Madam Pomfrey said with a sense of urgency. There was no response.

“Lancelot.” She said more forcefully.

“I see it.” Lancelot gave a very rough reply.

“They are falling. All his vitals are falling.” Madam Pomfrey informed firmly. Harry bit into his
lip and closed his eyes. He’d read about prayers. Regulus had done his best to help him understand,
but Harry didn’t consider himself particularly religious. Jewish by heritage not by practice, not to
mention his father’s dark skin and black hair that separated him from what so many people knew
as Jewish. It was another layer onto his complex identity he hadn’t really addressed. He was certain
Yahweh had many qualms with him, but if there ever was any grace he needed it now. He needed
any help as he muttered quiet prayers under his breath pleading with whoever would listen.

“Another potion.” He could hear Lancelot say. His voice sounded muffled and Harry was trying to
tune out the sounds as he concentrated. Nothing else on his mind and coming from his heart, he
tried to remind himself.

“Lancelot, you need to close the wound. He needs St. Mungo’s and their facilities.” Madam
Pomfrey stood firm.

“I have saved men that other healers declared dead in the middle of battles on dirt ground
surrounded by decay. I can heal anywhere. One last potion, Poppy I just need one more. He just
needs to hold on for a few more moments.” Lancelot said with his voice growing strained. Harry
squeezed his eyes painfully shut.

“Lancelot, these decisions have risks, we are supposed—” Madam Pomfrey was saying, but the
shy knock of vials could be heard behind her words.

“Get consent from family? I’m aware of the protocol. I am his family, they are his family. There
isn’t anyone else.” Lancelot replied. Harry could hear a sharp crack, unable to be unheard.
Hermione even let out a small whimper of shock. He pushed his hands into his eyes now causing
stars and colour to cross his dark visions. Was there anyone listening?

“I trust Lancelot. Do as he says. Whatever the consequences. I accept them.” Lucretia said dryly.
Her loud sharp breaths had been heard cutting through the trauma. Harry had to commend her for
the ability to sound calm.

“If you don’t want to administer it, I will.” Lucretia said finally with a small hiccup. Madam
Pomfrey seemed to weigh the situation before she popped a vial once last time and Harry could
hear the potion go down. He could nearly feel as she clasped her hand over Uncle Ignatius’ mouth
to ensure it all went down.

“Thank you, Poppy.” Lancelot whispered before taking a deep breath. On his exhale, there were
three loud sequential cracks that had Harry flinching hard each time and caused several sharp
inhales from around the room. Hermione’s hand shot out and dug into his shoulder with each nail
pinching his skin through his robes. He didn’t know many prayers, but he whispered the only one
coming to him now. It wasn’t meant for this occasion, but his mind was growing cloudier by the
moment with overwhelming thoughts and he needed it to clear. His heart had to be into it, he
thought desperately.

“Poppy, the skin I need you to push the skin together. I can stitch it up now.” Lancelot said
breathlessly. Madam Pomfrey's shoes clanged loudly for a few steps. There were sharp slicing
sounds for a few seconds before it grew quieter. Harry could hear it now. The blood wasn’t
dropping to the floor anymore. He held his breath.

“They are weak, but his vitals are still there.” Madam Pomfrey observed after a painstaking
silence.

“It’s up to him now. I’ve done the best I could.” Lancelot said defeatedly as Harry swore he heard
him fall to the ground.

“Oh, Ig.” Lucretia finally broke down as he heard a chair scratch on the floor and soften sobs start
to fall. Arcturus’ cane followed softly for a few steps. Harry could imagine he was standing over
her with one hand on her shoulder and the other leaning into his walking stick.

With much effort, he finally released the air trapped in his lungs as he let the last of his prayers
drift to wherever such words went. His tense body collapsed into his chair as Hermione’s hand
weakened and slid down his arm to rest at his elbow. Finally he had the chance to look at her
without distractions. A bit of colour had come back to her sunken cheeks, a few good meals and
few days rest and he could imagine she’d be ripping quills out of his hand to write down a thought
or to correct his notes again. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d missed those moments.

Even with the stress of the moment, he felt that had eased into a better place. Uncle Ignatius wasn’t
bleeding out, apparently the diary had been destroyed, and Hermione and the other students were
back. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, hopeful for a reprieve. He should have known
better.
The doors pushed open loudly once more as he started up. With a bated breath, he listened
carefully. He heard a walking stick strike the ground loudly, but it wasn’t his grandfather’s walk.
His steps were strong and powerful even as he aged, these steps were slow and calculated. He
could recall when his grandfather and aunt Cassiopeia were teaching him about posture. His
grandfather had said anyone who walks like that was trying to intimidate subconsciously because
they know they don’t have the power to control the room they are entering. He’d taught Harry to
always enter with purpose with head high, back straight and even strong steps. Nothing about this
walk gave the idea of power or purpose.

“Lucius, I didn’t get informed of a visit.” Arcturus said as his own stick struck much more
forcefully.

“I am a Hogwarts Governor, we are allowed to visit unannounced.” Lucius said smoothly.

“An unprecedented action, most would be respectful enough to send an owl.” Arcturus replied
sharply. Lucius finally paused and Harry could tell from the echo he had made it close to the
hospital bed.

“Well it seems you wouldn’t have had the time even if I had sent one. My, my what has happened
here.” Lucuuus said with a tut of his tongue. Now, Harry could feel rage filling everywhere worry
had just left.

“C'est de ta faute.” Harry heard Lucretia hiss under her breath as Arcturus made a small humming
sound immediately afterwards.

“Now, dear Lucy, you know I find French such a crude language.” Lucius said with what Harry
could only assume was an accompanying smirk.

“Lucius!” Arcturus snapped so loudly it rebounded off the tall thick

windows. “If we must speak.”

Arcturus moved at a good pace as there was a click of a curtain once to open and a second to close
it tightly. Harry leaned over the chair to get a better listen. They had to only be a few beds over.

“How did you know?” Arcturus asked immediately.

“I must say Arcturus, I don’t know why you’re implying—” Lucius began.

“Lucius if you can’t look me in the eye and speak to me as your father could.” Arcturus cut him off
abruptly. There was a brief pause.

“I had my ways.” Lucius replied with a shuffling of his robes.

“It was your elf wasn’t it.” Arcturus accused. Harry’s ears perked up.

“How did you—” Lucius began as he took a few loud steps back.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is this whole affair is a product of your misjudgement.” Arcturus
hissed under his breath. “From the Chamber to my instatement as Headmaster it was all your plan,
and now a man I nearly consider a son is lying there fighting to survive.”

“I didn’t intend for this to occur, but Ignatius choosing to go after a monster is his own decision.
You should have acted differently.” Lucius replied sharply under his breath.

“How did you plan for me to act?” Arcturus muttered.

“I thought you would allow the natural course of the matters to run and Hogwarts might have
gained some decorum it is severely lacking.” Lucius said rather matter of fact.

“Allow a monster to run free? To let it kill children? Are these the mediaeval times? It would be of
no benefit. The school would only close down, losing grace and respect for Great Britain and I
would only lose standing with our society. How would that benefit any of us?” Arcturus challenged
with his voice rasping.

“I had thought—” Lucius was cut off once again.

“No, you didn’t think, otherwise you wouldn’t have suggested such an obscene idea. Your issue,
Lucius, is you are so singularly minded and are still chasing after the ideals of a man that is gone!”
Arcturus said.

“You do not need to raise your voice as if you are my father.” Lucius said, trying to cut deeply.

“No, I am not. My son may have been a fool, but at least he was a powerful one.” Arcturus replied.

Harry was dragged away from the confrontation by a strange grunting noise. He turned to look at
Hermione who shrugged her shoulders with a bewildered look. Carefully, he moved to the other
side of the curtain and peeked his head out. Down one end he could see Lancelot pacing at the end
of a bed and the edges of bouncing black and grey curls that could only belong to his Aunt
Lucretia. The noises weren’t coming from them.

Harry’s neck cracked slightly as he turned the other way. Pattering brown wrinkled feet caught his
eye hidden behind a far curtain. He turned over his shoulder and Hermione was giving him a look
that told him not to do anything dumb, so he stepped out from behind the curtain. With soft steps,
he made his way towards the strange noises. Pulling back the curtain, he was faced with a rather
small lean elf banging his head against the railing of a bed. He stepped forward and instinctively
pulled at the small shoulders as the elf let out an unnatural squawk-like sound.

“Hey, stop, stop, you don’t need to do that.” Harry said as he pulled away from the bed towards a
corner. The elf let out a strangled cry and a loud sniff as his hands dug into his eyes.

“Dobby must punish himself sir, Dobby has done bad.” The elf croaked in a dry voice, Harry
reached for a small glass and used his wand to fill it. He tried to hand it to Dobby, but he only grew
wide-eyed and smacked it onto the floor before he started crying again.

“Oh no sir, Dobby could never, a wizard offer Dobby a drink. Dobby doesn’t deserve it.” Dobby
cried into his palms more.

“It’s ok, I want you to take the water, please.” Harry offered as he reached for the cup and filled it
again. Dobby finally opened his swollen eyes and stared at the glass before he looked at Harry and
jumped backward.

“Harry Potter, you must not be here. You need to leave. It isn’t safe for Harry Potter.” Dobby said
as he started scurrying around the small space with his fist tightly wound on a dirty old pillowcase.
It wasn’t hard to piece together. Dobby had to be the Malfoys elf and if he was causing issues for
Harry’s family there was only one way to help them all. Harry slipped out as Dobby continued to
cry and pace. Harry pushed his way back into the area where Hermione laid.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Harmione hissed, but Harry ignored her as he tried to think of the
quickest solution. He glanced at the side of the bed where Hermione’s uniform lay neatly folded.
Harry reached out for her socks as she exclaimed at him.
“I’m sorry, I promise to get you another pair.” Harry said as he backed out with the curtains pulling
at the edges of his hair. He turned his head swiftly to either side before he got the most perfect
idea. On the edge of a bed near the end was the black diary discarded recklessly now that it had
been destroyed. Harry had a idea as he sneakily went down carefully to not be seen by anyone else.
His fingers gingerly touched the edge before he grabbed it quickly. He was halfway back down the
way when there were three loud taps of a walking stick. It was his Grandfather. Dobby burst out of
the curtains and went running down the way with his feet stumbling every few steps.

“Lucius, this isn't the end.” Arcturus said as the two men emerged once again. Harry tried his best
to blend into the background as he held the book tight to his chest once he’d slipped his secret
inside. Thankfully, Lucius kept his back to Harry. Arcturus caught Harry within a second and his
eyes narrowed heavily as he stared over Lucius' shoulder. Harry held out the book with his eyes
pointing it out.

“No, Arcturus, I believe this is a beginning. Some would say you are growing too old for your
position. Maybe it is time to let Cygnus have a larger role in the family affairs.” Lucius said
smoothly.

“Wouldn’t that greatly benefit you?” Arcturus questioned with his dark smile.

“Well, your son is dead, his son is dead, I suppose if you wish to reclaim Sirius, you may have an
heir, but we all knew his proclivities, would you get any sons from him?” Lucius answered as he
walked forward and stood shoulder to shoulder staring at Arcturus with a demeaning look. Harry’s
nose twitched.

“Dobby, come along!” Lucuis yelled without looking for the elf. Arcturus eyes shot over to the elf
who was still sniffing loudly and pulling at his pillowcase. Harry waved his hand and motioned at
the dairy. Arcturus raised an eyebrow and Harry quietly tiptoed as close as he could and tossed the
diary before ducking back behind a set of curtains. Arcturus’ turned to face Lucius and cleared his
throat. Harry could hear it all.

“Lucius.” Arcturus said as the sound of shoes squeaked to a halt. There was a moment of pause and
then the sound of a heavy object cutting through the air.

“Don’t forget your book.” Arcturus said coolly. There was a disgruntled sound and a catch of the
book. Harry counted to five and poked his head out, Dobby was reaching with shaking hands
towards where Lucius lazily held out the destroyed diary. Harry sucked in breath through his teeth
as he hoped Dobby would look up and not keep his eyes at his feet.

The stars must have aligned as Dobby glanced up for half a moment and caught the frantic gaze he
was giving. Harry motioned for Dobby to open the book. Dobby’s knees were knocking together as
he weakly pulled apart the pages. The sock fell at his feet as his lips smacked together in shock.
Before bending down and touching the sock gently, clutching it in his hand tightly after a moment.

“Dobby is free.” He whispered.

“Dobby–” Lucius said with a look over his shoulder before he froze mid step. Dobby was smiling
ear to floppy ear holding the sock up at his eye level. Lucius' face screwed in anger as he stepped
up to Arcturus.

“My elf–” Lucius growled out.

“Doesn’t look like he is your elf anymore.” Arcturus said with a nod towards Dobby, who was
slowly growing more ecstatic.
“Arcturus, I don’t know what your plot is, but I swear I will find out.” Lucius hissed. Arcturus
stepped up within a breath of Lucius.

“You should leave, Lucius.” Arcturus said with a calm demeanour flickering in his eyes. Lucius'
nose flared out as he breathed deeply. There were people all around them. Madam Pomfrey going
in and out checking in the waking patients. Lancelot standing with one eye on Ignatius and another
on the impending altercation. Harry was hiding away, backing closer to Hermione’s bed once
more, he had to assume Lucius was smarter than to challenge Arcturus in such a public forum. He
snuck back into his seat with Hermione giving him the most suspicious glances he had ever
received. He dug his teeth into his lip.

Lucius said no more, only cast a dark glance at everyone in the vicinity. His cane tapped twice and
he turned on heel as he smoothed down his bright hair and left the hospital wing. Arcturus watched
him leave before he walked back over to the end of the bed where Ignatius laid and put his hand at
the end staring down at the broken bloodied face and couldn’t help but feel responsible for this
result. He turned over his shoulder to see in the crack of the curtains Hermione and Harry speaking
quietly. It had calmed.

“Will he recover?” Arcturus asked under his breath where Lancelot stood with his arms crossed
next to him. Lancelot shook his head and let out a thready breath as he pulled his hands out. They
were still coated with blood.

“He’s alive. It’ll take time, but I believe with the right help and potions, we can get him back to full
health.” Lancelot replied as he pulled his wand and cleaned off his hands. Arcturus nodded slowly.

“Think we could convince him to take a step back from his adventures?” Arcturus asked half
heartedly.

“Well if you're old, then I’m ancient. So I supposed if both of us agreed to sit on the beach and
enjoy our last years with a drink.” Lancelot replied.

“I hate the sand.” Arcturus said.

“I don’t like to drink. So I suppose none of us are retiring anytime soon.” Lancelot said as he
moved forward to check on Ignatius for at least the tenth time. Arcturus sighed as he looked at
Harry once again. Pride grew as he heard the small elf go up to him with shaking hands to
introduce himself. It felt strange that anything so good could come from his family, but he wasn’t
upset about it.

“No, I don’t suppose anyone will be.” Arcturus said quietly. He had to lean on his cane heavily to
walk over to comfort his daughter. Staying up all night may have been a poor decision for his
health, but he’d put his family above that.

Arcturus walked up to the Headmaster’s office slowly taking each step with care. He hadn’t
supposed the last few days of school would be so tiring, but it had been over seventy years since
he’d been in the rush of parchment and restless nights of studying. Even back then, he’d admit he’d
been a bit distracted by a fascinating pair of eyes. Marks had never been so important to him when
he knew he had a life fully funded outside the walls of the school. He pushed open the door with a
huff and wasn’t particularly surprised by what greeted him when he did.

“Albus.” Arcturus greeted. The old Headmaster was tinkering with a small object in the corner of
the room.
“Arcturus.” Dumbledore greeted as he placed his hands behind his back and walked forward in his
long dramatic robes. “Did some redecorating I see.”

“I don’t like to be watched.” Arcturus answered as he leaned forward on his stick.

“No, I suppose it can take some getting used to. They do offer opportune advice when needed.”
Dumbledore said with a small smirk.

“You and I have different definitions of advice.” Arcturus said as he went around a chair to take a
seat.

“You know any Headmaster who serves any tenure is allowed a portrait. Even those temporarily
instated.” Dumbledore said as he held up a letter in between his fingers.

“Suppose those are your reinstatement papers.” Arcturus observed as he settled comfortably in his
chair.

“Interesting story, all the Governors had thought their families were in immediate danger if they
didn’t sign the paperwork to remove me and instate you in my place.” Dumbledore said in a jovial
tone.

“I swear to you I did not have a hand in that.” Arcturus replied.

“Oh, I would expect a bit more finesse from you. This plan did have a rather Malfoy feel to it.”
Dumbledore said with a small nod as he leaned against the desk. “However, I don’t see it fit to ask
you to leave with barely two days remaining. I believe if we can act civilly, we will see this term to
its end together.”

Arcturus pursued his lips as he turned his head slowly to gaze upon the room. Being Headmaster
hadn’t been as horrible as he thought. This office held many memories though, few good.

“The Leaving Feast is tonight. A stand of good will would do us both well.” Arcturus replied as he
stood leaning towards his left. Dumbledore clapped the desk twice as he pushed off the desk.
Arcturus allowed Dumbledore to walk first though neither man travelled particularly fast.

Arcturus sat, observing. Many students came to offer their welcome backs to Hagrid, who was red
in the face from all the attention. Arcturus picked at the food as he watched Dumbledore name
Gryffindor the House Cup by a shy few points of Slytherin. Halfway through the celebrations, the
doorway to The Great Hall was filled with three figures and Arcturus stood with many students to
gain a better vantage point.

In came Ignatius with Lucretia on one side and Lancelot on another helping him into the room. An
abrupt applause bounced off the walls. Students were cheering and giving congratulations the
entire walk down as Ignatius waved weakly and walked slowly to the Professors table with
assistance. Arcturus remained standing and called an empty chair next to him where Ignatius sat
slowly with a few small grunts under his breath.

“I suppose you aren’t meant to be out of bed.” Arcturus said as he sat and looked at Lancelot, who
was staring intently at Ignatius from where Madam Pomfrey had offered him a seat.

“Lance? He’ll get over it. Pass me something to eat that isn’t broth though. I’ll starve before this
head injury can take me.” Ignatius joked as Arcturus passed a bread basket. If he was in good
enough spirits to make jokes, maybe there was hope for him to make a full recovery.

“Oh, by the way Arcturus, I don’t think teaching is my calling. Rather hazardous profession.”
 Ignatius said as he split open a roll with a smooth smile. Arcturus looked at him once before
shaking his head.

“I suppose Dumbledore will have to put an ad out then.” Arcturus said back as he lifted a drink to
his lips. It had been a long year, and he feared it may be a longer holiday.

Chapter End Notes

And COS has come to a close official!

So sorry to drop that last chapter and wait so long to upload again, I had intended to
get this out earlier. Unfortunately, I did catch COVID. Thankfully, I will make a full
recovery it appears, but the fatigue that came with it was some of the worst I have ever
experienced. I am still on the mend, but I can at least have the clarity to edit and write
once more. So off I go to get the summer holiday chapters ready for reading! We
haven't forgotten Sirius and Regulus yet have we? They are still in the middle of their
own plan!

Thank always for reading and commenting!

 Summer Holiday of 1993
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of minor injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Even the lightest clothes he owned stuck across his chest and to his legs. Aunt Cassiopeia had
made him pack all cotton clothing for himself and Harry and it hardly seemed to help. Two days in
and he submitted to letting Aunt Lucretia cut his hair to his chin, how Sirius was managing with
hair halfway down his back, Regulus couldn’t understand. India was humid and warm. At least
here it was, particularly in the late months of June.

“Has Arcturus given any clue to what he’s hoping to find here?” Sirius nearly panted as he came
back in from the outside. Regulus was lounging on a small settee with a fan charmed to offer him
some relief. Regulus shook his head, it was too warm for words.

“He’s been gone every day we’ve been here.” Sirius grumbled as he wetted a towel and dabbed it
at his temples.

“We arrived two days ago.” Regulus pointed out. Sirius rolled his eyes as he slung the towel around
his neck as he sauntered closer.

“I can’t believe you let Aunt Lucy chop your hair off.” Sirius said as he flicked at a small tuft.
Regulus flinched his head away and back.

“At least I don’t have to wear one of those around my neck.” Regulus said as he gestured with his
chin. A small drip of sweat was beginning to roll down. Sirius rolled up the towel and swatted it at
him and a few drops of water splattered across his face. He rubbed the already warm water off the
bridge of his nose and before he could formulate a smart response back the door to their
accommodation flung open with a smack.

“I got to ride a flying carpet!” Harry declared loudly as he swung his hands victorious over his
head, flopping the cool white sleeved shirt a little. Regulus pushed himself up as he snapped the fan
back into his hand.

“Wasn’t it exciting?” Regulus asked. Harry practically jumped over to him to squeeze on the small
end of the seat.

“It was wonderful. It’s much more comfortable than a broom. Doesn’t go as fast, but we got a great
view of the city and Aunt Lucy took us on a few dives. I don’t think Uncle Ignatius enjoyed that
part very much.” Harry said as he eyed towards the door where Ignatius was coming in rubbing at
his neck.

“Are you supposed to be flying yet?” Regulus asked with one eyebrow up. Ignatius smiled forcibly
as he walked into the kitchen and pulled ice from a tray they constantly kept refilling and coating
in freezing charms. Ignatius winced visibly as he placed the ice on his neck.

“If Lancelot is ignorant to it, then it didn’t happen.” Ignatius said after he sucked in through his
teeth.

“Lancelot knows and openly disapproves.” Lancelot said as he came into the room looking rather
cool in his light coloured robes and flipping a book gently as he entered the kitchen.

“I thought you were with Arcturus.” Ignatius mumbled as he tried to adjust the quickly melting ice
cubes. Lancelot sighed audibly as he waved his wand and brought out another towel as it laid on
the counter and ice went flying into the towel before it neatly tied itself together. He then handed it
over to Ignatius, who sheepishly smiled as he replaced the melted water with the ice pack.

“Not today. He wanted to go alone.” Lancelot replied finally as he picked up his book again. He
breezily sat down in a chair by an open window as curtains fluttered with the faintest of winds.
Regulus wondered how he could be so composed.

“Merlin’s beard, that market was even more boisterous than yesterday.” Cassiopeia called as she
pushed in the door with a weighed down bag over her shoulder. Harry bounded forward with his
arms open to take it from her as she smiled graciously.

“I love it!” Helena exclaimed as she removed a hat from her head she hadn’t left with. Her bags
were being nearly dragged in by her husband as Regulus stood and slipped around the two women
to help Marius, who appreciatively pushed two heavy bags into his arm.

“They act like they are feeding a small army.” Marius muttered as he pushed his one remaining
bag to the side and escaped to the small kitchen. Regulus waved his wand to have his two bags
drift through the air and drop into the counter. Marius gave him a side eye while he washed his
hands.

“All these spices and options, we absolutely must bring some of these back. Do you think this will
grow on our grounds, Cassie? I must say having even more access to the family vault is proving
quite comfortable.” Helena said in a singsong voice while she placed yet another plant in the
corner. She kept buying new ones to add to her garden back home. Regulus was having a difficult
time keeping Midnight from digging down to the roots. As he thought, he could see the flick of a
long tail rounding a corner as he hissed under his breath for her to return to the sunny spot she’d
been laying in all morning. Her glowing yellow eyes narrowed at him and he figured he’d wake up
with a paw smacking his nose again, but she lazily sauntered back to the other room. Saving the
plants for at least a few hours.

“Goodness, you go to return a carpet and the whole house fills.” Lucretia came in closing the door
to the dusty sun beaten roads and noises. Regulus could feel the room cooling already as he walked
over to shut the curtains as they had grown accustomed to during the middle of the day when
they’d all retreat back for a few hours rest while the sun did the worst in the city.

“Not all of us.” Cassiopeia said suspiciously as her arms crossed. Lucretia raised one hand in
defeat.

“I have been left out on my father’s plans just as you have.” Lucretia reminded her. Cassiopeia’s
eyes slithered over to where Ignatius was still leaning against the counter stretching his neck out in
several different ways.

“No, wrong Prewett this time.” Ignatius said before painfully nodding towards his cousin, who
was still comfortably lounging in his chair.

“I’ve sworn to the utmost secrecy; however, I promise you he’s only partially endangering his well
being and that’s only if he even manages an audience with whom he seeks.” Lancelot said with a
brisk turn of a page as his eyes never turned up. “Helena, come look at the procedure, have you
ever attempted anything like this?”

Helena walked over with the pitcher of water in her hand for her Muggle plants. Lancelot had been
working nearly half the holiday, visiting local healers and old friends he’d not seen in several
decades. Of course while there he couldn’t help, but dip his hand into any work they asked him to
assist with, in exchange they were loading him with a plethora of knowledge and text. Between the
books and the plants and the pile of keepsakes, Regulus wasn’t sure how they were getting it all
home. He sighed as he went to make his way back to his chair and charm his fan to cool him
enough for a rest. That was until Sirius poked his head out of a corner and nodded frantically for
him.

Begrudgingly, he passed his resting place and took the sharp corner down the narrow hall where a
few bedrooms were located. Sirius had thrown himself across the bed he was staying in and was
rumbling through papers, muttering to himself. Regulus made himself comfortable on a far corner.

“It has to be a W. I can’t imagine these lines making any other letter.” Sirius mumbled as he
smashed down the receipt on top of the other papers loudly. Regulus sighed. He was trying to be
hopeful, but the receipt was leading them nowhere when they couldn’t decipher more than a single
letter. The writing was very clearly juvenile and after the first letter it turned into a loopy ineligible
line.

“A name that begins with a W not to mention nicknames, and a Wizarding family with at least 3
sons who started at Hogwarts some six or seven years ago.” Regulus said as he leaned backwards
onto the bed next to Sirius with his hands stretched over his face trying to block out the sliver of
sun that was coming across.

“I know, I know it sounds impossible, but I got my hands on these!” Sirius exclaimed happily as he
pushed a handful of papers in Regulus’ face. He shuffled through a few before he realised what
exactly they were.

“How did you get these?” Regulus said, rolling over to his side and waving the papers with a loud
crackling noise.

“Asked Arcturus for them, he was Headmaster.” Sirius shrugged.

“So you stole the student manifest?” Regulus remarked while heavily blinking at the papers.

“I did not steal them! I asked Arcturus if he could copy some papers for me. He gave me a few
strange stares, but he let me so it can’t be that illegal.” Sirius said as he pulled out a spare piece of
parchment from somewhere on the floor. A quill was balancing behind his ear as he pulled his hair
up to a tight knot.

“Now we just need to cross reference all the names that start with a W and compare them to other
Hogwarts records of students who would have siblings that attended before them. It can’t be too
difficult.” Sirius said as he pulled the quill and the first of the records.

“Sirius, there are years’ worth of records!” Regulus pointed out as he waved at the larger stack of
papers sitting fluttering occasionally on the low table beside the bed.

“Well you have your stack. Start writing down names, don’t rule out surnames.” Sirius said.

“You're doing paperwork, who would have thought?” Regulus muttered under his breath as Sirius
just grunted back at him with the sounds of scratching parchment already filling the air. Regulus
looked dejected at the list of names in front of him before sighing and setting out to find his own
parchment and quill.

Meanwhile, Arcturus was on his journey for answers. Or he should say, he was on his way back
without any once again. His walking stick was catching on every uneven divet on the path as he
walked back in the fading sunlight. He’d been unsuccessful once again at locating who he wanted
to find. Rarely did anyone elude him this well. He walked into the rented home in to an odd quiet.
Arcturus closed the door quietly with his eyes shifting at the empty house.

“They all took Harry to a temple. They should be returning any moment now.” Lancelot explained
as he popped out of the halls. Arcturus loosened his grip on where his wand was concealed in his
cane.

“You’ve stayed behind?” Arcturus asked as he slowly made his way to the widest chair to rest after
many hours on his feet.

“You were unsuccessful again?” Lancelot avoided the question by asking his own.

“She’s an elusive woman, but no one can hide forever.” Arcturus said as he stretched out his legs.

“Do you plan to keep us in India for an indefinite holiday? I can’t complain, it is an interesting
country with a vast culture and there is much to learn every time I return.” Lancelot said as he
snapped a kettle on in the kitchen.

“Well after the year we’ve had, I thought everyone could use a holiday.” Arcturus said as he settled
into his chair. Lancelot hummed slightly as he made tea and eventually handed him a steaming
cup.

“Did you happen to find any clues?” Lancelot questioned. Of everyone here, the only person who
had ever met the person he was looking for was Lancelot. It’s why he took him out with him the
first two days, hoping she would spot him and remember him fondly enough to approach. He’d
misjudged and tried to go it alone the third day.

“The letter is a riddle. A riddle I can’t understand. I thought maybe I had interpreted it incorrectly,
but today was no more successful.” Arcturus said as he pulled the letter from inside his robes and
fiddled with the folded paper for a moment. Lancelot held his tea close to his face, inhaling the
scent deeply before he responded.

“You must earn her respect. She is one of the most renowned albeit wary witches I have ever had
the pleasure of meeting.” Lancelot said with a slight nod.

“She is the most accomplished historian this side of the globe and if anyone has the knowledge I
need it is her.” Arcturus asked again. Lancelot smacked thin lips while shaking his head. Arcturus
raised an eyebrow before he sipped his own tea.

“You should know I had been saving this favour for a very long time.” Lancelot sighed as he set
his cup down with a small clink before he pulled his own folded letter out. Arcturus narrowed his
eyes as he pulled the paper and unfolded it slowly. Inside was a time and coordinates.

“She wrote you?” Arcturus asked nearly in disbelief. Lancelot was staring at him with wary eyes.

“My reputation is on the line. She and I have a mutual respect for one another and I know your
typical methods Arcturus, those will not work. I will not let my name be tarnished to those I
reapect. If we take this meeting, we do as I would. No interrogations, no threats, only a simple
conversation.” Lancelot said firmly.
“I can behave.” Arcturus said with a slip of snark. Lancelot let out a dry laugh.

“The last time I heard that, four bodies came my way.” Lancelot pointed out.

“That was the forties, it was a different time.” Arcturus shrugged casually, as he passed back the
paper that Lancelot carefully tucked away.

“That date is tomorrow, no?” Arcturus asked as Lancelot stared to the side with his hand
thoughtfully under his chin.

“She may not give us the answers you desire, Arcturus.” Lancelot nearly whispered as he rubbed at
his chin.

“I am aware and I’m prepared for what that might mean.” Arcturus replied a bit put off by how
challenging Lancelot was being.

“Is Harry? Is Regulus or Sirius? Is anyone else prepared for what it may mean?” Lancelot
questioned. Arcturus swallowed slowly, almost painfully.

“Hopefully, if the worst is to come, we carry that burden. We find the solution before any of them
know.” Arcturus replied with a right grip going to his tea cup. Lancelot was shaking his head.

“I am a man of science. Of logic. I am not a miracle worker if I were many others would still be
alive. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” Lancelot finally sighed. The sounds of feet stomping
and raised voices could be heard coming to the stoop. Everyone was finally returning as the stars
began to twinkle on the horizon.

“I believe in your abilities and I ask only for you to believe in mine. Together hopefully we can
save what little in this world we have left.” Arcturus said quickly before he rose on sore feet and
buckling knees. His grandson, his not-so-little-anymore Harry would be entering any moment and
he deserved all the respect one could get as he’d recount every step of his journey today and
Arcturus would provide him that.

The journey to coordinates was guided by the stars above. Arcturus could name every single one if
he needed too. Though his eyes were trained ahead constantly looking for any sign of where they
may be stopping. Eventually, they came along to an aged house with thatched roof. The windows
had no curtains and the door was slightly ajar and opened to a wide single room.

The room appeared empty and cast in shadows of windows with trees rustling outside the open
windows. A bookshelf was overflowing in the corners with parts of it curving under the weight.
Arcturus slipped off his shoes before stepping onto the colorful, albeit fading carpet. It appeared
no one was home at the late hour. His walking stick clanged once against the floor as he made a
small circle with his steps, observing.

“Those who do not wish to be seen, simply hide in plain sight.” A scratchy voice said as he turned
over his shoulder and where the bookshelf was stood a woman in front of it. Her skin was heavily
lined from her years and her hands had a slight shake to them. The greyness of age seeped into her
skin and her hair underneath

“Nivedita.” Lancelot greeted as he stepped forward with his hands folded and a slight bow of his
head. The woman closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly as well. Arcturus followed suit, a bit
stiffly.
“It’s been many years, Lancelot. I am happy to see you well.” Nivedita said as she motioned with
an open palm for them to sit. Lancelot sat first crossing his legs and covering his feet with the ends
of his robes, and Arcturus once again mimicked his movements. He could respect Lancelot’s
wishes.

“And I am pleased to see you well.” Lancelot replied as the woman’s hand waved around the
empty space between them and after a few swift movements a small old fashioned teapot and cups
appeared within the blink of an eye.

“British imperialism all boiled down to a hot drink stolen from land that was not theirs.” She said
with a crooked smile. Arcturus didn’t quite know how to respond. After a beat of silence she
cracked her lips open with a larger smile that showed she had a chip in one of her teeth.

“Your friend is stiff, Lancelot. He doesn’t know how to understand his own guilt.” Nivedita
laughed as the cups filled with steaming tea. Lancelot bowed his head only this time to hide his
own smile.

“My apologies, I am—” Arcturus began before she turned her sharp eyes upward towards him.

“I know who you are.” She cut through in a clear tone. Her hand shakily took the tiny teacup up
slowly to her mouth as she sipped with purpose never removing her eyes from his own. It wasn’t
the intrusion of Occlumency he felt, but something much deeper.

“The Last Great Heir of the House of Black enter my humble home.” She finally said after a long
moment with her flat palm showing off her walls again. The muted cracked walls from before had
turned into a dark green with hanging plants from the ceiling and the bookshelf tucked in the
corner was now shelves neatly ordered along the walls. Arcturus was impressed, it was a beautiful
magic.

“Though if what I hear is true, your greatness might not be so final.” She said with a mischievous
glint to her eye. Arcturus felt his thin eyebrows raise.

“Ah, you worry your secrets are exposed. Alas, I swear to you, my confidants are few and
discreet.” She said with another wave of her hand. The walls were dripping in dark paint and the
whispers of voices filled the now empty room. Voices that did not speak any language he knew,
but a cold sweat hit his back as he watched shadows dance along the edges of the room.

“I know history because I can hear those who lived it. A lost art that will die with I as much will
die with you I fear. The fall of one era will lead to another.” She said as she clasped her hand into a
fist and the room returned to its original state.

“You are a great witch.” Arcturus said after he assured the room was no longer shifting. Lancelot
sat with his back straight completely unphased. The old woman pushed her lips into a thin line.

“You are a great wizard, but pleasantries are not what you seek. Answers are flooding behind those
eyes, tell me, how many men have looked into those eyes and it's been the last memory they hold
on this earth?” She asked. Arcturus jutted out his chin.

“I never cared to keep count.” Arcturus replied firmly with no regrets for his actions. She hummed
slowly.

“An honest man shrouded in lies.” She tutted before turning her head to take another long sip.
Lancelot finally picked up his own tea cup and gestured with his eyes for Acturus to do the same.
Against his every judgement, he cupped the small drink and brought it to his lips for a single short
sip. They slipped into an echoing silence.

“Harry Potter.” She finally said with a pop at the end of her words. Arcturus did not even blink.

“Oh there was a time I knew the Potters well, the father of a father of a father.” She continued with
a slight wobble of her head.

“You know why we are here then?” Arcturus asked, adjusting his position to lean closer to here.
She clicked her tongue twice.

“I know a great deal of things. I’ve created an entire reputation on knowing and not knowing when
necessary. I fear your journey may not find you at the end you had wished.” She responded.
Arcturus inhaled sharply through his nose. From the slumping shelf came a book gently floating
and bouncing in the air before landing in her small palm. She brought the book close to her face
and muttered under her breath before setting it down in between the two men. The cover smacked
the form ground and the pages tumbled loudly in the room. It cascaded from one end to the other
before the back cover snapped shut. Arcturus knitted his brows together as he tried to distinguish
the faded script.

“A Parseltongue has not walked on these grounds in many generations. Longer than you or I or he
have been alive.” She said with a kick of her chin towards each of them. Arcturus let out a low
breath. Mentally, he had prepared for the answers to not be as he pleased, but it felt worst hearing
it.

“You’ve come a long way to hear what you already knew.” She said when she senses his
disappointment. He set the tea down as he leaned back feeling the ache in his back growing
undeniable.

“For certain, I did not know.” Arcturus sighed. She let out a rough sounding laugh.

“You lie to yourself. An honest man cannot trick himself if he has any intelligence. Do you have
intelligence?” She said with a twitch of her lips. Arcturus scoffed as Lancelot sent him a glowering
look.

“I insult you.” She said with a steady gaze.

“No. You’ve helped me.” He said softly.

“One can do both.” She said. “Take the book, I believe it will be a good read. Keep it for as long as
you need. Forever if you must.”

Arcturus reached for the thready cover and gingerly tucked it away to not tear it anymore. He
could see their host growing withdrawn as she stared towards the doorway. Maybe she had been
correct, maybe this was all an act of futility. He had to be certain. He slowly rose as she did.

“I cannot say I had wished I had been of more help. I only convey knowledge, not create it.” She
said as her long loose clothes dragged slightly on the floor. Arcturus still conveyed his appreciation
as he looked at the sky and the slow roll of clouds covering and then uncovering the sky from the
opened doorway.

“Arcturus Black.” She called as he took the first step to the dirt ground below. He turned halfway
around.

“Your journey is almost at an end. It will feel long, but be short. The stars beckon you to prepare.”
She said with a vague wave at the sky as her neck extended and turned upward.
 “Are you possessed with the sight as well?” He asked, suspicious at best. She hardly acted as if she
heard him when she murmured a reply.

“I do not need to See to know. When one has read all man has to offer, the past predicts the future.”
She spoke towards the stars more than to him. He walked off without any more spoken. Lancelot
lingered to how slight and said kinder words than Arcturus could manage. Arcturus stopped
halfway down the road staring at the few stars appearing from behind the clouds while he waited
for Lancelot to meet him.

“Did she say if the stars had anything to say to you?” He asked as Lancelot came forward brushing
off the front of her robes.

“She often says the same prediction in different words each time we meet.” Lancelot sighed as his
feet shuffled along.

“Which is?” Arcturus asked out of genius curiosity as he tried to find even ground for his cane to
strike.

“That I come from a strong house and a strong name that will live and die by me.” Lancelot said
with a shake of his head. “I trust her a great deal, but we disagree on that front. I was never meant
to carry on our name and I most certainly won’t be the last of us.”

“Well, now that we know Harry’s Parseltongue is not a birth given talent. The true work begins.
For his sake, we fight to figure out the cause and if necessary the solution.” Arcturus said
determinedly as they turned a corner down a dirt street filled with nothing but murky shadows and
the occasional glowing eyes leering at them from the corner. Lancelot only sighed loudly. Arcturus
was determined to see it as a beginning and not an end.

Chapter End Notes

Ah I am back! I am sorry for the delay, but I have been dealing with some symptoms
of what doctors have only been able to attribute to ‘Post-COVID’. It’s been making
daily life a bit of a struggle, but slowly days are becoming a bit more bearable and I’ve
finally picked up my mostly normal routine including writing. I hope you all enjoy this
chapter. We’re converging on two plot lines, Arcturus’ plan and Sirius’ and Regulus’
plan. Both will be distributed in various ways. Thank you for bearing with me and I
apologize for the inconsistencies!
 An Unexpected Letter and the Consequences
Chapter Notes

CW: Description of an Injury; Prior Abuse mentioned

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Laughter was slipping down the hall as Regulus balanced a tea tray in his hands. The sound
bounced off the wall as it grew louder and louder with each step he took. With his hands full, he
turned around and pushed the cracked door open with his back. Once he was visible in the
doorway, the laughter stifled into a shared snicker.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” Regulus said as he set the tray down on the wide table. Sirius
and Harry were sprawled out at the end of a large canopy bed set up specifically for Harry. After a
fortnight in India, Arcturus had suggested a return to France for a change of scenery.

The old family manor has been vacant for the longest stretch that Arcturus said he could recall and
it could use some life. The gardens had needed some work, but the two little house elves who
tended the grounds were more than thrilled to have people once more as they had the dining table
constantly filled with treats no matter the hour of the day. In a change of character, Arcturus had
offered them their freedom and pay for their services, which both had gladly accepted. Kreacher
was wary at first, but he found a good routine for himself out in the garden helping to tend to the
flowers. Harry had been having the best of times as he frolicked through the sprawling grounds on
his broom in the morning and then spent warmer days lazily lounging around the nearest
Wizarding village. He’d even met a few friendly faces that he’d run off down the long path from
the manor to meet on occasion. Regulus would watch anxiously from the window as Harry always
turned back at the last second to wave one last time at him. He was nearly thirteen and Regulus
was trying to allow him some independence.

As Regulus poured from the kettle, Harry and Sirius exchanged a secret glance as he shook his
head at them. Before long they were giggling under their breath again. Regulus rolled his eyes as he
handed them both tea after they rolled over to sit.

“Well if you don’t want to tell me.” Regulus said as he turned on heel as if he was going to leave
them be. Harry laughed with half a snort before he spoke.

“No, Reg, wait it isn’t like that. Sirius was just telling me about some of your history in this
house.” Harry said with a wide smile as he scrambled to the end of the bed careful not to spill his
tea. Regulus turned and leaned his back against the door frame as he sipped tea with a raised
eyebrow.

“Is it true you tried to slide down the bannister and got caught hanging upside down?” Harry asked
with wide eyes, leaning forward. Regulus nearly spat up some of his tea while he recalled the
memory. He’d nearly entirely forgotten that had happened.

“I did slide down the bannister, but I wouldn’t say I was upside down. My robes had gotten caught
and I was hanging sideways over the railings.” Regulus confirmed with a defeated type of smile.
Harry’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“But did Sirius tell you he was the reason I was in the predicament in the first place?” Regulus
interjected as he motioned with his teacup to his brother. Sirius feigned shock as he clutched his
chest and let his jaw drop.

“I would never allow my baby brother to do something so reckless and potentially harmful.” Sirius
said in an over dramatic drawn out way.

“Bollocks!” Regulus said as he laughed and pushed off the wall to move closer, still motioning
with his tea cup. “You dared me that I couldn’t make it all the way down.”

“I didn’t intend for you to get stuck!” Sirius said back with a loose swing of his arms hiding his
guilt behind a bit of flair. Harry was giggling at the entire exchange.

“Well tell that to Arcturus who found me hanging there while you ran off.” Regulus shook his head
again.

“He made you continue going down that bannister until you could land on your feet, do you
remember?” Sirius said as he leaned back on the bed with a nearly fond smile. Regulus smiled as
well.

“He said if I’m going to be foolish I might as well do it correctly. I thought I was going to break a
bone jumping off at the end, but he caught me every time I stumbled.” Regulus said as he chest
deflated with a breath.

“You’re right, he did.” Sirius mumbled as he turned his head with his eyes clouding, almost
confused. Harry didn’t catch it as he adjusted his growing legs over the edge of the bed. He was
stuck somewhere between lanky and grown. His legs had shot out from his torso, but his shoulders
had not quite caught up yet. Regulus had reassured him on several different nights that it would all
be even eventually as he would rub his shins to help ease the sharp growing pains that pulsed
beneath his skin.

“Did you finish all your schoolwork?” Regulus asked as he tucked a bit of Harry’s hair behind his
ear. He’d refused to cut it the entire summer and it was brushing against his shoulders now. From
behind with his long unruly black hair, Harry actually could be mistaken for a Black. Until he
turned around and the near copy of James’ face with his crooked smile and bushy eyebrows could
be seen with Lily’s bright never fading green eyes. His parents would never leave him, but Regulus
liked to think maybe a little of his family ran through Harry more than most distant cousins.

“Mostly.” Harry said with a shrug as he sipped tea loudly to buy a few seconds. Regulus bottom lip
stuck out.

“What haven’t you finished?” Regulus asked. Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably.

“Not much, an essay for potions, but it has to be nearly as long as I am on shrinking potions. I even
asked Uncle Marius and he doesn’t know how one could write that much on shrinking potions.
Then the Divinations work, but I honestly don’t understand it.” Harry said as he pulled out a piece
of parchment with instructions scribbled on. Regulus took it as he squinted his eyes reading the
strange oddly worded assignment.

“Sybil was a few years ahead of me. If she’s anything like she used to be, you just need to write
some vague, slightly dramatic and doom-like prediction about yourself or someone close to you.”
Sirius shrugged as he swung his legs off the bed and stretched.

“You know, if it’s Divination you need help with your grandfather is actually rather astute on the
subject matter.” Lucretia suddenly popped up in the doorway with her hair plaited down her back
and a loose pair of pants still swirling around her ankles. Harry tilted his head, perplexed. Lucretia
let out a gentle laugh.

“He spent five years in the class pinning after my mother. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy were
practically mandatory for him to take because of his father, but as long as he didn’t take Muggle
Studies he was allowed any other class. My mother was always fascinated by such magic, I never
did get her curiosity in such.” Lucretia explained as she picked at her nail. A bit of an old nervous
tick of hers as Regulus chewed on his lips wondering if there was more to say. Eventually, Lucretia
let out a small breath as her shoulders slumped.

“Though Divination isn’t why I’ve come up here. Ignatius and I may need to return home sooner
than expected. Cygnus just wrote. Druella took a turn for the worst and the healers are saying she
has days at best. I feel like I need to be there for him and I only mention it because if you wish to
return with us you may. I know Arcturus said he will be staying here for a little while longer.
Lancelot is of course bouncing between here and Wales and London, never takes a break does he?
Or Cassiopeia had to return to Switzerland for a few affairs before coming to England to be with
Cygnus and Narcissa herself. Whatever the three of you please, just let us know. Ignatius and I will
likely leave the day after tomorrow.” She said with a soft smile before she knocked almost
absentminded on the door frame. They all nodded a bit solemnly in response. Her smile hardly
pulled at her lips as she turned and walked away, the soft snap of her slippers growing more distant
with each passing moment.

“Well there goes another one.” Sirius finally whispered as he shook his head. Regulus’ nose
twitched nervously. Aunt Druella, she had been a character. Well, he supposed for a few days at
least, she still was. He couldn’t feel the burns of regret very deeply. He was certain the last thing
she had spoken to him had been hateful and cruel. His mother always said Druella was envious that
she never had any sons and yet Walburga had two. Her envy turned into ugly marks left on his
arms when she would yank and twist them anytime he had displeased her. Sirius had fared no
better. Regulus looked out of the corner of his eye to see Sirius curling up with his knees close to
his chest. Mentally, he reminded himself to check in with him in a few days time.

“Well Ron and Hermione both wrote to say they’d been in London the last week of summer
holiday. Maybe we can be back by then so I can see them at least.” Harry finally broke through the
silence. Regulus shook his head and cleared his throat before he turned to Harry with a less
distressing look on his face.

“Of course, Harry. In the meantime, I think we will stay in France with your grandfather for a little
while longer. Then we will go meet with your friends.” Regulus advised. Being here had brought
back many forgotten childhood memories and maybe not all of them were terrible. Maybe they
could make a few more with Harry before they had to leave.

“Ron said he’s going to send me a souvenir from Egypt! And Hermione is in France, though she’s
in Marseille, she says the coast has been beautiful. I told her all about Paris, she wanted me to
practically write a full parchment telling her about my time at the French Ministry. I couldn’t tell
her all of course since she’d ask questions about how I got so much access, but it was so much fun
to learn all about the nuances. Then Grandfather Arcturus, he’s practically famous here. Everyone
was coming up to shake his hand.” Harry said with a jovial smile. Regulus returned it as he ran his
hand over Harry’s messy hair, pulling at a small knot as he did.

“The Black Family name goes far here. Our first ancestors are from this area. The details are a
little fuzzy whether it was in modern day France or Germany, but Atlas Black was born somewhere
between the two and he led the greatest rebellion against the giants. Do you remember that?”
Regulus asked as Harry went wide eyed. Speaking about his family history was nearly as familiar
as his old name. He’d heard the stories since he was an infant.

“Remember it? I wrote a whole parchment about it. Do you want to read it? I asked Grandfather
Arcturus so many questions he fell asleep in his armchair, but it was fine. I found a bunch of old
books in the library and even some diaries. I wrote to Professor Binns to ask if I could change my
essay topic and he said as long as it was the appropriate length he would allow it. I may have gone
a bit too far, I did do an extra roll, but Hermione did two rolls so I think I will be alright.” Harry
exclaimed excitedly as he jumped off the bed to produce the parchment with dried ink and slightly
sloppy handwriting for Regulus to gaze over. Before he could get past the first sentence a
rebounding laughter shook the bed as Regulus jumped slightly while looking bewildered at Sirius.
Tears were coming from his eyes as he clutched at his stomach. Harry even looked slightly
confused as he turned to face Sirius.

“I’m sorry. It’s truly not that funny. It’s just, James, he wouldn't recognize his son just then. He’d
be wondering where his entire personality went. Until someone would remind him he married Lily
‘I wrote three rolls of parchment on witch burning’ Evans.” Sirius said as he used the palms of his
hands to wipe his eyes. Harry’s eyes batted heavily as he twisted his hands nervously.

“Am I really like my mother?” Harry asked quietly as Sirius caught his breath. Regulus watched
Sirius’ eyes grow softer.

“You’re so much like both of them, Harry. They would be immensely proud of you.” Sirius said as
he reached out to squeeze Harry’s shoulder. Regulus exchanged a wistful glance with his brother.
Sirius was right. His parents would be remarkably impressed with their son, even more so Regulus
was left speechless by Harry. He could only dream of the greatness Harry would achieve one day.

“While I don’t mind compensation for my time, I do enjoy my job, Arcturus and this leave takes
me away much longer. I can't promise they’ll keep me on. The wizarding community is small, and
we don’t have enough healers as it is to tend to our people.” Helena said as she shook her head
from across the table. Arcturus had offered her a job essentially. One that would take her away
from Switzerland, but compensate her well. He essentially was giving her however much she
would request. No number was too large, the vault contained enough funds and artifacts to keep
several more generations wealthy without ever being supplemented.

“I understand your loyalty. It’s a trait I quite admire; however, this issue is of particular sensitivity.
I’d only trust a select few people to handle it, yourself being one of them.” Arcturus said, leaning
forward. Helena crossed her arms thoughtfully.

“And what exactly is this sensitive task?” She asked after a few minutes of pause. Arcturus licked
his lips quickly.

“Harry. It is Harry.” He responded quietly. Her eyes narrowed at him defiantly. She took after her
sister by law, she did not back down easily.

“His scar, I fear there is more than meets our eye. I worry that there may be some remnant or
connection to Voldemort. Now, he knows Occlumency, but after his first year, when he was close
to just the small piece of Voldemort. He complained of a headache and pain exactly where the scar
was. Then last year he could hear the snakes, he can speak Parseltongue. All of this mounts to at
the very least a concern. I want you to work with Lancelot as he tries to discover any answers.”
Arcturus explained leaving out the more morbid details. He never was good at understanding
healing magic, he enjoyed in the past listening to Melanie speak on her day just to hear her soft
sounding voice mixing with her remnants of an accent she lost more each year. What she had been
explaining often went over his head, but he’d do anything to hear it again. He would leave the
details to Lancelot.

Helena’s eyes were going back and forth. Her short finger tapped thoughtfully against her elbow. If
he wanted he could find what she was thinking, but he restrained from using such talents on anyone
within his family unless necessary. Her personality meant she’d likely tell him her thoughts no
matter how they may rub him.

“So essentially, it would be healing research on Harry of all people.” She hummed quietly under
her breath before taking a deep breath. Arcturus straightened his back as he waited for her to speak
more.

“I suppose for Harry, I could manage to take a transition in my career. Marius will be thrilled if it
means I can be around the house more. I’ve felt badly more than once with how often and long I’ve
worked. If there was any time to spend together, our older years may be our best. We aren’t leaving
Switzerland though, I don’t see a need and I am not subjecting my husband to this country's archaic
views on those with less magic then they deem acceptable. I can communicate through letters and
if needed make occasional trips, but once Harry is back at school I suspect most work will be book
based research and writing out and discussing theory.” She said with a wag of her finger at him.

“If it is any consultation, Lancelot had said he’d speak to a few of the new healers on doing a few
years of work abroad. Particularly to your hospital, to replace their great loss in your work.”
Arcturus said with an appreciative nod.

“Flattery does not work on me, ask your cousin if you don’t believe me. The first time he tried to
compliment me, he dropped a stack of books on my feet trying to stumble over his words.” Helena
said as her eyes squinted with a fond smile.

“Must have been an interesting first impression at the very least.” Arcturus said with a small smile
in return.

“Oh, that wasn’t his first impression. That was after months of us gingerly fancying each other
from afar. I used to go to this tea shop every few days in the Muggle village to study for my healer
exams. I remember the first day he showed up. Looking completely exhausted and defeated,
mumbling every word of his order without any eye contact. I was worried for him instantly. I was
always a worrier. He turned around eventually and caught me staring by accident. I’ll never forget.
He recoiled. Physically recoiled as if he was terrified by my glance. He rushed outside with his tea,
drinking it much faster than he should have and racing off from the shop. I felt terrible. I thought I
had scared him because I was being carelessly intrusive with my glances. He didn’t return for a
few weeks after that. When he did, I made certain I didn’t linger for even a second on him. Until I
felt his eyes on me and then when I looked up he held the gaze for a second before he was spooked
again. It went on like that for many weeks. It wasn’t until years later when I asked him about it. It
wasn’t me that scared him necessarily. It was my book. I charmed them when in the Muggle
village to appear as different boring titles to any Muggle that would see them. He could see
through the charms though. He knew I was a witch and he told me he was so anxious because
besides his sisters he had never known a good witch. He was worried how I may treat him. By that
point in time, I already had a good view of what his life had been like, but I’ll never forget those
words. He’d never met a good witch. Merlin, what he must have thought of me when his only
impressions were his family.” She finished with a strong shake of her head. Arcturus could feel the
slight creeps of guilt crawling up his throat. He should have done more. He should have helped
more. Marius had only been a child. He had to shake the thoughts from his head, there was little he
could do now. The past had come and gone and now they were both old men.
 “The two of you are good for one another. I’m always grateful he found happiness beyond our
family.” Arcturus replied simply, swallowing the burn of guilt down his throat. Helena gave a
weak smile and a nod.

He let out a heavy sigh as he thanked her for her willingness to help. She left him to go write to her
hospital of her decision for the time being so Harry could be her sole focus. Arcturus knew he’d
never get Lancelot to fully step away. He was certain Lancelot would die on his feet working. He
couldn't judge the man. He was also of the personality type that would rather die standing up than
alone in a bed. Arcturus sat silent in the kitchen of his grand manor. For the first time in decades, it
had people besides himself in it. In a past life, the walls had always been freshly washed and the
halls vibrating with sound. His dear little sister had never liked the quiet, she said it made her feel
lonely to sit with only her thoughts. He had not understood what she meant until later in his life.
The silence could be so dark.

There was a small knock next to him. A pair of owls he did not know were staring at him with their
heads tilting back and forth waiting for him to open the door. His legs were cramping more than
normal today, so he simply raised his wand to open the window enough for them to nudge their
way in. One was simply an owl with The Daily Prophet, Arcturus rustled a bit of coin out of his
pocket and put it in the owl’s small sack before it ruffled its feathers and pecked at the other owl
slightly before it pushed off into the sunny morning sky once more. Arcturus set the paper aside
only vaguely acknowledging the smiling faces of a family on the front page. The other owl had a
simple letter with only his first initial and last name. No address could be seen as he took it
carefully from the owl’s leg. There must have been no instructions to wait for a reply as it also
pushed away with its claws scratching at the table and back towards the fresh air.

Arcturus had not been expecting a reply from anyone, but letters were not unusual. Yet for some
reason, there was a twist in his gut as he flipped the letter around and tore it open. Immediately, he
noticed there was no signature. Someone did not want to be known. His eyes squinted as he read
the tiny script and by the time his mind had registered the words his body had already started
moving.

The letter fluttered to the ground abandoned as he leaned on his cane heavily and rushed up the
stairs where he could hear happy sounds he was about to intrude on. The pull of magic was already
beginning. He could feel the pressure mounting in his chest and pulling at the small of his back as
his hip hit into the bannister trying to make it up the stairs as quickly as possible.

He could hear laughter coming from Harry’s room. Several voices all together as he set his sights
on the top step. His eyes were beginning to twitch under the strain. He gritted his teeth and made it
over the last hurdle of the final step. Once on two feet the hall started to turn in his vision, going
sideways and upside down. He didn’t have much time before he was overtaken. With a grunt of
effort he tried to move one foot forward and came to the crashing realisation he was never making
it to the door he needed. His throat was raw with a bit of panic as he tried to keep his voice steady
before he spoke.

“Sirius!” He yelled loud enough to travel down the hall. It was the last words he could speak
before the striking pain took over. His hand clutched to his chest as his knees banged together. He
tried to hear the rush of doors slamming open and feet running on the warm wooden floors. All he
could hear was the rushing static noise filling his ears. The pain was unbearable only for a moment
as he gasped for breath, before everything went painfully black.

Chapter End Notes

I promise I won't make you wait long for the next chapter ;) Thank you for all your
kind comments as I recover! As always all your comments and kudos mean the world
to me and I read each one!
 Moments of Clarity Found in Chaos
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of an Injury; Mentions of Death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Arcturus' throat was painfully dry and his entire body burned with aches, but mostly from deep in
his chest. Screwing his eyes made him let out an audible groan from the pain pulsing behind them.
Once he made that faint noise, he could hear the clogged sound of someone speaking. None of it
made any sense to him. He tried to twist himself upward, but was met with shooting pain down his
body. He had to freeze and pant heavily for a few minutes before it passed.

He could feel cold hands touch him. The warm embrace of healing magic cast over him for only a
few seconds before it was pulled away. There was more muttering he couldn’t understand as he
mentally was berating himself for whatever had gotten him into this situation. His mind was blurry
and he couldn’t recall any recent memories.

“Arcturus, can you hear me? Arcturus.” A voice was drifting into where his mind was from a
distance.

“Arcturus if you can hear me. I’m going to place my hands near your face and try to get some
vitals.” The voice explained as he felt the cold touch near his ear. There was an intrusion of cold as
he tried to twitch away but was held firmly in place. He was not a helpless person and as he felt his
other ear experience the same strange cold touch he forced himself to centre his mind and his
magic which felt oddly faint and weak. After a long moment of concentration, he peeled his eyes
open pulling apart a layer of crust that had formed over them. How long had he been unconscious?

“You shouldn’t force it.” Lancelot sighed from above him, but he pulled at his eyelids shining a
bright light back and forth in both as he flinched and tried to blink away. He smacked his lips with
a heavy effort as he tried to swallow the dryness in his throat. There was something pulling at his
arm that he couldn’t lift his head to see. There was a worry that if he closed his eyes they may not
open again. He’d never felt this absolute helplessness before.

“Wha-” was all he managed out before a coughing fit took over and his chest exploded in sparks of
pain and his lungs went breathless as his eyes popped in fear. Lancelot’s arms pushed him up
slightly as he held his shoulders as well as he could while the coughs racked at his body for a long
moment. He was wheezing by the time it had finished and he’d fallen limp with his eyelids
fluttering and sight blurry.

“Magical exhaustion.” Lancelot whispered as he smoothed the pillow next to him and then stepped
away to pull at a strange clear bag attached to a long metal pole. Arcturus' head was spinning as his
head seemed to lull to the side without his permission.

“As someone who has experienced it, it is its own personal hell. Nearly killed you. If Helena
hadn’t been there to start administering care, I don’t think I would have arrived soon enough. Even
then, the first week I was certain you weren’t going to make it.” Lancelot said as he pulled a
strange contraception to his ears and leaned close to Arcturus chest. There was a cold touch a
second later. If he had any energy, he’d try to speak again, but his lungs still ached and his mind
could barely understand the words Lancelot spoke. It wasn’t until Lancelot straightened up that he
mustered all his energy to knit his brows together. A week. It had been at least a week, he needed
to know more.

“It was mid-July when you collapsed. It’s nearly September now.” Lancelot sighed heavily. His
figure was coming into focus now. Around eyes looked worn and purple and he may have even
lost some weight from the way his collar bone popped out. It had been over a month. He could
work with that, but what led to his collapse? Magical exhaustion did not just occur out of nowhere.
From his recollection, he hadn’t even been casting a spell. Lancelot rubbed his eyes harshly before
he nearly fell into a seat next to him.

“Can you understand me?” Lancelot asked. “Don’t nod, just blink once for yes and twice for no.”

Arcturus blinked once. If his body had any warm temperatures his cheeks would have been rising
red both in frustration and embarrassment. He’d never been so useless.

“Do you remember what happened just before you collapsed?” Lancelot asked. Arcturus blinked
twice. Lancelot's face grew grimmer and grey.

“Do you remember the days before that? The holiday to India?” Lancelot asked. Arcturus blinked
once. He did. He remembered it was just the day of this episode that he was drawing a blank on.
Lancelot’s jaw loosened slightly.

“Good. Memory loss can be common, but if you remember some of the short term, there is hope
you can recover it all.” Lancelot explained. Arcturus blinked several times quickly at him. He
needed answers.

“You need rest.” Lancelot replied, almost reading his mind. Arcturus stared at him in what he
hoped was intimidation, but likely came off more pathetic. Lancelot swallowed as he shook his
head.

“I will tell you some, but only if you swear to me not to get upset. Your body is in a fragile state
and we cannot risk you slipping back into a coma. Do you swear?” Lancelot asked firmly. Arcturus
begrudgingly blinked once.

“You were in the kitchen, do you recall that?” Lancelot asked. Arcturus gently closed his eyes as
vision cut in. The kitchen table, Helena, the quiet. He remembered. He had been speaking to
Helena about Harry in the kitchen. His eyes popped open before he blinked. Lancelot nodded.

“Good, you had gotten a letter, do you remember what was in that letter?” Lancelot asked
carefully, his eyes watching each twitch of movement Arcturus made. It set off something in
Arcturus’ mind. A dark foreboding warning. A letter, he vaguely remembered owls who must have
brought him a letter, but he could not remember opening an envelope or reading any words. He
shifted his eyes back and forth hoping Lancelot would understand. Lancelot only took a thready
breath as he balled one hand into a fist.

“You received a letter. We can’t discern from whom or why they would send it. Lucretia suspects
an old friend or associate from The Ministry who didn’t want to be identified. They sent you a
warning. Lucius Malfoy had gone before a full Wizengamot to demand for a true trial of an
Azkaban prisoner. He was asking for the worst extent of the law, for a Dementor’s kiss to be
administered.” Lancelot was speaking so quietly that Arcturus could hardly hear him. Arcturus
could feel the strange feeling of his eyes swelling and growing rather wet. Tears, he was crying. He
couldn’t imagine the last time he had cried. Lancelot paused to pull his handkerchief to dap at the
corner of his eyes as his eyes looked full and swollen as well. Arcturus was remembering, but he
needed Lancelot to tell him what happened. What had happened after he fell.

“We made arrangements immediately. Helena wrote to her family. We knew we had hours at best.
We were going to send Marius with them. With Regulus, Harry and… Sirius, just to have someone
there. In the midst of all the chaos, I mean we were trying to pack this entire manor up and vanish
any signs of people having been here. Lucretia and Ignatius knew they’d need to return home. The
Aurors we’re going to search everywhere. We knew this and then there was you. I was trying to
keep you from dying. It was mayhem. Last anyone saw, Sirius went into the kitchen. He already
knew about the letter, unless there was something we had missed. Something only you knew
about. We don’t understand it. Merlin, Ignatius had to restrain Regulus when he found out. He was
screaming and cursing Sirius, and Harry, poor little Harry was so confused and crying. Why did he
do it? Why did he? I keep asking myself, kicking myself, I should have been paying attention.
Someone should have been. We shouldn’t have let Sirius out of our sight. But you were dying, I
could feel your magic fading in my hands. The spell, the Transfiguration spell you had on Rabastan
Lestrange. They were forcibly removing it and you were countries away in France. You must have
been fighting it, even subconsciously you were fighting to try and keep him safe, but you should
have known. At that distance with what was likely multiple Aurors working against you.” Lancelot
broke off in a loud sniffle with his head hung.

Arcturus could feel the tremble of his lips. He was remembering it now. The pain, the scream
inducing pain, the knowledge of the spell being tugged at and ripped apart and the way it twisted
his insides with it. He should have just let it go. He should have let them remove it, but all he could
think about was Sirius. Sirius who seconds before had been laughing just down the hall. Sirius who
just that morning had tried to charm Arcturus tea to tilt to the other side of the tea cup every time
he sipped it. Sirius, who he’d forgotten and abandoned all those years ago. Who he swore he never
would again. So he fought, he fought like his own life depended on it. Lancelot was right. It had
been futile, he was not that grand a wizard. Only Merlin himself may have been successful. The
fight had nearly killed him. He twisted his mouth and clashed his teeth slightly together. He’d
speak if it broke his chest in two and that was exactly what it felt like.

“S-Sirius?” Arcturus choked out before he clamped his mouth shut trying to swallow the coughs
threatening to escape. Lancelot turned his head up slowly, this time with tears slipping from the
corners of his eyes. He shook his head and Arcturus had to shut his eyes as he prepared for the
worst. He could feel the threat of sobs building in his chest.

“He ran, Arcturus.” Lancelot said with trembling words. “He ran and no one has been able to find
him. Not Aurors, not Ignatius who’s been as far as America and back again, not the reporters
clamouring for their headline. It’s like he’s the wind. He has slipped away and no one can find
him.”

Arcturus let out a broken sound in relief that caused Lancelot to bounce up and push his hand onto
his chest. Arcturus struggled to shake his head as breath sharply through his nose. Sirius had run,
and as foolish as that had been, he hadn’t been caught. His soul was still in his body and Arcturus
could work with that. If only he could manage to get out of the bed he was confined too.

Regulus had put a sobbing Harry to bed once again well past midnight. Regulus was barely
keeping it together himself with worry, he could hardly imagine Harry trying to understand it all.
Any time he closed his eyes, he was flooded with memories. Hearing the scream, and rushing to
the hall to find Arcturus writhing on the ground as Helena was yelling over him, trying to
administer a potion. Ignatius watched the scene for half a second before running towards the Floo
to get Lancelot. Then Lancelot burst onto the scene and arrived there just as Arcturus stopped
writhing around and went deadly still and pale.

Regulus had to drag Harry away at that moment and Harry had fought him the entire way. Sobbing
and clawing at Regulus’ arm leaving bloodied red marks. He’d locked them in the room. If this
was the end for Arcturus, Harry didn’t need to see that. That’s all he kept thinking as he tried to
calm a frantic Harry, who was on his knees begging Regulus to let him out. To let him be by his
grandfather’s side. Regulus had seen people die, he knew how that stuck with him. Harry should
remember Arcturus as he lived. Regulus could never think of his own father without the vision of
the lifeless corpse lying on the drawing room floor. The bit of foam dripping from his mouth and
his eyes glassy and skin going quickly grey. He had a rare few good moments with his father
between the drinks and the trauma. All of them were overshadowed by that final memory. That
final glimpse he had of him.

Regulus stumbled into the kitchen without turning on any lights. He didn’t want to disturb the
family that was kindly hosting them. Helena’s sister was a kind woman with the same round face
and bright eyes and she knew of magic. Her and her husband had been gracious enough to lend out
the two spare rooms they had. Harry and Regulus in one and Marius across the hall in the smaller
room. Everyone else had to scatter away the second the news broke of Sirius’ secret being exposed.
Lucretia and Ignatius had to return to Wales, Cassiopeia to Switzerland, and Lancelot and Helena
were working on round the clock care of Arcturus at Lancelot’s London flat. It felt suddenly very
lonely even with their host openness and understanding as they took in three misfits.

He nearly jumped back when he stumbled over Kreacher. The elf was carrying a steaming tea cup
larger than his hands. His ears twitched as he stepped to the side to let Regulus by. Kreacher had
been bouncing around all the homes conveying news since they didn’t feel they could trust owls
with the Aurors so closely inspecting everything associated with their family. Regulus worried for
Kreacher’s health constantly moving around but he reassured him he was taking care of himself.

“Kreacher be bringing Little Master tea. Little Master not be sleeping enough. Good tea will help.”
Kreacher said as he balanced the cup to not lose any of the liquid. Regulus nodded sleepily. He
also wasn’t sleeping enough.

“There be a cuppa for you too.” Kreacher said as he gestured to the counter and started to patter
away, but Regulus had a sudden thought.

“Kreacher.” He stated quietly. Kreacher turned carefully to face him.

“Sirius, he’s still a part of this family, can you—well can you sense him?” Regulus asked
hesitantly. Kreacher gave him a wrinkly sympathetic smile.

“Kreacher can, but not how it usually is. It’s there for a moment and then gone. Like when Master
Sirius was in Azkaban, Kreacher could feel him, but not enough to go to him. Kreacher could try,
if Master wanted him too.” Kreacher said with a tilt of his head, one of his ears nearly falling into
the cup of tea.

“No, you’re doing enough Kreacher. Thank you, I’ll let you know if I change my mind.” Regulus
sighed as he went to go pick up the cooling cup of tea. He could hear Kreacher walk away and the
quiet snap of a door opening and closing and the silent mumbles that came afterwards. He knew
Harry hadn’t really fallen asleep, only gone still enough that Regulus would feel okay leaving him
alone.

Kreacher not being able to sense Sirius was strange. In Azkaban, it would make sense there were
safeguards in place to keep anyone from coming in without permission and even more so from
keeping anyone from going out, but outside of the prison didn’t make sense. Unless, Sirius wasn’t
Sirius, at least not in the traditional sense. Sirius was an animagus. Regulus twisted his lips before
he sipped the tea. Mentally, he reminded himself to bring it up to his family. It hadn’t occurred to
him to inform any of them before and he had kept Sirius’ secret out of loyalty. He’d bring it up for
a chance to help Sirius tomorrow after hopefully less fitful rest

Their temporary accommodations were much smaller than he was used to with him and Harry
having to share a room once again, but it was graced with a peaceful, lush garden. Regulus found
himself wandering out there many nights to look up at the sky and listen to the quiet chirping and
rustling under brush. Then breath in the light scent of Swiss wildflowers that popped up all around
him. Only tonight when he went to curl up on the bench near the back of the garden, he found he
wasn’t alone.

“Helena and I sat here together for the first time nearly fifty years ago, her mother owned the house
then.” Marius said as he moved his hand from the side of his face and gently closed the newspaper
in his lap. Regulus tried to feign a smile.

“Though I doubt you want an old man’s history lesson. Come and sit, did Harry finally decide to
sleep?” Marius asked as he patted the place next to him. Regulus sat curling over his cup of tea
once he had.

“I got him to wash his face and brush his hair. He let me tuck him in, like when he was little. He
wasn’t asleep though, Kreacher brought him tea. I’m hoping it helps.” Regulus whispered weakly.
Marius nodded gently.

“It has been a long few weeks.” Marius sighed as he adjusted his position. It was Regulus’ turn to
weakly reply. His lips were raw from his constant biting and his head felt foggy from his own lack
of rest.

“He asked if Sirius would be back in time to send him off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.”
Regulus managed to squeak out before he felt his whole body trembling. He was trying to hold it
together. Trying to be strong for days on end. At first he had been angry, then he tried rationalising
it, but now, he was exhausted

“Sh, it’s okay.” Marius whispered as he took the shaking teacup out of his hand. Regulus only
realised he was crying when he felt the tears hitting his hands. He was feeling helpless and lost. He
leaned into Marius’ shoulder and let the tears fall for a few minutes silently. Marius kept humming
to him and rubbing his back as the small noises of the night danced around them. It was peaceful as
Regulus rocked slightly.

“Why did he leave us?” Regulus muttered as he clutched onto Marius, who could offer no answers
but comforting silence. Regulus appreciated the effort. As he calmed, he caught the corner of the
paper from earlier and stared at the blurry words to calm his thoughts. Marius caught onto it as he
reached with the hand not wrapped around Regulus.

“In the mess of it all, I haven’t had a chance to read them all. I know it’s not good to obsess, but I
was trying to piece together a picture from all the sensational headlines and well, this one is
actually from that day, before the news shifted.” Marius said as he snapped the papers straight.
Regulus reached out for it to look at the flashing black and white photo.

“Oh, that’s the Weasleys.” Regulus said fondly as he brought the photo closer to his face. Marius
looked over his shoulder.

“Yes, there is Harry’s friend Ron just there.” Regulus said, letting his finger point at the smiling
youngest boy. Regulus caught sight of movement in the boy’s hands as he tilted the photo a bit for
a better angle. Suddenly, there was a spark of knowledge as he jerked up painfully, knocking both
him and Marius off balance.

“Regulus?” Marius questioned as he whipped at a bit of tea that had been split.

“Bloody fucking hell.” Regulus breathed out.

Lucretia stood with her back to her home as she narrowed her eyes for better sight. She was
counting the Aurors on duty tonight. There were two trying to stay hidden in the tree line and
another pacing up and down the shoreline. Ever since the news had broken that Sirius had escaped,
her house had been heavily guarded. Every property in the Black Family name had been. It seemed
a waste of resources considering anyone with half a mind would stay away from them. Sirius
wasn’t daft. The Ministry had to appear to be proactive though, the first prisoner to ever escape
Azkaban had made headlines all over the world. A suspected mass murdered and Death Eater only
added to the attention. They were covering for themselves though. When they came to question
her, they said he had likely escaped hours before they arrived. They were not letting the public
know the Ministry themselves had been duped. Her father always said it was difficult to find an
honest man in government.

Now, she watches Aurors pace the property line every night. Ignatius had barely been able to fib
his way out of the house and half the time he still spent sneaking around their defences. His trip to
America had gone undetected and now he was in Bulgaria under the guise of visiting an ill old
friend, while in reality he was tracking down an old Qudditch team mate from Sirius’ school days.
They were grasping at air, but it was all they had.

She reached up and let her hair loose as she savoured the release of tension from her head for a
moment. It had been a terribly long month, but she had gotten news that her father was awake and
on a very slow recovery. Lancelot was keeping his distance to avoid his flat being torn apart. They
had few places left to allow discretion. Finally after her few minutes of crisp night air, she returned
to her opened door. Only to notice something was amiss. A cabinet was ajar only slightly and she
knew she hadn’t opened that particularly one all day. Ignatius wouldn’t have returned yet, and
Lancelot would have announced his arrival.

With her wand pulled out, she carefully crept out of her kitchen, her eyes peeled for the slightest
movement. The hall exited into the wide living area filled with a warm sitting area and a large
hearth. She could smell the crack of fire as she raised her wand with a bright light to see who had
entered her home unannounced. Her eyes popped open with shock as the light fell on a far chair
tucked away from the windows.

“Your husband is away.” Cygnus said from the debts of darkness as she lowered her wand.

“I nearly hexed you.” She sighed as she flicked her wand once to turn on a light behind her
allowing her to see but not the Aurors outside.

“Tell me, how has Ignatius managed to slip away when I had to pay nearly a hundred galleons and
follow strict instructions just to bury my own wife in France with her family.” Cygnus said as he
crossed his legs and lifted a glass of something strong and dark to his lips.

“Ignatius has a job.” Lucretia daid sharply as she walked over to secure the curtains tightly.
Technically, they hadn’t been told they couldn’t meet together as a family but it had been implied.

At her response, Cyngus set his heavy boot down on the ground and made a disgruntled noise. The
glass tipped back and he finished his drink before loudly setting it on the table next to him. She
couldn’t see him well, but she knew him. She could feel the look he was giving her as she crossed
her arms and puffed out her chest defiantly. She had practically raised Cygnus, she wouldn’t let
him intimidate her.

“Did he do it? I need to know, did Arcturus assist Sirius?” Cygnus asked, nearly breathless with
anger. She was sympathetic that he’d been through a difficult time in the past year. Only his
mother remained alive and last she heard Irma had already found another man in Scandinavia to
live out her days with.

“Why? Are you looking into options for your daughter?” She snapped back, knowing exactly how
to undercut his attitude. Cygnus let out a sigh that sounded nearly like a growl.

“Bellatrix is exactly where she needs to be. Even I know a hopeless cause when I see one. I haven’t
spoken to her in years, not since Burga died and we stopped visiting Azkaban.” Cygnus said
through clenched teeth. Lucretia eyed him up and down to see the tension rippling through him.

“I’d understand if he did it. I’d even understand if he only informed you and not myself. I’m well
aware of the divide that exists in our own family line. I’ve always been second. Second to my
brother, second to Orion, even second to you and my sister, but I would appreciate it if just this
once, you were honest with me.” Cygnus said as his shoulders caved slightly; the facade he wore
everyday breaking for only a moment. Breaking only for her. She had to blink back the instant
sting in her eyes as turned her face away to avoid him seeing her flush. Cygnus, always the
forgotten one he was. The one who put aside everything, who did everything exactly as the family
had expected and yet still it was never enough. She wished he would have understood when he was
younger. There was never going to be anything any of them could do to be enough for the
impossible expectations.

“I swear to you on the sacrifice of my son’s lives, I have no idea where Sirius is.” She said, the
vague honesty she held onto was the only way to keep her voice steady. Cygnus sized her up for a
long silent moment before he closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat he occupied.

“And your father?” He asked.

“He truly is away from France, but he’s had a health issue. He didn’t want to worry you, but it’s
why he couldn’t attend Druella’s funeral and with all the attention, it has been hard to communicate
safely.” She explained once again using the truth to hide her deception.

“Will he recover?” Cygnus asked grimly. It was a realistic question. If her father died, all the
responsibilities would be his to bear.

“He’s getting the best medical care we can offer, they are hopeful for a full recovery.” She said,
her own lips trembling slightly as she spoke. The prospects were much grimmer than their hope,
but her father had survived. Cygnus nodded slowly as he rubbed at his chin.

“And I can assume Ignatius isn’t working, he’s out looking for Sirius isn’t he?” Cygnus said in a
tone that was implying he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” She said shortly as she felt her chest heave under her breath.

“What will you do if you find him? You’ve heard what he’s done. Do you intend to keep him?”
Cygnus asked, tilting his head.

“You know Sirius as well as I, do you truly believe he did what they say he did?” She posed back.
Cygnus let out a short dry laugh as he shook his head. The grey streaks throughout his hair shone
through the darkness.

“No, Sirius would never. Burga knew it, when she still had a bit of her mind. As the years passed it
was easier for her to believe Sirius had done it. To believe she had one man in her life that didn’t
disappoint and abandoned her. It’s why I took her to visit him. He was her only solace after
Regulus and Orion left her behind.” Cygnus said with a click of his tongue. “I don’t doubt Sirius’
ability to kill, he is a Black after all. However, Sirius would never betray that Potter boy, nor would
he kill those Muggles he held so precious. Neither of those boys was meant for the path laid out for
them. They took after their father in that aspect.”

Lucretia swallowed the harsh words dancing on her tongue as she dropped her crossed arms to
clasp her hands in front of her. It took several deep breaths to calm her as she took soft steps around
the room, never straying too far from her cousin. Cygnus sat rigid with his hand on his chin, only
his eyes moving to follow her. Sometimes she wondered how they had become this. How they had
fallen so far from one another. Eventually, he broke his stance and rose.

“If you do find him. I implore you to leave me out of it. I want nothing to do with whatever your
plans are. I only ask that if Arcturus has any plans to change his succession that he leave my
portion of inheritance to my daughter and my grandson. I would hope my years of service to my
family mean as much as that to him.” Cygnus said as he turned his feet to exit.

“He would never take from your family, Cy. Narcissa and Draco will always be taken care of.”
Lucretia replied. Cygnus nodded weakly and took a few steps forward before he paused midway.
Lucretia perked her chin up waiting for him to speak.

“Lucy, how is my daughter? Did the Aurors bother her too much?” He nearly whispered. Lucretia
knitted her eyebrows together.

“Have you not spoken to Narcissa?” She asked genuinely. Cygnus chewed on his lower lip.

“My other daughter.” He mumbled and Lucretia immediately snapped her mouth shut. Her eyes
closed halfway while she breathed through her nose.

“Andromeda is stronger than any of us. The Aurors came, but she handled it well. It helps that her
daughter is training to be one. A bloody good one at that.” Lucretia whispered back. It almost felt
forbidden to speak about them both. She couldn’t confirm it because of the way the shadows fell,
but she swore she saw Cygnus’ lip twitch upward for a fraction of a moment.

“Good.” Was all he replied before stepping into the Floo and disappearing into the bright light.
Leaving Lucretia alone once again in the wide empty halls of her home. She sighed and took a few
faint steps towards the window as she peaked out a curtain. There was an Auror standing at the top
of the cliff now looking out to the dark horizon of the sea. The fabric fell with only a quiet rustle as
she stepped back with only a sliver of moonlight breaking through. With her head tilted back and
her eyes tightly shut, she whispered to no one.

“Sirius, please wherever you are, be safe, be smart, and know you can come home.”

Being a dog was simple. His mind was less clouded with the thoughts that bogged down humans.
It was quick easy thoughts, one large paw in front of another, avoid the rock there, slip through the
crack in the fence, don’t trample the garden. Simplicity was what he needed. The tail weighed
heavily as he sat next to a head of lettuce slightly browning in its spot. From here even with the
 strange vision he could see.

The warm hearth of a home, the sounds of a family dancing out a window. The floppy ears he had
twitched instinctively. The dark shades of people passing by an open window. His eyes followed
each taking a long moment to recognize their outlines. He was looking for a particular person. His
nose stuck out and tried to sniff out the scent, but he was overwhelmed by the smells of a home
cooked meal being placed on the table.

The tall young figure finally came into view over the shoulder of his mother, who was waving a
dish towel and yelling at someone out of view. The large hands dashed around her to pick off a bit
of food before he was waved off as well. There was nothing else in his hands besides food. His tail
wagged anxiously as he searched for a way in, but the house was so small and cramped he’d not be
able to slip in undetected. It was futile at the moment and coming back was becoming more
difficult. He needed to find a place besides the old abandoned barn to sleep. The one downfall of
the instincts of a dog was how single minded they could be. His paws were padding along the path
to the road before long in search of anything to quell the ache in his stomach. He needed a plan. A
plan he could only form as a man; however, to do so he needed to be hidden away well. His goal
was completed yet, he just needed some more time, he thought as his body morphed back into his
normal form. Peter wouldn’t slip away again.

Chapter End Notes

I told you I wouldn't make you wait long ;) Arcturus isn't done yet, but he is down for
awhile. We are officially entering into POA timeline and I hope you all enjoy! I'll start
sorting through the comments shortly, but know I adore each one! Thank you for
reading and I will return!
 The Breaking of the News
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Rain was pattering on the glass loudly, but Remus couldn’t manage to move. He was curled up
much like a child under the window sill staring at his cluttered apartment. He hadn’t much will to
stand let alone clean any of his mess since he had heard the news. Dumbledore had come to speak
to him personally, he had been the one who wanted to tell him. Not for him to find out when the
paper came in the morning.

In his mind, he had been better. He had been moving along, maybe even healing, but one bad day.
One single bit of news had sent him reeling backwards. The sting in his chest was as painful as it
had been in November of nineteen eighty one. All the memories flooding him with fresh wounds
like a thousand little cuts into his flesh.

The small knock on his door nearly had him flat on the ground. The pulsing in his throat was
enough to make his stomach turn as he ached from the hunger pains of not properly feeding
himself. The world titled as he stumbled towards the door. The lack of movement and water hit
him all at once as his knees caved and his wrist could barely manage to turn the knob. Mary was
standing there with her hair braided tightly to her scalp and her eyes swollen and a bright red. Her
chest huffed heavily as if she had run the entire way there.

“Remus—” was all she managed to sputter out before she had fallen to her knees clutching to his
chest as they held onto one another. It felt better to not be alone. He and Mary may not speak as
often anymore since she’d gotten herself married and had a few very young children, but there
were some experiences that bonded one so close together nothing could tear the friendship apart.

They laid on the floor for a long time. The rain ceased outside even as thunder still tumbled over
the city. Remus held Mary as she held him. Both of them were crying softly and hardly able to
speak even as their tears dried, words were hard to form. What could one say?

Remus didn't notice until just then the paper sticking erratically out of the side of her bag. The
flashing old photo he could recognize even from just the small visible corner. Years ago he’d spent
days wasting away in front of the photo. Staring at it begging for answers, for reason, for any
inkling it was all a horrid error. Sirius may have not liked his family, but those years ago, Remus
had almost hoped they would crawl in from their corners of the world to stand at his defence if for
no other reason, but his own selfish ones. He wanted the truth. He wanted to stare Sirius into his
eyes as he explained. No one ever came to his knowledge, and even if they had there was no trial.
Sirius was thrown away like rubbish and scorned from history. People scarcely spoke his name
except in hushed whispers of folklore tales of the evil that ran in the Black family line.

Now it would be impossible to walk down the streets and hear his name being whispered, yelled or
cursed. Even in Muggle London, he knew he would once again find ways to hear Sirius’ names in
the way the leaves rustled or the dogs howled. In the mere hours since he had learned, he had felt
nothing, except the hollow ache of dread.
His hand reached out for the paper instinctively. Mary tried to shift away, but he gave her a
reassuring glance into her tired eyes. Her nose wrinkled when she knitted her brows together, but
she pulled her hand away and let him take the paper. The photo was still the same as he
remembered. Merlin, he hated how even now he could see the handsome edge as his lips parted to
scream and his shoulders jolted around to try and free himself from the tight hold of the Aurors just
out of frame. In his mind, this was the Sirius he could recall. Young and strong with long black hair
framing his face and making the silver in his eyes shine even in the black and white photo. The last
glimpse of the man he had known and loved before it was all torn to shreds.

Logically he knew it had been falling apart for months before. The last time he’d really felt close to
Sirius was nearly a year before this crazed photo was taken. It had been his twenty-first birthday,
and even with the war looming large and the consequences becoming clear, Sirius wouldn’t let his
birthday go uncelebrated. They’d held the party in this very flat with their finest dishware left from
his late uncle and the brightest gold and sparkles he could find to adorn every visible corner.

“We need a reason to celebrate, Moony. I’m not naive to how serious this all is, but if we don’t
have moments of brightness in the dark we will all lose our spirits.” He could hear the bright tone
of Sirius in his head now as he glanced to the corner he’d been standing in when he said it while
hanging crystals from their curtains. Remus hadn’t felt much like celebrating, but Sirius had
convinced him. In between bed sheets and on top of kitchen counters, in naughty little words and
quirky little smiles, he’d managed to pull what Remus felt like was the last of his joy for that one
single night. Remus left once again on a mission for Dumbledore only a month later and when he
returned it was never the same. There were no more quirky smiles or romantic rendezvous on the
kitchen counters. It became flat and forced and any intimate moments found them trying not to look
in one another's eyes.

Remus had to force himself to swallow the sob in his throat. Sirius didn’t deserve anymore of his
tears. He flipped the paper over to tear away the eyes he’d fallen in love with over years and every
obstacle life could have thrown at them.

“Reginald was working late last night. Issues with the Floo network that he wanted to assure was
fixed before the morning rush.” Mary began as she brought her hand to Remus’ cheek. Reginald
was her husband. Remus had been a bit shocked that Mary would marry a wizard, but they seemed
happy. He was a few years older than them both and the two had met when she’d finally taken a
job at the Ministry after years bouncing between Muggle and Wizarding service jobs. They had
three young children, just starting in their magic and though Remus tried sometimes seeing them
made his heart hurt. When they were so little, they reminded him of the few memories he clung to
of Harry.

“He said the Ministry himself showed up after midnight, and that Aurors were piling in for hours
ruining any chance to fix the Floo. They went out to every Black Family estate they had rights too
in Great Britain, even visiting distant families I had forgotten were connected to the Blacks. Oh
well I suppose most families are connected to them, but they went as far north as Scotland to check
the MacMillian farm and as far south as to bother Andromeda. Reg heard they’ll be keeping Aurors
watching, but he can’t be that daft. He can’t be going home. I mean he said they were never home.
Oh Remus, what are we to do?“ Mary rambled as they managed to drag themselves into the small
chairs that made his formal dining room beside the kitchen. He never needed more than two chairs.

Remus was trying to be helpful, but every time he opened his mouth his voice failed him. Was
there even anything for him to do? Sirius wouldn’t come here. He wouldn’t come to Remus. Even
if a small part of him had hoped for a fraction for a second that when Mary had knocked it had
been Sirius, pleading on his knees for a chance to wash away the years of immeasurable heart ache
and offer any explanation even remotely possible. Remus didn’t trust himself to not believe
anything Sirius said and take him in on the first whim he had. He wished he was better, but he
wasn’t. Not for Sirius. Never for him.

“How long before they arrive here do you think?” Remus managed to weakly croak out as his thin
fingers lingered over The Daily Prophet. It took all his restraint to not turn it over once more to
stare at the flexing muscles in Sirius’ neck as he screamed.

“Oh.” Mary replied simply as she raised her head. “Remus, I’m so sorry. I hadn’t thought about…
well I suppose it won’t be long. Is this flat still in his name?”

Remus nodded weakly. He never wanted to go through the process of changing it. The sneers and
stares would have been unbearable. It was better for it to be forgotten and left as a memory. Less
people would question him if he just left it be. Mary followed his trailing fingers, but his eyes
weren’t focused and he hadn’t known the article he was circling over was an opinion piece already
penned about the safety of Hogwarts in such unprecedented times. Mary looked longingly at the
small picture of the school with the sun rising over one of the towers.

“Do you think Harry remembers anything about us?” She whispered so silently he could have
pretended he didn’t hear her. Let it slip away and past them. Let Harry be the unspoken secret they
did not dare mention because the pain could be too much. He didn’t though, he had to face one
thing with courage today. Harry was easier for once.

“No, no I doubt it. I was foolish and I sent a box of memories when he was a baby, but I’m certain
they got thrown out. He probably doesn’t have a clue who we are.” Remus said as he shook his
head. Mary’s face fell but before she had a chance to speak, the knock rang loudly in the door with
a large amount of authority. Remus could sense the crowded group standing outside his flat. The
Aurors had finally pieced it together. He gave Mary a sad look as he pushed back his greying hair
and tried to smooth the wrinkles across the front of his robes to be more presentable. Then with
pain rising in his chest, he opened the door.

“Let me take a moment.” Arcturus said as he felt the pain of a cough pressing to the middle of his
chest. Lancelot already had water in his hand before he could stretch his arm out. He hated how
slowly he moved. It had been weeks and he was still confined to the bed. Unable to do more than
lift a glass to his lips and even that he had to argue his right to do. If it was up to Lancelot, Arcturus
would likely have been put directly back into a coma. Regulus sat nervously at the end of the bed
with his eyes cast downward and his thumbs snapping every few seconds. If Arcturus let his weak
mind wander too much, he could hardly tell the difference between the Regulus he stared at now
and the Regulus he’d known years ago. They appeared so similarly solemn.

“So this mouse—” Arcturus began after he managed to swallow the pain in his throat.

“Rat.” Regulus cut in weakly, clearly unintentional.

“Yes, rat, is actually Sirius' old schoolmate, who Sirius and James Potter became Animagus with to
help Sirius’… friend who is a werewolf during his full moon transitions and then this old
schoolmate betrayed Lily and James Potter leading to their deaths and Harry becoming an orphan
and then he proceeds to fake his own death killing twelve Muggles and framing Sirius for the
crime and for the last decade or so has been living as pet rat with the Weasley Family.” Arcturus
repeated with his eyes blinking frequently. Regulus was looking at him with a mixture of distress
and anguish as he nodded back meekly. Arcturus was trying to restrain his lips from twitching or
his eyes from blinking too heavily, but the whole ordeal sounded like a fantasy.
“I can see why Sirius may have withheld certain details. It is a difficult narrative to digest and any
sane person would likely dismiss it.” Arcturus began and Regulus shifted uncomfortably at the end
of his bed. “Luckily for the two of you, sanity left this family long ago.”

“Can you help then?” Regulus said with an air of disbelief. He couldn’t deny it. The hope is
Regulus’ eyes, the way he looked at Arcturus made him feel useful.

“I will do my best, now the rat must be with the Weasley family. If you happen to see him today,
make no move, but do inform me. We must approach this carefully to try and bring justice for
Sirius and get the answers this man may have. Now don’t you and Harry need to be on your way to
Diagon Alley?” Arcturus said as he shifted to try and find any comfort in the thin bed he was
trapped on. Regulus looked longingly out the door to where Harry had left only a few minutes ago
to sit in Lancelot’s small kitchen and have a cup of tea before the walk through London to get his
supplies. Before then, he’d been sitting right beside Arcturus reading him his essay in Divinations
for any last minute corrections. Arcturus had appreciated the way Harry didn’t look at him with
pity and instead jumped up on the bed just excited to see him and immediately whipped out a
parchment to go over his school work. That had made Arcturus feel wanted.

Eventually Regulus rose and offered a sympathetic smile. He paused in the doorway with his hand
nervously tapping the frame for a second. He only half turned over his shoulder before he spoke.

“Sirius, he shouldn’t have left like he did, but I understand it. He wants to fix what he sees as his
mistake. Atonement, I’ve read that in the Muggle religion books.” Regulus said with his chin
tucked towards his neck. Arcturus hated to admit it, but maybe they had gotten that trait for
seeking their own justice from him.

“Neither of you are alone any longer. I don’t want either of you to feel as if you need to face any of
your challenges by yourself.” Arcturus replied as his hands straightened the bed sheet tucked
around him. Regulus gave a weakened grin as he knocked on the frame once before slipping away.
His tone turned cheery as he greeted Harry, hiding away any of his own emotions for the sake of
the child he had raised. Arcturus had always thought his family was doomed to be terrible fathers.
Maybe this once he’d admit he was wrong.

“You’re not leaving this bed.” Lancelot said from here he was leaning in the chair he typically
inhabited nowadays just in a farther corner from Arcturus. It left him to where he wasn’t hovering,
but close enough he was only a few steps away at a moment’s notice.

“I may be confined to this room, but your cousin is not. Will you write to him? Call him back from
the search, I do believe Sirius never left Great Britain.” Arcturus asked with a sharp upturn of his
head. Lancelot narrowed his eyes at him, but he pulled the parchment from the shelf next to him
and a quill appeared a moment later.

Down the hall, another voice joined the others offering pleasantries as she passed by. Arcturus
sighed. He hated to admit it, but he was tired. He wasn't one to grow weary so easily, but as he
knew his daughter was approaching he had to summon the energy to speak.

“You look better today, Father.” Lucretia said as she came in with her hair pulled back and a stack
of letters tucked under her arm. The communication was nonstop now. Letters arriving from all
corners of the world with questions and demands of him and his family. All of them pleading for
any piece of information or another on his grandson. Sirius may have just indirectly revived the
family name he despised so much.

“Cygnus paid me a visit in the middle of the night. He has asked to be kept out of whatever it is we
are doing. I don’t believe he knows how long Sirius has been free, but he certainly is determined to
believe you had something to do with it. He seems wallowed in his grief too much to care what we
do, he only asked for Draco and Narcissa’s funds to remain available to them. Didn’t even mention
his own mother; not that I can blame him, Irma never was the motherly type.” She explained as she
pulled the seal from the bedside table to start securing the tall stack of letters.

“Cygnus has always been obedient. Even quiet compared to his siblings, I see no reason to worry
about him either.” Arcturus commented as he strained his weakened muscle to push himself up.
Lancelot was always there with one eye on him. Not even letting him attempt magic yet.

“A newspaper in Romania caught a glimpse of Ignatius, but he spoke to Charlie, who managed to
let it slip to the local pub gossip that his uncle was there to visit him. I would say it is believable
enough, but we may need to keep him in Wales for appearances sake. Slipping away from the
Aurors is difficult enough now, I can’t imagine if they tighten security.” She said with a shake of
her head. Arcturus smacked his lips as his eyes were growing heavy.

“Something called The Quibbler is reporting that Sirius is living as a hermit on a deserted island in
the Pacific. Cassiopeia is going to speak at The Ministry today on your behalf. I handle the
correspondence by mail, she does it in person. It is a bit of a song and dance, but for the most part
we’ve pushed people off from us little by little.” Lucretia continued as her eyes narrowed as she
sealed one letter slowly. Likely a response to a newspaper's request, in which she methodically sent
the same reply to each one saying the family had no comment.

“I believe he’s more than likely living as a dog.” Arcturus sighed as she looked up at him with her
head tilted and lips parted in confusion. He took a few minutes before he was out of breath to
explain what Regulus had just told him. Lucretia had forgotten her letters and was shaking her head
by the time he had finished.

“I suppose Ignatius and I had our suspicions. That time Orion left Sirius in the middle of a
werewolf pack. We had always wondered why there were no footprints approaching our house,
only pawprints, but no werewolves in sight.” Lucretia said with a few final shakes of her head.
Arcturus licked his dry lips as he could feel exhaustion washing over him.

“Lancelot, he’s writing to Ignatius, your husband… I will need… his help.” Arcturus said as he felt
his head drop involuntarily and his eyes growing watery and vision blurred. Sleep was overtaking
him as he felt his daughters thin long fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Rest, father. Ignatius will come.” She said in a soft voice as he felt two other hands slowly lower
him onto the bed. Any other time he wouldn’t have fought it; however, his muscles were growing
limp and his mind hazy. His daughter's worried face was barely outlined as he closed his eyes.

Harry was kicking a few loose rocks along the pavement with his head hung low and his hair
falling into his eyes more often than not. Regulus was only one step behind not feeling much better
than Harry looked. However, he needed to try for Harry’s sake.

“Ron and Herimone are meeting us there right?” Regulus tried for about the third time to start a
conversation to make their stroll more pleasant. Lancelot’s flat wasn’t far from Diagon Alley’s
entrance and Regulus had thought some sunny fresh air would do Harry good, but from the way his
feet dragged it didn’t appear to be helping. Harry just shrugged and nodded in response.

Regulus withheld his sigh. This must be the teenage years everyone spoke of. Harry hadn’t even
wanted to celebrate his birthday. Thankfully, he hadn’t completely forgotten his manners and when
Helena’s sister had brought out a cake after dinner he forced a smile and thanked her quietly.
Afterwards, he’d sat on his small bed next to the window and stared out at the stars. Regulus had
laid in the bed next to him watching silently. There wasn’t anything more he could say. Harry had
already been angry and upset and sad about Sirius leaving and Regulus couldn’t blame him. It took
all his restraint to keep his own emotions soothed around Harry. Sirius had abandoned them and
even when Regulus knew why it didn’t dim the sting inside him as much as he had hoped. It was
supposed to be the two of them. He and Sirius were supposed to handle Peter together and at the
first glimpse of him, Sirius ran.

Regulus spent the rest of the walk trying to enjoy it as Harry kicked loose pebbles and cans. A few
mothers sent Regulus disapproving looks as they passed by whenever Harry would kick a stone in
the path of their prams. Regulus would just roll his eyes and step up closer to Harry to assure no
one would challenge him. He had this inkling of feeling Harry was entering the phase where he was
willing to look for trouble in the hopes it would dull the painful feelings he was having. Regulus
had known that feeling all too well as a boy and he was doing his best to curb it in Harry before it
became an issue.

“Harry!” A voice called almost instantly when they entered The Leaky Cauldron. Regulus felt
every hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’d known Ron would be there, but until that
moment Regulus didn’t think about how he might be coming face to face with Peter. Or at least,
the whiskered fur cover persona Peter had transformed into. He froze in the entrance of The Leaky
Cauldron as Harry at least lifted his shoulder to greet Ron with a crooked smile. The young girl
with her wide curls was just behind Ron with the orange part-Kneazle Regulus had seen next to
Midnight. At least, he had finally found a home as well.

“His name is Crookshanks. The nice young witch at the shop said since his friend was adopted he
had been there the longest so I had to get him besides look at his face.” Hermione explained as
Harry held out his hand to scratch Crookshanks ears.

“My cousin adopted a part-Kneazle too. Her name is Midnight, she likes to get into everything and
sleep on your face, but she is sweet and she does chase all the bugs away.” Harry said as he finally
looked over at Regulus, who was still stricken in the doorway. A disgruntled short wizard pushed
past him mumbling about disrespectful youth as he shuffled heavy tattered robes over his
shoulders. Regulus shook his head and slipped around the tables to where the Weasleys had
overtaken a whole corner. Their voices wrapped around the rafters as they leaned over and reached
for different dishes while holding several different conversations at once. Regulus always felt out
of place with them, they were overly friendly and a bit loud, and it was so different then the
manners and practices he had were accustomed to. He found himself slipping into the furthest seat,
not far from Harry as his friends began to recount their holidays.

“Scabbers was looking ill the whole time, Bill tried to give him some tonic, but he just started to
lose his hair after. Charlie said he might be too sick to travel and well Charlie knows a lot about
animals. So Mum thought it best for him to look after him for a while to see if he couldn’t bring
him back to health.” Ron said with almost a defeated shrug and Regulus couldn’t believe the
amount of relief that washed over him. Arcturus had told him not to engage Peter until they had a
plan, but if Regulus had seen the dishevelled little rat, the man that framed his brother, who took
Harry’s parents from him. He couldn’t say that he could control his actions. It would be so easy, he
might not even need to use a spell. Peter didn’t know who he was with the Polyjuice Potion and he
could just ask to see the rat and make an excuse to slip away. It would have been too easy to make
Peter pay for his actions.

He could feel his nose flaring at the thought alone and when he pulled away from his thoughts he
found Arthur Weasley staring right at him and he worried for a moment he’d been mumbling his
plans under his breath. Arthur stabbed at his chicken before pointing with his head to the shadowy
corner behind a pillar. Regulus pushed off from the table slowly as he watched Arthur do the same
while smiling and talking to his family as he did. They barely noticed either of them walking away.
Once leaned against the tilted wall of the Leaky Cauldron with only Mister Weasley and a lone
spider, he felt a strange feeling fall on him.

“Aren’t there usually two of you?” Arthur said with a goofy grin and his cheeks a bit rosy from the
heat.

“My brother is under the weather.” Regulus said with his eyes shifting around the room. Arthur
twisted his thin lips as he nodded vaguely looking around the pub every few seconds.

“The Ministry has been trying to locate Harry with all this… business going on. We don’t have a
record of his whereabouts. If it weren’t for Ron’s communications I don’t doubt they would have
set up a full manhunt.” Arthur finally said as he placed his hands on his hips and continued to
shake his head nervously.

“We prefer to keep our location private for Harry’s sake.” Regulus replied firmly.

“Well yes, yes we understand. However, these are unusual times and with the escape of Sirius
Black. It would perhaps be better if the Aurors knew where he was. Alas, we cannot force you.”
Mister Weasley added as he held his hands up in defence as Regulus shot him a dark glare.

“We are not worried about Sirius Black.” Regulus said more cruelly than he had intended. Mister
Weasley was visibly taken aback as his eyes widened and his rosy cheeks lost their colour.

“Not worried… well that seems positively foolish. I don’t know exactly what details you know–”
Arthur started.

“All of them. Quite certainly more than you, I appreciate the concern, but Harry has been entrusted
in our care and we make decisions on his well-being. We know what has been said about Sirius
Black and what he has been accused of, but our location has not been compromised and Harry has
not been in London unattended. I doubt Sirius will attempt to break into Hogwarts. If anything
changes and we think otherwise, we will reassess our decisions. For now, we want Harry to be a
child and not have to worry about such matters.” Regulus said more gently, but with purpose.
Mister Weasley didn’t look convinced, but he did not challenge Regulus on his decisions any
further.

“Well at the very least, The Ministry has paid for rooms for us all for the night so that Harry can be
escorted by vehicles they are sending to the platform for tomorrow. We would encourage you to
stay, Harry could spend the night with his friends.” Arthur said as he motioned to where Harry was
petting Crookshanks while Ron elaborately told a story and to the side the twins were making silly
faces behind their other brother’s back while Ginny and Hermione carried a conversation to the
side. They looked content and Regulus couldn’t lie. Lancelot’s flat was hardly any bigger than the
house in Switzerland they had been staying in and no one had the heart to return to Grimmauld
Place without Sirius yet. There were few options remaining with their family heavily watched day
and night. A night away might be good for them both.

“We will stay. Though I think Harry and Ron may wish to share a room.” Regulus said as he
nodded to where Ron had wrapped a napkin around his face to resemble a mummy while Harry
laughed for the first time in a while. Even Hermione cracked a smile while playfully rolling her
eyes. Maybe it would be good for Harry to get back to a routine that was familiar. With Harry at
Hogwarts, it would provide Regulus with more freedom to do as he pleased. Most particularly, he
could focus on finding his brother and knocking some sense into him and then once that was done,
they could go back to finding Peter and bring justice once and for all.
Chapter End Notes

Ever have one of those weeks where you accomplish nothing but staring at different
walls? Yeah.

Anyways, thank you for all the support and comments! I adore each one! I will
hopefully be back very soon with the next update. A very special and yet distressing
encounter between two characters is coming. <3
 Various Modes of Transportation
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of injury; mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry knew it was dumb, but he didn’t quite care. Regulus had let him share a room with Ron for
the night at The Leaky Cauldron and he was excited, until Percy came in yelling about his Head
Boy pin and Fred and George set off fireworks in their doorway a few minutes later and the yelling
of four brothers became a bit overwhelming. Harry used to think he’d like a sibling, maybe even a
few, but he realized at a young age that Regulus was not going to get married or have any more
children. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did without Regulus ever saying anything.
Maybe it was the way Regulus never saw how girls and even a few boys in the village would try
and pick up banter with him. Or how Regulus never really spoke of romantic connections and all
his associates seemed either political or platonic when he’d recall his childhood and teenage years.
Possibly it was just the trauma. Harry wasn’t going to judge and as long as Regulus was content, he
was too.

As he left the rambunctious noise of the Weasleys behind he thought he might be better off as an
only child. He had on a Muggle jacket with a hood pulled low over his face to not let anyone
recognize him as he descended the slightly crooked stairs. Thankfully, besides a few sleepy patrons
dropping over their drinks as a few sparked or splashed on their own, Harry wasn’t disturbed as he
pushed the creaking old door and stepped into the cool night air.

It wasn’t like him to be so blatantly disobedient. He never really had a reason to be. His life was
never exactly as it should have been, but it wasn’t bad by any standard. Just different and
sometimes different could be difficult. Ron and Hermione had put on a good face, but he still saw
their wary glances and hushed exchanges with each other. The entire pub around them was
alternating between exclaiming and whispering about it. How could they not? It was some of the
biggest news since Harry had survived years ago.

“Sirius Black.”

“You know Arcturus had to have had a hand. It’s impossible to get out, nevermind alone.”

“Lucretia’s been in the news everyday covering for her nephew and father and here I thought she
was above her family’s antics!”

“Sirius should have died just like his brother did.”

“Death Eaters the whole lot of them I swear!”

Harry kicked a stray apple core out of frustration. It rebounded off some metal rubbish and the
screech of a cat travelled down the narrow walkway between buildings. He felt a bit guilty about
his actions now.

Sirius had left. Regulus tried not to show it, but he was feeling betrayed and depressed and Harry
hated to see it. Sirius had left Regulus before, why would he do it again? Why would he leave
Harry? Was he trying to protect them?

Then his grandfather had collapsed and Harry was certain he was gone. He always saw his
grandfather as this tall, domineering figure his entire life, but when he fell limp to the floor, he
looked small, frail, old. Arcturus had a hard life and though they tried to hide it, Harry was good at
sneaking around with the help of the invisibility cloak he often left locked away in his trunk.
Helena and Lancelot weren’t optimistic. They whispered of his grandfather never fully recovering.
It made a ball of sorrow sit heavy in his chest and he hated the feeling. He’d rather be angry. Kick
and scream instead of wallow. Maybe that’s why he left. He wanted to push his boundaries for
once.

So now under overcast skies and a warm breeze he wandered around the streets of London. When
he’d first stepped foot outside, he hadn’t a destination in mind and he’d taken the first turn he’d
seen. Now he could smell the Thames river as he rounded another one. Despite spending several
summers here, Harry didn’t have a good feel for the layout of London. He just kept walking until
he came to the end and had to make a decision to go one way or another. He supposed to his left
would lead him back towards Islington. Not that he should be walking all the way to Grimmauld
Place at this hour, but it was one of the few areas he was familiar with.

Trouble should have been expected, he’d barely made it away from the Thames when he heard
shuffling behind him followed by some snickers. As carefully as he could, he looked over one
shoulder and saw a group of boys not much older than himself trailing him. Harry felt pinpricks on
his arms as he paced himself faster up an inclined street on cracked pavement. He had to dodge
piles of rubbish mixing with the dead smell of the river and the smog from the air above. He took
several turns, but the youth behind him stayed close by, even huffing a few times to keep up with
him. Harry thought he had rather good stamina from the Quidditch practices he’d been working on
all summer, but even he would tire eventually and it was easily five to one from his count.

Try as he might, he could not shake them as he started to panic when he heard the sounds of broken
glass shattering and lighters flicking behind him. Suddenly, his rebellion felt pale in comparison to
the danger. His wand poked at his hip under his clothes and he debated pulling it out for safety, but
to use magic on Muggles was forbidden. Given the heightened climate of the Wizarding World he
could only imagine the headlines.

‘Harry Potter, godson of mass murderer Sirius Black attacks Muggle Schoolboys’

Arcturus nor Regulus needed the added stress of Harry’s own stupidity. He could feel them gaining
on him as he frantically started looking side to side for a way to escape. His lungs were starting to
throb and his shoes felt too thin as he rushed up harsh ground and cut across the few cars lingering
in the night. The bright lights and screech of horns from behind him told him he’d gotten a few
seconds to think before the gang of youths behind him caught up to him and he wasn’t certain he
could outrun all of them.

Suddenly, as vividly as if he was living it again. He recalled a memory. Harry had been a few years
younger and it had been a particularly hot day that had him trapped inside Grimmauld Place before
the new term began. He’d been wandering the house when he found Sirius sitting with his knees
tucked to his chin staring at a shelf of pictures in one of the spare rooms. Harry had spooked him
when the door creaked slightly as it opened.

“Harry.” Sirius had breathed as he pushed back the piece of hair that framed his face. Harry had
just smiled and come to stand beside him to look at the photos. It was generation upon generation
of Black Family members. Harry could pinpoint the few he knew easily and a few others after a
moment, but even he couldn’t name all of them. Some no one spoke of and others only with
disdain. However, right in the middle was a photo of Sirius and Regulus with their parents just
behind them. Harry couldn’t ignore the way Orion’s hand dug into Sirius’ shoulder in the photo or
how Walburga had her long silver painted fingernails lingering just above her wand. Neither Sirius
or Regulus was smiling, in fact disdain was across Sirius’ face and Regulus looked positively
anxious. Harry couldn’t imagine why Sirius was staring at this photo, it didn’t seem to be a good
one.

“I ran away for the first time just before this photo.” Sirius had mumbled quietly as he lowered his
chin onto his knees again. Harry tilted his head to try and see what younger Sirius had been
thinking, but the photograph only wrinkled his nose and blinked a few times.

“Where did you go?” Harry asked.

“Aunt Lucy's, I always felt safe there. She was one of the only people who can stand toe to toe with
Orion. I waited until one night when Orion seemed to be in a better mood and before he got too far
into his bottle for the night and I asked to take a walk. I should have known better, but I was only
nine. He dismissed me, but unlocked the front door. You could never leave the house without him
knowing. I stepped right out front into the night and stuck my wand hand out and called the Knight
Bus. Lied about my name and got right on with a few spare sickles, the conductors for the night
shifts are always young. The man I met didn’t care much about anything besides getting back to
his reading. I made it all the way to Wales and walked right into Aunt Lucy’s kitchen. I remember
Fabian and Gideon completely gapping when I strolled in. Their sister, Molly, immediately started
telling me off for being so irresponsible. Aunt Lucy found me though, and she gave me the saddest
look. She knew. She always knew and she tried time and time again to take us permanently. There
was little she could do when my parents wouldn’t sign over guardianship and The Ministry refused
to intervene. She fed me and let me spend the night with my cousins. I always thought Fabian and
Gideon were the bee’s knees growing up. She had to take me back the next day though and she
tried to explain it to her brother, but he knew. He knew I’d tried to leave. Didn’t mean I wouldn’t
stop trying.” Sirius had said with a wink and half a smile at the end, but Harry could feel the
sadness radiating off of him then and it struck him even now as he jumped off the edge of the
pavement and stuck out his wand hand as fast as he could move.

He was thrown back into a puddle of mud to his disgust as the devilishly purple triple decker came
to a screeching halt splashing even more water across his chest. A bit dazed, he only barely heard
the conductor open the doors and greet him. It took the young man even longer to recognize Harry
was on the ground. He bent down and looked under and around the bus.

“Whatcha down there for?” He asked with a strong Cockney accent, searching for Harry’s reason.

“Fell over.” Harry grumbled as he raced to reach the steps of the bus, knocking the young man
with greasy hair and a few scars on his face back. He could hear the confused mumbling of the
boys not far away. A few seconds more and they would have been on him, but he knew they
couldn’t see into the bus.

“Whatcha fell over for?” He asked half insulted as he held out his hand for payment. Harry
searched each pocket and was able to pay enough to even have a hot chocolate. He stumbled his
way towards the closest bed as a rather larger old man was snoring loudly in the farthest spot. The
lurching nearly had him smash his glasses into the silver railing and spill his drink, but he managed
to catch himself.

“Wotcher.” The young man named Stan said as he flushed out his newspaper and hid his pimple
scarred cheeks. Across the front of the paper as it had been for many weeks was Sirius’ face. Harry
had a hard time reconciling with the man he knew being the one in the photo. The anger in Sirius’
eyes burned Harry where he sat and the way his lips pushed together after he screamed shook with
fear. He’d never been told all the details of that last night. The few times he asked, Sirius shrunk
into himself and his eyes glassed over. He’d sometimes mumbled apologies under his breath and
Harry learned rather quickly that maybe not all stories needed not to be told. He knew enough to
know someone who wasn’t Sirius betrayed his parents and led to their death and Sirius’
imprisonment. It annoyed him at times to have all the answers, but answers wouldn’t bring his
parents back.

“Alright?” Stan asked as he peeked one brown eye and bushy eyebrow over his paper. Harry
queasily nodded his head as he took another sip of the half cold chocolate.

“Whatcha you say your name was?” Stan asked, clearly not satisfied with Harry’s half hearted nod.

“I didn’t.” Harry grumbled as he pushed his lips to the edge of the cup again hoping not to have to
speak.

“Eh Ern, would you take a butchers? We got a bloody thick one.” Stan said with a jut of his chin as
the bewildered driver turned nearly completely around to eye hair behind the thickest glasses.
Harry saw the bus take an abrupt turn towards a building and clung to the bed.

“Blaise. My name is Blaise.” Harry shouted out as the driver managed to grab hold of the
controllable wheel and yank them back onto the road and bounce between traffic once more.

“Codswallop, that can’t be a name. Alright mate, we’re going to Wales for a few stops.” Stan said
with a chuckle as he flung the paper back up over his face. Harry sipped his drink as best he could
with the constant bumps and rough turns and finally they made their first stop in Abergavenny. A
few more stops later with different bundled up wizards and witches stumbled off, finally they came
upon a small collection of homes at the foot of a rather larger hill. At the top, stood the towering
Prewett Hall. Harry pushed his face to the glass, fogging it with his warmth breath, to get a better
view at the wide windows as they reflected what little light could be found. He could nearly taste
the salt in his mouth from the mist that would spray up from the ocean over the cliff.

“Prewett Hall, all glittering and gleaming.” Stan said with a dismissive snort. “Betcha they don’t
feel like kings and queens up there just now.”

Harry tried to tune him out as he debated whether to just get out at this stop and walk into Aunt
Lucy’s kitchen like Sirius had done years ago. There would be no gapping cousins, or any
punishment to return to, but at least he’d get off the jerky bus full of much older patrons. He’d
nearly touched his feet to the ground when a shadow emerged against the backdrop. A small light
came from the end of what could only be a wand as the witch at the end of it crouched low to look
at the tree line. Then it struck Harry that Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ignatius were still being watched.
He sunk back into his bed with defeat as it squeaked under his weight. He could only imagine the
questions that could arise from him wandering up through a line of Aurors to Prewett Hall. He may
be able to play it off as visiting an old professor, but he’d definitely sound mad. What sane person
visits an old professor at his home in the middle of the night.

“Wotcher, Blaise, this our last stop, where to?” Stan asked as he crossed his arms behind his head
and leaned back casually.

“Diagon Alley.” Harry said hushed as he kept his eyes on Prewett Hall for as long as he could until
the countryside turned into a swirl of dark colours and he had to peel his eyes away to keep from
growing sick. Eventually the brighter colours of the city came back into view with greys and blues
morphing into yellows and oranges. When they finally stopped, Harry jumped off his bed. Stan
tipped his hat as he stepped off and before his second foot even hit the ground the bus was rushing
off behind him to their next destination. Harry stared at the broken storefront that concealed The
Leaky Cauldron and took a deep breath before he stepped inside.

First the warm heat hit his face and almost immediately after he felt himself being squeezed so
tightly he thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Harry had to swallow a cough when he was
finally released. The eyes that stared at him may not be the bright silver with black eyebrows he
was used to, but the worry was the same.

“By Merlin’s name Harry, what were you doing?” Regulus asked under his breath as his hands
checked him for any injury and his eyes pleaded for answers. The burning of guilt crawled up his
throat as he stared around the dimly lit run down pub, the patrons were all gone from their dusty
stools and had instead been replaced by all the Weasleys and Hermione. His absence had been
noticed.

“Harry, you may not understand, but you can’t be wandering about the night given the current…
circumstances.” Mister Weasley said as he stumbled over his last words when Regulus shot back a
glare so intense Harry thought the walls would shake.

“I went for a walk, lost track of time.” Harry mumbled as he pulled himself closer to Regulus. He
hated the way each bated breath seemed directed at him.

“Harry! Dear boy! You gave us a fright, here let me get you a tea. Oh you feel a bit damp, a fresh
set of clothes right away. I'm sure Ron has spares if you need them.” Mrs Weasley came barreling
in, placing herself between Harry and Regulus. Regulus’ nose twitched as he cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Harry has his own clothes, I can take him up to change if you wish to
start a kettle. Or if you wish to return to bed, I can manage.” Regulus said with his voice strained.
Mrs Weasley sized up Regulus for a moment before she stepped back and let them pass. Regulus
never removed his arm from around Harry as they walked up the stairs and did not dare say a word
until locked away in their room away from peering ears.

“Harry.” Regulus let out a dejected sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Harry rushed out. Regulus rubbed his hands up and down Harry’s arms comfortingly.

“It’s okay, Harry. But why? Where did you go?” Regulus asked with his words tinged with
concern, and never letting go of Harry. Almost as if he was scared Harry would disappear again.
Harry suddenly realised that Harry had been there one moment and gone the next, just like Sirius
had.

“Oh, Reg. I wasn’t going to leave. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think. I just got overwhelmed. Ron
and his brothers started arguing and then earlier at the pub everyone was talking about… well
about Sirius and everyone else. About our family, and no one knows and I can’t say anything I
know, but, Reg he’s innocent. I know he is and you do, but the world they don’t know. They think
he’s a mad man. I just, I don’t know what happened that night, but it wasn’t Sirius. I know it
wasn’t him. He loves me too much, he loved my father too much… I—” Harry cut himself off as
he sunk into Regulus’ arms and clung to him. He didn’t have the energy for anymore tears. He just
wanted to be held. Held by Regulus and patted on the back and told it would all be alright soon
enough. Regulus did just that, squeezing him tightly as he hummed along to a little lullaby he used
to sing to him when he was little. It didn’t matter that his clothes were covered in mud or that his
legs were burning from the running. He had Regulus and that would be enough.

“We’re going to find him, Harry. I spoke to Arcturus. He’s bringing Uncle Ignatius back and we’re
all going to look for him. Hunt him down and drag his daft self back if we have too.” Regulus
whispered in his ear after a few moments. Harry cleared his throat loudly before he spoke.

“Do you know where he is?” He asked dejectedly. Regulus stiffened in his grip.

“Harry, maybe it’s time we tell you what happened. That night that your parents… we wanted to
wait until you were older, but you’re thirteen. You should know.” Regulus said, ghastly. Harry
rubbed the end of his nose with his sleeve before loosening his grip. His eyes felt swollen even
without tears as he looked up.

“Find Sirius. Then the two of you can tell me.” Harry said, determined. He wanted Sirius there
when he learned the whole truth and he believed in his family. They’d find Sirius, they’d bring him
back to them and he’d know it all. With their resources, he didn’t reckon it could be that difficult.
Sirius would be home in no time.

Mary had helped him pack his bags. After the long day of sombering realisation, he’d finally told
her about the job and she offered to stop by a few times a month while he was gone to check on the
place and grab his mail. Not that he ever received more than a few advertisements and the
occasional letter from his father. She’d tried to convince him to wear his better robes, but he was
taking the train in and with the moon, he’d rather have comfort. He didn’t need to ride the train in,
but the nostalgia had caught hold of his chest and refused to recede.

He boarded before any of the students, though a few were starting to trickle in with their families. It
was the very last compartment. It was muscle memory to return. He remembered the first time he’d
stumbled down this hallway. The carpets and drapes were still the same.

He chuckled under his breath as he could hear James’ young voice joking that his parents said
they’d been the same since they attended and they were ancient. Remus had just met him by
stepping on the toes of the nervous short boy following James around like a shadow. Remus had
sputtered over an apology with his accent and his old lisp caused his nervousness to show as he
knocked into the drapes behind him causing them to go off centre. James had made the joke and
exuded a warmness that was infectious. He’d immediately invited Remus to join him and the
young boy he introduced as Peter in their compartment. James with confidence Remus had never
known had stood on the bench and declared it to be his domain as a few young students went by
snickering. He knew now that James was trying to make everyone feel less awkward. If he was the
centre of attention then the more anxious students could slip by.

“Potter, get your bloody arse down!” A young bright blonde haired girl with a Scottish accent
yelled as she passed.

“You adore me, McKinnon.” He had said as he jumped down and swung himself half out the door
as the young girl rolled her eyes and disappeared into a different compartment followed by a
giggling older girl with short brown hair and wide round eyes.

“Marlene and I have known each other since we were riding toy broomsticks.” James shrugged
when Remus had looked at him completely befuddled. Remus didn’t get a chance to say anything
as several students had frozen in the steps and a few even pressed themselves to the glass,
whispering and pointing. James, never wanting to be left out, pushed his way to the front and
cupped his hands to see better. Temporarily taken over by confidence, Remus, already a bit taller
than his classmates, peered over their heads. On the platform stood the most regal family he’d seen
aside from actual royalty. Their robes looked more expensive than the entirety of the small cottage
his family lived in. The jewels caught every light and they practically glowed in their black and
silver robes.
“I nearly forgot he began this term.” A young girl whispered next to him to her friend.

“It’ll be Slytherin and nothing else for him, I don’t know why they bother even sorting their lot.”
Another boy said from behind him.

Remus saw the boy with hair as long as his own mother’s shoulder length bob standing with his
back so straight it must hurt. His shoes were without a single mark and the robes looked heavy on
his shoulders as a man with silver jewels on each finger knelt down to straighten his collar. He
looked the friendliest of the lot of them because he was replaced by a much disgruntled looking
man that used his walking stick to jab the young boy in his arm and from the way his lips snapped,
gave strict instructions.

He could see hiding behind the full skirt of an intimidating woman was another boy who looked
nearly identical to the one on display. He watched as the man spoke for a few seconds and then the
woman swatted at him and interrupted with her own comment, looking disgustingly at both the
man and boy. From what Remus could gather they were her husband and son, and yet the look she
gave could have been for her worst rival.

Remus breaths caught in his chest as he pulled himself from his thoughts. The memory was so
vivid he half expected to slide open the door and see eleven year old James Potter standing on the
bench with his chest puffed out. Instead, when the door creaked open he was greeted with two
lonely benches and wood paneling accented by a few warm colours. There were no friends to be
found. There was a stinging to his eyes as he pushed his case above him and wrapped himself in his
tattered old robes. Maybe it wasn’t the best to take the bumpy ride on sore bones and a tired mind,
yet the tranquil familiar scenes beckoned to him even now for the peace he desperately sought.

Leaning his head on the cool glass, he let his eyes faintly close. Enough to block out the light, but
still see the few shifting shadows passing by. Occasionally, a student or two would stop and peer
in, but once seeing him would move on. He hoped there was enough space to keep him alone. To
listen to those faint fading voices from a life he once lived. James’ laugh, Peter’s tutting, Sirius’
eloquence he never could shake after years of training. He felt the first jolt of the steam engine and
settled in more comfortably. Nearly all the students had all streamed by. He may get his wish.
Until he heard the quiet rattle of the door.

“I can’t help it Ron, it’s the only compartment left unless you want to join your sister.” A high
young voice said.

“What did dad want to say to you that was so important we were late?” Another one snapped
slightly in irritation.

“He was warning me.” A final voice struck a chord deep in his heart as he felt the bench across
from him fill with the two students.

“Mate, you alright? What’s the expression, Herimone? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Muggles
are funny with their sayings.” The first boy said with a little chuckle.

“Harry.” The young girl said and it took all of Remus’ willpower to not jump from his seat. His
pulse pumped in his throat as he squeezed his nails hidden under his robes deep into his biceps to
try and quell the anxiety.

“Can’t we sit with your sister?” Harry mumbled in a strained tone as no noise of his feet moving
hit Remus’ ears. Did he recognize Remus? Was that even possible? He hadn’t seen him since he
was baby. Maybe those pictures had made their way to him. The ice cold feeling of dread crept
into his chest and down his spine. Did Harry hate him? Did he feel abandoned by Remus? If only
he knew, if he knew how badly Remus was for him. How awful he would have been at fatherhood.
Maybe he could explain. Not here, not with his friends just across from him.

“Mate, he’s asleep, look.” The first boy from before, Ron, said. All the years with James and Sirius
had taught him how to withhold all reaction as he held his breath while fingers snapped in front of
him.

“Professor R.J. Lupin, he must be taking the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.” The young
girl said.

“Did you spend all summer researching the professors?” Ron asked.

“His name is on his case.” She replied with a long sigh. “Harry, are you going to sit?”

“Oh, of course.” Harry replied so quietly as Remus could hear him shuffle and then tuck himself
into the farthest corner. With each movement, Remus’ heart sank further. Harry must despise him.

“I did spend a good portion of the summer researching French magical history though. It’s quite
fascinating. Not as wonderful as Harry’s experience. You must tell us everything about the French
Ministry of Magic.” Herimone spoke up as she sat on the edge of her seat. Remus felt his eyes
squeeze tighter. Why was Harry visiting the French Ministry of Magic?

“Oh, I just visited with my family. I didn’t get to see it all because the lower levels had a
malfunction with the pipes, but it is quite beautiful. There’s a lot of inspiration from the French
Revolution.” Harry said with uneasiness still carried in his tone. Remus could feel his head pulsing
with questions. What family did Harry have in France? James’ family had been in England for
centuries and before then they came from India. Lily’s family was from Cokesworth and Muggle.
They would have no means to even see the French Ministry of Magic. Not to mention as he listened
to Harry’s soft voice there was a way in which he spoke. So formal and eloquent with careful
attention paid to vowels and any harsh constants. The sound scratched at Remus’ ears. He’d heard
it before yet he couldn’t place it. His ride no longer seemed so peaceful as he strained his back to
stay as still as possible to not scare away Harry and his friends. He did not want to be a hindrance
anymore than he had been.

“Sir, we are doing this for your own well being. Black is at large and he is connected to your
family. I don’t know if you’ve heard about your cousin–” An older gentleman was trying to
explain.

“I know Ignatius better than you. I helped birth the boy so don’t try to inform me on his actions as
if you know anything about him at all.” Lancelot cut him off with his arms crossed standing tall
and strong in his doorway.

“Well sir, your safety, we want you to feel protected.” A young girl with short brown hair added in.

“You believe me scared? The two of you are much too young to know, but I promise you little
scares me. Before your parents were likely even born, I had seen more evil than I hope either of you
encounter. I stared at Gellert Grindelwald in his own eyes with his wand pointed at my nose and I
didn’t pause for more than a second. Black is not one I fear and while I may not be an Auror, I
believe your limited resources could do better elsewhere than standing outside my flat in the middle
of London. Do you really think Black, who is the only one to escape from the inescapable prison
will show up here?” Lancelot challenged as the two younger people behind the older Auror
exchanged uneasy glances.
“Come Dawlish, give Mister Prewett the benefit. He saved your partner years ago when everyone
else said he was as good as dead.” The young Irish fellow said with a nudge to the large older man.
Dawlish clicked his tongue as he looked at Lancelot from head to toe.

“If you see or hear anything, remember your loyalty, Lancelot. We haven’t ruled out your cousin
yet.” Dawlish said as he took a step back from the doorway and stared hard once more before he
snapped away. The two younger ones gave Lancelot sheepish gins before they too disappeared
away.

Lancelot let out a low breath as he waited several seconds before stepping back and closing his
door. Helena was hidden behind a wall of the kitchen with her neck stretched out to see. Lancelot
locked the door as he gave her a nod that it was safe to move about.

“It's useful the world sees you as a hero.” She murmured as she went back to pour potions into tea.

“I am no hero, simply a healer.” Lancelot replied. He took a few quiet steps back to check on where
Arcturus laid with his head lolled to the side, sleeping.

“His improvement is not what I had hoped.” Helena said as she caught his eye. Lancelot let a slow
breath out his nose.

“I can’t say for certain he will improve much more.” Lancelot whispered the fears that he and
Helena both had. She smacked her lips as the pop of another potion came before the quiet stream of
it pouring into tea.

“He fought it. If he hadn’t, if he had just let it go. It may have been different. Or if I had been
there, if I hadn’t left and gotten to him sooner with my supplies.” Lancelot muttered as he watched
Arcturus head roll to the other side

“You’ll talk yourself into a tizzy if you keep on like that. He made his decisions as he thought best
and you made yours. We can only help with what is true now.” She said as she poured a separate
cup of tea and handed it to him.

“He knew it was futile. He had to, yet he still fought it.” Lancelot said half in disbelief and half in
admiration.

“Didn’t you do the same?” Helena pointed out as she walked back to the small kitchen to shuffle in
the cabinets for her own tea cup.

“That was different, I was trying to heal. I was trying to save lives. The odds were never going to
work for him.” Lancelot replied before taking a long sip of tea.

“He was trying to save lives too and the odds were against you as well. Believe it as you may, we
both know the statistics, healing an unknown deadly curse on live subjects with an unknown time
frame. The chances are minuscule at best; however, you tried at great personal risk.” She pointed
out as he leaned in the entryway of the kitchen. Lancelot didn’t like to speak on his failures. Maybe
it was his pride, maybe it was his inability to ever help those close to him. He’d never found a cure
for that curse. By the time he had woken from his own magical exhaustion, Fabain and Gideon’s
bodies had already been prepared for their pyre. Even if they hadn’t, he didn’t know if he had the
heart to work on their lifeless forms. He’d held them since they were first born, and then to touch
them as they grew cold. It hadn’t been natural. He should have never outlived them.

Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself he could not wallow. He held out his hand for the tea
filled with potions. Helena gave him a knowing look as she passed it over. There were some pains
 only healers knew. The one where the universe won, and they were forced to sit in defeat. He
feared Arcturus would be one of those defeats.

Chapter End Notes

The reunion you had thought of? Probably not ;) but the one most anticipated is
coming... eventually! As always thank you for all your support and comments they
mean the world to me! Now, I have been staring at a screen for too long and have a
headache so please enjoy while I lie down. See you next week :)
 The Ministry’s Undesirable Number One
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, death, alcoholism, and an attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry tucked his knees close to his chest as the rattling of the train shook him every few moments
causing him to jerk back and forth. Underneath, he was grateful for the movement to hide the
nervous shudder that went through his shoulders ever so often. Hermione and Ron were arguing
about Crookshanks and Scabbers among themselves and besides their initial concerns were leaving
Harry in his quiet, withdrawn state. They probably chalked it up to the news about Sirius and kept
their mouths shut not knowing exactly the extent Harry knew. Little did they know that they were
the ones truly in the dark. They didn’t know how Sirius liked his tea, or that he could only sleep on
his side, or how his favourite biscuits were pumpkin.

Not to their discredit, they also didn’t know who was sitting across from them in the compartment.
They most definitely did not know how he was related to Harry. Harry wasn’t even certain how
he’d consider himself related to Professor Lupin at this point. He’d been his Uncle Moony many
years ago. Even now, he wanted him to still be.

As he looked at the person across from him, he could see the same man in the photos framed
across his room and even more tucked safely away in a book. He had aged from those years, his
hair was turning grey and his eyes and lips were lining already, not much unlike many of his
family. Sirius and Regulus hadn’t shown such signs of age yet, and they were all around the same
age. Which made Harry question what Uncle Moony’s life would be like in all the years that had
passed. Images danced in his head of him on holiday or having tea with his friends, he had thought
of happiness and joy when he thought of his Uncle Moony, but his face told a different story.

He wanted to reach out and feel the frayed edge of his robes. To wake him and look him in his
eyes, he wanted to know this was real and not a strange fantasy. Chewing on his lips, he debated
the good and bad of such. However, the option was ripped from him as the knocking of the door
opening pulled his attention away. It revealed the last person Harry wanted to deal with at the
moment.

Draco Malfoy stood tall and proud in the doorway leaning lazily to one side with one arm raised.
He’d grown quite a bit over summer. Harry could see a few of the most prominent Slytherins
behind him. The wide and muscular Vincent and Gregory were the closest, but he could see the
freshly cut dark brown hair of Pansy Parkinson and the frizzy dark hair of Millicent Bulstrode a
little farther away, snickering behind their hands. Harry had never wanted to whip out his
invisibility cloak more.

“Oi, Potter, surprised to see you here. Black hasn’t gotten you yet?” Draco said as a chorus of
laughter wafted from his audience surrounding him which only caused him to break out into a large
cocky grin.

“Wouldn’t you know? Considering he’s your family after all.” Harry retorted back as Draco’s eyes
narrowed heavily at him.
“Hit your head Potter? Last I checked I was a Malfoy.” Draco tried to scoff off with a wary look
around him.

“I’m not daft, Malfoy. Appears you are though if you don’t even know your mother’s maiden
name. Narcissa Black, wasn’t it?” Harry said with nose flaring and his hands balling into tight fist
over his tucked knees as he stuck his chin out at Draco, clearly challenging him.

“You piece of filthy shi– who’s that?” Draco had taken a few steps forward to close that gap just as
Professor Lupin let out a small grunt and adjusted under his cloak.

“New Professor.” Harry snipped back. Even Draco wasn’t bold enough to attack him around a new
staff member. He watched as the other boy slinked back into the hall and wrinkled his nose in
disgust as he looked over the three companions sitting on the bench.

“Hope you enjoyed your holiday, Weasley. Last one you’ll ever take.” Draco snorted one last
insult before he slipped between his friends, who were all looking at him intently. There was a
momentary pause before the door shut on its own and left them alone in the compartment.

Ron was grumbling under his breath as Herimone tried to distract him by commenting how fun his
holiday looked. Harry knew it hadn’t been smart to confront Draco, but of all people to speak
poorly of Sirius, Draco should have been the last. He knew the Malfoy’s tried to keep the Blacks at
a reasonable distance. His grandfather always said they only came around for money and holidays,
but even then it wasn’t hard to know the Malfoys and the Blacks had a long history even before
Narcissa and Lucius’ marriage.

“Harry, how’d you even know that about Draco? I mean my Aunt Muriel, she's a gossip so I’ve
always known, but it’s not the most common knowledge.” Ron finally asked with his face still pink
from Draco’s comment. Harry took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders as turned his face
away from where Professor Lupin was sleeping.

“Ron, he could have read about it. The House of Black is one of the most prolific wizarding
families. Draco’s family was everywhere in the Daily Prophet for days after Pollux Black’s death.
Honestly, don’t you read more than Quidditch publications.” Herimone’s draw out tone asked.

“I’ll let you know I read all sorts of ghost stories in Egypt. Mate, you should have been there. Bill
and Charlie let the twins and me sneak out one night to show us an old tomb that was said to be
haunted by one of the first known Poltergeist. We didn’t find anything and it seemed more an
excuse for Bill and Charlie to break out some ancient Firewhiskey, but they let me try a nip. Don’t
let Percy know, or Mum will catch the first portkey to yank both their ears.” Ron said as he looked
over at Harry, who barely had the energy to blink back.

“Thanks for the sneakoscope by the way.” Harry muttered as he tried to close his eyes and at least
feign sleep the rest of the way.

“Of course, mate. If you want to rest I can wake you when we get close. I’ll even save you a
Cauldron Cake so you can get your energy up before the feast.” Ron suggested with a bit of
enthusiasm to hide his concern. Harry mumbled his gratitude and adjusted himself to lean
comfortably without his eyes falling towards Professor Lupin. He started to doze off as he heard
Ron telling Hermione all about Zonko’s joke shop while she interjected occasionally with facts on
the village. Their melding of voices along with the rhythmic chug of the train lulled him into a a
fitful rest where he tried his hardest to not imagine Sirius or Remus or his parents, or anyone who
had been dredged up from the past. Just the quiet sounds of his friends and the simple movement
of the train.
-

“So the rat is no longer with your nephew?” Arcturus asked with a bit of frustration.

“No, he sent it back with an owl, it must be on the way to Hogwarts by now.” Ignatius said with a
disbelieving shake of his head. “I held it, Charlie asked me to look at him. He bit me! I thought he
was just old and dying, I mean a rat doesn’t usually live that long and I thought he’d only make it
three or four years after Bill gave him to Percy. I never thought, I mean who would have thought it
was a man. I mean he’s been living with teenage boys for nearly half his life. Oh, Merlin, what if
Molly finds out?”

“Ignatius,” Arcturus said carefully to ease Ignatius, “Molly, while understandably will be upset, is
the lesser of our worries.”

Yes, yes.” Ignatius replied as he chewed on the edge of his thumb, a habit Arcturus had not seen
him do in time.

“The rat is actually a Peter Pettigrew, and you believe Sirius is hunting him?” Ignatius leaned
forward for clarity. Arcturus nodded as he tried to appear less pathetic than he felt.

“And you want me to… kill him?” Ignatius asked with his lips pressing into a firm line.

“I know you, Ignatius. I know you aren’t above killing a man and no doubt there would be
satisfaction from his death. However, we need him alive for the time being. He is the key to so
many answers.” Arcturus said with his eyes as sharp as ever as he stared at Ignatius.

He peered at those worried eyes once before when they were decades younger and had just lost all
innocence, now lined with years of expierences and heartache, the colour had never faded, only the
man around them. Arcturus tried to keep his promises, and he’d promised Alwyn he’d keep his son
away from the darkness they had known as men. It had been a helpless commitment and he hoped
if there was a world after this, his old friend could forgive him for not taking better care of his son.

“He will be within the walls of Hogwarts by the time I can reach him. I will have to find my way
in.” Ignatius replied. Arcturus could feel a weak smirk grace his lips as he reached for the hidden
letter tucked just under his pillow. He’d only barely convince Lancelot to let him write his own
letter in order to receive the reply he needed.

“Decent thinking on my part then. You have an audience with Albus later this week.” Acturus
replied, holding the parchment up with Dumbledore’s less than desirable handwriting expressed all
across it. Ignatius’ eyebrows went up as a sly smile spread across his face while extending his arm
for the letter to take a peek himself.

“Meeting with the new Defence Professor to discuss coursework? You know, I never was afforded
that liberty given you killed my predecessor. Albus likely saw directly through this thin veil.”
Ignatius said as he scanned the parchments quickly.

“As I want him to, The Ministry has sent dementors to guard Hogwarts and before long they will
likely be allowed freedom to wander about in search of Sirius. Lancelot says they even had him on
the Muggle news as something called a serial killer, painting him as a deranged madman. Sirius
can not be alone at this time, Igantius. It is much too perilous. We must find him and knowing the
strong headed nature of the boy, we will not be able to tempt him back unless we acquire this rat.”
Arcturus replied.

“How will he know we have found the rat… er Peter Pettigrew I suppose.” Ignatius asked.
“I believe, someone is much closer to finding Sirius than any one of us. It is just that I do not
believe he will have the ability to pull Sirius back from this folly plan of his.” Arcturus replied,
turning his head slightly to where Helena had sat out a few old family photos. For encouragement,
she had said. Arcturus had sat next to enough deathbeds to know the tactics. He had grown weary
from this conversation alone and the clock ticking nearby told him he’d only been sitting upright
for half passed the hour. An old photo of a very small Regulus and Sirius was among them with the
black ascots too big for their necks tied tightly and their hair pinned from their faces as their small
hands embraced just barely hidden behind their backs. Helena likely didn’t know, but she’d chosen
the photo of the two of them dressed for his sister’s wake.

Orion had brought them alone to France. He often sought ways to part from Walburga especially
when the boys were still young and before his health restricted him. Arcturus had helped dress the
boys that day, he could still remember the pride as he tied each ascot to their necks as he ran a
finger along each of their chins and told them how handsome they both were in French. He
remembers saying their aunt would have enjoyed very much how daber they looked if she could.
Two sons, he recalled thinking in the silence of his mind. Orion had produced two sons. He’d done
better than even Arcturus, he’d saved their line. And yet, when they returned from the wake and
Arcturus had put both the boys to bed, he found his only son drowning in a bottle cursing the entire
family name loudly in the garden. Arcturus couldn’t help feeling he had failed in ways too
innumerable to count.

He sighed deeply as his eyes started to fail him. Trying to dismiss the blurriness of his vision to his
condition, he blinked heavily to refrain from rubbing at them. Ignatius was sitting patiently and
quiet by his side.

“You have to bring him back, Ignatius. We nearly lost him once, I won’t lose him again.” Arcturus
said with his voice failing him slightly. Ignatius' face grew grim as he shook it side to side gently.

“I’ll find him. I won’t bury another nephew. Trust me, Arcturus. I will bring him home.” Ignatius
answered, firmly as he folded his hands in front of him. Arcturus weakly nodded his head though
he knew it appeared more like he was falling asleep with his chin tucked into his chest. The room
was spinning and the light was fading around him. Ignatius would wait until he was asleep once
more before he’d gently wrap his arms around his shoulders and lay him onto the pillow.

“Rest, Arcturus. You’ve spent your life sacrificing for your family. It is your turn to rest.” Ignatius
whispered before he left the room, casting one more glance over his shoulder before he shut the
door to allow for quiet. He knows his prognosis was not favourable, but he couldn’t imagine a
world without Arcturus. He’d taken up so much space and so much of his life since he was a young
boy. Since the time when Ignatius was at his most vulnerable and his father left him stranded.
Arcturus had been there to pick him up and given him a place and family and purpose. He
wouldn’t fail him. He’d bring Sirius home.

“Come on, it has to be around here.” Regulus muttered under his breath as he pushed aside old
Quidditch memorabilia. His tongue stuck out in concentration. His brother's belongings had been
boxed up and moved to Grimmauld Place for safekeeping in the rush to remove any evidence of
his existence. Regulus was searching for any little scrap or note that would lead him in the right
direction.

When nothing sparked his interest in Sirius' more recent collections, he leaned back with a sigh. It
felt strange to be in Sirius’ room in a large empty house once again. He felt sixteen again, freshly
betrayed and abandoned and staring at the ceiling wishing he’d been a better brother. Only this
time, he wouldn’t curl up and let the world pass him by. He’d seen what happened when he did
that. His father retreated more and his mother shoved the Death Eater agenda down his throat. This
time Regulus was going to find his brother and drag him back if he must.

He sprawled out on top of Sirius' grey bedspread. Apparently the old red and gold didn’t hold the
same meaning when their mother wasn’t around. The ceiling had a small scorch mark in the corner
Sirius had never bothered to fix. He’d set fire to one of the old family trees when their mother had
forced him to sit at his desk and recall back at least ten generations. Sirius had been about seven
and not even owned a wand yet, his magic curled around his fury so that he caught the entire
corner on fire. Regulus could chuckle to himself now as he propped himself up on his elbows and
stared at the corner where the desk still stood. A picture caught his eye before he pushed off the
bed.

He leaned closer to the frame where the quick snap of a memory resided. Sirius had to be no more
than sixteen with his arms wrapped around James. They were standing with brooms discarded on
the ground behind them in a lush garden surrounding a grand house. Nearly a manor if he hadn’t
been raised to believe the towering castle-like structures were the only acceptable buildings for
such titles. Shifting through his mind, he tried to piece together where they were. Clearly not
Hogwarts, it must have been during a holiday. The plants were all common potions ingredients.
They had many of their own grown back in Switzerland. The warm red brick with white trimmed
windows wasn't traditional to any area he knew. Then it clicked.

“The Potter Estate.” He murmured as he picked up the picture and began pacing the length of the
room in front of the ashy fireplace.

“James’ childhood home. James couldn’t live in it. He said it felt wrong, Sirius said it himself. He
took the cottage. And why would anyone think Sirius was there? Our entire world believes he
betrayed the Potters, and despised them. Secretly gained their favour just to bring glory to his
name. Merlin! You actually thought for once, Sirius.” Regulus said to himself before he placed the
photo down carefully and snatched up his wand. Now, just to find where the estate was, their
library had to have its location written somewhere. He flung open the door to find Kreacher
standing there with one ear close to the door.

“Master, Kreacher try not listen, but Master was talking to himself again. Kreacher be concerned.”
The elf said, wringing his hands. Regulus tightened his brows together as he tried to recall what
would make Kreacher so worried about Regulus’ behaviour only to shudder when the memories
did return.

“Oh, Kreacher. It is alright, I am glad you are worried, but I promise this isn’t like last time. I’m
trying to find Sirius, and I doubt I will be in any danger. It isn’t like when we had to go to the
cave.” Regulus replied as he knelt down to Kreacher’s level and tried to give him a reassuring look.
Regulus tried to block out how he had acted in the months and weeks leading up to that fateful
night going to the cave.

The constant pacing, the excruciating research that kept him up for days on end. Abandoned tea
cups littering every free space as he mumbled to himself non-stop while flipping through one book
or another searching for answers; for redemption. Kreacher had been there through it all, bringing
Regulus any book he requested and always with a fresh cup of tea and a few small plates of food
that Regulus would ignore. Why bother with eating if he had planned to die anyway? He’d be long
gone before the starvation took him. The worry eased only slightly in Kreacher’s face as he nodded
a few times.

“Master needs a tea. Kreacher be going to make it.” Kreacher said reverting back to his old habits
as he tapped his feet a few times.

“Tea does sound lovely, and once it is done, I could use your assistance in the library. I need to
track down an old house as closely to the accurate location as possible. Sirius needs help even if he
doesn’t understand that. I’ll make him see it or I’ll turn him into a beetle and see how much he
enjoys that.” Regulus grumbled as he patted Kreacher’s shoulder twice before stretching to his full
height. Hoping as much as he could wager that he was correct, he took the stairs two at a time to
the level with the hundreds if not thousands of books and old maps on fading parchment and all the
storage of important letters and documents. If only he knew the name of what book he needed, but
alas good old-Muggle based research has always tickled a fancy in him he couldn’t describe. The
victory of finding the right answer after hours of turning countless pages and suffering a few
parchment cuts, it tasted so much sweeter.

The first thing that struck him was the tips of his fingers were freezing. The next was the rumble of
the train slowly underneath him. Then the empty pit in his stomach and the fuzzy memory of
screaming hit the back of his mind. A vague figure came to lean above him and suddenly he
remembered who he’d just seen.

“Uncle Moony.” He said under his breath.

“What did he say, did you understand Ron?” A female voice asked.

“Something about the moon. Mate, I know it got dark out but you haven’t been out that long so the
sun is still there.” Another replied, waving his hand in front of Harry’s face.

“Have him eat this when he can sit. I must go have a word with the conductor.” A softer, more
mature voice said before there was a click sound followed quickly by rattling and a final click.
Harry reached up towards his head that was blaring in pain directly behind his scar. It had never
hurt so badly before.

“Harry, can you sit upright? Ron, help him.” He heard Hermione say as she swatted towards Ron,
who grumbled a bit yet wrapped his arm behind Harry and pushed him up gently. Hermione
thanked Ron before she was putting her chilly hands towards Harry’s face to place his glasses back
on his nose.

“They cracked when you fell, but I believe I fixed them.” She said softly as her eyes cast up and
down him with worry.

“I—I fell?” He asked as he stretched his sore neck out and the recollections slowly came back to
him. It had gotten cold and dark, even though the sun had been out seconds before and nothing
called for rain. There had been hushed noises down the hall, but he had gotten distracted by a
sudden rushing headache and then, well he thought he heard screaming before it all went black.
Ron and Hermione were looking uneasily at each other on the bench across from him, which had
been vacated by the other occupant. Moony, his Uncle Moony, had been just there.

“Well the dementors likely weren’t supposed to come on the train. I’m not sure why they took a
fancy to you. They at least should know better than to approach students. It’s fine now, Professor
Lupin produced a Patronus charm, they are incredibly powerful. Here he said to eat this.”
Hermione explained before she shoved a chunk of a chocolate bar directly under his nose. His
stomach turned, but he recalled a time many years ago now when his Aunt Helena had explained
that chocolate had minor healing properties in moderation, most notably after being in the shadow
of the dementors.
 “What were dementors doing on the train?” Harry asked as he wiped off a bit of a cold sweat from
his brow before he took his first bite of chocolate. It was extra sweet and filled with caramel that
made him wrinkle his nose a bit. He was used to the dark chocolate Regulus sometimes nibbled on.

“Likely looking for Sirius Black.” Ron said without thinking before Herimone, gave him a
panicked look and motioned for him to be quiet. Ron gulped and turned a warm red when he
realised what he’d said. Harry just sighed as he ate his chocolate while he stared out at the train
slowly entering Hogsmeade. The dementors were after Sirius. Soulless creatures with dead hands
and voids for faces. Their ability to freeze all happiness and suck out the very soul of a person were
looking for Sirius and he was all alone. The pit in Harry’s stomach kept growing with each jerk of
the train, he was certain he’d be swallowed whole by the time they made it into the station. In fact,
he’d almost prefer it. Anything was better than facing the dread of the new term.

Chapter End Notes

I’m so late with this one and I’m sorry! Life has been going through a lot of changes
recently and just trying to keep up! I’m working on the next chapter now so I should
hopefully have it up shortly and then be able to swim through the comments! Thank
you for always leaving them and kudos, they are much appreciated! Enjoy!
 The Case of Missing Persons
Chapter Notes

CW: Prior mentions of abuse; Minimal mention of injury; Expressions of depression

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Sirius.” Regulus hissed out. There was barely a rustle from the faint wind. He stepped forward
with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes scanned all the windows above, many of them
with curtains pulled tight and dust collecting around the edges. It was a bit sad to see the disarray of
the old Potter home. Chipped bricks, lost shingles, the vines snaking under foot as he carefully
stepped over them. Brush to his right caught his eye as he knelt down on one knee to pull back a
few dying leaves. The outline of a distinct pawprint was there and when he picked up a bit of the
dirt it was still damp.

“Sirius.” Regulus said again, casting a glance over each shoulder. No noises caught his attention as
he rose slowly with his knees clicking back into place.

With a sigh, he turned on heel around the large brush and came to a small garden gate that had
fallen off its hinges. He pushed it aside gently to not have it collapse on the ground with its chipped
white paint. A few wild weeds stuck through where old stones had led the back entrance, in his
mind he could imagine the beauty. The colourful flowers and the cracked fountain in the corner
bubbling with fresh water. The scents of fresh loose leaf tea and scones as two elderly parents sat in
the garden while their two children flew brooms above them, covered in dirt and sweat as they
stumbled over for an afternoon cup of tea. It was the childhood memories Sirius deserved.

“I know you are here, Sirius.” Regulus sighed as he approached the back door which had a
smashed doorknob. The creaking filled the old house with an eerie echo. As he glanced around the
kitchen, it appeared as if a family had just left one day to never return. He supposed that wasn’t
entirely inaccurate as he fanned a curtain that layered the kettle still sitting on the stove with a
fresh coat of dust. His nose twitched violently a few times, but the sneeze never came as he
dragged his hand along the pale yellowed countertops. An old vase sad abandoned and mouldy on
the edge of the counter.

The stairs groaned under his weight as he kept his head turned to see around the bannisters up into
a large open hall. Pictures filled every free space along the walls as he paused at a few to look at
the generations of a family that had dwindled down to a single boy. He found near the end of the
hall a photo of a bright eyed messy haired boy with his glasses half off his face. A smudge of dirt
was on his cheek as the photograph showed him smile wide with perfect teeth before trying to rub
it off. James, oh it was James.

He looked so much like Harry. He couldn't be much older than Harry in this photo with his old
Quidditch Uniform over his shoulders. Regulus rubbed away some of the grime to get a better look
at the smile. He hadn’t seen Harry smile like that in weeks, so carefree and joyous.

“Oh, James. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. You would have done so much better.”
Regulus whispered as his words caught in his throat. James’ photo just kept smiling and Regulus
took that as a comfort. Maybe if there truly was a place after this life, James had forgiven him.
Regulus could have been frozen in that spot staring at that photo for a while if he hadn’t been
dragged back to reality with a small creaking noise coming from the farthest room.

He shuffled down the hall quietly with his fingertips brushed against the smoothed wood of his
wand for reassurance. The door was half opened with a soft light coming from inside. He leaned
into the door careful not to make any noise as he peered inward to see the curtains of an open
window thrown wide open to allow in the sunlight fading in the background. There was a wide
four poster bed situated to the side of the room with moth eaten drapes swaying back and forth in a
gentle breeze. In the middle of white sheets was an oversized undeniable dog snoozing in a sun
patch. The relief that washed over him in a cold rush had him nearly collapse on the floor. He had
found Sirius.

Walking on the tips of his toes so as not to spook the large dog form his brother was in, Regulus
made his way to the edge of the bed and sat down silently. He’d never seen Sirius’ Animagus form
so closely together. The fur was long and a bit curly at the ends and his paws nearly as large as
Regulus’ hands. He had his chin resting atop the two front ones as his backside twisted around to
lay on his side. Before he could stop himself, he found his hands softly entangling in the smooth
fur. It was a rather comforting feeling as he moved his hand back and forth.

Eventually, Sirius’ eyes popped open to be the same iridescent silver as his normal eyes. Regulus
recoiled his hand rather quickly as he watched the dog startle slightly before stretching out his front
paws and letting out a soft bark. The dog tilted his head side to side before he shook out his fur and
jumped down. There was a blur of movement and as he blinked, Padfoot turned back into human
SIrius, who was staring at him with a confused air about him.

“Were you… petting me?” Sirius asked as Regulus swallowed quickly to try and disguise his
discomfort.

“I was just trying to wake you up.” He responded defensively. Sirius only let out a cocky grin as he
plopped down on the end of the bed, messing up the sheets even further.

“I knew you’d find me. Everyone else might go looking for me halfway across the world, but you
always were smarter than all of them.” Sirius sighed as he picked at a bit of loose skin around his
thumb. Regulus swallowed again to try and prevent his voice from failing him.

“You always said the Potters were your real family. It would make sense you would want to come
home.” He answered his brother, who only fiddled with one of the few rings left on his hand. A
small silver moon attached to a plain silver band.

“I suppose I did say something along those lines.” Sirius said, thoughtfully.

“Screamed it is more like it, directly to Mu- Walburga’s face.” Regulus said with a shrug. Sirius
cracked his neck as he let out a long breath. Regulus waited a few long moments for him to say
anything, but he only kept twirling the ring over and over.

“You shouldn't have ran.” Regulus dared to speak as the light in the room began to fade into a
warm orange colour.

“Getting right good at it.” Sirius quipped back with only half his usual humorous tone.

“Arcturus is alright, well he’s still stuck in a lie in, but he can communicate.” Regulus continued.

“If the old gaffer can still speak, he can still have the entire world at his fingertips. He never
needed to stand to make himself known. His voice was always enough.” Sirius sighed back again
with his hands finally settling in his lap and his eyes wandering to the side out the window.
“Do you ever wonder how we are related to him? I understand physically of course, but neither of
us could command respect the way he does. Certainly, you could gain attention with your antics,
but it was always his slightest movements that had the largest impact. The way he adjusted his
cufflinks could decide someone’s fate. I never had that type of power.” Regulus said, shaking his
head. Sirius scoffed under his breath for a moment.

“He’s the last of a stubborn breed.” Sirius finally said after another pause. Regulus waited for
another beat of silence before he spoke again.

“You need to come back, Sirius. Everyone is worried and it isn’t safe. The dementors and the
Aurors are looking far and wide for you. You won’t be able to stay hidden alone.” Regulus tried
his hand at reasoning, but Sirius only slipped into a more reclusive silence.

“I know about Peter. He’s with the Weasleys, we can find him, but we can’t do it alone.” Regulus
tried to bargain as the sky went flush pink as a baby’s cheeks out the window. Sirius stayed still as
stone as he watched the sun sink lower and lower and the room grow colder and colder. Regulus
had not brought any robes as he wrapped his arms around himself. It wasn’t until the first twinkle
of the stars appeared in the sky that Sirius let his head hang.

“I can’t go back. I can’t let them try and whisk me away and hide me for my own sake. This is my
fight. It started nearly twelve years ago when I confronted Peter on that street. I won’t let it reach
thirteen. I can’t, Reg. For James, for Lily, for Marlene, for Fabian and Gideon, for everyone we
lost because of that rat. For Harry, Reg. I have to do this for them. All of them, their lives, their
sacrifices, it’s on me now. I am the one left and I have to make this right. Bloody hell, Reg, I did
everything wrong. I didn’t see any of it! But not this time, not this time. Peter has to pay, he has to
know what he did and I want to be the one to show him just how poorly he chose. It has to be me.”
Sirius said as the last of his words got swallowed in a choke as he pushed his hands harshly into his
face and sucked in a painful breath. Regulus sat there watching the shuddering of his shoulders for
a moment before he reached out and touched his brother’s elbow. Sirius jerked instinctively, but
leaned back closer once he realised.

“Not you, Sirius. Us. It has to be us.” Regulsu replied with the intent threaded into his brow and the
determined set in his lips. Sirius didn’t even speak. He only nodded with the tears still glistening in
his eyes.

“I’ll skip the facade of speaking to my professor, I can assure you Mister Lupin is more than
adequately prepared for his duties. He even assisted Harry after the confrontation with the
dementors.” Dumbledore began as his robes swooped around him. Somehow, the Headmaster had
lost some of his omnipresent sense in Ignatius' eyes. Now he was just a man like any other, albeit a
powerful and well educated man, but a man nonetheless.

“I have my own comments on the dementors' presence here, especially after their approach towards
Harry.” Ignatius said with a twitch of his nose.

“You will find us in agreement on that issue. I assure it was not my choice and if given the chance
I would be sending them away. I find their usage and mere existence to be disturbing.” Dumbledore
replied. Ignatius grunted in response.

“How is Arcturus feeling?” Dumbledore asked with feigned innocence in his stance as he pivoted
the conversation. Of course, he knew. Arcturus and him were often the same in that regard, they
nearly always know.
“He’s been better.” Ignatius replied through thinly stretched lips.

“Yes, I can imagine.” Dumbledore said as he finally lowered himself slowly into his chair. The
sleeping phoenix over his shoulder truly added to the ambiance.

“Well I must ask, do you know where Sirius is?” Dumbledore asked, as he leaned on folded hands
forward.

“At the present moment? No.” Ignatius answered, sharply.

“You used to not be a liar, Igantius. You used to be a good boy. Maybe the Black Family has not
been the most ideal influence” Dumbledore said

“Is that so? I could say the same of you for my sons.” Ignatius answered with a smack of his lips.

“They were not your sons—” Dumbledore began.

“Were they not? Enaylius entrusted me with their care. A care I failed at when you began to
whisper in their ears about the stories of wars and heroes.” Ignatius cut him off feeling his ears
grow hot.

“They were brave men, who made their own decisions. The Order is forever grateful for their
sacrifice.” Dumbledore said while leaning back into his chair with his hands on his chest and his
eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles.

“The Order? The Order doesn’t even exist anymore and if it did it would be bits and pieces of what
it once was. Or do you forget how many bodies we buried? Merlin, I didn’t come here to argue. I
came here to simply relay a message.” Ignatius said as he took a deep breath to calm himself.
Arcturus had sent him for two-fold. One to implore Dumbledore to think rationally and another to
gain access to the halls to search for Pettigrew.

“Arcturus says you know what needs to be done, and it would be best for everyone if you did it.”
Ignatius repeated the phrase verbatim. Arcturus had refused to elaborate.

“That’s rather vague.” Dumbledore said after a brief pause.

“That is all I have to say.” Ignatius said with his feet squarely on the ground. Dumbledore cast a
wary glance from head to toe.

“You know, I understand your aversion to war. After the tragedy of your father—” Dumbledore
started.

“Don’t speak of him as if you knew him, you could have ended that war years before, but you sat
here in your castle with your books and your lessons.” Ignatius replied.

“You don’t understand it all Ignatius, no matter what Arcturus has led you to believe.”
Dumbledore said with a dismissive shake of his head.

“I know my father stood proudly against the war and what did it get him? A poisoned knife to the
chest and a painful death. While you sit here still protected by your name and your castle. I respect
you, Albus, despite what you may believe. There may be few greater wizards, but you are not
faultless. None of us are.” Ignatius said as he puffed out his chest defiantly.

“Headmaster.” Came the call from the top of the stairs. He turned to face the thin tall man standing
in the entrance way paused by the sight before him. Ignatius had to swallow to keep his composure.
He looked so much like his father, Lyall. The same wary eyes and pointed shoulders, his brown
hair already streaked with a light grey colour. Lyall had gone grey early as well, though Igantius
figured it had the stress. He couldn’t ever truly know, they’d fallen out not long after the colour
had sprouted from the roots of his short hair. He could still hear the argument in his mind now.

“Ignatius, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know.” Lyall had been pulling at his hair frantically
with his face flushed.

“You should not have spoken out against Greyback.” Ignatius had lashed out unhelpfully as his
cousin stood in the next room over desperately trying to do his diligence.

“Nefoedd wen! It’s not the time, he’s my son! My only son, and Hope, she doesn’t understand she
wants to believe your cousin can save him. I— should we even save him?” Lyall cried out as he fell
into a chair. Ignatius' mouth gapped, if it was his son it wouldn’t have even been a question. No
matter the cost, he’d save any of his children's lives.

“He’s your son, Lyall.” Ignatius said in disbelief as Lyall looked up at him with dark clouds filling
his eyes.

“He’s going to be a monster. Greyback took my son from me and replaced him with a monster.”
Lyall had said so darkly that Ignatius had not recognised the man for a moment. Ignatius took a
step back to compose himself.

“He is a child, barely older than a babe. He is no monster.” Ignatius said, sucking in a deep breath.
Lyall was growing frantically desperate.

“The pack here in Wales? You speak to them, no? Would they take him?” Lyall pleaded. Ignatius
could never forget the disgust that had filled him in that moment. His friend, his mentor, a man he
had looked up to was suggesting throwing his son away to be raised in a pack. His own flesh and
blood that was not even five years old and going through one of the most excruciating times of his
little life and his own father was trying to rid himself of his own son. It had taken all his restraint to
not knock the bookshelf that was just behind him over his frail thin body.

“Lancelot will care for the boy. Make him as comfortable as possible.” Ignatius had replied flatly
as Lyall threw him a disgusted look.

“Don’t pretend you are better than me, Ignatius. Just because you married a pretty pureblood wife.
Never forget where you come from, your accent is the same as mine. At the end of the day, the
English will always see us as we are, nothing but poor Welsh men. You're fooling yourself if you
think any differently.” Lyall had replied before he'd stood up with such force the chair screeched
against the worn floor and he’d flung the door open so wide it rebounded off the wall and shut with
a loud snap. Igantius was left standing gawking at it all before the shriek of a small child filled the
house followed by the sounds of a sobbing mother. He didn’t think himself better than Lyall, but
that night, it was he who held a grieving mother's hand as she cried, it was he who whispered to a
whimpering young child. Lyall was nowhere to be found and after that night any friendship they
had fizzled into the same darkness he had retreated into.

“Professor Lupin, this is Professor Prewett. He has actually come to help you review the lesson
plans for the year.” Dumbledore said, stepping out from behind his desk, pulling Ignatius from the
memory that had him motionless.

“Professor Prewett, I must say it is an honour. I have read so many of your works. I was horrified to
hear you had been injured last term.” Professor Lupin stopped in his tracks to greet him with a
small bow.
“Pleasure to meet you as well, I am certain the students will be in good hands.” Ignatius replied as
he nervously licked his lips. Remus did look so much like his father.

“Not as capable as your own, but we will manage. Professor Dumbledore, I had wished to speak to
you about a matter of importance to me. It was pertaining to a specific student.” Remus said with a
high raise of a single eyebrow and Ignatius had cold pricks stand out on his arm.

“Yes, Professor Lupin. I had heard about the incident on the train, I was actually on my way out to
handle the matter at this moment.” Dumbledore replied as he motioned with his arms towards the
stairs. Professor Lupin’s eyes shot back and forth.

“Of course; however, I also had a few other questions of a more personal matter as well.” Professor
Lupin said in a drawn out tone with his eyes pointedly at Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded almost
absentmindedly.

“Most certainly, I will be happy to address those, but Professor Prewett’s time is limited and I
would suggest you make the most of it. I believe you and I can discuss this matter at a later time.”
Dumbeldore said with a small smile and Professor Lupin’s shoulders hunched over as he nodded
and stepped back into the stairwell. Igantius followed the other man on the descent down the
narrow way.

“My apologies for interrupting. I didn't know you were coming otherwise I would have prepared
better.” Professor Lupin said once they reached the long hallway. He was nervously running a hand
through his thinning hair. Ignatius smiled wide as he shook his head.

“No apologies needed, I hadn’t known I’d be arriving till just recently myself.” Ignatius replied , as
he clasped his hands behind his back and turned his feet down the hall towards The Gryffindor
Common Room. He had other matters to address.

“I am glad to be able to hear from your experiences, though I must express my apologies, I had
heard of the injuries you sustained this prior term. I do hope my fate will have a better outlook.”
Remus mumbled with his head down and his steps shuffling.

“I would be cautious. People have much to say about the position you hold.” Ignatius said as he
carefully geared them towards the stairs they needed to ascend. Remus followed gently half a step
behind him.

“You don’t truly believe in the curse, do you?” Remus said.

“When you’ve seen as much as I have a curse as such does not seem impossible.” Ignatius warned,
cautiously. Whether or not the position was a jinx, he could not confirm, but coincidences, they run
out of chances and it has been years since a professor had stuck around in the job for very long.

The stairs groaned under their weight, but remained relatively quiet, besides the occasionally
snoring sound from the portraits around them. It was nearly time for the students to return to their
beds and he could hear the few faint steps of racing children pounding on the ground to beat the
ticking sound of a clock. It all sounded so familiar yet so new

They reached the long corridor and Ignatius immediately noticed a small shuffle of movement
close to the Gryffindor Common Room portrait. As he did, Remus’ head snapped up and his head
tilted while his eyes narrowed. He could clearly see what Ignatius was struggling to make out.

“Mister Longbottom?” Remus said as they finally approached a sniffling small form. Neville was
sitting holding his knees close to his chest and his cheeks a splotchy red.
“Professor L-lupin. Oh ‘ello, Professor Prewett. It’s just a bit cold out here.” Neville said as he
rocked back and forth with his arms moving up and down.

“Neville? Did you forget the password again?” Ignatius asked as he bent down with a hand held
out. Sheepishly, Neville grabbed it with ice cold hands. Ignatius shifted his cloak off his shoulders
and wrapped it around Neville, who wasn’t even wearing a pair of robes. Just thin well made
pyjamas with his initials sewed into the pocket.

“I thought it was fortuna iuvat or something, but she wouldn’t open.” Neville said with a weak
shrug as he looked over at the lady in pink frills behind them. She only stuck up her nose as she
sipped her wine.

“Audentes fortuna iuvat.” Remus said in thoughtful Latin with a kind smile. Neville gave a
lopsided grin and another shrug.

“Fortune favours the brave.” Remus continued as he guided Neville closer to the door. “A very
good phrase to remember; however, the password is Fortuna Major.”

With a snap and a disgruntled noise from the lady within the portrait, it swung open just in time to
reveal a wide eyed Ron standing within. As the door swung open he stumbled back a few steps and
craned his neck to see outward. Neville instinctively stepped closer to Remus, who comfortingly
put his arm around the boy.

“Neville, Harry just went upstairs to look for you and then Herimone told me to come out here to
look for you in case you had forgotten the password again. Hello, Professor Lupin… Uncle
Ignatius, what are you doing here?” Ron asked with his head tilted to one side. Neville took the
opportunity to murmur his thanks before scampering up and inside the room and disappearing into
the warm space where a crackling fire could just be heard as yellow light splayed out in all
directions. Ron moved out of his way more interested in looking directly at Ignatius with
questioning eyes.

“I came to speak to Professor Lupin so he could more adequately be prepared to teach so many
bright young minds. It is no simple matter, you know.” Ignatius said with a wink as Ron broke out
in a cheeky grin.

“I’d have Harry come and see you, but he’s been in a bad mood for the last few days. Barely able
to get him to classes and we had an awful Divination class, something about a Grim and well, the
whole ordeal with the dementors. Or maybe it’s the whole–,well you know the situation. He’s
really spooked and not even Quidditch banter with Dean and Seamus is bringing his spirits up, he
just keeps sending Hedwig out with a letter every morning and night, I suppose he’s writing to his
cousins.” Ron shrugged as he looked over his shoulder, worried. Remus shifted in his spot with his
brows tightly wound together.

“Well, let Harry know if he ever needs anything. I am just an owl away.” Ignatius said, bending
down closer to Ron. It didn’t seem to ease the tension in his shoulders all that much, but he nodded
weakly. Ignatius examined Ron thoroughly looking for any signs of rodent movement, but his
pockets appeared empty in the old clothes Charlie used to wear to bed when he was Ron’s age.
They didn’t quite fit Ron as well, Charlie had always been a bit shorter.

“Ron, your pet rat, how is he? I had a glance at him with Charlie and I wanted to see if he was
doing any better.” Ignatius asked with his eyes lowering. Ron flushed red and his lips pressed into a
small line.

“It’s Herimione’s cat! He is a menace, scaring Scabbers off! He’s gone missing for the last day or
two, but he has run off before. He always comes back. I’m just worried he was still looking a little
under the weather on the train ride.” Ron said with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Oh. Well if you need any additional tonic, write and I’ll send it straight away and if you need me
to take another look, ask Harry if you can borrow Hedwig. I can’t be certain Errol wouldn’t lose
Scabbers on the way.” Ignatius said, swallowing his disappointment. Did Peter know they were
looking for him?

Ignatius accompanied Remus on a stroll under a cloudy moonlit night to exchange information for
a few hours before the night grew rampant with the sounds of small creatures underbrush and the
swaying of large trees in the distance. He parted from Remus at the bottom of the stairs that led to
the same room he had stayed in during his tenure. The young professor thanked him plenty before
tightening the thin robes across his chest and bidding him a good night. Ignatius stood staring into
the night sky for a moment with the moonlight across his face. He could feel it in the Scottish air.
Nothing good was coming.

“Uncle Moony.”

The words kept playing in Remus’ head as he sat at the edge of a thin mattress in a cold part of the
castle. In his hand was the warm end of a cigarette and to the side was a cracked window to keep
the smell from being trapped in. Even as a grown man, he feared what dear old McGonagall would
say. It was late and a chill was in the air and even though the room had a thick quilt and a small
fireplace. He almost preferred the cold.

He tried to not let his eyes wander to the clearing sky where a few dots of light dared to the peak
through. He could imagine where the star was in the sky without even thinking, but then if he
looked his mind would flood with even more invasive thoughts he couldn’t bear to process. For the
past hour, he had been convincing himself it had been a slip of his tongue, or his hearing was never
as good as he suspected it to be. Otherwise, how could he explain what Harry had said?

He was not Uncle Moony. Uncle Moony would have never left him alone. Uncle Moony would
have never allowed Harry to be an orphan in the first place. He should have seen it. He should have
known. He should have saved James and Lily, after all they had done for him and what did he do in
exchange? Wander around a few forests and hope to come across a werewolf or two to convince
them not to side with Voldemort? What had that actually done for any of them? Nearly all his
friends and allies were dead or defeated and he was alone.

Even in his spiral of emotions and self despair, he knew the information he had wasn’t adding up.
Harry was supposed to be with family, and logically his only family was Lily’s sister. She would
never have told Harry about him. Most certainly she wouldn’t have known about his old childhood
play name, he didn’t even believe she knew his rightful name. Then Ron mentioned Harry writing
to his cousins. Would he truly be close to his cousin? Did Petunia have another child? Why did
Ignatius seem so concerned for Harry? The way his eyes had softened and his lips had turned
downward when Ron was speaking about him seemed more genuine than just an old professor’s
concern. Did James have family he had forgotten?

He knew of an older cousin and an aunt and uncle. Most of the rest of his family was elderly and
lived abroad. Harry’s accent, the way he spoke on the train. It sounded proper, but learned. As if he
hadn’t spent much time in England, just around the English. Maybe Dumbledore sent him out of
the country for his safety. It is why he was in the Headmaster’s office to begin with. To try and pry
straight answers out of the old wizard for once.
 Remus pushed his hand into his temple as the end of the cigarette started to grow colder. He took
one final drag before pushing it into the bottom of the wooden side table. With an exhausted sigh,
he picked up his cold tea and took a long sip before he laid back on the harsh springs of the
mattress. He could wave his wand to make it better, but the way the metal dug into parts of his
back as he kicked off his shoes, it felt appropriate. They are a constant discomfort and reminder
that he was a stranger and outsider within these walls and within Harry’s life. The answers would
not be solved tonight and neither would the mess of his sleep schedule, but he hoped the sheer ache
in his bones and the fog in his mind would subside. He pleaded with the stars to force him into a
dark and distant world, neither restful or nightmare-ish. It hardly was ever successful, the stars
betrayed him more often than not.

Chapter End Notes

I know, I know, you are all waiting for it. The reunion is coming, (of both Remus and
Harry and Remus and Sirius) please have patience. Thank you for all the lovely
comments over the past few chapters. They provide so much motivation, please be
well and enjoy!
 Uncle Moony
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of illness; depression

Thank you for waiting <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Never in his nearly century of his life had Arcturus even been so joyous of a chair. It was an
accomplishment after many weeks lying in a bed being hovered over day and night. He hardly
understood how they expected him to rest with all the commotion. Now at least, he was able to
shuffle the few steps to the large chair pushed up against the window. There he pulled out a small
box of cigarettes he had stashed away for desperate times. He placed it between his lips shakily as
he lifted a match to light it since his wand was still being held captive somewhere in the small flat.
The sharp snap of the flame flicking to life showed in his slightly blurred vision

Then a wave of air struck the end strangely as the fire went out. Turning his head, he looked to see
Helena waving down her hand nonchalantly as she brought in fresh linens. With a huff, he flicked
the cigarette down the window, watching as it landed in the rubbish bins askew below.

“Lancelot sees you with that and he’ll never leave again. Forcing him to take a single night off was
a feat.” She said as she began to strip the bed of the old sheets.

“He needs to be out with them, Ignatius and Lucretia. Whether he wishes to acknowledge his status
or not, the people adore him. It will be harder for the press to pen such harsh words when they
remember the Prewett they so admire.” He said as he leaned back to catch the edge of a park that
was across from the flat. The wide grassy area was full of life filling every available spot as small
children cried out to their parents and lovers strolled hand in hand.

“All the politics doesn’t it tire you?” She asked as she fluffed out the thick pillows loudly. Arcturus
shrugged. It hadn’t before. Truthfully, it was all he had ever known. The very reason he had ever
been created in the beginning and if he didn’t excel at it there was always those who were
beckoning to tear him to shreds at the first shine of inexperience or weakness.

“I believe without it, I wouldn’t know who I was.” He answered as he watched a small dark haired
child chase after an athletic looking dog. The two did a strange dance of understanding even though
neither could communicate with the other.

“You are more than just your title.” She said, shaking her head.

“I’ve never been very good at any of my other pursuits. I was a rather poor father, my son died
hating me and very nearly lost my daughter. My siblings, I forced them into their predicaments, the
change of the wind decided if we actually enjoyed each other's company. I was my father’s
greatest regret. Then as a husband, well if I had been a good one, it would be her, not I, here now.”
He answered, more solemnly than he had intended. Helena paused with her hand halfway up about
to smooth the wrinkles from the white linens.

“You cannot blame yourself for others' lives, Arcturus.” Her eyes looked up at him wary with the
end of her nose wrinkled, but he was too captivated by the young family with the young boy and
his dog playing in the dirt. The parents’ hands were intertwined as the woman put her hand on a
swollen stomach.

“Do you believe in a life after this one?” He whispered, hardly wanting a response.

“I was born a Christian, I was raised with life after death being greater than the life we lead.” She
answered as one hand dug into her hip.

“That was before you knew of witchcraft and wizardry, doesn’t your holy book warn against such
even though if I recall the greatest of those saints did acts that could have only been magic.” He
hummed out as the young boy ran into his mother’s arms. Helena paused for a few moments.

“I suppose I believe in life after death, maybe for no other reason than I wish to see those I have
lost once again. To be reunited in a perfect form with no more pain or sorrow.” She answered with
a long sigh as she stretched out the edges over the end of the bed.

“How lovely it would be if it was true.” He whispered more to himself as the small family
disappeared on a stroll out view, all still wrapped into one another. Closing his eyes for a brief
moment, he let himself slip back into the memories he touched rarely. The old quiet moments that
grew more faded as the years continued to pass. He couldn’t hold onto them for long.

“Where is your husband?” Arcturus asked after he cleared his throat.

“Popped down to Tesco. Sometimes I wonder if Lancelot ate before we met.” She answered as she
opened the wardrobe to reveal a small collection of robes.

“What is a Tesco?” He asked.

“Oh a very peculiar place, piled high with products you can buy, mainly food, but they’ll have the
odds and ends. Marius likes to do the shopping, and I’ll gladly let him.” She answered as she pulled
out a pair of robes. From within a pile of clothes came a rumbling before a pair of bright yellow
eyes appeared and small paws stretched out.

“How long has she been in there?” Helena asked as she stepped back to let Midnight stretch out her
hind legs.

“I thought she was with Ignatius.” Arcturus said as he watched the small creature pace around
Helena’s legs before walking closer to him and staring at him with eyes that seemed to judge every
movement he made.

“She was, but Marius has a fondness for Kneazles. He likely took her while the rest of them are all
at the Ministry, one look in those eyes and likely deemed her too sad to be left alone.” Helena said
with a small laugh as she hung up the clothes and closed the wardrobe. Arcturus was paying
attention to her and didn’t notice until he felt a small pressure sink into his lap. Midnight had made
herself comfortable as she tucked her paws under her.

“Is it supposed to shake?” Arcturus asked.

“She’s purring, it means she likes you.” Helena laughed

“I told him this pet would be his responsibility.” As his hand touched the soft fur and the cat curled
closer to him.

“Well yes, but we have managed to lose two adult men in the span of a few weeks. So at least we
can keep the pet alive.” She replied with a nod towards the small curled up ball of fur.

“They’ll return.” Arcturus replied as he dragged his hand slowly down the spiny back and
Midnight started to hum loudly.

“Speaking of the young men in our care, I hadn’t wanted to bring it up before given your
conditions, but since you’ve been improving little by little. I thought I would try to research more
into what you had asked me that day not too long ago.” She said as she sat at the end of the bed
with her shoulders hunched.

“About Harry?” Arcturus asked, his head turning up too quickly and blurring his vision worse than
it already was.

“I haven’t verified any of the information. There hasn’t been a time, but I may have found some
information.” She answered in a hushed voice. He leaned forward closer, much to the chagrin of
Midnight.

“It isn’t good, Arcturus.” She answered with her wide eyes turning towards him darkly.

Harry didn’t often use the invisibility cloak to blatantly break the rules, but he also wasn’t used to
the uptick in public sympathy he’d been receiving. Attention he had known often for the last few
years, but the constant worried glances were more frequent and the hushed whispers were louder.
Lavender and Parvati were constantly offering him little dots of affections mixed in with a bit of
the local gossip. Seamus went on about how his mother was worried for his return with Sirius on
the loose. Dean often was the saving grace of the many Gryffindors, he was worried, but being
practically Muggleborn meant a lot of the details went over his head.

At night, everyone else was hovering over the paper to see a new article posted about a journalist
that had been tracking Ignatius Prewett’s movements over the last few weeks to see if they could
find any leads of Sirius Black. They had ended up wandering on to the Dragon reserve and gotten a
thorough yelling at by McKenzie MacMillian who ran the reserve and only got his quill burned to
ash when he tried to question Charlie Weasley, who had apparently been holding an infant dragon
in his arms. Harry could see the small line at the end that then position of the Black family still
remains the same, they have no comments. A few photos flashing to show his Aunt Cassiopia with
her hair pinned back and her lips in a thin strict line as she addressed different pieces of parchment
and quill being shoved in her face.

Dean was leaning over his sketch paper drawing out an outline of a Quidditch broom and asking
Harry questions on if the dynamics made sense. He mainly only nodded his head, but to be
included in a conversation not revolving around the Blacks was rather pleasant. Eventually he
made his way to the room before anyone else. Ron had offered to come but he was in the middle of
a chess game with Ginny and Harry didn’t want to be the reason to end it. He’d lie with his curtains
drawn tonight and listen to each person slip in on their own time. Neville was not long after him,
then Ron, and finally Seamus and Dean came up together whispering quietly to each other. It could
have been any other night had he not been so wrapped up in his thoughts.

Now, he couldn’t sleep. He'd spent a few hours listening to Ron snore, Seamus tossing, and the
shuffling of Dean staying up too late finishing his drawing. Neville’s curtains were tightly drawn
and quiet, he’d been having a difficult time for a few weeks and before he left Harry put a piece of
parchment beside Neville’s bed with the new password written down in case he left for a late bite
to eat. Harry debated going down to the kitchens as he had done a time or two before, the elves
were very accommodating and kind, but they hardly let him be. Personally, he rather wished
Hogwarts didn’t have the elves, or at least they were granted their freedoms and rights. He thought
of Kreacher, who though the magic of freedom blurred, no longer had any requirements to answer
to any of them or do any of their bidding and while his dressings were still made out of leftover
fabric they resembled clothes versus rags.

Instead of the kitchens, he made a sharp turn and descended down the creaking stairs. Once at the
bottom of the castle, he ended up outside the Potions room. While not his intention, the cooler halls
beckoned to him once he heard the tapping feet of a few prefects the level above him. They had
just left the hall and wouldn’t be back for at least an hour if he could still calculate their routes. He
uncovered himself as he pushed in the door to the warm scents of boiling ingredients. Apparently,
he was not alone in his pursuits.

“Potter.” Blaise greeted him from where he leaned over a bubbling green potion.

“Blaise.” Harry returned with little energy in his tone. He stood in the doorway with his cloak
gripped in his hand. His plan had been to escape from people, and even though Blaise mostly left
him alone, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be in the presence of a single soul. Lingering for a
moment too long, he swivelled his head between the hall and the potions bench not far from him.

“Hope you aren’t waiting for sympathy from me.” Blaise muttered as he dropped what appeared to
be a beetle eye into the potion and caused a few splashes to sizzle on the counter. Harry tilted his
head sideways, a bit too weary for questions.

“Your crazed godfather? It’s all anyone can talk about, quite exhausting really, can’t bother to keep
yourself out of the news since we’ve become acquainted.” Blaise replied with a shrug as he
methodically stirred the cauldron with the moonlight from the thin windows being his only light.

“Trying to avoid speaking about him truthfully.” Harry answered as he slipped the cloak into a
corner and took a few steps forward to peer at the potion.

“My mother did say she’d still marry Sirius Black, mass murderer aside.” Blaise replied as he
leaned down eye level to watch the bubbles pop in the potion as it shifted into different shades of
green.

“Surprisingly that didn’t make me feel any better.” Harry sighed as he slumped over a table lazily.

“Never said it would. Will say your show on the train did have Draco throwing a wobbly. I’d be
careful though, Malfoys have a habit of slinking back in when you least expect it.” Blaise said with
a raised eyebrow. Harry exhaled heavily from his nose.

“What is that a Shrinking Potion?” Harry asked to change the conversation at hand. Draco wasn’t
keen on his list of fancies at the time.

“No,” Blaise snorted unflatteringly as he picked up a vial and poured it slowly into the potion, only
for it to turn an icy blue and his face to screw in frustration. “Bloody arse.”

“Syrup of Arnica? A beetle’s eye? Are you trying to kill a small animal?” Harry asked as his nose
wrinkled at the acid smell.

“Not kill. Just cause a bit of despair.” Blaise huffed as he waved his wand and cleared the cauldron
of the failed concoction.

“Sounds illegal.” Harry pointed out as Blaise shot him a disgruntled glare.

“Like that invisibility cloak we both pretend you don’t have?” Blaise shot back. Harry pushed his
lips together to avoid a sharp response.

He didn’t linger much longer in the cool dungeon. Blaise resorted to his typical mumbling under
breath and seemed more agitated as he started from the beginning of the brewing again. Besides,
even with Snape likely asleep in his own room; although Harry couldn’t imagine he ever slept
soundly, he felt as if the leering eyes of the Professor were watching him from every shady corridor
of the Potions classroom. If his past two years had gone poorly with Snape, recent events had only
soured their relationship farther, no matter how well or advanced Harry’s potions were. Snape
found every chance to criticise, whether the way he held his wand or the face he made when he
stirred.

Fresh air seemed the most viable option. Few prefects wandered the grounds outside Hogwarts,
especially with the dementors present, but he had found that many of them were kept at the far
edge of the school grounds. Dumbledore had made his position on them very clear and they were
to keep a good distance. Even still it was foolish, but he hadn’t a care about it. Once in the shadows
of the forest, he tucked away the cloak and wandered along the crittering underbrush and the quiet
groans and cries of the darkness beyond the edge of the towering tree line.

He knew better than to go wandering about the forest alone at night, but teetering on the edge
helped fill the tenacious spirit inside of him that wanted to yell or run or collapse on the ground in
frustration. Instead, he let the cool breeze wash over his warmed face and the nuisances of the
forest fill his buzzing ears. In his mind, he hadn’t expected the run across anyone, and maybe that
was foolish and risking the Gryffindor points, but he hadn’t the forethought. When he dipped into
the slightest bit of the forest he came to a clearing where a small horse-like creature was grazing.
Instantly, his demeanour turned upward slightly.

“Hello, Buckbeak.” Harry said with a slight bow, Buckbeak turned up from his grazing only
momentarily to tilt his head down in approval.

“Draco is a right prat, don’t let him get to your head.” Harry said as he stepped forward slowly and
brushed at Buckbeak’s side slowly, Buckbeak only snorted in reply.

“His arm is hardly even bruised. I’ve broken my arm before and I managed when I was only a tot.
You didn’t deserve to be disrespected.” Harry continued as Buckbeak let him stroke him
comfortingly, he couldn’t be certain, but he swore he could see and understand the glint in the
hippogriff's eyes.

“My uncle, he taught me the ways of a hippogriff. Prideful strong creatures, but undeniable loyal if
you can treat one with the proper respect. I see that in you Buckbeak.” Harry whispered as he
smiled while he continued to softly pet. Buckbeak’s feathers had a different texture under his hands
than Midnight’s fur. He did miss the little Kneazle cat; he'd written to Regulus asking how she was
a few days prior, but he hadn’t gotten a response. In fact, most of his letters were returned with
sparse replies. He understood everyone was under an immense pressure and trying to keep the
whole family protected, but he couldn’t help feel exiled in the Scottish Highlands having to read
scraps of paper over the shaking shoulders of other students trying to decipher if the words in the
paper aligned with what he knew of Sirius and his actions. Very little of it made any half of sense
and the other half was completely unrelated to the Sirius he knew, but the more he read about his
godfather, the more he began to question how much he did know about him. Or at least about one
particularly time in his life.

Sirius rarely ever spoke of the war. It was always the before or the after, his years at Hogwarts
happier and cared for or his years after his escape from Azkaban, but those few years of the war
and his subsequent imprisonment was hardly ever touched. Regulus would tell Harry what he
could, but he’d been watching much of it from the outside. Afterall, he had ‘died’ in nineteen
seventy nine. He speaks of his old friends and the different paths they took. Evan Rosier, who was
a strong headed young boy obsessed with glory and died in pieces versus being taking alive to be
tried and imprisoned Of Pandora Ollivander, who had married a man with a long name and they
bore a child only a year younger than him, or Bartimius Crouch, so desperate for attention and
power, that he fooled some of the greatest minds of the wizarding world. They were all dead now.
Harry wondered if Sirius or Regulus had ever pieced that together, that they both suffered the tragic
losses of so many dear friends.

The stars glittered above as he’d glance occasionally to name one star or constellations under his
breath. The clouds blocked some of his family from view, the rotation of the earth blocked a few
more, but he counted as many as he could while Buckbeak breathed evenly under the palm of his
hand. His mind had wandered firmly away from where he stood, he didn’t hear the approach of
another person until there was the sharp snap of a twig that caused him to go rigid and reach for his
wand to his side. He’d never practically duelled anyone before, only knocked over Sirius or
Regulus a time or two, would that suffice? He hadn’t needed to worry as Buckbeak snarled and
rose on two feet before stomping down with his body squarely in front of Harry with his wings
clung tight to his side and his nose pointed defiantly forward. Harry hummed under his breath as he
crouched down with his eyes narrowed.

“I mean no harm.” A gentle albeit tired voice addressed as a person shrouded in a pair of robes
stepped forward with a deep bow to the hippogriff. Buckbeak croned slightly, but Harry put his
hand back on the side of his body and leaned sideways to get a better view of the visitor. When the
stranger raised their worn face slowly, Harry wanted to faint. In front of him and Buckbeak, was no
other than Remus Lupin.

Harry couldn’t swallow. His throat felt swollen and dry like the time when he swallowed too much
water swimming and Regulus had forced him to lean over and spit it back up and his throat ached
for days later. Only this was worst, this pain sucked out the breath from his lungs and caused his
hands to shake involuntarily. Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to sink into the backdrop, unnoticed.
Alas he had no such luck.

“It’s quite late for a stroll in the moonlight. Students should be in bed at this hour.” Remus said in a
soft, but authoritative voice. It appeared he didn’t recognize Harry yet. He couldn’t avoid it forever
as he sunk his hand deep into Buckbeak’s muscles for a moment as he heaved in deep breaths to try
and fill his lungs once more, but nothing seemed to ease the ache and Remus was not budging from
the place where he stood with his hands crossed in front of his chest. Harry leaned his face in the
Buckbeak for one last momentarily soft comfort before he uneasily stepped out from behind him
and into a ray of warm white moonlight. Remus’ eyes couldn’t have opened wider.

“Harr– Mister Potter.” Remus said with his voice faltering slightly on his words.

“Professor Lupin.” Harry mumbled with the words that felt sharp on his tongue. Unnatural and
harsh to his ears as he spoke.

“It is rather dangerous to be out alone, Mister Potter. Especially now, surely you must know that?”
Remus asked as he shifted back into his casual composure. Harry wondered if he still cared? He
couldn’t have forgotten him, could he?

It had been over a decade since they had seen one another and any of Harry’s memories of Remus
were blurry and distorted and pieced together from photos and stories of times he had not been
alive for. Did Remus still enjoy the sickly sweet taste of fresh chocolate? Did he still lick his lips
after every sip of tea? Had he any room in his heart left for Harry? Or had he forgotten the little
boy he had only known for a short time when he was too young to even truly speak? Where did
they stand?

“I know.” Harry whispered wistfully with his eyes swimming with the emotions swelling inside of
him.

“I should return you to the castle, it was foolish to walk outside the walls with the dementors
present.” Remus said with a nod of his head as he turned his body towards the dancing yellow
lights of Hogwarts' myriad of windows. Harry nodded and slipped solemnly behind Remus, his
mouth always slightly agape and his mind swirling with the words to speak.

They walked in a stiff silence. Harry’s feet stepped into each of the same places Remus’ lofty
loafers did. Harry’s eyes stretched to the skies while he noticed Remus’ kept tucked down towards
the dirt. The walk stretched on longer than he could have thought. Until finally, the looming castle
walls grew closer and closer.

“I know it has been a tough few days, Harry. However, if I find you wandering the halls at night
again I will be forced to discipline.” Remus said with a sharp intake of breath and his hands clasped
behind his back. Harry couldn’t muster words, but nodded sharply to be respectful. Remus gave
him a small bow in the corridors and turned his back to leave Harry at the base of the stairs that led
straight to his tower. Harry’s lips trembled as he put his hand on the rail and raised one foot. For as
long as he may be, he won’t know what gave him the courage.

“Uncle Moony?” Harry dared call out at the retreating back of Remus. The older man stumbled
immediately and had to stick out his arm to keep himself upright, The seconds ticked away feeling
as if they held whole moments. Remus stood barren and sorrowful at the end of a snoring portrait
and clutching on the edge of his robe so harshly it had torn another small hole in the thin fabric.
Neither of them moved for a time.

Eventually Remus had to force himself upright with his head spinning and feeling as if it was
lolling off to one side as he turned on the worn heel of his old shoes and he was faced with the near
exact replica of James Potter. Until he stared into the shining green eyes of Harry’s mother and if
he tilted his head at the right angle, he could pretend for the breadth of a moment that he was
young again. His friends had never left him behind. That his world had righted itself around him.

“How do you know that name? You shouldn’t know that name.” Remus breathed out as he leaned
back on his heels only imagining how wide his eyes were. Harry’s own eyes were starting to
wrinkle at the edges and he blinked heavily several times.

“They never let me forget. Not a single one. Since I was just a baby, I’ve had pictures and stories
and memories. I’ve known you for every moment of my life.” Harry replied as he desperately
dragged himself forward a few steps. Remus was shaking his head before he could reply as he took
half a step back and felt the cold brick of the wall touch his back. It couldn’t be true. Maybe he
was in an illusioned state. Those first few months in the year of nineteen eighty two, he had seen
and heard and felt so many moments that hadn’t been true. Chased ghost of people around corners
only for them to disappear into a crowd, frozen himself in the middle of the streets to hear the
laugh lost in the loud honking, or laid alone and sprawled in his bed hoping the way the sheet
moved was the memory of hand he had expected to hold his entire life. Harry couldn’t know him.
Because if he knew Remus and Remus didn’t know him, then who was he to deserve any of his
attention? The way expectant young eyes wide and glassy under the moonlight stared at him left
him covering the end of his face and shaking his head violently in denial.

“M-moony?” Harry mumbled as he clutched his hands in front of him and hearing the word a
second time broke a part of him he’d thrown to the depths of his character and his back slid down
 the wall as he clutched to his knees. Worriedly, Harry jumped to his aid, but paused just short of
touching the end of his hands.

“You’d be better to not know me, Harry. Oh, Harry, I am so sorry. I am so sorry.” Remus mumbled
as his eyes began to smart with tears and he did his best to suck in deep breaths as Harry sat back
on his heels looking cold and sorrowful. Remus couldn't see anymore without his chest opening in
two and spilling out in front of them.

“I’m fine, Harry. I’ll be fine, you should go. We can pretend, act as if we have never known each
other a day past September. It’ll be easier for you. I’d do anything for you.” Remus said with the
last of his words twisted so harshly in his throat they came out as a hoarse croak. Somehow
doubted Harry could even hear them. After he spoke, he tucked his chin close to his thin
collarbones and waited to hear the shift of weight as Harry walked away and into the darkness. He
should have known.

The minutes hung in the air as solid as the dying stars above them. His breath uneven as he dug his
fingernails into his cheek and tried to brace for the pain to come. Harry would be better off leaving.
Going back to his warm dorm with the friends he had made, and pretending Remus was nothing
more than another passing Professor in his journey. Instead, the heavy air around them stilled even
in the autumn breeze and at first he swore it was another phantom memory as he felt the weight on
his wrist. Then he felt the cold fingers grip securely around the thin bones. Remus’ eyes raised
slowly and he hardly dared to breathe as he searched down his arm and saw where Harry’s hand
connected with his.

“I won’t lose you again.” Harry whispered with his own eyes beginning to swell with the burn of
tears.

Chapter End Notes

AH! No I didn't disappear or run off from my fic. Life just shot several issues all at
once and that lead to stress, that lead to the mental illness flare which I believe caused
me to have the first writer's block I've really had on this fic, so let's say it is a rite of
passage, because metaphorically I shredded, burned, cried and then rewrote this
chapter, I'm better now though it was very cathartic, cue the (semi) regular updates!
Thank you for waiting and I hope you enjoy! We will be seeing a lot more of Remus
now and some of it will be less said! I adore any comments or kudos and thank you all
dearly for reading!

PS Since a few people have asked I try to update this fic every week and ideally twice
a week, but I live a busy mentally ill life with little time permanence.
 The Boggart in the Wardrobe
Chapter Notes

CW: Bullying, Threats, Mentions of Death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The imprints in his hand as he clutched his book in his arms would last for hours, while his
shoulders would feel painfully tense as he pushed between a group of whispering students. Harry
wanted nothing more than for it to be night. For the castle to shift and settle after a long day and the
thin warmth of his invisibility cloak to be wrapped around his back snuggly. Tonight he had plans
to slip out into the dark shadowy halls and down the cool stairways until he would end up in front
of the worn old creaky door that held a memory that was going to finally turn from blurry lines into
the sharp images of the person standing right in front of him. He was going to see his Uncle Moony
and they were finally going to talk. Until then, he had to survive a few more painful hours
suffocating under the ogling of his classmates.

“Oft! Potter, did ya ‘ear? Black was spotted not far from here, near the Fawley farm.” Ernie
MacMillian called with a cheeky smile as Hannah Abbott stood next to him giggling behind her
pink tinted hands. Harry tucked his head down.

“My Uncle Morton says Black kens better than to come through our land.” Ernie said with a puffed
out chest to the small group of people surrounding him at the news.

“As if the Highlands aren’t spread about so wide and far that Sirius couldn’t get through without
even touching MacMillian land.” Harry mumbled under his breath. He didn’t have anything against
the MacMillians personally, but Ernie had a way about him that radiated his need for attention.
Brave and strong, yes, but arrogant. Maybe it had to do with him being the youngest of five sons.
Harry just shook his head again and kept pushing to the dungeons.

“Mate!” Harry heard as he turned around to find Ron stumbling over the edges of his robes as he
rushed to catch up with Harry.

“Seen Herminone? Last I saw her was breakfast when she nearly fell into her porridge, did you see
what she was reading? Arithmancy, but she was in Divinations with us so how does she take them
both?” Ron came as he breathed loudly in Harry's ear.

“Didn’t your brother get twelve O.W.Ls, how did he manage?” Harry sighed as he and Ron fell
into step behind a laughing Parvarti and Lavender.

“Bill? He took Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes. He learned enough from dad to sit the
Muggle Studies exam. Then he just took Charlie’s notes for Care of Magical Creatures and
Divinations and managed an Exceeds. Percy just took both their notes and sat the exams. If she’s
wanting to sit all the O.W.Ls I could write Bill and Charlie to see if they are alright with her using
their notes, I doubt they’d care. She only needs to ask.” Ron shrugged as the hall quieted around
them as they entered the Potions classroom. Snape was standing in the corner by his desk with his
nose wrinkled in dissatisfaction as the children all hurried to their places. Hermione rushed in out of
breath with seconds to spare as her bag hit heavily against her legs. Harry couldn’t imagine how
many books were smacking together inside. He’d tried to get Hermione to explain how she was
managing the workload one breakfast, but she’d only pursued her lips and put another piece of
toast in front of him to distract him from how loudly Seamus was reading the most recent claimed
sightings of Sirius. If he believed all he read, Sirius had been as far as Thailand and then still able
to be spotted in Cheshire days later. Harry could only hope from the vague and sparse letters he had
received from his family of the past few weeks that Sirius had been found and was being safely
tucked away. It didn’t seem likely though, not a single letter had been received from Sirius since he
ran off during the summer. A part of Harry was burning with anger, while another softer part of his
mind felt as if Sirius had done what he thought was best for the whole of them. In his own twisted
sense, he was helping them by staying away.

“Potter.” Snape snapped from above him as Harry couldn’t help the contempt that warmed his
chest as he stared up from the shrinking potion they had been assigned to complete. Harry could
brew it in his sleep and could already see the bubbling acid green colour brewing to completion.
Hardly anyone around him had even finished slicing their ingredients.

“Five points from Gryffindor, clearly you’ve taken such an immoral shortcut to complete your
potion.” Snape said as Harry rolled his eyes once the Professor had turned his back. Snape was like
an irritating pixie always buzzing in his ear waiting for the moment to jump at a reaction, and
though it made him grit his teeth, he could hear Arcturus’ voice reminding him not to busy his
mind with small people. He sat with his hands on his chin as he watched Ron struggle to slice his
roots to the right length.

“Cut them long ways first and then chop them.” Harry muttered under his breath as he leaned over
his potions while it popped occasionally.

“Mate, I don’t know how you manage. Even Hermione is still slicing.” Ron said as he turned the
roots to cut them long ways. He wasn’t wrong as Harry saw Hermione trying to manage her own
potion and help a nervously shaking Neville, who Professor Snape had threatened to have his toad
swallow his potion at the end of the lesson.

“Shite.” Ron muttered as his eyes narrowed darkly. Harry followed his glare to the sauntering
arrogant form of Draco Malfoy walking in halfway into their double Potions class. Harry let out a
short breath as he turned back to stir his potion once more. Draco had been milking the injury he’d
sustained from Buckbeak for days, having lie-ins while he was doted on by more than a few of the
Slytherins.

“Potter, since you're done. Draco requires assistance with his ingredients.” Snape demanded in a
snotty tone.

“Does he need me to feed him, as well?” Harry replied without much thought or looking up from
his potion.

“Five more points, Potter and you better be careful or detention is next.” Snape said with a snap of
his cape as he turned to scowl at a mess Crabbe and Goyle had made.

“Surprised you’ve even stuck around, Potter. If I was you I would have gone running after Black a
long time ago.” Draco said as he leaned casually in the seat, making it evident he planned to do
none of his work. Harry laid out the ingredients in front of Draco’s cauldron silently debating how
much it would be worth to add a teeny bit of Erumpent tail powder to cause it to explode all over
Draco’s shiny new robes.

“Malfoy.” Ron snapped as he slammed his hand down causing more than a few eyes to draw
towards them.
“What Weasley? At least the man your family has a right to hate is still in Azkaban… for now.”
Draco said as he revealed each of his bright white teeth. Ron’s hand balled into a pale white fist as
the tip of his nose turned stark red. Harry cleared his throat and shook his head a few times until
Ron’s knuckles turned a pinkish colour again.

“I doubt anyone, let alone Antonin Dolohov, is skipping out of Azkaban anytime soon.” Harry
mumbled as he added the shrivelfig.

“How do you know who Dolohov is?” Draco snipped as Ron tilted his head towards Harry with a
curious expression. Harry felt his eyes widen as he purposefully leaned over the steaming potion to
fog his own glasses to hide any reaction.

“Unlike you Malfoy, I have to read about these offences, let me guess your dear old father
probably told you about all his tea dates with Dolohov.” Harry grumbled as he wiped away a bit of
sweat from his brow. Draco’s upper lip curled menacingly.

“My father is a powerful man, you’d be careful to remember that.” Draco said with pompousness
through and through.

“So powerful he got himself removed as a governor?” Harry growled back before he felt a sharp
kick to the shin.

“He still has his power, just wait until you see what happens with your beloved oaf of a
gamekeeper.” Draco retaliated. Harry could feel Ron begging him to shut his mouth, so he stirred
Draco’s potion once and shoved it back towards him half tempted to let it fall all over the front of
him.

“You can stir, no?” Harry said finally as Draco snatched the stirrer out of his hands harshly and
slowly began to rotate the mixture. The rest of Potion’s class Harry sat watching his potion bubble
occasionally until the hour ended after to the relief of nearly everyone Trevor was turned into a
simple tadpole and then back to a frog. Harry dashed to collect his belongings and hurry out the
door despite Ron’s protest. He was nearly in the next classroom before Ron and Hermione caught
up to him.

“What was Draco saying?” Hermione inquired as they crossed the threshold into the high arches of
the Defence classroom.

“Being an arrogant prat as usual.” Harry grumbled back as he slipped into a seat towards the back.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried glance before Ron sat next to him quietly and Hermione
took a seat next to a stammering Neville who was trying to thank her for her silent rescue of
Trevor. Harry felt the odd pit in his stomach as the students shuffled in, pulling out quills and
parchment. None of them were particularly bothered by a new professor. In fact, it was becoming
quite the norm, though a few spoke fondly of their prior years’ Professor every time the subject
was brought up. Everyone agreed their couldn’t be much worse than their first year. Harry was
inclined to agree, but the sinking sensation and involuntary flush to his cheeks betrayed his deeper
feelings. He didn’t know how to feel about Professor Lupin addressing them in his secondhand
robes and wool jumpers while he and Harry held a secret between the two of them suspended as
high as the arches above them.

“Eh, Harry.” Ron asked under breath as the class laughed and talked over one another while they
waited for the professor to reveal himself. Harry looked up at Ron.

“Back at Potions, er, how did you know? About my uncles that is. My mum doesn’t speak about it
much and I know it hurts Uncle Ignatius to talk about them, but if it really is in a book or old paper
somewhere, maybe you could show me so I could read a bit more on them. Er, you don't have to if
you don’t want to though.” Ron asked sheepishly with the ends of his ears growing warm. Harry
felt his chest drop even further into his stomach.

“I can find them at the library.” Harry whispered in a raspy tone as Ron started to shake his head
rapidly to cover his glossy eyes and warm face. Thankfully for the both of them a sharp two claps
drew the attention of everyone to the back of the classroom. Professor Lupin stood with his
shoulders pushed back and his cheeks a bit fuller than the first time Harry had seen him. There
were dark circles under his eyes, but he appeared healthier still.

“Books away, I have a more practical lesson in the plans for today.” Professor Lupin declared to a
crowd of confused students. Before long they were packed up and wandering down the halls in a
cluster of half rowdy students as they passed Peeves the Poltergeist fiddling with a door handle.

“Ey, loony, lanky logical Lupin, back again. I see that the proud, popular, pompous Prewett only
lasted a while.” Peeves cackled as he floated closer to the ceiling.

“The gum trick never works Peeves. Watch closely, Waddiwasi.” Professor Lupin said as he drew
his wand. The laughter eased the first class nervousness as they all watched Peeves scramble away
down the hall. Even Harry cracked a smile.

“All jokes, Lupin. I know where you learned that trick.” Peeves yelled before he rounded the
corner with his hands clasped over his face. Harry’s face dropped suddenly as a part of him just
knew. Sirius had taught him. He watched as his Uncle Moony’s eyebrows knit together and his
shoulders slumped forward. Yet, he put on a brave face as he turned to the giggling students and
brought them down to the staffroom where they were passed by a huffing Snape upset his tea had
been disturbed by the wide beckoning eyes of third years. They all crowded into the room to see a
shaking wardrobe at one end.

“Neville, I was hoping you could assist me.” Professor Lupin asked and Neville stepped forward
with his knees knocking together.

“No need to fret, I have managed to secure us a rather useful lesson today, just by chance really. A
boggart has taken residence in this wardrobe.” Lupin said with a reassuring smile. Neville gulped
visibly as he shuffled a few spaces back closer to where Dean was peering with one of his thick
eyebrows raised, the other students around him were sharing worried glances. Professor Lupin
explained in detail to Neville how to take down the boggart and then lined the students in a half
circle several steps behind him. Harry slinked to the back corner of the room as he saw Snape, a
mummy, and even a severed hand pop around the room as the boggart morphed again and again
with loud snaps each time and loud screams and moans escaped from the evolving creature as it
grew more weary and confused.

Stuck in his own mind, Harry hadn’t noticed the whirl of air that struck the hair slick across his
forehead from the Potion’s lesson. The boggart had landed in front of him and the panic sunk to his
toes as he grew cold while the boggart tried to search his mind for his greatest fear. His hand
slipped as he tried to pull his wand to banish it before it took the form of any damning piece of
evidence. He hadn’t even cracked his wand into place before there was a sweeping pair of robes
stepping in front of him and the warm light of the moon behind grey clouds emerged nearly out of
thin air. Professor Lupin banished it with a flick of his wrist as it deflated like a balloon into the
wardrobe with the doors slamming shut loudly as the hour ticked away from their lesson.

Harry hardly heard the assignment as the class pushed past him and into the hall singing Professor
Lupin’s praise, Dean even stopped to talk to Professor Lupin with an excited voice. It all drowned
in the background as Harry let out a deep breath and watched the wardrobe shake and rattle a few
times with the feet scuffling small circles into the ground until it laid completely still. There was a
haunting in the silence as he took a step forward with his hand outstretched. The question of what
his greatest fear would be burning in his chest. His hand never reached the soft wood handle as his
vision filled with a warm brown jumper under the patched holes of thin robes.

“Harry.” Remus said with the edge of warning in his voice. Harry shrunk his hand back towards his
chest as he looked up expectantly at Remus gently shaking his head.

“I told Ron I'd meet him in the library.” Harry whispered unsure why he was speaking so anxiously
as he rubbed the back of his hand as if it had been freshly smarted and ached in pain. His whole
body ached strangely, maybe from the tension he held nowadays or maybe from the fright that had
shocked him down to his shoes. He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what his fear was, or to have
some childish fear held over from some fleeting childhood nightmare like mummies and banshees.
His fear was hardly even tangible, but he could guess what form it would take and the questions
that would arise would leave more issues than to quell his own curiosity. Deep down, he was
terrified to be alone again. To be that empty screaming child robbed of his most natural
relationship. No doubt, as he turned on heels with his head turned down, he knew if that boggart
approached him he’d stare into Regulus’ vacant eyes as he laid dead on the floor in front of him,
orphaned once again of the only father he could remember just as he had been robbed before of the
first father he had ever had. His heart couldn’t take the ache of imagining the scene as his feet
dragged him out the room and up the stairs to find his friends. Regulus hadn’t written in three days
and while Harry could imagine he was safely tucked away from any prying eyes, he never knew.
Any moment the universe could decide his life had gotten a bit too fair, and ruin the one
relationship he clung to over all the others. His father, his father. He heard the words round and
round in his head. When had he begun to associate both James and Regulus with those words? Has
it ever been any other way?

“Sirius.” Regulus hissed as his pleas were ignored. His hands were knocking away dirt on his knees
as he tried to lurk in the shadows. Sirius didn’t acknowledge him.

“Padfoot.” Regulus groaned. The big black dog turned happily around with his thick tail flicking
around his body a few times for good measure.

“You can’t go through digging in people’s gardens.” He hissed. Padfoot twitched his pointed ears
and went back to sniffing along the dishevelled dirt.

“We could have just gone home, spoken to Arcturus. Made a plan, got an idea of where to go next,
but no instead we are digging in gardens. I thought we had passed this phase.” Regulus mumbled
under his breath as he carefully stepped over a patch of turnips. Sirius was certain they would find
the answers wandering the gardens of Ottery St Catchpole to get into the mind of Peter, or more
particularly to get into the mind of Wormtail. Now Regulus' trousers were coated in mud from the
rain earlier as he followed a trotting dog down the sides of the road with the sun beating down in
the final few moments of the day. Padfoot stopped with one paw close to his chest, and his nose
wrinkling over and over again. Regulus raised his hand to cover his eyes as he glanced onto the top
of a hill to a tall black stone building. The strong smells of fresh herbs wafted down to them as he
racked his mind for where they could be until the breath left his lungs as his hand dropped against
his side loudly.

“Pandora.” He mumbled under his breath. Padfoot let out a small whine as he brushed up to
Regulus feet with his matted fur from his latest tossle in the mud. His comfort only helped so much
as he listened to the sounds of cupboards being shut loudly and the breeze rustling the mistletoe
plants scattered along the property.

“Oh, Dora.” Regulus mumbled one last time as his fingers brushed towards his chest where he used
to hold a small strap of leather and a single trinket of a Butterbeer cork strung through it. He tried
not to think as his hand ghosted the empty spot. The Inferi had choked it around his throat until the
leather snapped. He told himself the swelling in his throat was from the memory of the pain as their
cold hands dug into the sides of his neck and caught on the material. The swaying in his form was
just the unsteadiness of such trauma, not the grief he never properly expelled. He’d lost so many
and he had thought he’d be the first to go and yet here he stood as one of the last of them all. Fate,
she was an ironic mistress.

Padfoot let out another whiny sound as his body weight shifted into Regulus’ side. His hand went
instinctively down to touch the curled edge of the fur while he turned away from the spot at the
base to the hill, trying his best to ignore the sounds of leaves shuttering in the wind or the sweet
scent of berries drifting from the trees. He could feel the last of the summer heat hitting the back of
his neck as he and Padfoot started down the dusty edges of the roads. Regulus had scrooged up
enough Muggle coins to find them an inn in the village for a few nights. As the time wore on, they
were running low on both funds and ideas.

The old man that was the caretaker for the inn tipped his head when Regulus eased opened the old
gate. The greying man didn’t ask questions and enjoyed the good large dog to scare off the smaller
creatures that had been eating at his cabbage. Between that and Regulus’ pathetic state, he’d
essentially given him the room for a few quid. Padfoot’s large paws left a trail behind them as he
pushed in the door to the cramped yet welcoming one room space they called home for now. He
never realised how accustomed he had gotten to not being alone until they striked out on this
journey.

Sirius turned into himself again once Regulus pulled the curtains tight. His face looked as dejected
as Regulus felt. It had seemed much more optimistic at first and Sirius didn’t want to admit defeat,
but they were running out of ways to fill their time.

“Sirius.” Regulus tried for at least the third time in the past few days.

“There has to be something Reg! Peter can’t be outsmarting me again. We have to find a way to get
him out of Hogwarts. What if we wrote to Harry’s friend Ron? Pretend to be Uncle Ignatius and
have him send that rat right into our hands. Harry said it was ill, no? We could have him mailed
right to us. Maybe Hedwig would do us a favour and give him a good taste of her talons.” Sirius
said as he started to pace the small space over and over. Regulus just sighed as he sat at the small
desk and stared at the neat writing once again. Harry was asking him about Sirius and if he’d been
found yet. If Arcturus was doing any better, and talking about his life in general at the moment.
Besides a lengthy letter on his safety after the dementor attack on the train, Regulus had been
sending short replies to Harry’s constant inquiries. The guilt ate at him daily, more so at night as
he’d lay awake staring at the bank ceilings wanting nothing more than to push off the bed and pour
out the story in its entirety on fresh parchment until the sun rose over the green shrubbery in the
east. This wasn’t a story one penned on page. Harry deserved to look him in the eye when it was all
explained to him. Regulus imagined a private moment away from prying eyes where Harry could
sit in the revelation. Where he could scream, or cry, or be meekly still. Whatever he needed at the
moment, Regulus wanted to give him. However, he hadn’t even managed to find the sorry bastard
who had caused all this pain to begin with. His hand graced the edge of the paper to pull down the
folded edge. The small valediction were the simple words all my love, and yet they filled him with
hope still even if he couldn't bear the thought of picking up a quill to respond.

“We have to do it, Reg.” Sirius' voice cut in as Regulus' eyes sleepily drooped towards his brother,
 a long day filled with constant walking in the elements was wearing on him and the thin small bed
tucked into the corner of the room looked as appealing as it could be.

“What exactly do we need to do?” Regulus asked, as he tried to stifle a yawn behind his hand.
Sirius stopped his pacing to cross his arms over his chest, the leather jacket over his shoulders even
in the heat, went taunt.

“We need to break into Hogwarts.” Sirius replied, assured.

Chapter End Notes

The writer's block is breaking and inspiration and energy is slowly rolling back in and
I couldn't be more pleased! Thank you for all the kind words and understanding and as
always thank you for the comments and kudos! I hope you enjoy it!
 Sweets and Other Troubles
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of injury

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The dripping was a constant nuisance. The periodic splash of a weak droplet at nearly perfect
intervals, except when one expected it and then it seemed to delay only a second or two. It was
driving Arcturus absolutely mad and up the wall. With another huff of dissent, he leaned over his
parchment with the quill as tightly wound as his hand allowed anymore. The ache in his knuckles
was nothing new, though the inflammation had increased. It made his daily letter writing a less
than enjoyable task, and though his daughter never said anything, he knew the stack of letters was
only half what he received. For his penmanship could only handle so much before it became
unintelligible.

“Merlin, Salazar, could it end.” Arcturus gripped as he pushed his hand into his temple harshly. A
sharp slice cut through the air with a minor light. As he looked up, he wasn’t in shock.

“Thank you.” He grumbled under his breath as he let his hand lay flat on the rough edge of a table.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve always gotten too caught up in my work to keep up with the flat,
and as I age, I fear I neglect it more. I don't even know whom to leave this property to. Ignatius has
no use for it.” Lancelot explained.

“I suppose one of Molly’s children will take it.” Arcturus mused out loud as he stretched out his
hand.

“Percy does have ambitions for the Ministry. This flat could be for him. I have little use for it as the
years wane, I could make Prewett Hall my main residence once again. The transition has been in
the works for many years.” Lancelot continued as he dragged around to the teapot Arcturus had left
on the counter and poured himself a cup.

“What does Ignatius plan to do with the Hall?” Arcturus asked, trying not to raise his eyebrows. It
was a question he had wondered for many years, but could not bear the pain that would rise in his
son by law’s eyes should he dare ask.

“Careful not to pose that question to Ignatius, are you?” Lancelot replied as he settled in his place.
He should know better by now that the older male, while quiet with his speech, was often keen to
nearly as much if not more than he himself was.

“Well as it happens, it is a matter he and I have discussed as the last two males of our name. With
consultation to my dear cousin Muriel, we have decided when Ignatius' undoubtedly meets his end
as all men must, Lucretia, Merlin willing, will be allowed the residence for as long as she may live,
and then it will fall onto Molly. We had offered her the residence when she first wed, but she
insisted on taking her husband’s home. The Burrow has been one of Weasley's longtime properties.
I doubt she will leave it even in our absences. Traditionally then, it would fall to her eldest son,
though tradition has been falling to the side, both for the good and the bad. Anyone of her children
could have it, and we would consider it an honour to have them inhabit it. Let the Prewett name be
known for at least a generation or two after our passing.” Lancelot explained as he held his tea
close to his face. Arcturus paused his quill for a moment. The heaviness of the moment not passing
him.

“How have you come to such peace with it?” Arcturus asked with his chin tucked down.

“With the end of our line?” Lancelot questioned for clarification. Arcturus nodded his head briefly.

“I would be lying if it hadn’t hurt to come to the realisation. Not only the immeasurably losses this
family has taken, but also the complete devastation our name will experience. First my cousin, then
his son, then his son’s sons, each one slipped from our grasp in more horrific ways than the last.
My greatest failure it seems is that I am unable to save those closest to me. After pain
unexplainable, the ache of the loss of our family name seemed dull. Long living, but dull. Our
family was in the United Kingdom before many of the names that reign popular now, when the
Celts roamed these lands, our family was here. Alas, no one lasts forever, no one person, no one
name, some may endure longer than others, but time is the enemy to us all.” Lancelot finished with
a tight grip around the tea cup and a far off look in his eyes. Arcturus set down his quill, a bit
weary from it all.

“You have put a great deal of thought into this.” Arcturus finally said after a moment of pause.

“And have you not done the same?” Lancelot posed. Arcturus rolled his hands together trying to
ease some of the thrumming in his joints. His eyes wandered to the small window in the corner
staring out into a small alley and onto another worn down brick building not even an arm’s length
away. London, old typical London, which had housed his family for many years now. One day the
sun would rise on a city without them in it and he would be a fool to himself if he said he hadn’t
agonised on the thought.

“Orion dying, that was the moment it first crossed my mind, at least seriously. It is said a parent
should never bury their child. Yet with Orion’s death we had buried two of the children of our
family. It felt like an omen, a warning that our sins would finally catch us all. Now I sit with only
two of those children alive and only two more sons of theirs to carry-on the name, neither of which
I believe will sire their own children. It seems strange, I can see the end, but to know I will not be
around to watch it fall. There is sadness and comfort in it.” Arcturus answered as let his fidgeting
hands fall tiredly into his lap.

“The penance of old age, you know you begin a task that will never be completed. I have sorrows
that Ignatius will be the one to see the end of us all, but alas, that will be his burden to bear.”
Lancelot said solemnly with an almost absentminded nod of his head. The acceptance of his own
demise so easily. Once Arcturus had feared the end, the unknown of it all, but as more and more of
his family moved from one life to the next, he grew less anxious and more at peace that at least
there may be a chance at redemption somewhere far off from the politics of his life now.

“Particularly, I was trying knitting to be the task I never saw the end of, but it never caught on, so I
still work.” Lancelot said with a gentler twist of his lips as he turned back to catch the Arcturus’s
eye as he let out a dry laugh.

“Letters seemed to be what I face until the end.” Arcturus joked as he waved at the half completed
note to the Minister of France that seemed much less important in hindsight.

“Oh, yes those do never end. Your poor daughter will need her own potions for wearing joints
from holding your burden.” Lancelot said with a more joyous smile as he stood once more.
Arcturus shook his head, his daughter, his darling daughter who would bear every burden for her
family.
“I don’t wish to change the subject so dramatically. However, I have been keeping my ears open to
any murmurs, and I believe I may know where to find Regulus and Sirius.” Lancelot said with a
small sigh as he stood and stretched to his full height. Arcturus turned his eyes up, curiously.

“You recall Aberforth? Well while Dumbledore and I may have agreed on little, his younger
brother is much easier to communicate with. Most notably, he has been asking questions about a
stray unknown wizard and a rather large black dog that has been pestering his goats.” Lancelot
explained. Arcturus took in an exhausted breath.

“They are in Hogsmeade.” Arcturus let the words escape with more worry than he’d intended.
Lancelot replied with only a grimace.

“I truly thought we raised them to be less thick than this.” He finally grumbled as he gripped the
back of his chair and motioned for his cane while trying to support his weight. Lancelot mumbled
something that Arcturus liked to pretend was Welsh, just to easily ignore the protest, though he
was more intelligent than such, and he knew Lancelot had spoken plain English. He couldn’t be
deterred though, both of them knew it. He had to get his boys back.

Harry sat idly in Transfigurations with his chin in his hand. He was a bit tired, he’d spent part of
the night in the Astronomy Tower looking at the stars, though if anyone asked he would say he was
filling in his star chart last minute, instead of the truth which was that he finished it merely
moments after it was assigned. He had snuck off after Hermione and Ron had gotten into a spat
over Crookshanks and Scabbers again. Harry had to give it to the old cat, he was light on feet and
did seem to have it out for Scabbers. The poor old rat had lost even more weight and if Harry was
being honest wasn’t looking all too well.

“I’d send him to Uncle Ignatius, but a part of me is worried he wouldn’t survive the trip. I just want
him to perk up a bit before I try. Charlie sent me more tonic, but his letter wasn’t very hopeful.
Going on about how life ends and pain passes, trying to tell me about an old dragon that the main
handler had since an egg that got sick and eventually passed away in his arms.” Ron was ranting
under his breath in the last few minutes of class.

“How does a dragon die in a person’s arms?” Dean asked as he twisted around to look at a grumpy
Ron. Ron shrugged his shoulders a bit dismissively of Dean, who Harry knew had a keen interest
in the magical world more so than most of the students.

“He was likely holding his head.” Harry chimed in. “Dragons with prolonged exposure to
humankind can grow to be rather fond of their handlers. Granted you can’t forget they are
dangerous animals, but if one was old and sick, the dragon likely sought comfort from someone he
had known most of his life.”

“Er, yeah like Harry said. Charlie has a few dragons he’s raised from eggs, and McKenzie is a bit
of a mad geezer. Spent nearly his whole life in Romania, before that he lived with his family in the
Highlands. My aunt always said he went to the beat of his own drum. Charlie likes him though and
Charlie can be a wee off beat at times too.” Ron said as he eyed over Harry a few times, before
shaking his head. Dean twisted his lips in thought before turning around to talk to Seamus again,
who was going on about a letter from home and the Irish rebellions. He sympathises, but at least it
wasn’t Sirius for once.

“Before you leave, it’s best you all hand in your signed forms for Hogsmeade to me now, don’t
want anyone missing out due to a late form.” McGonagall announced to the class.
Harry paused a moment to let the class clear out before he dared pull out the folded piece of
parchment. Granted hardly anyone would question the signature at the bottom. R.A.B. had little
meaning to anyone else. Harry though drew his finger over the pretty curves of the words and felt
his chest swelling slightly. It had been two weeks of silence from Regulus, never since he had
known him had he been so quiet. Harry tried not to hold a grudge, but it was difficult when all he
wanted was Regulus. No matter whether friends or professors dutifully watched over him, none
could compare. Finally, he pushed off from his stool to be the last student to hand in his paper to
Professor McGongall. When she turned around to face him, a shadow crossed over her face when
she touched the edge of the paper.

“Has your… guardian told you anything about Sirius Black?” McGongall asked with a kindness
and sorrow in his eyes he didn’t usually see. Harry let out a low sigh. He was beginning to regret
telling Regulus to wait until he found Sirius to tell him the full picture. It seemed everyone around
him knew more than him. And about this unspeakable secret hung in the air, but he had the gist of
it. Everyone thought Sirius a mass murderer of ruthless character, when in reality Sirius hated
when he stepped on the flowers in the garden and had to watch them whiter away. He ended up
with a half shrug, half nod as his reply. McGongall adjusted her glasses and pushed back her
shoulders.

“I know he may have different views on Sirius, but there is no doubt the boy is dangerous. With
that taken into consideration, the professors and I, as well as Headmaster Dumbledore have agreed
it best you remain in the castle until the time when he is caught again.” McGonagall stated. Harry’s
mouth dropped open.

“That’s not fair!” He cried out before he could contain himself, collapsing his hand over his mouth
once he heard the echo of his own voice. McGonagall straightened her stiff upper lip, but did not
reprimand him.

“This is not a matter of fairness, Mister Potter, it is a matter of safety, not only for you, but for the
other students and the residents of Hogsmeade as well.” She explained with a stern look that
informed Harry there was no point in arguing.

Instead he stuffed Regulus’ signature back into his bag and turned on his heels. Once out of her
sight, he let out a disgruntled noise before pacing to catch up with his friends. They both raised
their eyebrows, but he stormed right past them and around the corner to his next lesson.

“It’s alright mate.” Ron whispered as he passed a plate towards Harry a few days later when
Halloween finally arrived. Harry passed the plate directly over to Neville without even looking at
its contents. Neville would have splattered it across them all, if not for Ginny reaching out to
balance the end from the other side. She sent Harry a rather disapproving look, but Harry was too
busy fuming to notice. He had sent letters to every single person in the family on the unfairness.
Hedwig had pecked at his hands several times before flying off, only then did he realise how
immature he was being. They had greater issues to bear. Igantius and Lucretia had been the first to
response in a joint letter with some sympathy, but reminding Harry it was best to keep up
appearances. Lancelot had chimed in with barely a notice to his qualms instead attaching a potion
for his health as the seasons weathered on, he had noticed each of the Weasleys receiving one as
well, Fred and George dared Lee to drink them both and he ended up going to the hospital wing
with stomach cramps after.

Marius and Helena had sent him baked sweets and potions ingredients at least to cheer him up, and
Cassioepia sent him fresh pressed jumpers for the winter. Not a word from anyone else. It had only
been a few days, but he hoped to at least get any reply from Arcturus or Regulus. He was trying not
to let it all overwhelm him as best he could yet by all reports he wasn’t doing very well at his
attempts.

With a forceful smile, he saw off Hermione, Ron and his older siblings and the rest of his class. He
was too tense to even offer a reply to Draco when he shouted a cry across the courtyard. Instead, he
wandered back to the common room, where he was greeted by Colin enthusiastically, and to spare
the young boy any harsh words he immediately turned around. He was grumbling under his breath
with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He didn’t realise he nearly stumbled into a person
until he saw the shabby end of a shoe. Jolting to a stop, he barely missed going headlong into
Professor Lupin. His eyes widened as far as they could go. Their scheduled nighttime tea had
gotten cancelled by unforeseen circumstances which had led to even more frustration. Over the
past few weeks, it had seemed Professor Lupin had been avoiding him which hurt more than he
wished to admit.

“Mister Potter, I am surprised to see you inside on such a day.” Professor Lupin said with a
halfhearted smile and his arms tucked neatly behind his back.

“They won’t let go to Hogsmeade.” Harry shrugged. Professor Lupin’s eyes shifted back and forth
a few times before his shoulders collapsed.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Lupin requested. Harry’s head shot up faster than it should have.
Maybe today wouldn’t be so awful after all.

“I’d love tea.” He responded before following in step closely behind Professor Lupin. A warm cup
of tea and some deep conversation could truly lift his spirits. Harry sat dutifully as Professor Lupin
pulled out a pair of tea bags.

“I reckon the tea leaves haven’t been treating you very well.” Professor Lupin quipped as he
poured the hot water into the cups. Harry let out a wry chuckle.

“Divination is not what I had thought it to be. Though I heard the class used to be a bit different
under other professors.” Harry replied as he leaned forward to grab his tea cup. Professor Lupin
pushed it closer for easier reach.

“Had you heard much about Divination prior to Hogwarts?” Professor Lupin asked innocently
enough.

“Oh yes, my grand–” Harry down his tea so quickly he burned not only his tongue, but his lips as
well. Lupin raised an eyebrow, but made no comment as he gently took his own drink in his hands.

“I had heard about the subject.” Harry mumbled as he pressed his fingers into his lips. Lupin tilted
his head to the side weighing his options. Before he could speak the door was opened with a loud
groan and in the doorway was the last professor Harry wanted to see. Professor Snape loomed with
his cape draped menacingly over his shoulders. In his hand was a smoking goblet that made
Harry’s nose wrinkle.

“Ah Professor Snape, Harry and I were just enjoying a good weathered conversation.” Lupin said
with a crack of a grin. Snape looked less than amused as he once over Harry before setting the
goblet down. Harry’s nose perked up once more and then it hit him where the smell came from.
Wolfsbane Potion.

“I’ve told you, you don’t have to brew this potion for me. I could handle it myself.” Lupin said
with a curt nod to the goblet.

“The source of the other potion being unknown has led both me and the Headmaster to an
agreement that it is best I brew it from now on. Given the sensitivity of the situation.” Snape
snapped. Lupin shook his head as he glanced into the unappealing mixture. Harry’s ears burned at
the implication that the potion was unsafe.

Uncle Marius would never hurt anybody. Even his family from whom Harry gathered had treated
Marius worse than Snape treated Neville. Harry couldn’t be convinced there was a bad bone in his
body. Even then, the potions had been sent for years now. It was perfectly safe. Without meaning
to, Harry suddenly realised he was staring with some intensity at the goblet in front of him. Remus
downed the liquid rather quickly despite its bitter taste at Harry’s keen eye. Snape seemed
appeased and with a harsh snap of his cloak was gone as soon as he appeared.

“I apologise for cancelling tea. I have been a bit under the weather. It’s what the potion is for.
Professor Snape kindly chose to make it for me this time, but it still doesn’t taste pleasant.”
Professor Lupin explained. Harry’s head tilted to the side. That couldn’t have been the reason
Remus cancelled tea; it wasn't near enough to a full moon.

“So please, tell me more about your classes.” Remus prompted, both he and Harry wanting to slide
past subjects they rather not speak about, or dare say couldn’t speak about. So for their first
conversation, best keep it light hearted.

“Well, actually despite what you may think, Divination isn’t my least favourite subject. Professor
Snape has made certain Potions class is the worst.” Harry began curling over his cup of tea, happy
for any reason to spend the hours as they passed. Especially if he could spend it with his Uncle
Moony, even if he wasn’t quite Uncle Moony once again.

Regulus wanted nothing more than to scream at his brother. Though his childhood had taught him
screaming hardly accomplished anything. It did seem cathartic given the situation as he stood in
the brisk October cold rubbing his hands together as his brother bounded down the road, stopping
every few seconds to sniff at a new spot.

The Polyjuice Potion was on its final few drops and Sirius was insisting all would be fine. Which
was easier for him to say with his ability to turn into a dog at will and hide his true identity.
Meanwhile Regulus frantically tried to brush up on his disillusionment charms. Granted as he
looked in the cracked mirror of the small room they had found for rent in Hogsmeade, he doubted
anyone could recognize who he had once been. His hair was shorter now, he’d awkwardly cut it a
week ago to an odd length between his chin and shoulders. His jaw had filled in more with age, his
cheeks cutting sharper as the last bit of childish hold had faded when he left his youth behind. The
only stark reminder of his past self sat burned into his arm, but even that had faded and distorted.
He tried to ignore the few thin grey hairs tucked behind his ears. Each day passed and he looked
more like his father. His father had gotten forty nine years of life, Regulus was thirty. He hadn’t
thought he’d reach twenty and yet a decade had come and gone. Still he’d rather be cautious,
particularly with so many keen and suspicious eyes looking for any resemblance to the House of
Black features.

“Padfoot, this is nonsense, we can’t get anywhere close to where we need to. Not with the
dementors and the wards protecting the school.” Regulus muttered as he kicked a bit of loose dirt
at his feet before placing them one in front of another to catch up with his brother. Padfoot turned
and let out two sharp barks that caused Regulus to throw his hands up in defeat.

“Merlin, and you asked why I got a cat.” Regulus muttered as he fell in line aimlessly following
Sirius down the winding dirt path jutting off from the town. The sun was beginning to rise and
warm his face as he turned it upward to help defrost his nose. He had missed Britain, but another
part of him ached for the easier falls and warmer waters of Switzerland. He never thought
anywhere, but London would be home, and yet another change he had not anticipated was upon
him.

“Nice out, innit?” Sirius’ voice cut through as Regulus nearly jumped out of his trousers.
Beside him stood his brother at full height, with his hair longer than it has ever been and his skin
taunting against his cheeks from his refusals to eat because of his agony.

“Are you mad? Turn back this instant.” Regulus said as he tried to block his brother with his own
body. Sirius just pushed him off.

“Bugger off, Reg. There is no one around.” Sirius grumbled. “You try being stuck as a dog most of
the time.”

“Well it was your choice wasn’t it?” Regulus snapped back as he shoved his brother’s hand off
him.

“Bloody hell, at least I’m trying something. If it were up to you, we’d still be at home reading
Arcturus’ bedtime stories while hoping by some miracle Peter gets caught.” Sirius sniffed as he
rolled his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. Regulus could feel his nostrils flare.

“Arcturus would have had a plan. Shit, all we have is wandering from town to town with nothing
but dwindling funds to show for it.” Regulus griped it. Sirius' face warmed with anger. Regulus
should have felt it coming, neither of them had good tempers when pushed.

“Leave Reg, run back home to papa. Maybe he’ll treat you better than Orion.” Sirius replied with
his eyebrows tightly wound together in a thick line. Regulus could feel the pent up frustration and
anger pilling in his chest from the weeks away from home and the constant uncomfortableness of
travelling every few nights without consistent food or showers.

“Fuck you, Sirius.” Regulus said before he could stop himself. His brother’s eyes crashed before
him growing wide and blue. His mouth crinkled at the corners. Then he seemed to realise his
emotional response as he shifted sideways uncomfortably.

“Whatever, Reg. I’ll see you back there.” Sirius mumbled before turning back into Padfoot and
running off towards where the Shrieking Shack laid in the distance. Regulus felt the guilt piling in
his head. Weighing him down as he kicked the dried leaves near him in frustration, they were
getting nowhere and fighting wasn’t going to help them.

Later that night Sirius still hadn’t appeared, so he laid down to rest. Regulus pulled the covers
closer to his chest in a warm cocoon. His brother would just have to do without if he was going to
pull a fit. It felt like when they were young children and one or the other would just come into the
room and take a nap in the other’s bed just to annoy the other. Typically it was Sirius coming into
his room and usually it would end with Regulus curling up next to his brother whenever their
parents inevitably began to scream in the middle of the night. Even proud young Sirius couldn’t
keep up the farce for long, they’d usually wake wrapped up in one another. Until one day their
mother found them when she came to wake them for whatever odd reason. Sirius' arm never did
heal right from the way she twisted it that day. Regulus could recall him rolling his shoulders for
the rest of their childhood trying to get it to click back into place, he always wanted to ask if he
ever got it fixed. He’d ask in the morning, he swore to himself.

The clap of heavy door caused him to bolt up and his hand to reach out in the darkness for his
wand. Instead, he only found another hand gripping his which caused him to half tumble out of bed
and frantically scout away with his feet kicking out. There was a grunt and the sounds of feet
clashing on squeaky wood floors.

“Reg, bloody hell, Reg it’s me. It’s Siri.” Sirius evidently groaned out as Regulus’ eyes adjusted to
the lack of light. His brother looked dishevelled with his one arm supporting his other once again
leaning into the wall. Maybe he never did get it fixed.

“We need to go. We really need to go.” Sirius huffed as he pushed himself off the wall tumbling
about in the darkness. Regulus pushed himself up and towards the small collection of wardrobe and
personal effects they had between the two. Sirius was already pulling the robes and other clothes
that hung on the back off the bare thin chair and throwing them in his direction.

“Sirius.” Regulus hissed in his lowest voice as a pair of trousers struck his face. Sirius didn’t pause
his path of chaos.

“Sirius, what did you do?” Regulus growled louder as he snapped the bag shut and slung it over his
shoulder.

“Why do you always assume I did something?” Sirius snipped as he tossed around the room to
assure they left nothing behind. Regulus grumbled as he tapped his wand twice to set the bed right.

“Because we're running away in the middle of the night, it typically only happens if you’ve done
something.” Regulus snipped back as he pulled their last few coins out and set them on the side
table, hoping it would cover the fee and any inconveniences. Regulus didn’t need to see his brother
to feel him roll his eyes as he pulled open the door and poked his head out to look side to side. The
floor only had two rooms and they were the only occupants. He wasn’t certain what Sirius
expected to find, but before his foot even hit the hall, he had already shrunk down to Padfoot. A
small limp in his large paws as he went to the narrow creaky staircase and took the steps two at a
time. Regulus tapped his wand once more to close the curtains and right the room back to how they
had received it before clicking the lock shut and following his brother out to the cold dirt streets.

“Padfoot, wait.” Regulus whispered, but Sirius was trotting along at a decent speed even given his
injury. Regulus popped open the Polyjuice Potion vial, only to find not a single drop left. He felt a
panic rise in his chest as he watched Sirius disappear into the treeline ahead while he bent down
and called every vial in the bag. They were all empty.

“Shite.” Regulus grumbled as he pulled the hood tight over his head, clasping it at his neck. There
wasn’t a soul around at the early hour, but the moon was coming out from behind a cloud to cast a
ray of light too bright for him. Sticking close to the sides of the buildings he tried to follow the
pawprints left behind. Once he broke through the tree line, he swore he heard noises following
them. After only a moment, he stumbled on a root and tripped with his foot landing squarely on a
paw, and sharp bark followed as he met the glowing eyes.

“I told you to wait. I don’t have any Polyjuice left.” Regulus hissed, but he swore his brother tried
to shush him as a dog as he dragged him by the ends of his robes behind a rather large fir tree.

A moment later lights and noise started to fill up the town. People came out in night robes and they
whispered and talked to one another. Regulus strained his ears to hear what they were saying as
Padfoot clenched his teeth even tighter on Regulus’ robes.

“Black, up at the school.” One said with his wand raised high.

“The bloody dementors will be here soon. Best get a hot chocolate going.” Another grumbled.

“Has to be the maddest Black of them all to dare sneak into Hogwarts.” A high pitched voice
 followed. Regulus felt his pupils go wide.

“You went to Hogwarts?” He accused the wide eyed dog, who was still yanking.

“You're absolutely mad, Siri. How are we going to get out of this? Everyone will be looking for a
stranger in the town. They saw my face.” Regulus hissed as he pulled at his robes. Suddenly, a
group of people appeared as if out of nowhere and caught the attention of the entire town. Regulus
ducked as far down, while still being able to see through a few broken limbs. It was a few of the
Professors who had descended on the town.

“Fuck.” Regulus muttered as he watched Padfoot lay down in the dirt and bury his face in between
his paws.

Regulus watched as the Professors broke off from the centre and began using their wands to light
their way to different homes and businesses. One drew close to the place they had been staying as
Regulus squinted his eyes trying to make out the wry form. The unknown Professor stopped short
of the entrance and instead turned his head towards the side, taking a few steps before he bent
down and picked a bit of dirt in between his hands. Regulus angled his neck uncomfortable to see
what had caught his eyes, and when he did he felt his heart sink. Paw prints, stuck in the mud.
There was a long pause with the professor's hand suspended just above the damp earth. The
clicking sound of someone else's approach caught both their attention. There was a heavy pause
before he saw the professor rushedly brush at the dirt distorting the closest of the paw prints before
stretching to full thin height.

“Professor Lupin.” A low familiar voice caught in the wind. Snape, Severus Snape, was a person
Regulus could go without hearing from ever again.

“Old Bertie sometimes rents the spare rooms here.” Remus said with a nod towards the rickety
building. “Though I doubt Black would be bold enough to walk through the doors.”

Snape huffed as Regulus could feel his glare into Remus. Regulus wasn’t certain what they should
do. They were trapped in the trees with the townspeople circling closer and closer with each
passing moment.

“Trying to distract from the hunt with such ludicrous ideas, Lupin. I’m onto you yet, I’ve told
Albus not to trust you. We all know your… inclinations to Black. I don't doubt where your loyalties
lie.” Snape grovelled as he pushed his shoulders back before turning on heel. Remus kept his chin
up until Snape was but a fit in the distance. Then he let a large sigh heave from his chest as he
looked dejectedly back towards the paw prints.

Padfoot let out a small whine and Regulus waved his hand behind him to shush him. Until he felt a
small tug on his robes, and snapped his neck around to chew out his brother once more. After all it
was his fault they were trapped. Only when he turned around he wasn’t facing the wide fur lined
eyes, no these eyes were lined with years of life and distinctly human.

“Gotten into a pinch of trouble?” Arcturus asked as his hand went to Regulus’ shoulder. It took all
he could to swallow at that moment before, in all defeated senses, Regulus nodded.

Chapter End Notes

Hello out there if anyone remains! Sorry for the long delay I decided to take a break
for both my mental and physical health and it was most definitely beneficial. I am for
the time being feeling much better, and getting back into my routine that involves lots
of writing hopefully! Please enjoy and I will be swimming through all the lovely
comments left over the past few weeks shortly! Thank you and be well! I know the
world is always crazy and send all the thoughts to everyone struggling right now! <3
 One More Night
Chapter Notes

CW: emetophobia, bullying

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry lay awake staring at the cloudy sky that occasionally allowed a sparkled star through. How
cosmic it was, there in the skies and down on the ground were the stars and for once Harry couldn’t
interpret any of them. Sirius… Sirius… could it have really been Sirius? Who else would it have
been?

With a huff he tossed to his side again, the glow of the occasional ghost came into view over the
rows of children as they whispered amongst one another in rushed words. The prefects paced
tiredly up and down, stifling yawn after yawn, all except Percy, who’s Head Boy badge shone as if
wrapped in a spell through the darkness. He appeared to be thriving off the adrenaline of it all.
Hushing students every few steps with his thin chin held high and his arms tightly wound behind
his back as he paced in second hand oxford shoes. Harry could hear the sharp rapt that the worn
heel made on the rounds of the long hall. Only able to be halted by the sounds of the wide doors
creaking slowly open.

“Headmaster.” Percy called excitedly as he stood on his toes letting the heel smack down twice in
a row as Professor Dumbledore approached. Harry let his eyes flutter close in the appearance of
sleep. It had to be well past midnight at this point.

“The grounds have nearly been cleared.” The Headmaster spoke as they paused only a few sleeping
children away from Harry.

“All is well here. Have we any idea where he entered, sir?” Percy asked in a hushed voice.
Dumbledore reply was cut into as the doors peeled away from their hinges once more to the sound
of sharp steps that Harry recognized quite unfortunately. Snape had entered the hall, not at all
pleased from the sounds of his cape whipping around him quickly.

“The grounds have been cleared as well as all the towers. I even checked down at Hogsmeade to no
avail. We will question the rest of the residents in the morning, but the dementors had already
entered the forest. If Black had been nearby, he would have run at the sight of them.” Snape
reported in a gruff tired tone. Harry strained his ears to pick up each infliction, tone carried a
person farther than words he had been taught.

“Have you any time to ponder how Black would enter the castle?” Snape asked in a tone that
implied he had his own ideas he believed strongly in.

“I had just asked that.” Percy chimed in to a cutting sigh escaping Snape only seconds later.

“Yes, Mister Weasley, you had. Severus, each idea I have is as improbable as the first. It will take
time and even then we may never know. This castle has more secrets than one lifetime could
expose.” Dumbledore replied in a nearly whimsical, yet strong tone. Snape cleared his throat twice.

“I had a rather peculiar interaction down in Hogsmeade, it had made me wonder if you considered
my concerns I expressed at the start of term.” Snape’s voices lowered as Harry could nearly feel
his glare radiating off of him like a bad heat source.

“My answer remains the same, Severus. I have the utmost trust and respect for all my faculty.
Now, we should let the students rest. There is no fuel for the body that can undo the worst of
slumber. Black will be caught one day, but it is not tonight.” Dumbledore replied in a tone that was
final and lacking all the whimsy of before as the shuffling of feet slipped away from Harry.

His stomach sunk into his feet. Uncle Moony, Severus suspected his Uncle Moony had let Sirius
into the castle. Uncle Moony didn’t even know Sirius from his fellow Professors at the moment.
The years had slipped away from them and they had been apart longer than they had been together
now, and while Harry knew a thing or two about loyalty even he suspected it had limits. No, if
Sirius had help getting into the castle, Harry could think of only one person to help him. A person
who would be the last on many people’s minds. Besides, who suspects a ghost?

The next few days were a blurred mess of glances, whispers, and the constant companionship of a
professor or prefect by his side at each time. The hours passed slowly during the day, but seemed
to slip away each night as he stared at the ceiling occasionally listening to the lowly scratching of a
frantic Scabbers. Since Halloween, the rat had been inconsolable and Harry would hate for it to
pass in the night with only him awake to deal with the affair. He hadn’t had a pet growing up
besides the gnomes in the garden who were more menace. Did he wrap a rat in a sheet to wait for
Ron to wake up? He didn’t know, thankfully Scabbers seemed to be clinging to life. Even from
time to time stopping not far from Harry’s bed. Harry swore the tired yellow eyes would stare
directly at him. It left an uneasy feeling coated on his skin that caused him to push the covers off
even with the cold weather beating on the window outside their tower.

“The Quidditch game’s been switched around.” Oliver proclaimed loudly over the Gryffindor
Table one morning. Harry was nearly asleep over his porridge when he was rudely shaken awake
by Fred with a look of concern.

“What for?” George asked before he took a large bit of an apple and chewed loudly much to
everyone’s dismay.

“Flint says they got an extension on account of their player being injured.” Oliver continued as he
pulled out a wide book with papers folded on all corners and other notes sticking out from all sides.

“Bollocks.” Angelia said as she and Katie shared an eyeroll.

“I can’t be bothered with semantics. We have to switch the entire game we had planned to play
against Slytherin, a distinctly offensive team, but now we're playing Hufflepuff and they have a
brand new captain with plenty to prove. I’ve never trusted Diggory, feel like the charm is a
disguise and he’s really a Quidditch mastermind behind those perfect teeth. Harry, he’s their
seeker, I can’t lie he may have more force behind him, but you are quick. Maybe even quicker than
Charlie Weasley, no definitely quicker than him. No shame to Charlie, actually could you write to
him and see if he could explain his Wronski Feint. He had one that could fool even the greatest of
them, dragons can wait for one letter surely? Anyways, Angelia I need you to practise a spiral dive
to see if we can get past their Keeper, he’s a broad fellow, but he hugs the upper corners.” Oliver
continued on his rant with little regard for anyone’s input.

Harry had no intention of writing to Charlie Weasley. One because he was nearly certain dragons
did come before letters for Charlie and two, he had a more personal connection with someone who
had nearly perfected the Wronski Feint. If only he could assure that Regulus would respond, he
thought with a heavy sigh. In perfect timing, the owls broke through the air overhead. Harry didn’t
even look up for Hedwig until the letter dropped onto his head.
“You did that on purpose.” Harry grumbled as Hedwig tilted her head at him several times before
taking a slab of bacon in her beak and flying off without another look. Harry tucked the letter
away, certain it was from Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia, or maybe from Aunt Helena to remind
him to stay in a bundle to avoid the flu.

It hadn’t occurred to him to look at it any sooner, but when Oliver came barrelling down the
hallway and Harry had for once in his life had enough talk about Quidditch he waved the letter and
motioned vaguely towards a half empty hallway. Only then did he notice the familiar script on the
front. His heart nearly jumped out his chest as he ducked into a classroom with all the chairs
pushed to the sides.

Dear Harry,

Mon Bebe, I apologise for the lack of communication over the past few weeks. It was unfair to
you. I found Sirius, I should have told you as soon as I did. It’s a severely complicated matter we’re
trying to resolve before you return. We’re both reverted back to home safely, well what we
consider home temporarily. For our safety, I leave the location undisclosed at this time. Just know
we are safe and reunited with everyone. I wish to tell you everything Harry, but it isn't the type of
matter one puts on paper. I have to own up to my portion of this mess in person with you, and plead
you can forgive us. We are but flawed people and we’ve tried to make the best decisions raising
you, and I know we’ve made many mistakes, but hopefully as you reflect back on these times, our
good will outweigh our poor. Please take care Harry, watch over yourself. I know you’ll have
many questions about Sirius entering Hogwarts, we will address them the moment we can. For
now, I know he will not be attempting it again. Enough of my spouting, tell me about yourself and
I swear to respond. How are classes? Arcturus speaks of you not enjoying Divinations. I myself
found Ancient Runes to be much more invigorating, though it is a challenge. Ignatius also spoke of
you not being able to attend the Hogsmeade weekend? Did you lose the slip? Is Professor
McGongall able and willing to send another? I’d sign it in an instant, Hogsmeade truly is a treat. I
could send Galleons for Honeydukes, or the Quidditch store, both of which were always a guilty
pleasure of mine. Take care of your health, both Lancelot and Helena told me to stress the matter.
Write soon, my sweet boy, I hope you will forgive me.

With all my love and promises,

R.A.B

Harry hadn’t known the tears were in his eyes until a single one dropped on the letter and blurred a
bit of the ink. Harry sniffed loudly and used his wand to dry the paper. How badly he had wanted
to hold Regulus’ words in his hands again. It had been such long weeks and he was so very tired.
He couldn’t quite put into words the caring comfort he felt from such a simple letter. A few
moments could be spared as he scribbled out a response filled with more questions than sentences.
His mind was racing with innumerable thoughts the second one question struck his head another
would push it out. The letter was a mess of nonsense, but it was true and filled with affection. Only
it took much longer than Harry had anticipated and when he file craned his neck upward, it was
nearly ten minutes after the hour and he should have been sitting in his Defence Against the Dark
Arts class.

Rushing as fast as his feet could take him, the empty halls rebounded with his heavy steps. He took
the last turn too quickly and nearly jabbed his shoulder in an old Knights shiny armor. Letting out a
few choice words he had learned from his family muttered under breath, he pushed open the door
with a bang.

“Professor Lupin—” Harry began before he jerked to a rough stop. Glaring at him from the side of
Professor Lupin’s desk with his signature dark cape and matching dark eyes was Professor Snape.
“Mister Potter, I see you proudly pounce around with complete disregard for anyone’s schedule but
your own.” Snape said as he crossed his arms. Harry felt his eyes twitch.

“Where is Professor Lupin?” Harry let his tongue lash more than he should have.

“Ten points from Gryfinndor for tardiness and another five for your tone.” Snape said as he
snapped his cape around him. “If you had been on time, Potter. You could have heard that
Professor Lupin is out ill today.”

Harry was half-tempted to let a sly mark slip his lips against but the glare from Hermione forced
him into his sit next to an peeved Ron. In fact, one glance around the classroom could show a
disgruntled look on every face. Of all the teachers, why did it have to be Snape.

“Turn to page 394.” Snape said from deep in his throat as everyone began to lazily flip towards the
end of their books. Only a few seconds passed before there was a loud whoosh and everyone’s
book slammed to the correct pages from the swish of Professor’s Snape’s wand.

“Sir we aren’t meant to start werewolves until after the holidays.” Hermione wiggled
uncomfortably in her seat.

“Miss Granger, last I checked you hadn’t a Professor in your title. Professor Lupin has left little
instruction and forced my hand to make my own lessons on top of my usual workload.” Snape said
with a look down his nose that caused Hermione to flush.

“Oi Professor Lupin is one of the best Professors we’ve had, he even said we’d be covering hinky-
punks!” Dean shouted from the back of the classroom.

“10 points from both outbursts, now who wishes to be correct and tell me the difference between a
werewolf and a regular wolf.” Snape barked as he snapped his heels together and menacingly cast
his gaze over the classroom. Harry caught his stare and did not break it for several seconds. He
knew the answer, but he wouldn’t give Snape the satisfaction. In fact no one but Hermione had
their hands raised, and very few even had their eyes forward as they tucked their red cheeks away
from the dark glare.

“Sir, please a werewolf is a human infected with the lycanthropy disease, usually caused by the
bite of another werewolf, whereas wolves are mammals born from other mammals.” Hermione
replied after Snape purposely stepped out of her way.

“Miss Granger one more word out of line and you will find yourself in detention.” Snape replied
with his eyes turned away from her. Hermione’s eyes went wet with tears as she tucked her chin
into her chest, Neville who was sitting next to her offered his hand in comfort, and Hermione took
it gently as she sniffled.

“You asked for an answer and she gave one, that’s what you wanted innit?” Ron shouted even
louder at Snape with his hands crossed angrily. Harry could see the pure joy in Snape’s face as the
first words left Ron’s mouth. Regulus and Sirius were right, he really did take pleasure from the
worst things.

“Detention Weasley. You can join Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing tonight, I’m certain she’ll
have plenty of bedpans for you to clean.” Snape said as he had to suppress a grin.

“Now I want two rolls of parchment on the nuisance of werewolves, and how to effectively put one
down by Monday handed into Professor Lupin. And before any of you go quoting dear old
Professor Prewett, known that his methods of handling werewolves are considered mediaeval and
out of date, much like him and his family. Dismissed.” Snape said as he turned his back on them
and exited out the door at the front of the classroom without a word.

“Because Professor Prewett believes werewolves should be treated as humans and given access to
the known treatment and allowed a safe place to transform he’s considered out of date?” Dean
huffed behind him.

“Someone should leave a firework in Snape’s seat and see how mediaeval he thinks that is.”
Seamus sputtered.

Harry sat for a moment after Ron passed to check on Hermione as Lavender had given her a
handkerchief from the tears that had come. Once he could, he whipped out his letter and added one
more section to the end. It may do him no good, but he had to tell someone who knew and agreed
that Severus was awful. Thankfully, he had just the person.

“We are thirty year old men. We shouldn’t have to—”

“Sirius please.” Regulus cut off his brother as he crossed his arms over his chest. They sat in the
small kitchen of a flat over the lower side of London. The noises of the Muggles waking with the
occasional cat scampering over bins or the slam of a door. Regulus found the sounds of the city
vaguely familiar from childhood and not wonderfully tempting to return to. He wanted the waves
of the ocean lapping on shore or the slight buzz of the insects outside.

“I need you to explain this one more time.” Arcturus said with his hand spread out on the table in
front of him and the other rubbing his temple. Lancelot say next to him with an annoyed furrow to
his brow as he eyed Arcturus every few moments. Regulus could understand, Arcturus had lost a
lot of colour to his face and his skin was taut to his cheeks more than usual. Regulus felt poorly
now that they had forced him out of bed.

“It isn’t difficult, we need to get into Hogwarts to hunt down this bastard rat and kill him.” Sirius
said with his face growing flush. Regulus could see his brother’s hand tightly gripping his knees
under the table. Half of him wanted to knock his feet into Sirius’ ankle, but he knew that would
only make him angrier.

“Now, Sirius let’s not be rash.” Arcturus said in a calm voice with his hand outstretched, but
calmness only peeved off Sirius more.

“No!” Sirius said forcing himself up causing his chair to clatter. “No, you don’t get to lecture me
on rashness. You can’t criticise me for wanting to kill a man. Not when all of us in this room have
done so. He was my friend! He was their friend! I deserve this justice in their name.”

Regulus inhaled and put his head down. He could feel heat radiating off of Sirius and he could feel
the little bit of energy left in Arcturus rising in him as he loudly screeched the chair he sat in back
and stood with both hands heavily supporting him. A stare off was occurring and Regulus didn’t
wish to be a part of it.

“I am not saying you do not deserve your vengeance. I of all people understand the need for
closure. I am not denying that, I am denying the way you’ve gone about it. Breaking into a nearly
impenetrable school surrounded by dementors as an escaped prisoner of Azkaban. Do you not
understand the risk? They could have taken your soul! I risked my life for you, I risked this family
for you and to be so ungrateful for that sacrifice, so nonchalant with your existence!” Arcturus said
back with his chest puffing with effort.
“I don’t care about my existence! I never have, if it could have been me I would have always
chosen me. I didn’t ask to be saved, you chose to do it likely for the sake of your own name and the
hope it continues!” Sirius shot back.

“I don’t care about my name! Let our name burn. I care about you Sirius!” Arcturus yelled back
with his eyes shot. Sirius paused with his mouth half open and his handing wavering in front of
him. At a loss for words, Regulus realised. After all these years Sirius still believed none of them
cared for him.

“I—” Sirius began but the fluster in his face took over and his eyes wavered side to side.

“I care for you, Sirius. You are my grandson, and maybe I never said it before and that is my fault
alone, but you are more than just your name. If I had to choose, I would always choose you or your
brother or any other member of this family over our name.” Arcturus said with the colour fading
from his chest and his arms wobbling slightly on the table. The room lapsed into nothing but the
noise of the Muggle cars screeching to a halt outside the vibrating window.

“I’d also like to add that I only killed men during war or out of mercy.” Lancelot added in his usual
dry tone. There was a break in the air after that which forced Sirius back into his seat, though not
completely appeased. Lancelot put his hands on Arcturus’ elbow and gently pulled him down.
Thankfully for them all, the door to the flat slammed against the wall just then.

“The two of you! You’ve made us worried sick.” Lucretia cried out as she put her hands on both of
them and looked them over.

“Are you alright? Have you eaten?” Ignatius asked as he knelt down slowly between them.

“Merlin, we’re not Harry. We’re grown men.” Sirius grumbled.

“We ran out of money and Polyjuice Potion.” Regulus grumbled back. Sirius glared over his
shoulder at him.

“I hadn’t thought Peter would be so slippery.” Sirius huffed.

“No, he must know we’re onto him. I went to the school and he has slipped away from Ron.”
Ignatius commented.

“You tried to catch him?” Sirius asked. Ignatius appeared baffled.

“There has been a mass murderer living with niece’s family for years, which by the way should
have been brought up quite a good amount of time ago.” Ignatius replied.

“I hadn’t known he was with them.” Sirius sighed. Ignatius sighed.

“I should have known better. A common rat does not live that long, but no matter, did anyone see
you?” Ignatius asked as Lucretia popped up to check in her father.

“No, just the portraits. I may have lost my temper and sliced the Gryffindor portrait into pieces.”
Sirius said as he rolled his lips together.

“The singing lady? Sliced her to pieces? Sirius.” Lucretia let out a huff though there was a small
smile behind her disapproving glance.

“She wouldn’t let me in. I hadn't thought to get the password. I was actually hoping to find a tool,
but it didn’t work as I had hoped.” Sirius said with his eyes shifting, he was hiding something.
Regulus could tell, but everyone else was too worried over him, except Arcturus. Arcturus was
looking with raised eyebrows.

“You're too rash, Sirius.” Lucretia said as she waved a wand to the kettle.

“Would anyone have known where you were staying?” Arcturus asked with his head resting back
in his hand.

“I was a dog nearly the entire time, and Regulus was under Polyjuice. People may be suspicious of
our exit, but we hardly saw anyone in any town minus the owner of the room.” Sirius said with a
shake of his head. Regulus felt the boil in his chest as he let out a cough.

“Remus may know.” He hardly said above a whisper. Sirius’ eyes dilated as he turned to face him.
Regulus felt the pit in his stomach as Sirius pleaded with his eyes not to say anymore.

“Remus… Lupin.” Ignatius said as he backed up nervous, glancing at Arcturus.

“Will he expose your secret?” Arcturus asked. Regulus turned his head back and forth between the
two men. Sirius swallowed with his face going warm.

“He hid the paw prints.” Regulus whispered again. Sirius snapped his head towards Regulus. In the
chaos, he hadn’t a chance to mention it.

“Awfully kind for an old schoolmate. Mine certainly wouldn’t have.” Arcturus said with a pointed
glance.

“Most of your schoolmates are dead, papa.” Lucretia cut in with a glassy look in her eyes. Clearly,
the two of them had pieced together what had happened between Remus and Sirius at some point
and everyone was dancing around the issue with Arcturus. Arcturus let a small grin cross his face.

“No need to dance around the subject, you were clearly in a romantic relationship of some kind
with this young man, now move along to the more important parts of the tale.” Arcturus said,
turning several eyes. Sirius was openly gapping.

“Excuse me, do you think you are first of this preference? It’s a pity my siblings never lived to see
the lights of you, oh they never would have let me live it down. So no, not the first, though
potentially the last, unless Harry is showing any preferences.” Arcturus said with a simple shrug.

“Wait, is he? Should I have talked to him about this? He is a teenager after all, I hadn’t thought–”
Regulus said with his head suddenly spinning.

“May not be the most pressing matter on his mind. Possibly after he knows his godfather didn’t try
to murder his friends, he may have time to piece together who he fancies.” Ignatius chimed in with
a nod of his head.

“Oh, Harry.” Sirius said with his eyes bulging.

“Yes, Harry.” Regulus said sharply. On perfect cue that Regulus thought Hedwig had purposefully
planned, she landed on the ledge outside and began pecking on the window.

“Harry.” Regulus breathed out as he rushed to the door to let the snowy white owl in. There was a
hastily tied letter to her leg. Regulus had only written to Harry the day before when they had first
arrived at the flat and in all their tiredness, Regulus finished the letter and sent it out before
immediately falling asleep for most of the rest of the day. He was surprised he’d gotten a reply
soon. He took the seal and broke it without really looking. Glancing over the words quickly he
broke into a smile, until he got to the last few words.

“Fuck Severus.” Regulus said forcefully.

“You finally agree?” Sirius said with a cheeky grin.

“I never liked Severus, mind you.” Regulus pointed out.

“Severus, Eileen Prince’s son. Never would have thought he’d make much of himself. What has he
done?” Arcturus asked.

“Likely bullied a student, threatened to kill their toad again.” Ignatius said with a wrinkled nose.
Regulus glanced over the words once more. Maybe Sirius should have paid Severus a visit and
given him a right scare, except Regulus knew better despite his criticism of the man, he was an
efficient and cruel soldier. One of the best of the Death Eaters with his tantalising affection to the
harshest of spells. Orion would have loved him as a son had he not been half-muggle.

“None the matter, we need to focus on Peter, Severus can wait, he can only hide behind
Dumbledore for so long. I know who he is, and we have our time with him. What is the plan for
Peter?” Regulus asked the gallery as eyes all stared back at him.

“I hate to say it little brother, but you’re the runaway Death Eater, where would you go?” Sirius
asked with a shy expression for once in his life. Likely not intending to be mean with his words.
Regulus swallowed his pride for a moment as his eyes stung.

“I went home. When it all went to shite, I went home.” Regulus answered through clenched teeth.

Remus laid curled up in a corner. His heart was racing faster than normal. Even with the potion,
when his emotions were high the transformation was worse and as he aged, his body handled less
and less. The way his joints all ripped out of sockets and his muscles flared on fire. Too much, it
was all too much.

Sirius.

Sirius.

The name had pulsed through him like a bitter root. Adding a benign tumour of pain to his already
electrified body. Sirius had been in the castle. Sirius had been near Harry. Sirius had been only
down the hall from him. Yet not a word, not a peep from him. Did he truly want one? What could
he say?

‘I am sorry I turned into exactly what the parents I hated wanted. Sorry for betraying the best of
our friends, the brightest of us all. Sorry for leaving you alone to the miseries of this world when I
had promised I would never.’

No, Remus decided as he let his head hit the stone walls around him and his burning knees dropped
to the side on the cold floors. He was going to be sick again, the bucket still propped up next to
him. Whether from the rough transformation where even under the Wolfsbane Potion he could feel
the wolf growl and the howl itched in his throat. He had licked his wounds and hobbled into a
corner to stare at the cloudy sky that hid his worst enemy just from his sight. At least, it had been
his worst enemy for so many years. It should be Sirius, Sirius should be unspeakable in his mind.
Yet his heart ached and pulsed with each mention of his name still, the harsh childish type of love
that beckons to be quelled and yet never can. Was it his father’s abandonment or his mother’s
 death he was trying to appease? He couldn’t tell as the nausea washed over him once more and he
found himself with wood splinters pushing into his temples.

One night of pity. One more night and he would move on. No more wiping away tracks of what
could have been pawprints. No more tossing hearts at the name of the stars above. One more night
of folly before he pushed it behind himself even in the old halls that had once been home. One last
time, he said it time and time again. Years over and over again. One more time.

Chapter End Notes

I am here and I am alive and I am battling the mental illness one day at a time to try
and get back to the things that bring me join such as my fics. Thank you for your
understanding and always being kind with your comments. Please enjoy and known I
will be back as soon as I can with the next update!
 Messrs.
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of Injury; Recollections of a Death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

It was Quidditch day. Harry had risen early to find Crookshanks scratching at the door. Scabbers
had returned from his hiding for the night and was curled under Ron’s covers. Harry picked up the
large orange cat and carried him down to the Common Room with him to sit by a warm fire.
Crookshanks curled up at his feet with a content purr, much like he had known Harry all his life.
Harry gave him a few more pets before he pulled out his quill and parchment. Since his first letter,
Regulus has kept his promise and has been writing nearly every day. Harry wanted to finish the
letter he began late last night and send it out before the match. Though as the wind howled and
splattered the windows of Gryffindor Tower with large raindrops, he considered Hedwig may be
unable to make the journey.

“Bloody cat.” Ron yawned when he came down only an hour later as a few other students had
stumbled towards The Great Hall looking rather tired on the grey morning.

“He seems to like me.” Harry shrugged. Ron sputtered a few times before giving Crookshanks a
glare.

“Don’t you have one at home? It’s like a beacon, they know who is susceptible to their magic.”
Ron said with a wrinkled nose. Harry gave Crookshanks another scratch behind his ears before
standing to join Ron to the Great Hall. The sky above was pitch black and rumbling with thunder
as the large picture windows dripped with the rain pouring around outside.

“I don’t like this one bit.” Oliver said as he picked nervously at his nails. Harry was sitting at the
end chewing on his toast, only half paying attention. The rain would be annoying, but there was
nothing to be done about it. He was mentally reminding himself of warming charms to at least keep
any hypothermia at bay. He could already hear the lecture if he wound up in the hospital bed sick
from flying in the rain.

Only once outside did he realise how grim their prospects were. He could hardly see in front of him
as he wiped off his glasses to cast the spell to make them repel water. Warming charms would be
useless in this poor weather. As the team descended on the pitch, he watched as Oliver’s shoulders
raised higher and higher. Even in the rain there were full stands with repelling charms and
umbrellas which blocked Harry from seeing much of the crowd. Oliver could barely get two words
out, Fred and George cracked their jokes while Angelina gave a few last minute pointers even
putting her hand on Harry’s shoulder to provide a reassuring squeeze. Now, he could feel the
pressure mounting. How could he find a Snitch in this weather when he could barely send the end
of his broomstick.

At least an hour if not longer later, Harry was ready to surrender whatever was needed to. Even
after Oliver’s break Harry was heavily soaked down to his socks and shivering against his better
devices. The tips of his fingers had turned blue making him contemplate if he would have to grab
the Snitch with his mouth once again. Zooming out of the way of a rogue player once more, he
didn’t believe he could last much longer without injury, his reflexes were wearing down to the
environment. The wind whistled in his ear so loudly every other noise came seconds later. It’s why
Cedric got such a large lead, he didn’t hear Oliver screaming his face red until too late. He’d never
make it he thought as he pushed forward anyways pushing his Nimbus to the limits of her speed. A
gust of wind threw Cedric back and caused him to have to pull back giving Harry a chance as he
leaned close to his broom to try and disperse the wind over him. The Snitch was just ahead, he
could nearly feel the slippery metal in his palms.

Until the breath was knocked out of him as every noise cut sharply away from him as if his ears
ceased to work and the pitch went even darker than it had already been. He couldn’t see his hands
wrapped around his broom and it felt as if he was tumbling off in the wind. His eyes barely able to
focus until he saw the dementors cloaked existence swarming the field in mass. Harry couldn’t
breathe.

“Not Harry! Please, take me! Not my son!” Screeched in the perfect silence and Harry felt his
hands slip away from his broom and the freefall began as his legs twisted in front of him.

“Not my son! I will do whatever you ask of me! Please, let Harry live!” The woman’s voice mixed
with high pitched sobs now.

“Foolish girl, I have given you your chance! AVADA–”

Harry jolted awake before the curse could finish only to feel several people jump around him. The
darkness had been replaced with clinical brightness as the blurred images of people loomed over
him. Harry grabbed at his side.

“Oh, Harry here.” He heard a much more familiar feminine voice as he felt his glasses put into
place. Hermione came into view with her normally full hair frizzled into limp pieces from the rain.

“Gave us a right scare, mate.” Fred said from where he and George were just over her shoulder and
as he looked around the entire Quidditch team was present with Ron and Hermione on each side of
his bed.

“What– the game? Did I fall catching the Snitch?” Harry asked, his recollection suddenly fuzzy
besides the sound of the heartbroken voice. The group all shared a collective glance.

“Diggory caught the Snitch, mate.” Fred began.

“Not that he could see you with the rain, you sort of just froze.” George added.

“Yeah, then we all saw the dementors just as Diggory got a hand on the Snitch.” Fred continued.

“They went right for you, mate. You sort of disconnected from your broom, and well now you’re
here.” Ron finished for his older brothers.

“Madam Pomfrey says you’ll be fine, she just wants you to rest a few days.” Hermione added
quickly. Harry pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes and when he looked again he noticed someone
missing.

“Where’s Oliver? Is he alright?” Harry asked. Fred and George both snorted.

“Shite, I told you two to make sure he doesn’t drown himself in the showers.” Katie exclaimed as
she flung her arm across the bed towards the twins.

“Ah, don’t get yourself in a twist. Percy went to check on him.” Fred said with a shrug. George
nodded in agreement as everyone gave a twist of their lips at the odd pairing, but they all shook it
off relatively quickly.

“Harry, one more thing…” Hermione began with her eyes blinking quickly. Ron also shifted
uncomfortably, but Hermione's lips didn't move again and he sighed then opened his mouth.

“Professor Flitwick tried to redeem as much as we could…” He trailed off as he nodded towards a
bag on the floor with pieces of thick wood snapped in several pieces sticking out. His Nimbus was
destroyed. Harry leaned back defeatedly and before long Madam Pomfrey shooed everyone away
from his bedside as they all left a few sweets or notes to keep him company. One final glimpse of
his dismantled broom and he leaned back on the pillow and let himself drift to sleep trying to keep
the faint sounds of screaming at bay.

When he opened his eyes again night had fallen, and yet he wasn’t alone. Sitting next to him
flipping through the pages of a book was an overwhelmingly welcome face. Harry pushed himself
up through the pained muscle aches.

“Grandfather.” Harry hissed through gritted teeth as Arcturus snapped his book closed.

“Harry, lay still. I’ve seen the likes of this hospital wing a bit too much for my enjoyment. Sh, lie
down you can still speak lying down.” Arcturus said as he moved a bit slower than before. Harry
didn’t mind, he just wanted to reach out and touch him again as he swung his hand over the edge of
the bed and Arcturus caught it in both of his hands and gave it a warm squeeze.

“Grandfather, the dementors, and my game, I hadn’t meant to fall. Oh and my broom, I’m so sorry,
it’s in pieces now.” Harry said, shaking his head as Arcturus shushed him gently.

“Do not fret, possessions can be replaced, you cannot. I have already spoken to Albus, and for once
he and I agree the dementors pose more threat than help, however, there is only so much he can do
when the public is in such a frenzy. I will write to my connections in the Ministry, however these
are unprecedented times and I believe even I will not have enough pull to remove them, no less
considering my conflict of interest in the matter. What we can do is try to keep you safe, Harry,
how are you feeling after? Any lingering effects? I have been sent with an arsenal of chocolates
and potions, none of which Madam Pomfrey was too pleased to accept considering this is her wing,
but alas she left them for you there.” Arcturus explained as he nodded towards a new addition of
his pile.

“I heard things, Grandfather.” Harry said, turning his head back around to face him. Arcturus raised
an eyebrow in question.

“I heard some screaming, begging for me. I– I think it was my mother. I think I heard her last
moments.” Harry said, stammering. Arcturus’ face grew rather grim as he squeezed Harry’s hand
once more.

“She was pleading for your life?” He asked gently. Harry could only nod as the tears welled in his
eyes. Arcturus broke off one of his hands to brush away a stray tear on Harry's cheek.

“She was your mother, she adored you with all her being as mothers should.” Arcturus replied in a
quiet voice as he let Harry cry for a few moments, not bothering to fill the silence while the clock
ticked slowly by. With a final sniff, Harry had to pull away to clean up his face while Arcturus
waited a moment.

“Harry, I need you to be very cautious this year. We don’t want to worry you, but there is someone
who wishes to do you harm. We are doing our very best to track him down and I personally see no
reason for him to act as of yet, but be careful, and trust no one new in your life.” Arcturus warned.
Harry looked over with his swollen eyes.

“Because of the dementors? I don’t know why they are so attached to me.” Harry said.

“They attach to trauma, Harry. The more innocent the victim the more fed they are. You fit the bill
unfortunately well. You should rest now, there is Dreamless Sleep if you need it.” Arcturus said,
running his hand to Harry’s chest and easing him down with growing concern in his eyes. Harry
shook her head as he pulled the sheet over him.

“Can you stay, at least until I fall asleep?” Harry asked a bit flustered with how childlike it
sounded, but Arcturus had no judgement in his eyes as he agreed. In fact, he placed his hand on
Harry’s head and began to hum an old French lullaby. In only a brief few moments, Harry felt
himself drifting off into the once quiet world of sleep. Only when Arcturus was certain Harry
wouldn’t stir did he remove his hand and reach into his cloak for his handkerchief and dot his own
eyes, for his worst fears were coming to fruition.

“I want to be with Harry.” Regulus grumbled as he skirted aside a broken step.

“Arcturus is with him and besides didn’t you have a riot when I entered Hogwarts.” Sirius replied
back as he looked around to confirm no one was nearby before pulling out his wand. There were
two sharp clicks as the wood door unlocked.

“I can’t believe it’s still empty.” Sirius muttered. Regulus didn’t want to mention that the mass
killing outside the building may have something to do with the empty flat. It felt too soon.

The door made a prolonged squeak as it opened to reveal a completely defaced flat. Regulus had to
cover his nose from the stench of it. Scattered across were old takeout boxes and flies buzzing
above rotten pieces of food. Ripped newspaper, both magical and muggle alike were seen. Sirius
tried to flick on a lamp, but nothing surged.

“Well I suppose a rat can’t pay for the lights.” Sirius mumbled as he cast a Lumos sphere into the
room.

Regulus kicked an opened can of beans by accident and flinched at the sound. Sirius felt out the
two other rooms, but besides moulded furniture there was no more proof than in the main room.
Regulus dusted off the counter in the kitchen and immediately regretted it as he began to choke on
a cough. He picked up the first paper closest to him to help fan the dust, once the air cleared and
the water in his eyes eased he noticed which one he was holding. It was the Daily Prophet with the
most recent rumours of Sirius splashed on every corner. It was dated only a fortnight ago.

“Shite. He was just here.” Regulus muttered.

“Fuck.” Sirius called from the bedroom as Regulus dropped the paper on the floor and scurried
over there with his wand drawn. He found Sirius stumbling back from a shattered window badly
pieced together with wooden boards. Regulus could see a few sparks of magic sputtering out.

“Shite.” Sirius cursed again as he rubbed his wrist and his face grew red with anger.

“Was it hexed?” Regulus asked as Sirius mumbled a fresh line of curses under his breath while
nodding.

“It's an old spell we used in the Order. Would let us know if someone passed over into a particular
area. Doesn’t tell who, but Peter would know someone’s been here.” Sirius grumbled as he kicked
a dent into the bedpost.

“Merlin’s beard.” Regulus huffed. Peter kept outwitting them. Regulus couldn’t stand for it to
continue.

When he woke, Arcturus was gone, but he’d left a short letter informing him they’d replace his
broom and if anything suspicious happened to write to him immediately and if necessary to barge
into Dumbledore’s office and use Phineas again to reach him. Apparently he would relocate his
brother’s portrait to wherever he would be to be available and at worst Alphard was still in
Switzerland. He twirled the letter in his hand a few times as Madam Pomfrey looked him over
before dismissing him on the condition he do no physical activity for a week. Given his
disappointment over the broom, he didn’t feel much like flying so it seemed an easy enough
request.

Draco was prat, dramatically fainting whenever he saw Harry. Blaise did roll his eyes with a few
other Slytherins, like the Greengrass sisters’ which gave him hope. Otherwise, school returned to a
rather normal routine, even though the eerie feeling of hearing his mother’s last words never did
leave him. He threw himself into school and even borrowed one of Hermione’s Ancient Rune’s
textbooks. It was a bit tiring to hear how he was fated for an ill demise in each Divinations class.
He may just ask McGonagall if he could switch subjects for fourth year. Even Arthimacy seemed
better, and he had little interest in numbers.

One upside was the return of Remus to class. Harry let a small smile greet the professor at the front
of the classroom and he swore Remus smiled back at him. They finally learned about hinkypunks
and cancelled the essay assigned by Professor Snape, all while he looked terribly pale and more
grey in the face. Still even a quiet lesson by Professor Lupin was better than any by Professor
Snape. When class was dismissed, Remus cleared his throat close to Harry and motioned for him to
stay behind. He waved on Ron and Hermione while Hermione lamented about already finishing
the essay while Ron shook his head playfully.

“How are you feeling, Professor Lupin?” Harry asked while organising his bag of books.

“I should be asking you the same question. I heard about the dementor attack and the misfortune
with the match and your broom. Is there any hope to fix it?” Remus asked as he pulled his robes
over his shoulder to the chilly air seeping in the cracks of the old castle. Harry shook his head.

“My family said they’d purchase a new one. I plan to research them while everyone is at
Hogsmeade since I can’t attend. I enjoyed my Nimbus, but there may be one’s better suited out
there for me.” Harry shrugged as Remus shifted several times from one foot to the next without
saying a word.

“You don’t speak of your family often.” He finally commented with his words heavily guarded.
Harry had to be careful how he proceeded. It wasn’t his right to expose everything to his Uncle
Moony.

“No, I suppose I don’t. People always want to talk about my parents when I do and it’s just nothing
I want to share with everyone.” Harry said with his eyes searching for any realisation in Remus’
eyes.

“Do they live in England?” Remus asked with his eyebrows raised. Harry felt a smile growing on
his face.
“Not really, we have a home here, but we spend most of our time abroad.” Harry answered. Remus
chewed on his inner cheek.

“Are these your mother’s relatives?” Remus asked, cautiously.

“No, no they were related to my father.” Harry shook his head as he answered. Remus’ face grew
very heavy as he clicked his tongue.

“Very well, I won’t hold you any longer Harry.” Remus said pushing off the desk he leaned on.
Harry turned to leave, but then paused for a moment.

“Er, Professor Lupin, would you mind if we had tea again, before the holidays?” Harry asked,
looking over one shoulder. Remus’ eyes softened as he rubbed his arms.

“I’d enjoy that very much, Harry.” He answered. Harry gave one last appreciative look before
turning and leaving, feeling much better than when he entered the classroom. The days passed both
slowly and quickly, blurring some as he got into the routine of classes, practises, and letter writing.
He even made time for two teas with his Uncle Moony, they hadn’t broken the wall yet to explore
everything they had lost over the time, but they were warming up to the idea.

It wasn’t until the final Hogsmeade weekend that Harry felt the wave of sadness wash over him.
He tucked away a book to read on broomsticks. Everyone had written him asking which broom he
wanted as a replacement and he couldn’t keep working on the Shooting Star or he feared Oliver’s
eyes would pop out from the stress in his forehead whenever it jerked Harry to the side. Harry was
passing through the Courtyard in the quiet afternoon ready to find a cosy space to pass the hours as
the small snowflakes graced the castle and added to her beauty.

“Oi!” A voice called as Harry paused to see the Weasley Twins waving at him to join him in a
tucked away outdoor hallway.

“Follow us.” Fred said with a wink as they looked both ways and led him down hall after hall until
they passed a one-eyed statue and the twins ducked into the empty classroom across. Harry was a
bit suspicious of their nature. He’d never really spent much time alone with Fred and George, they
were always around when Ron was or a few of the Quidditch players were. The both wore identical
grins on their faces as Harry looked around for something to jump out at him in a prank.

“Don’t be so single minded, Harry.” George said, swaying on his toes.

“Yeah, we're more than just dashing good looks and humour.” Fred added.

“In fact you could say we’re being perfect saints.” George butted back in.

“Whatever a saint is anyway.” Fred joked as he knocked shoulders. Harry blinked.

“Usually is a holy and virtuous person most commonly recognised in religions.” Harry answered
slowly. Fred and George gave him a strange look, but shook their heads before making a grand
gesture to pull out an old worn piece of parchment. Harry took it gingerly, knowing that Fred and
George had a knack for having objects blow up in one’s face for comedic purposes.

“It won’t bite, at least it hasn’t bit us yet.” Fred reassured him as George nodded before Fred even
began speaking. Harry handled the paper carefully worried the frayed edges would tear at any
quick movement.

“Now, you may be asking yourself why we have dragged you away from a beautiful day of
boredom, well young sire we have decided your predicament more dire then our own so we have
decided to impart our greatest treasure onto you.” Fred added, causing Harry to only be more
confused. George stepped forward with his wand pulled.

“Let us show you, I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” George said with his wand barely
touching the parchment. Suddenly it sprung to life with lines and decorative inked edging emerging
from the middle and fanning out in a deep colour. Words in a large looping script faded before
filling to match the rest of the design, the words almost took Harry’s breath away.

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are
proud to present: The Marauder’s Map

Harry never tore open a piece of parchment more enthusiastically, how had Sirius never mentioned
a map before? One his father had helped create with his closest friends. Inside was the most
detailed guide Harry had ever seen. Small dots moved about showing every person within the
walls including the ghost, the house-elves, and even Peeves bouncing about in a storage closet.
There in his office was Dumbledore and when Harry scanned to another side, he could see his
name standing across from Fred and George. When he looked up, they were both smiling
wickedly.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, we owe them most of our pranking lives. Masters of the
trade they must have been, how we’ve never heard of them escapes us. Our uncles were known to
be a handful but never to this status.” George marvelled as if he was speaking of heroics. Which in
Harry’s mind they were, just for different reasons.

“Thank you.” Harry said, trying to hold the emotions welling in his throat.

“Now, there are seven passages out of here, four Flinch knows.” Fred explained, pointing at
different locations throughout the map. “This one caved in half way down the path last year, I
believe we have Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ig to thank for that issue. We believe they tried to block this
one when they planted the Whomping Willow, we’ve never had a chance to see what secrets it
hides. Rumours are a dangerous creature used to lurk beneath the school.”

“Fred,” George cut in, “this is the one you need just outside the door. It heads straight to
Hogsmeade. Be prepared, it is a long hike, but it’ll drop you off right in Honeydukes cellar.”

Harry nodded again. The ends of his fingers itched to turn the parchment over again and see if the
names were still there. As if this was all some dream he would wake from in the dark warm air of
Gryffindor Tower. Fred and George showed him how to close the map before they were pushing
each other out the door and making their own way to Hogsmeade. Harry listened to their voices
rebound off the stone walls until it went perfectly still. Then he slid onto the ground and touched
each word on the front, letting his hand linger on the word Prongs.

“Hey, dad.” Harry whispered as his lips couldn’t decide whether to frown or smile.

“You’d probably love this. Me sneaking off for some sweets and to meet my friends. I have
friends, you know, a few actually. Mostly Ron and Hermione, but all the Weasleys are nice, even
Percy, I haven’t met Bill yet but he seems really cool. I met a Slytherin who’s alright, but he
doesn’t like the attention so we don’t spend time together in public. Did mum know about this
map? Did she tell you off for it? I’m sure she did, but I like to think she thought it was smart. It’s
really impressive what you did. All these people, Sirius says mum was great at Charms, this looks
like some Charm work, bet you had to steal some of her notes.” Harry mumbled as he learned how
to follow those loopy lines as well as if they were his own home. The time ticked by and he knew
he didn’t have much light left in the day with the long trek down to Hogsmeade.
 “Alright dad, how do I get through this?” Harry asked as he stared up at the looming statue. When
he looked down the the spell Dissendium appeared and when he uttered the words the stones
shifted achingly to reveal a rather small opening that he could image becoming difficult to squeeze
down if he grew any wider or taller, but for the present he fit and he struck soft uneven ground
surrounded by darkness as the opening covered itself with a groan.

“Well, off we go dad.” Harry said as he muttered Mischief Managed and tucked the parchment
away in his pocket.

Chapter End Notes

Oh the map, I wonder who could possibly show up on it in the future?

Thank you for reading and leaving any and all comments along the way I do enjoy
them all! Happy Early Hallow;s Eve if I don't update by them, here's my little bit of
October pain.
 The Truth
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior death and war.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus stood nearly on the edge of the platform waiting for the first blurry glimpse of the train to
come into view. A light snow had begun and a few flurries would land on his eyelashes and he’d
be left trying to swipe them away. The murmurs of other parents and family members behind him
caught in the wind and occasionally reached him in his far corner, but for the most part he was
trying to ignore everyone. He’d had enough exploring and eavesdropping and hunting for answers,
for a couple short weeks he just wanted to focus on Harry.

“You won’t make it move any faster.” Sirius pointed out. Regulus rolled his eyes, but Sirius
couldn’t see with his face still turned down the tracks.

“You should be lucky they even let you out of the house.” Regulus snorted back.

“Yeah with babysitters.” Sirius said scoffing as he looked over where Lucretia and Ignatius stood
closer to Molly and her husband, and his parents who had joined them. Arthur was actually
involved in an active conversation with Ignatius and Septimus, his hands moving wildly every few
minutes as Ignatius and Septimus nodded along every few seconds. Lucretia was arm in arm with
Cedrella, the two of them speaking just behind Molly, who had a knitting set balanced in her arms
knitting away at what appeared to be a jumper.

“They wanted to see their niece and nephews too. It isn’t all about you, but you can’t blame them.
Look around us there are Aurors in every corner patrolling for any sight of you. We still can’t visit
Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ig’s house with them under constant surveillance. There is nothing but being
careful right now.” Regulus whispered as quietly as humanly possible while glancing at no less
than four Aurors in his direct line of sight. One of which had bright pink hair done up in spikes and
a metal band shirt under her official robes. Aurors had changed since he’d been busy slipping away
from them, though he must say he enjoyed her necklace that appeared to have a dragon tooth at the
end of a long beaded string. It seemed homemade, but he was half tempted to ask her where she had
acquired such a piece. Instead, he turned back down the tracks and only moments later the train
came barrelling into view. Regulus couldn’t help but smile as he took a few steps back while other
families crowded closer around. Children were already leaning out of windows to wave.

Harry would come bouncing down the stairs any moment now and Regulus could hold him safely
in his arms. There was a lot to discuss, but they finally had time. He had a plan in his mind all
wrapped up and ready to implement. First, they would get Harry back to Grimmauld Place where
the rest of the family awaited him. He could catch up on their adventures in a nicely decorated
home that Kreacher and Regulus had been working on for the past few days. Harry’s presents all
wrapped under the tree dawned in tinsel, a particular one that made Regulus’ own heart increase in
excitement. He couldn’t wait to see Harry's reaction.

Regulus watched as the children slowly started to file out of the steps and into open arms. Looking
for a specific mess of dark hair as he stretched over heads and gazed across the platform.
Eventually he caught a mass of moving red hair coming closer to them and he assumed Harry
would not be far behind, however he was caught up in the noise of the Weasleys for a moment.

“Uncle Ignatius, you have to do something!” Ron came running past his mother and father to grab
onto his uncle.

“It’s not fair!” Ginny added, not far behind her brother.

“You’ve got enough power, Uncle Ig! You’ve got to show Malfoy he can’t bully his way to do
whatever he pleases.” Fred said with his twin brother nodding in agreement.

“Mother, I’ve tried to calm them, but they were insistent.” Percy said as he held onto his hat while
racing after everyone.

“Sh, sh, not all at once, I have no idea what you're speaking about.” Ignatius said as he turned half
around, already surrounded by the children.

“Buckbeak!” Ron said loudly as if it was all the explanation needed.

“What is a buckbeak?’ Ignatius added his brow knitted together as his eyes shifted around clearly
trying to decipher if he had forgotten some strange animal or creature he’d come across on a rarest
of occasions.

“Hagrid’s hippogriff! He told us just before we left for the holidays. Malfoy insulted Buckbeak and
got rightfully kicked in the arm. It wasn’t even broken, I’ve broken my leg! Uncle Lancelot fixed it
in a minute and I was back to normal in a few days. He’s been milking his injury all term and now
Lucius Malfoy wants to put Buckbeak on trial with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous
Creatures. He will pay them off to execute Buckbeak, he didn’t do anything wrong and Hagrid will
be in shatters.” Ron explained as he bounced on his toes anxiously.

“Erm, excuse me Professor Prewett.” Came a small voice from behind all the Weasleys who parted
to reveal a young girl with her hair tightly plaited.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I did some research and you have advocated successfully on no less
than three other cases for different Magical Creatures before. I took the liberty of drawing up some
notes as well as recollections of our fellow classmates which shows that Draco Malfoy
intentionally agitated Buckbeak after multiple warnings on the dangers of doing so. I believe with a
good defence we could get Buckbeak’s sentence to be a relocation to a more suited environment,
especially with your recommendation. I’ve noted at least two chairs of the committee are former
schoolmates of yours and another always leans towards the sympathetic vote, but we need to get
ahead in order to sway the majority.” Hermione said as she presented a stack of books and loose
notes. Regulus had to admit his respect. She had clearly done the research. Harry always said she
was the hardest working witch he had every met and Regulus could see glimpses of it.

“Well Miss Granger, you’ve certainly done your fair share. How about this? If you have copies of
these notes I will take them and look over them during the holidays and I will write to my friends
on the committee and see if there isn’t an alternative. Don’t any of you be antagonising Draco
though, it does no good to bother a pixie when they are already upset.” Ignatius warned as
Hermione excitedly pulled out a copy of each of her own notes and the cases Ignatius had
advocated for before. Regulus finally dragged his eyes away to look for Harry, confused why he
did not come up with his friends. There standing on the last step was Harry and Regulus raised his
hand to wave, but stopped midway when he noticed the absolute scowl across Harry’s face. Worst
of all, it was directed exactly to where he and Sirius stood.

The Weasleys made their way out of the station with Ignatius giving a glance over his shoulder to
assure Sirius and Regulus collected Harry and would return promptly to Grimmauld. Harry had
joined them more furious than he’d ever been with his arms crossed and not a word said to Sirius or
Regulus in greeting. The platform had begun to clear before Harry even blinked.

“Can we apparate? I don’t want to walk.” Harry grumbled and Regulus felt his heart sinking with
each bitter note of the words. Still he nodded his head and took Harry’s hand which felt cold to the
touch and lacking any affection. Instead of their usual walk, they apparated to the front steps of
Grimmauld Place. Harry let go of Regulus’ hand the moment their feet touched the ground. His
wand was already in hand to knock the specific way necessary to unlock the charms and spells
bound into the door and it was halfway shut before either Regulus or Sirius had reached the last
step. They nearly fell over to catch the edge of the heavy door.

“Little Master, Kreacher has brought out all the decor.” Kreacher was saying excitedly as they
entered. Even Harry couldn’t be angry at him, but the lack of enthusiasm in his response was
noted.

“I’ve baked an apple cake, would Little Master like a piece?” Kreacher asked, pulling at his ears
and looking at Regulus with concern.

“A small one, Kreacher.” Harry sighed as he stared at his shoes. Kreacher nodded and bounced
away to the kitchen. Regulus and Sirius exchanged a glance. Sirius nodded to Regulus and then to
Harry clearly meaning for him to speak first.

“Harry, is something bothering you?” Regulus asked, stepping forward gently and reaching out to
Harry. Hw spun around with all the anger any traditional Black Family member would have been
proud of.

“I need to know the truth. No more pretending or ‘Oh, Harry we will wait till you're older’. I need
to know everything and I need to know it now, because if what I heard is true. I–I can’t believe any
of you! Why would you hide something like this from me, it can’t be true. It can’t be true, but what
is the truth and why was I never told.” Harry said his anger turned frantic as his eyes couldn’t
focus and he pulled at his hair. He kept turning in circles as he spoke while Regulus tried to reach
for him to steady him but any movement was responded by Harry taking a purposeful step back.

“Harry–” Regulus said, stepping forward with his hands held up.

“No! Not you, him. I need to hear it from him! You were their friend, what happened? What went
wrong?” Harry said, his face growing taunt as his voice broke and he pointed directly as Sirius.
Sirius' eyes grew bewildered as he tried to look around for any reprieve.

“Don’t look away from me! I want to know what happened! You're the only one that knows
Sirius!” Harry outright yelled with his foot stomping and his eyes starting to swell with tears.
Regulus felt helpless.

“Harry James Potter.” A voice boomed over them all and looking up one could see Arcturus
accompanied by the rest of the family standing half descended on their stairs, clearly having come
to greet Harry. His cheeks looked a bit more flushed than usual.

“Son, you are allowed to be angry, you are allowed to express your emotions, what you are not
allowed to do in my home is to act unreasonably. Not a single one of us knows what you're
speaking about. Now either you remove yourself from this room or you take a moment and explain
yourself.” Arcturus commanded. Harry’s nose flared a few more times with his fist at his side.
Regulus waited a long moment for a response, and slowly Harry’s fingers slackened one by one.
“I want to know the truth.” Harry said, turning around and looking at everyone before continuing.

“I went to Hogsmeade, which I know I am not allowed to do, but I was able to manage and we can
discuss that later. It isn’t the point, No, I got to hear a rather interesting conversation from the
Minister himself while he was in the Three Broomsticks. He was recollecting your imprisonment.”
Harry said, pointing accusingly to Sirius. Regulus could feel the whole conversation turning upside
down.

“He spoke about you being the Secret-Keeper for my parents and me, then not a week afterwards
did Voldemort find us and kill my parents. He blamed you for betraying my parents and killing
Peter with twelve other Muggles. I have never gone searching or asking about what happened that
night. I knew one day you would tell me and I knew it would be painful, but that day has come
because I can’t understand what happened with what I know of you. Even worse is I can’t help but
think all of you knew. You knew and it is the one thing you never told me and I had to find out
from the Minsiter of Magic while he sips his stupid little drink and gossips in a stupid little pub
where he pretends to be quiet when we know every person could hear and clung to every word he
said. Every person for the last few months has agonisingly explained to me how evil you are, how
evil this family is for producing you, and I have had to nod and get through it without knowing the
full story. When it could have been told to me and I can’t say it would have been easier because it
isn't. None of it is easy, going about my day, everyday lying to everyone about who I am, and who
I am with, and who I love and care for.” Harry said with his words growing weary and his eyes red
and watery as each moment passed, but he got his words and his meaning across. He was right.
They should have explained it to him.

“Harry, I–, we all– I need…” Regulus stumbled over his words looking for any assistance. His own
eyes stung without him realising when that had begun.

“Tea, we need tea and maybe some of that apple cake I have heard about. Then, we can all sit and
discuss it together.” Arcturus said as he lifted his cane and pushed up the stairs slowly with
Cassiopeia keeping her hand close to his side at every step.

Harry froze in the Entrance Hall for a long moment with his back turned to Sirius and Regulus.
They waited for him to make the first move, eventually he took the stairs loudly as the older
members of the family waited at the next landing for him, Regulus could hear the office door open
harshly. Then with a deep breath, he took the stairs himself with his mind worried heavily. There
was no going back. They had to lay out all the information for Harry and a part of it killed him
inside. Poor innocent Harry, maybe they had done this wrong, but there was no changing it now.

In the office, the atmosphere was no less tense. However, there was a sense of control over it.
Regulus walked slowly around the room, having to avoid Harry, who had crossed his arms and
stopped just after the threshold. Arcturus had taken the largest seat and set the fireplace ablaze as
Cassieopia, Helena and Marius took their places nearby, quietly.

Regulus and Sirius leaned against the desk next to each other. Both of them were too antsy to sit.
Kreacher came bumbling in with several trays of tea and cake. He took an extra moment to ignore
Harry’s request and cut him the largest slice. Harry set it and the tea aside almost immediately to
the closest table while he waited for the room to settle.

“You can sit.” Arcturus said, after a long sip of his tea.

“I can stand.” Harry grumbled back.

“Young man, once again, I do not stand for the unreasonable. Sit and listen and after we discuss.”
Arcturus demanded with a firm nod to the chair closest to Harry. With a twitch of his lips in
disagreement, Harry sat on the very edge of the seat. Arcturus turned to where Sirius and Regulus
stood.

“You two as well.” He commanded with a nod to a spare sofa shoved into the corner. Sirius sighed
as he used his wand to pull it closer to the misshapen circle they all sat in. It wasn’t truly meant for
two people, but Sirius and Regulus made the squeeze work by melding themselves into the sides
far away from each other as if one or the other would cause a shock by simply touching.

“It is your story to tell.” Arcturus said before hiding his mouth behind the small teacup again.
Sirius tilted his head back and shoved his fingers into his eyelids for a moment before letting his
head fall to a hang.

“I suppose the story begins long ago. When we first began at Hogwarts, but you know that story.
We were all boys together trying to make it through the world. Your father, Remus, myself, and
Peter. We had our fun. The years were not always easy, but they were cake compared to the after.
After, well everything went a bit left. I suppose we were all a bit young and naive. Susceptible to
emotions and powerful people and their influence. Then there were the stereotypes for all of us I
suppose.” Sirius began fiddling with the edge of the tea cup in his hand. Harry was flexing his
hands as if to try and loosen the tension. Regulus sat there curled into himself waiting for any
moment he would need to add into it.

“James and I we were…” Sirius tapered off as he looked at Regulus apologetically. “Everyone said
we were brothers from the moment we met. Peter and James had grown up together. Their families
didn’t live far from one another and they came in with a decent developed friendship. Granted
James could find friends in nearly anyone. Remus wasn’t the most open to all us, really brassed off
honestly. I even told James to leave it out, but he was insistent and before long we truly were all
inseparable. We had our own little nickname, and it all seemed so good. Until it wasn’t. The war
happened and suddenly we were questioning everything and everyone. Even each other, even
unfairly, but when you bury as many people as we had to, fight as many battles as we did. It ruins
you, slowly first and then it sort of all falls apart at once. One minute we were burying the
McKinnons and the next time I looked up it felt like everyone was gone, warriors better than us
like Fabian or Gideon, or ones with so much more experience, like Edgar or Caradoc. It fucks with
your head, pardon me. Then James came to me saying Lily and you were in danger. He didn’t even
care about himself, I remember that. He came to me and looked in my eyes saying you and Lily
were at risk, never a word about himself. Dumbledore suggested the Fidelius Charm and without a
second thought, James came to me. I was downright paranoid by that point. I was spiralling out of
control, blaming everyone, causing too much of a riot. It brought unneeded attention to myself, on
top of me knowing nearly every Death Eater knew me, they knew my family, they knew James
and I were closer than anyone. If the Potters suddenly disappeared. I would be first on their list and
I don’t know. I would have rather died than betray them, but I don’t know, I was doubting myself.
Doubting my choices in life, and if I had made poor choices before, what if I did it again. When I
was hesitant, Remus was the second choice, but he was away and they would have had to wait, so
among other reasons, I suggested Peter. He hardly was out in the fight as much as James and I, he
mainly slipped information out from the Ministry to us. I thought it was the brightest idea at the
time. Good old reliable Peter, we will make him Secret Keeper and then I’ll keep watch over him
to make sure no one tries anything. We didn’t even tell Dumbledore about the switch. It was just
going to be James, Peter, and me, like old times. Except I was so very wrong. The second those
words slipped out of my mouth, I signed off on James and Lily’s deaths. Peter had turned spy, he
betrayed them. He– looking back on it– he’d been doing it for a while. Encouraging the cracks in
friendships, dropping the most depressing news at meetings, Merlin, he probably lied about half
the shit he told us just to make us more paranoid, and then he was turning right back around and
giving Voldemort everything on us. Coordinates, plans, meetings, how else were they able to pick
us off so easily? Some of the greatest witches and wizards I had ever known, and their names were
turned into nothing but dust because of that damned rat. I can’t even say why he did it, power,
fame, fear, any of the above, none of them good enough to rat out a man like James. He was the
best of us and Peter knew it. He knew where it would hurt the most. I can never forgive myself for
what I did to you, Harry. To you, to Lily, to James, it was my fault. I should have trusted James, he
was always the smartest one. I let my own problems cloud my judgement and I have spent
everyday agonising over that one choice. I will never be sorry enough.” Sirius finished explaining
as he finally lifted his head. Regulus had been watching Harry the entire time. Surprisingly, he
remained mostly composed, only crossing his hands in his lap and blinking every few seconds.
Even as Sirius paused he did not immediately jump for answers.

“And?” Harry finally said when Sirius shifted uncomfortably. Sirius turned to Regulus and then
their grandfather, as if wondering if he was speaking to them.

“There has to be more. That is all in the past, but why are you acting on it now after all these
years?” Harry said in a heavily restrained voice. Sirius opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“No more secrets.” Arcturus confirmed Regulus’ suspicious glance in his direction. Regulus stood
and walked to where he could reach Harry, whose hands were shaking once he got close enough.
They looked into each other's eyes for a minute, Regulus rubbing the back of his hands. He had to
tell him. Sirius was the one to reveal the traitor, Regulus had to reveal where said traitor had been
for the last few years. Right under their noses.

“Harry, the next part I am about to tell you, is going to be very sensitive. I implore you to take a
moment before you react, but then after that any emotion you feel, we can work through it
together.” Regulus explained as Harry’s eyes grew even more clouded with confusion. He held
onto Harry’s hands tighter, as if he was scared he’d slip away.

“We know where Peter is.” Regulus began having to pause for a moment at the absolute shock that
struck Harry’s face. The way his jaw slackened, and his eyes dilated.

“We haven’t been able to catch him yet, he eludes us at every turn and we are not in the place to
walk up and take him down. It could put you in danger, bring up a lot of questions about where
you have been living, and the last thing any of us wants is for you to be taken away from us.”
Regulus explained.

“Over any of our dead bodies.” Sirius huffed as he tapped his fingers anxiously wanting Regulus to
hurry to the point, but he wanted to give Harry the time to digest, to think about it all before he shot
off to a reaction exactly as Sirius was hoping he would.

“Peter, Sirius, and your father all became Animagi together, it was to help Remus, your Uncle
Moony during the full moons. Sirius over there is very fittingly a dog, your father was a stag, and
Peter, well I suppose he became exactly what he is. His animagus form is a rat.” Regulus said for a
pause seeing Sirius out of the corner of his eye trying to egg him further but Regulus knew Harry.
Harry was highly intelligent and typically logical, he wouldn’t need anymore information. Harry’s
brow furrowed together and he disconnected their hands from leaning back so far, his eyes
searching Regulus up and down for confirmation. He gave him the slightest nod and Harry’s
mouth dropped open.

“He’s been there the entire time.” Harry whispered in a hoarse voice. “He’s been right next to be
this whole time.”

Regulus could feel his heart beating faster. Harry was growing warm under his skin as he pushed
off the chair he sat in roughly. He pulled at the edges of his hair as he paced several steps before
turning abruptly.
 “You knew? How long have you known? You let me go on thinking Peter died a hero, when he’s
the worst kind of traitor? That he was still my funny uncle Wormtail when in reality he killed my
parents, he as good as cast the spell himself. He wanted me dead! He’s the reason my parents are
dead!” Harry started elevating his voice again and to Regulus’ surprise, Sirius stood with his hands
out.

“If you're going to be mad at anyone be mad at me, Harry. I never told anyone. Regulus only found
out when I returned to you all.” Sirius explained. Harry stumbled back a step. His eyes blinked
back tears.

“For all anyone knew here, I killed those Muggles and Peter, not that I think anyone believed that,
but I never offered any explanation and they never asked. Which might be a fault of this family, I
think we can all admit. We are willing to move on without explanations because for generations, it
was better just to not know. Plausible deniability, I believe it’s called, like some of those people in
the books you read. It’s my fault for not telling them, and for not telling you, but I swear on my
own life had I known Peter was so close to you this entire time I would have acted the moment we
knew. He would have never been allowed to be so close and if you want to blame someone for the
delay in catching him, it’s me again. We should have known eventually they’d find out I escaped
Azkaban and the moment they did Peter would become as elusive as he could. Then I ran, I ran
away when I should have been here to try and create some semblance of a plan and now it’s been
months and Peter is still free. I-I’m so sorry Harry. I failed you back then, I failed all of you and
now I’m doing it again.” Sirius replied, his voice cracking and his hands covering his face from the
flush red colour that overtook him. Harry stood perfectly still. Then to the awe of everyone, he
crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Sirius in a stiff, but still trying hug. Regulus felt the
whole room break the tension that held it.

“I’m still upset.” Harry whispered as he held on. “It won’t help though, I want to get Peter. I want
your name cleared, and I want justice for my parents. Being angry, it isn’t going to help. It hurts,
but it won’t help.”

Sirius buried his face into Harry’s full head of hair and mumbled words Regulus nor anyone else
could hear, but it caused Harry to squeeze a little tighter before breaking off. Regulus looked
around the room to see nearly everyone dabbing at eyes or clearing their throats. All except
Arcturus who looked as still as a statue, his eyes still filled with worry as he watched Harry’s every
move. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, later he would need to make a point to find out
what else was pulling at his grandfather’s mind.

“Well, we need a plan don’t we?” Harry said, turning on his heels to address everyone. Arcturus
shook out of his gaze and nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. A good one to put this to rest once and for all.” Arcturus said with a bit of the energy he
used to have returning to his voice. For a moment, Regulus felt hopeful that at least one piece of
their puzzle would come together finally, and they could have a moment of calm. He did not
disregard the growing whispers and worries, but if Harry could only be a child for awhile longer,
he would be content.

Chapter End Notes

Now Harry knows, but Peter is still there to be dealt with but each chapter is one closer
to the ending which I am very excited to reveal! Thank you for reading and for any
comments left!
 Varying Degrees of Holidays
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of injuries, abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The early sun rays in the winter were always special. The illusion of warmth as the snowflakes
graced the ground in a beautiful temporary scenery. Regulus could see such snow now tapping on
the windows while he rubbed his eyes of sleep. A white Christmas seemed so fitting given the title
of the movie they had watched the night before. The lot of them had curled into the office with
cups of hot chocolate and tea accompanied by roasted nuts and cookies on expensive platters.
Harry had gotten his traditional gift of new pyjamas and slippers for the evening as he and Regulus
laid out on the floor on a pile of blankets and pillows for comfort.

“No, no and then Seamus accidentally set the whole bed on fire. All I had asked was for a flame to
begin lighting the Menorah and Ron tried to put it out but his slippers started smoking, Professor
McGonagall was not happy to be awoken.” Harry said through handfuls of nuts as Regulus
laughed. Things weren’t perfect, but they were better.

“Marius.” Aunt Cassiopeia said with frustration mounting in her face.

“Dear sister, please let me.” Marius said from where he had entered the room with more roasted
nuts in tow. Cassiopeia had been trying to set up the projector but it kept sparking and banging
around in her hands.

“The bloody technology.” She grumbled as she took her seat on the couch.

“I hate to age us, but this technology is nearly as old as us.” Marius explained as he threaded the
film and the lights began to flicker as the projector became less fraught in his hands.

“Whatever could those Muggles have created now?” Arcturus asked from where he sat with several
blankets wrapped over him and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Both of which he protested loudly, but
little would stop the festive spirit. Even Midnight, who slept peacefully by his feet, had a small red
bow tied around her neck.

“Oh rather inventive they are. They have satellites now that receive live pictures directly into their
homes. Regulus and Harry have seen it, my sister had one installed in her home.” Helena explained
as she fluffed out the couch she and Marius would share.

Sirius gave Regulus a strange look as Regulus just shrugged. If he hadn’t run off he could have
seen it himself. Granted Regulus didn’t quite understand the strange square box he had sat in front
of at the end of the day as a man on the screen predicted the weather each day and Helena’s family
would nod and plan their outfits accordingly. It had all seemed rather strange.

“All done. I must say this is one of my favourite films.” Marius said as the lights dimmed
themselves in the office and the projector churned itself to life.

“What is it about?” Arcturus whispered as he seemed to look suspiciously about the moving
pictures coming to life on the wall.

“The Christmas Spirit.” Marius said in a hushed voice. They’d all fallen silent after enjoying the
musical number that went a bit over Regulus’ head at times. He couldn’t figure how the two
couples had ended up together in the end, but Harry seemed to enjoy it as he laughed along at
moments.

The next morning, Regulus turned over to find Harry where he had been the night before sprawled
out on the other side of the bed. He could have his own room if he pleased. Since he returned
though he’d been insistent on staying with Regulus. He worried he was getting too old for such
behaviours, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t secretly happy to have Harry an arm’s reach away
after he’d been so far.

He brushed away the fringe of Harry’s hair from his forehead while he slept. His scar had faded
with time. He remembers the purple and blue colours that still marred half his face when he first
was placed in his hands. The branch of different wounds in different lengths and depths in an
electric pattern like a horrible bolt of lighting had been painted onto his face. The lighter cuts had
healed with no lasting impact, but a few lighter lines still remained branching off from his hairline
down to the edge of his right eye. A distinct and undeniable reminder of the horrors he had faced
before he could even understand them. His thumb pressed gently over the lines as Harry stirred.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” Regulus whispered when Harry’s eyes popped open.

“Happy Christmas, Reggie. Can we open presents?” He asked before his mouth opened in a wide
yawn while Regulus chuckled.

“We have to see if everyone else is awake.” Regulus said as he pulled Harry close to his chest and
squeezed him between his arms.

“Grandfather Arcturus is always awake. Everyone else will understand how important presents are.
Except Sirius, he doesn’t like to be up before noon.” Harry laughed.

“Well Sirius will simply have to tolerate it. Come on, go wash up while I get him up.” Regulus said
as he opened the door for Harry to rush down the hall to brush his teeth. Sirius' door had been
tightly shut; beyond it his brother was lost in a mess of quilts as Regulus peeled one layer back
after the other until he revealed Sirius’ messy braid of hair down his back.

“Come on Sirius.” Regulus said, pushing his brother onto his back as he grunted. Sirius yanked a
quilt out of Regulus’ hand and wrapped it around him definitely.

“Sirius, it is Christmas.” Regulus said, while pulling on the edge as Sirius fought him with every
bit of his strength.

“Harry wants to open presents, Sirius.” Regulus grunt as he bent his knees trying to pull the quilt
back. Sirius was being even more stubborn.

“Christmas should start at midday.” Sirius hummed as he threw himself back onto his stomach
causing Regulus to fall forward on his middle into the bed. Stumbling back rubbing his stomach,
he heard someone clear their throat behind him as he turned around to see Aunt Cassiopia in the
doorway in her robes with her own hair neatly done down her side.

“They wondered why I never married, men never grow up. Lycoris had the right idea with her
pretty women. Come along you two before Harry’s eyes pop out of his skull looking at the large
gift wrapped under the tree with his name on it.” She said before touching the tea cup in her hand
to her lips and turning in her slippers.

“I’m brushing my teeth first.” Regulus said as he backed out of the room.

“Piss off!” Sirius cried as he threw the covers off. The two raced to the single bathroom trying to fit
through the old small door together unsuccessfully.

Harry was waiting bouncing in place directly under the tree when he and Sirius stumbled in still
shoving into one another. Small plates of fruits had been set out by Kreacher as he sat picking at
his own plate nodding happily with his feet warming by the fire. Regulus sat next to Harry as he
tried to smooth out the hair sticking in all directions even if he knew it was futile.

“I want to open the big one first.” Harry said, pointing to the one leaning against the wall.
Everyone let out a small chuckle.

“Save that one for last, Harry. Open the one from Uncle Marius first.” Regulus said placing a polka
dot wrapped gift in Harry’s hand. Harry looked longingly at the one leaned against the wall once
more before he gently untied to bow on the one in his hands. Before long the floor was covered in
differently coloured wrappings and shining bows as the lights on the tree twinkled in the sky
growing more overcast as the day waned. Harry had no less than twenty new presents.

“Two left.” Regulus said, handing him the present Sirius had selected. It was a small box with a
lopsided bow tied the wrong way on top, but Harry didn’t mind as he loosened it with a single pull.
Inside was a small still golden Snitch engraved with the Potter name. The wings were thinner from
age and there were more than a few scratches and scuffs. Harry held it between two fingers as it
spurred to life with a gentle flutter.

“It was your father’s, while I was… gallivanting around. We made a stop at your father’s old
home. I found it there and brought it back for you.” Sirius explained as stars shone in Harry’s eyes
as he turned the Snitch from side to side for a full glance.

“He wasn’t a Seeker.” Harry pointed out.

“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head, “he couldn’t sit still for more than a moment though. Professor
McGonagall gave him that one class to force him to make it through a Transfiguration without a
detention. Never saw him without it after that, and I know he’d want you to have it.”

Harry bit into his bottom lip, pulling the Snitch close to his heart. Sirius crossed the room and
beant down to push Harry’s hair back and give him a kiss on his forehead. There weren’t exactly
tears in Sirius' eyes, but his face looked warm for sitting so far away from the roaring fire. Harry
stretched out the Snitch towards Regulus, who held out his palm for him to drop it gently. Regulus
tucked it close to his chest like a precious gem. A rustling in the portrait leaned over the mantle
place drew them all from their quiet comfort.

“Ah Regulus, how kind of you to join us.” Arcturus greeted his brother.

“We should have burned Pollux’s portrait. All I’ve heard is him and his daughter trying to scream
louder than the other.” Regulus I grumbled in his portrait as he crossed his legs to sit.

“Happy Christmas to you too.” Arcturus replied, clicking his tongue at his brother.

“Is that my old gold pewter pitcher? Being used for juice?” Regulus I exclaimed as he leaned
forward to stare out his portrait.

“Ignore him, Harry. He was always the more dramatic of us. Go get your last present.” Arcturus
encouraged as Harry jumped up to drag the present to be on perfect display in the middle. There
was no gently untying or neat setting aside of the wrappings as he tore into the brown package with
small green bows. Underneath shining in the glimmering warm heat of the cracking fire was the
most beautiful broom Regulus had ever had the pleasure to see. Harry seemed to double over in
shock.

“A Firebolt? How did you manage a Firebolt?” Harry asked as his hands shook while he touched
the smooth end of the perfectly polished wood. Regulus couldn’t help the cheery grin that pulled at
his face. It had taken several letters and a fair bit of gold, but they had gotten their hands on the
Firebolt only a day before Harry was due to return. He couldn’t have been prouder.

“Now let’s keep this one out of the Whomping Willow.” Regulus joked with a wink before Harry
was knocking them both onto the ground in the most genuine hug. Regulus adored every moment
as they tousled for a moment before Harry was pleading to go for a quick fly over the garden. The
group of them shuffled into robes and thick socks as Harry went out barefooted in his pyjamas.
Marius even carried the portrait outside at the insistence of all the painted people demanding to see
the greatest broom to exist. They all crowded into every edge of the painting yelling and shoving
each other. Regulus rubbed his hands together as Harry mounted the broom and before he could
even blink Harry was off and around the large snow covered tree in the garden. Loud cheers and
claps followed Harry while he made a figure eight above them, showing off every shiny corner of
his broom. Regulus could feel his heart beating warm enough that even his toes couldn’t feel the
cold.

Ignatius walked beside his wife with their hands clasped together. In her basket were seven
carefully wrapped presents. None too large or too showy, but each joyfully chosen. The walkway to
the leaning house had been recently cleared of the snow as their feet sunk slightly into the wet
ground. The house was orange with warmth and strings of differently coloured lights hung on
every window. The cheery noise of voices melded with songs and filled the air; the feeling was
distinctly of home. Chestnuts and peppermint mixed together in a distinct festive smell when they
stepped through the threshold into the bustling kitchen.

“Oh Lucy!” Cedrella greeted as she wiped off her hands on her apron and went for a warm hug.
Cedrella was one of the only Blacks Ignatius had ever met who hugged everyone she saw.

“I baked cookies. Chocolate with sea salt, it was Ignatius’ mother’s recipe.” Lucretia offered as
Cedrella cooed and placed it next to no less than five other trays of sweets.

“Molly, your aunt and uncle are here.” Cedrella called to Molly, whose bright red hair was frizzed
to the ends. Her mother had always tried to get her to calm her hair, but Molly was her own woman.

“Yes, yes welcome!” She addressed them with a wave before she turned back to oversee the
stirring. Cedrella gave them both a sympathetic pat, but they were here and Ignatius would take
that if nothing else. All of them were to blame for the strained relationship, but slowly each year it
seemed to mend one more stitch closer together.

“Aunt Lucy!” Another person called his wife when she was enveloped in another warm hug by a
young woman who stood a good head higher than her. Most Blacks were tall, his wife was not.

“Oh, Andy. You look good. Is Ted here?” Lucretia asked as she cupped her niece's head.
Andromeda nodded several times and pointed vaguely over her shoulder.

“Tonks made it too. I was surprised she could with the extra rounds they have all the Aurors
working.” Andromeda explained as her face fell a little. Lucretia patted her face a few times as
Cedrella let out a long sigh.

“Lucy, your father…” Cedrella began.

“Has been recovering from a terrible ailment.” Lucretia answered sharply.

“Yes, but it is his line. We all would understand if he had stepped beyond his bounds, maybe even
gotten injured in the process.” Cedrella said carefully. Lucretia did not enjoy lying to family, she
had always admitted it even if her words of deception were an easy dance on her tongue for others.
She gave Cedrella and Andromeda one hard look.

“It’s Christmas, whatever my father is doing he does on his own today.” She replied finally.
Andromeda shifted herself out of Lucretia’s arms.

“I hear he will be with my sister.” She said, Lucretia nodded her confirmation. An air of tension
had descended on them as Ignatius cleared his throat.

“I’ll go set the gifts down, my love.” Ignatius said, kissing her on her cheek to allow them to settle
themselves. He found that they always had a way of sorting out their emotions without speaking.
He pushed open the door to the overly full living area where there were more Weasleys than any
one person could count. Pushing himself though several hands reaching out to shake his own, he
made his way to the far corner where a sparse, yet blithely tree leaned with old handmade
ornaments stacked on top of each other. He didn’t think Molly had ever thrown a single one away.
His fingers lingers on two directly in the centre with waves hand drawn on with old fashioned
handwriting on the bottom.

“Oh Fabian and Gideon. Happy Christmas.” Ignatius whispered before he set the gifts tucked
behind a few others so Molly couldn’t protest. The children deserved new books and trinkets of
their own. Her pride she had gotten from his side.

As he stood in the crowded room, he could hear gentle sniffling from a corner. Ignatius looked
over his shoulder to see shoved in a corner sitting on a sunken sofa two heads of long hair leaning
close to each other. The sniffling was coming from the general direction as Ignatius inched over to
them.

“It’ll be alright, Ron.” He could hear Bill saying.

“We can get you another rat, an even better one.” Charlie encouraged. Ignatius came to a stop just
short of the brothers. Bill was rubbing Ron’s back as Charlie patted his knees and their matching
long red hair covered Ron’s beet coloured face as he wiped away tears. Ignatius cleared his throat
gently as the three of them turned their heads up in unison.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but is everything alright?” Ignatius asked. Ron rubbed the back of his
hand over his eyes as Bill pulled his brother closer and Charlie stood nodding for Ignatius to follow
him.

“It’s the rat, Scabbers, you remember the one Bill and I got Percy for his first year at Hogwarts.
Well he’s gone missing and Ron swears up and down he was eaten by one of his classmates' cats.
If we had known we would have gotten him a new one, but he kept saying he thought Scabbers
would return.” Charlie explained in a hushed tone as he looked over worried to his brother. Ignatius
swallowed a few times while his jaw tensed. Scabbers wasn’t dead. That would be too easy.
“He might still show up. Rats have a way of turning up at the most unlikely times.” Ignatius
muttered as Charlie tilted his head back and forth.
“Maybe. We’re trying to cheer him up. It's just hard since it's the first Christmas without him. I
was trying to get Tonks to dig up a gnome so I can replace it as the star and make him laugh.”
Charlie said, playing with a split end on his hair.

“Your mother will hate that.” Ignatius pointed out as Charlie shrugged and dropped his hands.

“She’s already yelled at me three times and I just got here yesterday. First about my looks, then
about my job, and then about how old I’m getting without settling down.” Charlie said with a huff
of air. Of all the children, Charlie tried to have an easy going demeanour, but Ignatius saw how
much his mother’s criticisms bothered him deep down. She hated how long his hair was or the
piercing he kept putting through his skin or the ink that moved up and down his arms and legs.
When he’d first gone to Romania, Molly had threatened to track him down and yank him back
home by his ears. Ignatius had gotten the thorough yelling for his part in Charlie leaving school
early to study dragons. So he pulled Charlie into his chest letting him wrap his arms around him as
he rubbed the back of his head.

“You’re a good son, Charlie. Don’t forget it.” Ignatius whispered before detaching the two of them.
Charlie was smiling again with his signature lopsided grin.

“Let’s find the rest of your siblings, maybe we can sneak away and allow you all to open our
presents.” Ignatius said as Charlie’s eyebrows raised. Ignatius hoped the new fireproof gloves
would be a hit with him. Charlie turned to collect Bill and Ron as Ignatius looked over the crowded
room as jolly music started to play and plates of food began to circle above. It felt like a Weasley
Christmas, warm and lively no matter the substance.

Arcturus had not wished for his Christmas to end on such a sour note, alas he had been down for
much too long and he needed not for people to begin their whispers of his demise. The Malfoys
were having dinner with some of the closest of their allies that remained. Arcturus had been invited
but he knew from his daughter that he had not been expected to show. In fact, people were
beginning to write him out completely and he couldn’t have society moving on without him while
he still could stand. Albeit a bit unsteadily and never without a cane any longer.

The blanket of snow that had fallen all day caused the cold manor to stand like a castle of ice
adorned with glass windows and white curtains for a perfectly curated ambiance. The wide silver
doors opened on their own as he approached and the chill seemed to follow inside even with the
candles flickering in the hall offering no reprieve. The eerie rebound of voices floated above him
from down the way. The noises of people engaged in tense required conversation of little substance
and secret threats. Each one trying to undercut the other with words sweetened like a poorly
brewed tea, never exactly hiding its ill intent.

With the potions he’d forced out of Lancelot, he leaned as little on his cane as his abilities allowed
and went to join the facade of people waiting in the grand room. With a tap of his wand he pushed
open the door and with a single step in the room the sugary words ceased with all eyes turned in a
unanimous direction. There was a beauty in the power he held. Power his son never understood,
the rush that would warm a chest as silence befell with one's simple presence. The air being sucked
from the room in a collective breath.

“Arcturus.” Abraxas said as he stood from where he seemed to be entertaining several young
women. “We had not expected you.”

“I was invited.” Arcturus replied shortly as he switched his cane from one hand to the next.
Abraxas looked him up and down searching for fault or ailment, he would find none. Arcturus had
assured he appeared as best a man of his age could.

“We are all thrilled to see you up and well again.” Narcissa cut in for her father by law as she came
and kissed Arcturus’ cheek. Always the beautiful, but cunning diplomat as she wrapped his free
arm in hers and whispered without moving a single muscle in her porcelain painted face.

“How painful is it?” She asked.

“I’d rather not say.” He hummed back without parting his lips. With her perfectly red lips breaking
form to show a gleaming smile, she brought him to the second largest chair available. With a nod
of appreciation, he eased his back into it, careful not to sink too far and dare need assistance up.

Eyes had followed their every movement and when he seemed to not collapse on the floor the air
of excitement passed and they all turned to face their companions again in the quiet conversations
dotted with high pitched laughter and strong smells of liquor. Arcturus took the drink politely
offered, but only pressed his lips for the illusion of a sip. Alcohol would help him none in his
recovery he’d been informed. The room was sparsely filled in comparison to the ways of the past
when the walls used to sweat with the amount of people. How great they did all fall yet they all
stared at him for his failings. Give it a generation or two, there would hardly be enough to fill the
seats.

“You’ll die a proud man.” Cygnus said, while slipping quietly into the seat next to him.

“An honour I believe I deserve.” Arcturus replied, keeping his chin up as he looked to a far corner
where the children had been corralled. He could see the only grandson Cygnus had mocking
himself with the attention he desired. As if called Lucius sauntered over to block Arcturus' view
with his wildly adorned robes distracting from any other sight.
“What happened to him?” Arcturus asked, nodding towards where Draco had been with his
dominant arm dramatically favoured.

“He was brutally attacked by a beast.” Lucius replied. Arcturus looked the man up and down with
a bit of disgust.

“I had heard he merely fractured an arm, are you implying that your son, your heir cannot take a
hit?” Arcturus asked with one eyebrow distinctly raised. Lucius pulled his robes across his chest
stammering for a moment as Cygnus let out a sputtering sound from the corner.

“I always said you raised the boy too weak. Lucius, I need a moment with Arcturus.” Cygnus said,
forcibly dismissing his son by law. Lucius' pale white eyebrows formed a straight line over his cold
grey eyes, but he argued no further as he stormed over to his wife, likely to air his complaints of her
family loudly for all to hear.

“I hate this affair.” Cygnus said in a rather plain voice casting his wary tired eyes over the crowd of
people. Arcturus only followed his glance.

“I had spoken to the goblins at Gringotts.” Cygnus began to reveal his true intentions while staring
out into the snow covered garden where a lone peacock stood.

“Draco is not your heir. Considering they will tell me nothing beside the access to the vault you've
set aside, neither am I.” He continued tapping his fingernail on the glass loosely to his side.

“Cygnus–”

“I understand the temptation. Sirius is alive, and if I know anything, you have him in your grasp.
The mere idea, the sliver of a chance, for this damned forsaken name to live on and we take it. I
 am not going to argue with you on your choices for this family. What good would be for the last
son of a last son to have an opinion? I learned my place the moment Narcissa was born and I had no
name to carry on. I saw what happened to your namesake poor old Uncle Arcturus the Second,
forgotten and placed in the background by the men who had a name to carry on. You, your brother
and my father did that rather well for three men who despised each other.” He continued.

“I despised no one. Cygnus, Narcissa and Draco will be cared for. If more funds are needed I will
transfer whatever you request.” Arcturus answered cautiously.

“We have funds. We have perfectly accurate funds. What none of us have is a name. The Malfoys
absorbed it all.” Cygnus snipped back.

“What do you wish from me?” Arcturus asked, trying to cut down on Cygnus' pitiful rant.

“I ask not of you because you and I will both be gone before this family breathes its last ragged
painful breath. I ask of you what I cannot ask of Sirius. He remains, and given you would sell your
soul before giving him over, he is what I ask. I knew him, we all did. Maybe he has changed,
maybe both Orion’s sons should have both been raised by you, we will never know how it could
have been. I ask this if he is damning this family to its grave. He needs not to tear it to shreds as he
does. My name, my father’s name, my brother’s name, Orion’s name even, tell Sirius to leave them
be. If he provides no sons to carry us on, let us rest in our graves without him dancing on top of
them. I want my wishes granted, I have a will with my final wants. To be returned to France with
my wife, to lie in our old lands where our ancestors lived. For Draco to be the last of my line. Most
importantly, for me to be left alone in my manor with whatever remnants of peace I can hold onto.”
Cygnus finished as he roughly downed the last of his drink. Arcturus dug his teeth into his tongue.
Cygnus did not know it all yet, but Arcturus could see to his final wishes.

“You will have your will, Cygnus.” Arcturus answered. The other man let out a sharp snort.

“So you do have him. I expected nothing less when your daughter told me she had her husband
hunting for him. Merlin, I wished Regulus had survived. At the least, he knew the proper meaning
of respect.” Cygnus said, standing and smoothing out the wrinkles in his robes before stepping
across the hall to yank at his grandson’s shoulders to end his great facade of injury. At least
someone was attempting to make Draco less pathetic.

“If you only knew, Cygnus.” Arcturus said, shaking his head as he pressed his glass to his mouth
again. One small sip for the night to take the edge off the pain growing in both bone and heart
wouldn’t kill him any sooner than the ailments he already suffered.

Chapter End Notes

I don't know about you all but I needed a little holiday spirit before everyone begins to
descend on a certain missing pet. Thank you as always for all kind comments and
kudos, they allow me to keep my spirits up!
 Christmas Present and Past
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior injury, Mentions of a prior attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The shaking of the stairs with each trot he took always reminded him just how old the building was
as a bit of dust tickled his nose. In his mind, he knew not everyone had the fondest memories of
Grimmauld Place. In fact nearly all of them didn’t, but he only had memories coated in sweetness.
Every time he stepped through and was struck with the distinct smell of old wood, it reminded him
of home. The only home little Harry had known until he moved to the clear skies and fresh air of
the Switzerland residence. He was lucky enough to have had not only one happy home in his
childhood.

Plopping down on the soft old sofa that had likely seen more history than any one of his classmates
recalled, he stared at the wooden ceiling wondering what atrocities they had witnessed and if they
enjoyed the calm of the past few years. A fire warmed one side of him as he stretched out his toes
under his socks. There was a feeling of being content in the old place he never had found anywhere
else. Harry reached into his pyjamas to assure the folded old piece of parchment and the Snitch
were still close by. The intermittent moments he could be spared to be close to his father he would
take. A gentle knock disturbed his peace.

“Harry?” Regulus asked as he peered inside before stepping forward with two steaming cups of
chocolate in his hand

“Reg.” Harry said, leaning his head back and seeing the world upside down. He had always
enjoyed Regulus’ laugh. Quiet, but lively.

“Silly boy.” He said putting a small kiss on Harry’s head before he held one of the cups out for
Harry to wrap his hands around.

“I almost wish we could stay here forever.” Harry mumbled as he propped himself up to take a
dangerously hot sip. The sweet taste of chocolate and melted marshmallow fought for attention on
his tongue. Regulus took a place at the edge of the sofa with a look of concern.

“I know I would go mad eventually, but it is easier here. I don’t have to lie to anyone or evade
questions constantly. I’ve seen people trying to putt together the pieces, nothing adds up when you
look at me. As much as I love the Firebolt, it will only bring more questions.” Harry sighed, letting
the steam warm the end of his nose Regulus put his hand comfortingly under his chin. He never
grew tired of the affection and kindness he received. As he got older he realised how rare it was to
find. Regulus’ gentle kisses and warm hugs, Sirius messing with his hair and twirling him around,
or how his aunts and uncles would constantly pat him on the arm or head whenever he passed,
even how his Grandfather would seem to wrap him protectively with his words. He had a good
home, he only wished everyone could see. Though he supposed the secrecy was part of the power.
Blacks were untouchable, considered closer to the gods than men from their history. The
presentation was detrimental.

“Harry,” Regulus replied, his eyes softening, “you owe no one an explanation of who you are.”
Harry wasn’t certain what the intentions were when he was left in Regulus care. Him, not even a
two year old child, left in the arms of a dumbfounded twenty year old. He wouldn’t have predicted
the caring, loving, albeit occasionally disquieted father figure. Harry wouldn’t change it. He
missed his father, his baba, but if he couldn’t have him and his mum. He’d say he’d gotten the next
best family, they were a bit dysfunctional, alas was the story of his life. At least they were prepared
for whatever challenges he came across. Each one willing to put up their wand for him without a
second thought. It was comforting.

“I know.” Harry said, his eyes betraying his feelings. Regulus pulled him closer, letting him lean
onto his chest and enjoying a few quiet sips together under the warm gaze of the fire. It was still,
but it was rich.

“I want to find Peter.” Harry finally broke the peace. His thoughts scratched at his mind painfully
even under the layers of comfort. Regulus’ chest heaved under his head.

“Harry–” Regulus began as Harry leaned closer to Regulus, silencing him in the process with
whatever words of wisdom he had prepared being swallowed.

“I won’t, Reggie. I know he’s dangerous, but I want to see him. I want to look him in the eye and
ask him why. Why he betrayed my parents, whatever reason could exist in this universe that he
would give up his best friend to such a vile, evil–” Harry faltered as he felt Regulus stiffen. Harry
reached out his hand to place on Regulus’ arm. His Regulus who’d fallen for the man’s words of
unspeakable immorality yet had been strong enough to pull himself away from those words and
their temptations of power and glory.

“I just want to know why.” Harry finished shifting his weight to face Regulus. He placed his hand
on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“We will find him, Harry. However, I can’t promise you the answers you're searching for. I wish I
could, more than anything in the world. I would bring you whatever your heart desired, but even
when Peter is caught there is no guarantee he will speak.” Regulus replied, his eyes softening as he
looked at Harry. Now seemed the best time, Harry thought to himself as he touched his hand to a
creased end of a parchment

“Will this help?” Harry asked, holding the paper out tenderly, his hands not wanting to part from it.

“What is this?” Regulus asked, just as the door opened again and entered Sirius casually. Harry
pulled the parchment back swiftly only to draw more attention to himself. Sirius eyebrows shot up
while he closed the distance between them.

“What do you have there, Harry?” Sirius asked. Harry’s hand began to sweat as he held it out
gingerly. Sirius’ face transpired through more emotions in a second than Harry thought possible.

“Is that–? Where did you get that?” Sirius whispered.

“Fred and George, they’ve had it.” Harry said, pulling back, but Regulus placed his hand on a
corner.

“What is it?” Regulus asked again.

“The Marauders Map.” Sirius and Harry said in unison. Regulus eyebrows tightened together,
glancing between the two of them. .

“You made a map?” Regulus said, looking at his brother.

“We made a map. The–the four of us. Not just any map, look.” Sirius said as he pulled out his
wand. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Regulus’ eyes grew wide as the map burst to life on the parchment, covered to every corner with
design and once opened, showing nearly every crook and cranny in Hogwarts. Harry and Sirius
pushed it closer to him. Letting his hand skim the edge gently on the decades old parchment,
Regulus watched as he saw Albus Dumbledore’s name dance down the halls from where his office
resided toward the kitchens.

“He tends to wander down there often from what I recall. Has a serious sweets craving.” Sirius
mumbled.

“Wait, the four of you made this?” Regulus asked as a realisation dawned on him. “So Peter knows
this map.”

Sirius' eyes went wide as he clicked what Regulus was thinking. If Sirius knew how to work the
map, then so did Peter. The chance of it falling into Peter’s hands could lead to disastrous
consequences. They mentally connected while the same thought went through their heads and they
debated with their eyes, who would be the first to say it while Harry watched on with his lips
slightly parted half forming a word he never quite got out.

“Harry…” Regulus said, breaking eye contact and casting his eyes down.

“No.” Harry said firmly.

“Harry, I know–” Regulus began before being cut off as Harry clutched the parchment close to his
chest.

“No, my dad made this. He made this. You can’t take it.” Harry said, feeling his eyes swell with
the weight of the words hitting him. He was striking low, playing the James card on the two of
them, but the map was the closest piece to having his father living and breathing with him every
day. The little jokes that map would tell, the sly remarks that would pop up when he spoke to it. It
wasn’t his father, he knew that, but it was his personality woven into the paper connected forever
to his three closest friends. Giving him a glimpse of what his life could have been, should have
been.

“Harry, if Peter gets his hands on a tool that can show him where everyone is in the castle at all
times, we will never catch him.” Regulus said, his jaw flexing under his words.

“Peter is a Wormtail. He’s a rat, he can’t just jump up and snatch this off my side table. He’s
supposed to be dead after all. I’ve had this map for weeks and I haven’t let it out of my sight. I
wouldn’t let him have it, he couldn’t take this from me.” Harry defended himself. Regulus side
eyed towards Sirius, who still seemed half frozen at the revelation that the map had landed in
Harry's hand. Then he looked at Harry and the fire in eyes. They had stoked that fire and nurtured it
in him. Regulus couldn’t be upset at his own creation to emerge from his care. He had to trust
Harry.

“Fine, you can keep the map on two conditions. One we tell Arcturus about it and two, if it is ever
out of your sight even for a few seconds, you tell us immediately.” Regulus answered with his lips
pushing into a straight line. Harry’s face glowed with excitement as Sirius’ fell. There was no
perfect solution. Regulus was doing the best he could manage.

-
“Alright, Harry up here.” Lancelot said as Harry jumped onto the stark white sheets of the bed.
Twice a year, Harry sat on a bed or a chair or any matter of place to be checked over by either
Helena or Lancelot. The few instances he’d been inside a hospital had never been for his own
treatment, but instead to observe. When he was younger, he enjoyed the idea of being a healer.
Though now the idea of professional Quidditch itched in his brain just as often.

“Look up.” Lancelot said, placing a wrinkled finger under his chin. Harry moved his head, arms,
and legs as instructed.

“Are the glasses still alright? I could try to fix your eyes, though I’d recommend a healer with the
speciality, not your fault but they are quite poor.” Lancelot said when he placed his hands on the
sides of his face again. Harry nodded his head.

“They don’t bother me. I’d rather just keep the glasses.” Harry said, letting his feet just barely
scrape the scuffed floors. Lancelot clicked his tongue twice as he pushed Harry’s head back.

“I’d say to take it easier with Quidditch, but I know it’s futile. So I will just remind you to
remember the stretches we’ve gone over. Trust me when you're an old man like me, you’ll
appreciate having taken care of your joints.” Lancelot said, his eyes narrowing into Harry’s scar.

“Every morning I stretch and I try to remember after too, but sometimes Oliver goes on his rants.”
Harry replied. Lancelot hummed under his breath as his thumb rubbed over the lines of the scar.

“Does it hurt anymore?” He asked, tilting his head back slightly.

“No, not the way it has been the last two years. Uncle Lancelot, shouldn’t the magic have faded?
It’s been twelve years.” Harry asked when Lancelot took his hands off his face. Of all the people
he knew, Uncle Lancelot was perhaps the hardest to read. His lips did not twitch and his eyes did
not narrow the way others did when thoughts troped around their minds. Always it seemed, he had
a face of concentration and indecipherable feelings.

“Typically magical scars do lose the grasp of magic that caused them; however, whether you wish
it or not you have an exceptionally unconventional scar. One never seen before, so I expect there to
be anomalies. The pain fading away is a good sign.” Lancelot replied as he took a few notes in a
small journal he kept when he examined Harry. When he finished dotting down, he sat in a plain
chair with his hands crossed over his middle.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” Lancelot asked.

“A little congested from the weather, but Kreacher was going to make me tea.” Harry said,
wrinkling his brow.

“Yes, very good, but I meant more about how you are feeling mentally, or emotionally.” Lancelot
clarified.

“Oh.” Harry said feeling his face grow warm at the tops of his cheeks. Clearly, his outburst had
spread to the rest of the family.

“Alright, I supposed. I was upset earlier, quite upset, but we all spoke about it and I know the truth
now. It makes me feel better, more included, and trusted.” Harry said, crossing his ankles and
tapping his fingers on the edge of the bed. Lancelot hummed once more.

“Very well. I do not criticise you for expressing your feelings even loudly at times. In fact you may
feel inclined to do so more often around this age. It is common to have difficulty regulating your
emotions as you mature to a young man.” Lancelot said as he craned his neck to look at Harry.
“Oh– well yeah, I suppose I have felt a bit… uncontrolled at times.” Harry said, licking his lips and
looking at the plain walls. He had the vaguest memories of laughter and paint being splattered by
his own hands, just much smaller than they were now. It was hard to place exactly where the
memory came from, but it brought a warm feeling across his chest.

“I know I may not be the one you wish to speak about this with. For I am an old man, but I assure
you everyone goes through these trying teenage years. Know if you need to speak about any of it, I
am here and have been through this with many young wizards and witches. Whether it be potions
for the skin, or potions for the easing of hard emotions, or even potions for other activities young
people engage in. You never have to worry about me thinking poorly of you. I am here to assist
you through this time, not stifle you.” Lancelot said, standing and straightening his robes. Harry let
a small smile tug at his lips.

“Thank you, Uncle Lancelot. If I have questions, I will write. For now, I am going to try and keep
my emotions under control. Aunt Helena gave me a journal and she taught me breathing techniques
for when I need to take a step back.” Harry answered as he nodded his head. Lancelot opened the
door and let him take the stairs a bit recklessly. Lancelot has cared for many children in various
states of life, but caring for those closest to him had always been some of his most important work.

With Harry checked over, he had to go look over his other patient, who was much more
begrudging. Lancelot snapped open his bag, reaching for the small potion vial. Arcturus would
have to ignore the awful taste, as it was one of the few solutions to his ailments. He was sitting in
his room idling with a pipe casually in his hands, overlooking the rear garden.

“I said no smoking.” Lancelot said, placing the vial next to him.

“Do you see smoke?” Arcturus retorted, smartly. Lancelot had to let out a heavy sigh. He knew
men like Arcturus. They were proud men until the end, he’d rather live fast and strong than ideal
and long. As he told Harry, there was no judgement. Everyone had their own right to live as they
pleased; to die as they pleased within reason.

“His scar?” Arcturus asked before downing the potion, wincing sharply.

“Only great magic could hold for this amount of time. Dark magic.” Lancelot said, his tone
ominous. Arcturus nodded solemnly, leaning back with his chin stuck out. His hair was more white
than black anymore, but a few stubborn strands of his signature colour tugged from his skull.

“We will need more information coming from his mind. I would not recommend you being the one
to do so.” Lancelot said sharply,

“He is my grandson. If anyone is digging around in his mind, it will be me.” Arcturus replied.
Laughter outside the window caught both their attention as Arcturus stood heavily relying on his
cane in the cold weather that caused his bones to crack and ache further than he’d ever felt before.
Outside in freshly laid snow that had been pattering on the windows all night, Regulus, Sirius, and
Harry were throwing snowballs at one another. He couldn’t recall in all his years the last time such
unabandoned joy had graced the walls of his home, but deep in his heart he hoped it would
continue.

Tinsel and Holly filled the air as he wandered down the halls. He’d taken the long way around to
The Great Hall. Reminiscing as snow pittered onto the windows in fresh white sparkles. Part of
him felt warm and cosy spending the holiday season in one of his fondest places. Another large
part of him ached with pains old and new. His hips were radiating with pain down to his knees and
the cold made his joints crack with a dull snap each time he moved. The long way may not have
been smart, but he’d be damned if he didn’t crack on.

His cane helped him so far, but even with The Great Hall in sight, Remus had to pause, pushing
into his side as a burning stab struck his left hip. Focusing on the smells of the holidays, he
breathed through the episode until it subsided to gentle throb. His eyes were weary from the
sleepless nights. Thoughts he hadn’t left behind for years came into sharp focus when he’d tried to
close his eyes and as he turned his head, it seemed they were beginning to haunt his living
moments as well. There he stood in a hall he’d been in before with the same tinsel hung and warm
smells touching his sensitive nose.

“Hey Moony!” He heard the voice echo in his mind as memories came in waves like water lapping
onto the shore blurring feet dug into the sand of the beaches he’d spent his childhood on.

“James.” He heard his old voice reply tiredly as he could nearly feel the comforting arm sling over
his shoulders. He indulged himself for a moment letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Peter and I were having a debate. Now he says roast beef is the best Christmas dish, I disagree
and say Yorkshire pudding is the best. We need a man of reason to settle this once and for all.”
James said with the voice that always seemed to have a laugh trailing behind his words. It could
pull a smile on anyone’s face, even tired old Remus.

“Piss off, you're both wrong. It’s chocolate.” Remus said, looking over at James with eyes that he
knew had deep purple circles. The moon had been rough and still bothered him a week later. He’d
been tossing around every night, dreading the moon that would fall directly in the middle of the
holiday later that month, there would be no Shrieking Shack or friends to help him. Only his old
basement and chains and his father’s eyes that never seemed to meet him.

“Chocolate isn’t a traditional Christmas dish, Moony!” James had cried as Peter caught up to the
two of them with a smirk across his face. Remus felt a bit perkier already with his friends escorting
him towards a warm dinner.

“What did Sirius have to say on the matter?” He asked. James scoffed while Peter chuckled under
his breath.

“Wine, to bear his mother’s speeches at dinner. You know Sirius and Christmas, all hodge and
misery. Don’t worry though, one year I swear he’ll have a proper Christmas, not a lick of
complaining.” James said with his perfect smile, all except the one tooth he’d lost in a Quidditch
game in third year. They’d tried to put it back, but it’d gone a tad sideways. James said it added
character and had hoped it’d get him some sympathy from Lily, but she’d only called him a fool.
Though Remus could see the shine in her eye as she turned away. He knew the feeling rising with
the colour in her cheeks. The shattering realisation one’s emotions had gone for a ride on their own
and forgotten to tell the brain.

“Well you know I don’t celebrate Christmas.” Remus said, while they all squeezed together across
from a few of the girls, Peter and James were still debating food choices. Lily’s ears perked up as
she looked over from where she was speaking with Mary.

“Latkes are better.” Lily said in her song-like voice as she loaded her plate with roasted potatoes.

“Those potatoes you made last year. Bloody brilliant they were, Evans.” James said, putting his
chin in his hand.

“Grafting are you, Potter?” Marlene said, swinging her legs around to take her place as Lily and
 Mary giggled.

“Blimey McKinnon, keep the blocks for Quidditch.” James replied, crossing his arms in feign
upset. His act riled a reaction James was pleased with.

“Where’s Sirius?” Mary asked, looking over her shoulder as if expecting Sirius to come sauntering
in. Remus shrugged his sore shoulders. Sirius had been rubbing them a few hours ago until Remus
fell asleep and when he woke up, now he was nowhere to be found.

“I thought he’d be here.” James said, looking at Peter, who only gave a bewildered glance in
response. Returning to their meals, they all silently assumed Sirius would join them late and with
his signature grin plastered on his face from one trap or another he was likely setting. Only their
peaceful meals were interrupted. Yelling made the entire Great Hall slowly fall silent. Everyone
was turning their ears to try to catch a word or two of the screams bouncing off the walls. Remus
felt his stomach sink and himself growing ill. The voices couldn’t be understood, but Remus knew
those posh accents and glittering voices.

“No, no.” Remus whispered as he pushed back to try and see out the opened doors.

“Mister Black and Mister Black, put your wands down this instant!” McGonagall yelled as she
exited the halls with her hand clutching the pointed hat to her head. Remus hung his head. Leave it
to Sirius to cause a scene with his brother after months of the two of them pretending the other
didn’t exist. James had already stood with his hand twitching to his wand as Peter leaned closer to
Remus for direction. With a sputtering breath, Remus willed the power to pull his legs over the
bench. Sirius had to be stopped. For his own good. Before his feet even pushed off the stone floors,
the entire room shook as a few students let out sharp screams and others ducked from falling dust.

“Mister Black, put your wand down straight away or I swear–” McGonagall’s threat was cut off by
another sharp curse being thrown. The sounds of ancient stone cracking onto itself filled the halls
as muffled cries resounded again. Remus felt his eyes popping out of his skull as the entrance to the
Great Hall filled with dust and all the professors rushed to the door demanding everyone stay in
their seats. James didn’t listen as he rushed out the door on the professors’ heels.

Remus opened his eyes to stare at the very wall Sirius and Regulus had taken down. They’d
seriously injured two other students in the fallout and several others had to be treated. Orion Black
himself had been summoned and neither Sirius or Regulus left the hospital week for an extended
period of time. Not until just before the holidays, when both boys were the perfect example of ill
fated anguish. Even James couldn’t bring a light to Sirius’ eyes. If James couldn’t make Sirius
better, nothing on the whole earth could.

With a sigh not unlike the ones he used to direct towards Sirius, Remus continued on to the warm
crackling fires of The Great Hall. The spattering of students who’d remained over the holidays had
already joined the table as well as many of the professors. Remus shook the thoughts of Sirius, of
the past, out of his head. Wherever Sirius may be he wouldn’t ruin another Christmas for Remus.
Even if it wasn’t his holiday, it had been theirs for a short time. Now it was Remus’ to reclaim as
he sat next to a nervous looking first year and passed the Yorkshire pudding to her with a gentle
smile as she grabbed it appreciatively. No one deserved to be sad on Christmas, not nervous first
years or melancholy professors.

Chapter End Notes

A little extension of the holidays for one more chapter before the return to Hogwarts.
Thank you as always for reading and any comments left. Be back soon!
 Unfailingly Loyal
Chapter Notes

CW: Prior implied deaths, implied prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Night had fallen, the shadows from the street lights edging in from the age worn curtains danced
on the walls appearing like wisp of ghost from the past. Harry walked past them without a second
thought. A fresh wind storm was shaking the glass and he could nearly smell the freshly laid snow
that would line the pavement when they walked to King’s Cross in only a few short hours. He
should have been asleep, but he couldn’t. Leaving Regulus with his face pressed into a pillow, he’d
snuck down the stairs carefully to avoid each one that let out a low groan at any touch of pressure.

The final few steps that lowered him into the kitchen, he cared less about their noise as no one was
close enough to be disturbed. He’d made it halfway to the kettle before the sound of a throat
clearing caused him to jump. Only now realising his wand was left on the very top level,
inconsiderately stored on top of his trunk.

“Sh, it’s alright, Harry. It is just me.” Arcturus said, waving his hand and a ball of light floating
above his fingertips that he flicked forward and the kitchen brightened in a warm glow.

“I thought you were to only use magic in emergencies.” Harry said, stepping closer to see his
grandfather wrapped in thick robes with a cup of tea steaming close to his hands.

“We will keep it our little secret.” Arcturus said with a warmhearted yet fatigue smile as he tapped
the spot next to him. There was a small shuffling coming from the pantry as Harry sat and out
emerged a small figure buried in supplies.

“Kreacher!” Harry called as he stood and rushed to his side to alleviate the mass he was carrying.

“Little Master, why is you awake? Yous have an important date tomorrow.” Kreacher exclaimed.
Harry set the supplies on the counter before responding.

“I couldn’t sleep, why are you awake Kreacher?” Harry asked, turning the inquiry away from
himself.

“Kreacher has to start making little Master’s food, he needs a good meal before a long day of
travel.” Kreacher said, counting out eggs with a crooked finger.

“Shoo, go sit, Kreacher bring you tea.” Kreacher said when Harry began to hover. He tried to
protest, but Kreacher would only cut him off as the kettle floated to sit on a lighted flame. Harry
retreated back to his grandfather.

“He reminds me a bit of Lancelot.” Arcturus said, while Harry turned to him with his head tilted
and eyebrows raised.

“Well neither of them seem to ever wish to stop working. No matter how much you protest it.
Some souls are just not meant to be idle.” Arcturus said, a nearly wistful look to his eyes under the
yellow glow.
“You aren’t idle, Grandfather. You never could be.” Harry tried to reassure him while Kreacher
scooted a teacup close to Harry before going to sort through the sugars.

“My mind is still sharp as ever, but my body has given up much of its fight, Harry. Despite our
magic we are not meant to live forever.” Arcturus replied, placing a hand on Harry’s bed messed
hair.

Harry brought his teacup to his mouth at his lack of an answer. People die, even great people, but
his grandfather seemed inimitable, innumerable in his abilities. Yet even he could not deny the
way his skin sagged around his face and arms from the sharp weight loss, or the pale colour of his
skin that was unnatural even for a member of the House of Black. If not dying, then he was ageing
astonishingly fast. He’d aged more in a year than he had in all the prior years Harry had known
him. His heart was sustaining too much damage from this line of thought.

“Maybe you can help me. I need to talk out a worry, and I don’t think it’s best to speak to Regulus
or Sirius. I actually think you would be the best person.” Harry said, setting down his tea with a
small clink. Arcturus’ face lifted as he turned his eyes towards Harry, encouraging him to speak.

“The dementors, they seem to impact me worse than anyone else. I can’t even stay conscious
around them and it– it scares me.” Harry began his hand wrapping around the warm cup for
stability.

“I know Sirius won’t want to revisit them, and Regulus neither considering, well everything. I
don’t want to push you any further either. I have my own plan to help teach myself how to defend
against them, if I can make it work, but I’ve read your famil-–my family’s history. If anyone knows
more than the books I’ve read, it would be you. So I suppose my request is, do you know any
information or knowledge that would help me?” Harry asked.

Arcturus eased into his place with a placated mein. Before answering, he gingerly took a single
short sip with his eyes hard set ahead. Harry could see it, behind the appearances in his eyes that
Arcturus was as he said sharp as ever, perhaps even keener with all the free time to focus.

“So you’ve read of the rumours of the House of Black and the dementors.” Arcturus said. Harry
licked his lips and nodded, trying to egg him on as he continued speaking.

“Ekrizdis… Black. Oh a rather foul creature was he. A bastard son of our house who was sentenced
to exile for the creations he made. None the less of them, the dementors.” Arcturus continued, his
eyes glazed over and a firm grip on the teacup.

“He ended the War of the Brothers, didn’t he?” Harry asked, trying to recall the ancient history
tucked into well worn and yellowed books.

“The War of the Brothers had three parts, he ended the second by flooding the field with his…
creations. He killed nearly a quarter of his family, well killed or nearly killed not to mention the
many that had already died. The War truly ended with the heroes our family highlights the focus
on. Mars Black and his two brothers, Neptune and Jupiter. I am impressed you made the
connection, we have done well to separate our family from him.” Arcturus said, a wary glance cast
at Harry, but Harry wanted to understand.

“He was a half-blood wasn't he?” Harry prodded.

“He was. His father… he was a horrific man, deserved to have his head chopped off. Nearly ruined
our entire name, the name established by Atlas. He is one of our most guarded secrets. So I assume
you know all of this, you may have inferred a suspicion many before you have if I am correct?”
Arcturus asked, acting rather casual as he sipped his tea once more. Harry chewed on his bottom
lip before he formed the questions.

“Can members of the House of Black truly control the dementors?” Harry asked, no one ever said
it outright, but old pennings and quilled words alluded to it heavily, but he knew facts about the
House of Black were often enveloped in lore, half untrue, the other half pleading to be untrue.

“Never have we and never will we. Truthfully, I don’t believe Ekrizdis had control over them, he
thought of them nearly as pets, but I believe the dementors saw him the same. He and his evil were
cast away to that island lost in the middle of the sea. Only when he died and enchantments began to
fall did the dementors dare venture out. The ancestors refused to acknowledge the issue even
though we had land and occupancy in England at the time. For if they did, they could be held
accountable. They would have to acknowledge Ekrizdis as a member of their family, when our
alliances with the families of this island were still fragile. Any magic that tied us to the dementors
died with him.” Arcturus explained. Harry twitched his mouth and sat, solemn at the revelation. He
had been hoping his grandfather knew a secret about the dementors no one else did.

“There is a way to fend off the dementors though, Harry.” Arcturus said, leaning forward to touch
his arm.

“The Patronus Charm.” Harry hummed as he leaned back with his teacup abandoned on the table,
crossing his arms. “It's an advanced charm, but I had thought about it.”

“I know you, Harry. It is not beyond your abilities with the correct teachings.” Arcturus said.

“I was planning to ask Uncle Remus to help me learn.” Harry said, pushing his lips harshly
together. His decision may be controversial, any of his family would teach him, but he did not wish
to spend his entire break working on a charm unlikely for anyone to learn in a fortnight of time.
Those moments were better spent else wise. There was a second side to his decision. The space
between him and his Uncle Moony felt like a chasm. Maybe a bit boyishly, he hoped the lessons
could provide a stitch to the years-long tear.

“He is the Defence Professor. I believe him ample to instruct you though Harry do not grow weary
if it goes slower than you please. Even the greatest of wizards began somewhere.” Arcturus
answered, nodding his head slowly.

“Even you?” Harry said, turning his head with a smile. Arcturus was frozen, except he did not feel
cold. In fact, he was filled with warmth as his tired face tugged at a smile and his fatigued arm
reached for messy hair.

“Even I, sweet boy. Now morning has arrived, you should at least wash up before eating.” Arcturus
replied. Harry nodded kindly before jumping off his seat and clattering up ancient creaking stairs.
Arcturus listened to each beat of sound until he could assure Harry reached his level. Kreacher
popped around the kitchen preparing plates of food. Arcturus knew the loyalty of the old elf no
longer lied completely with him and he was settled with the matter.

“Kreacher, you take care of our boy.” Arcturus commented, finishing the last sip of his tea and
eyes lingering at the vacant entry way.

“Of course, Master. Kreacher fails you not.” Kreacher answered.

“You’ve never failed me, Kreacher. I just fear this is the beginning of a long line of struggles for
Harry and he will need all the support we can muster.” Arcturus said, before forcing himself up to
refill his cup.
-

“Every year…” Harry heard as he helped Uncle Ignatius lift one of the many Weasley trunks into
the train. They had a matter of seconds to spare and it was all hands grabbing trunks and tossing
them up the steps. Wiping away sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Harry gave one
last quick hug to Regulus and Sirius before jumping up the steps leaning over for one final wave
before the train chugged ahead jerkily. Harry had to hold out his hands as he and Ron laughed
down the hall until they reached where Hermione was petting Crookshanks. He jumped down the
moment they opened the door and slid past their feet on his nails with a quiet mew.

“Crookshanks.” Hermione sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Did you cut your hair?” Ron asked, looking her up and down. Harry turned and shook his head.
Hermione’s hair was usually past her shoulders, now it cut just at her chin. Clearly, she has cut her
hair, but Ron and her had been on tough terms prior to the break. He was just happy to see them
speaking.

“Ron.” She said, turning her chin down to hide her smile.

“Looks smashing.” Ron said with a shrug before plopping down with his long legs stretched out on
the bench leaving Harry to tuck in across from him next to Hermione. He noticed a new pile of
books next to her already notated and annotated.

“Christmas presents?” Harry asked signally with his eyes as Hermione’s hand went protectively
over the spines.

“From mum and dad, I had to make a list for them but they went all the way down to Diagon Alley
for them.” She answered with a kind pull to her lips. Harry narrowed his eyes to try and read the
titles. One stuck out to him.

“The Great Families of Europe and Their Histories.” Harry stated as Hermione let out a small
squeak and pulled the books closer. Ron looked over from where he had been leaning with his
hands resting behind his head.

“Seems like a bore.” Ron commented.

“I thought it would be good for our History of Magic class to prepare. We will be ending the
middle ages this term and a lot happened in the wizarding world. Some of the greater alliances were
made and there are still families remaining from that time today, including your own Ron. The
Prewetts were there, and the MacMillians, and well…” Hermione eyed over at Harry, who let out a
sigh.

“The Blacks.” Harry finished for her, shifting uncomfortably in his place.

“Yes, most famously the Blacks. Professors Binns may cover the War of the Brothers, but it's
rather extensive so it may be saved for year four. I asked mum and dad for the book that covered it,
but they didn’t have it in stock. I was going to write to see if they could order it and mail it to me.”
Hermione said, picking up a book and flipping quickly through the pages.

“I have a copy.” Harry answered instinctively. Hermione and Ron’s head popped up.

“You can borrow it, I’ll have it sent for so you don’t have to buy it.” Harry said, forcing himself to
be casual.

“Mate, that’s a really dark book. Mum wouldn’t let Bill have it in the house even when he was
studying. My Uncle Bilius always said it would have been better if the Blacks had just done
themselves in then. Would have saved us all a world of trouble.” Ron said with a bit of concern in
his eyes. Harry’s lips twitched a few times, but he didn’t have the energy to form words from his
lips movements.

“What about you, Harry? Any interesting presents?” Hermione said, pivoting the conversation.

“Oh, erm, I got a Firebolt.” Harry said, rubbing at his neck as Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his
skull.

“A Firebolt?” Ron said loud enough for several carriages to hear.

“You’ve gone mad haven’t you? You can’t have a Firebolt, they haven’t even begun selling them
yet and even if they did they cost what ten thousand galleons at least.” Ron said, his mouth openly
gaping.

“It’s not that much.” Harry muttered his words swallowed whole by Ron’s exclamations.

“You’ll have to let me fly it, or even just sit on it. I don’t even have to go anywhere. I wouldn’t
want to damage it, I could never afford to fix it. A real life Firebolt, sure does make my penknife
from Uncle Ignatius look pretty sad.” Ron said, his eyes beginning to gaze over.

Thankfully, the door slid open to reveal a tall dashing fellow with short cropped hair. He was a few
years older than them and Harry knew him from Quidditch. The Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric
Diggory.

“Weasley, ya see your brothers?” Cedric asked with a flick of his chin towards Ron.

“No but Cedric, hear this. Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas!” Ron exclaimed to their newly joined
companion.

“No shite.” Cedric said, turning to Harry with a grin.

“That’ll make my Comet Two Sixty look like a toy broom up there. You just might have a chance
this year, Potter.” He answered with a friendly wink before he passed over what looked like two
normal quills to Ron and stepped out.

“You know Cedric?” Hermione asked.

“He lives over the hill along with the Lovegoods. You know Ginny’s friend?” Ron replied with a
shrug as he played with the feather of the quill.

“Prank quills they only write jokes and draw funny pictures. Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia
gave us all a few small presents for Christmas. These were Fred and George’s, they are a bit old
but apparently our uncles had the same kind and enjoyed them.” Ron said as he carefully tucked
them into his bag for whenever they rejoined with the jubilant twins.

The rest of the ride Hermione filled them in on the summary of each of her books. Ron even leaned
forward when she started talking about the Great Wizarding Families to chim in his own
knowledge. The gossip is not kind enough to put into an educational sort of book. Harry watched as
Hermione added more notes into her byline as Ron rattled on with random affairs or under table
deals he had learned about. When the train finally arrived, Harry realised he had dozed off at some
point when Ron was shaking his shoulder and helping him stand so they could make it to the feast.
After a warm large meal, Harry had intended to find Uncle Moony, but it almost seemed as if he
was avoiding him by how scarce he became. The Gryffindor Common Room seemed much too
bright and loud to return to just yet, so instead he wandered down to the dungeons crossing his
fingers Snape was elsewhere in the castle making someone else miserable.

He entered the room with only one toe over the threshold as his head began to swivel for any
notice of the Potions Professor. Instead, he found only one lone boy.

“Good hols, Blaise? Your mother make anyone mysteriously disappear?” Harry asked before
setting his books down letting them fall carelessly to the side.

“Depends, did any long lost relatives try to kill you?” Blaise shot back without moving his eyes
from where they stared deep into a green potion.

“Surprisingly no, is that Essence of Insanity?” Harry inquired, beginning to pull his own
ingredients from the shelves.

“It's supposed to be, but it appears the wrong colour.” Blaise said, leaning back and letting out a
long breath.

“Did you add the right amount of frog brains?” Harry asked over his shoulder.

“The right amount of frog brains. Acts like I am a novice…” Blaise said his words tapering off at
the end while he fluttered to the page in the potions text.

“Shite.” Blaise cursed before slamming the book close. Harry felt a rightful smirk cross his lips as
he began to brew a Pepperup Potion. Madam Pomfrey had them in stock, but she always asked
questions. Granted as a healer should, but Harry couldn’t answer all of them truthfully so it was
best he brewed it himself. He felt sleepless nights in his future.

A few soft snowy days passed before Harry had a chance to speak with Professor Lupin. Taking his
chance after Defence class, he waved Hermione and Ron on as he waited for the classroom to clear
out. Professor Lupin had his back turned, putting away charts on vampires he had pulled out for the
lesson. Giving himself a moment to collect himself, he walked up and paused until Professor Lupin
turned around.

“Harry.” Professor Lupin said, with a small grin. “Happy Holidays?”

“Yes, indeed and you?” Harry asked, tucking his book in his hands and placing it in front of
himself. He was teetering on his toes, he shouldn’t be nervous.

“Better than most, surprisingly. I heard you were given a rather nice gift?” Remus replied with a
glint of youthfulness in his look. Harry smiled in return.

“A Firebolt.” Harry answered.

“Your father would adore that. He would have jumped at the opportunity to give you one.” Remus
said. Harry felt a glimmer of joy dance in his chest.

“You’ll be late to your next class.” Remus pointed out gesturing towards the hall. It was now or
never.

“I had a request.” Harry blurted out as Remus paused in his half turn. He gave a delicate nod for
Harry to continue.
“The dementors, they impact me worse than most everyone else, but I have been reading about a
piece of defensive magic that would help me. I don’t think it would be an endeavour, it would not
be good for me to go on alone.” Harry began. Remus’ eyebrow raised.

“The Patronus Charm.” He added in.

“You know it?” Harry encouraged him to continue speaking to him.

“I do. However Harry the magic is fairly advanced. Even fully trained wizards have difficulty
producing a non-corporeal one, let alone one to withstand a dementor.” Remus warned in a tense
tone, shaking his head.

“I understand. I need to try for my own sake.” Harry answered. Remus clasped his hands in front of
him and turned to face Harry. His face contemplated several different emotions behind his eye
bags. Finally, he broke his stance with a sigh.

“We can begin next week after we both settle into the new term. Before dinner on Tuesday meet
me here and we will go over the basics first. I can’t promise I can teach you well enough, but for
you Harry I will try.” Remus said, turning his eyes to the side.

“Thank you… Uncle Moony.” Harry said with a cheeky smile. Remus even had to nod in
enjoyment. Harry turned on his heels and rushed down the halls sliding into his classroom with
less than a few seconds to spare. His smile lasted well into the day as he counted the moments until
the next week would roll around.

“We should have kept the map.” Sirius said pacing at the end of Regulus’ bed. He watched Sirius
take the steps across the room and turn on heel to cross it again as he laid out with the book he’d
been attempting to read laid on his chest.

“So you could obsess over it every waking moment and try to make a run for it the moment you
saw Peter for a fraction of a second on the map?” Regulus said with his legs crossed stretched out
in front of him. Sirius flashed him a scorned look, but didn’t have a cheeky response ready. He
knew Regulus was right.

“Aren’t you going bloody mad about this?” Sirius asked after he had paced a few more lines into
the tired floors.

“Of course I am, I’ve just alway been better at regulating my emotions.” Regulus said back, while
chewing his lower lip raw. Watching Harry shoot one more final wave this morning before being
swept up by the steam and disappearing into the train had made Regulus want to be sick, but
keeping Harry confined to Grimmauld Place wouldn’t be fair. Even kinder than it was in years
past, Regulus knew the pain of being trapped in the narrow walls feeling as if the ceiling would
topple down, almost hoping for it just for the misery to end.

“Masters.” Kreacher said as he pushed in Regulus' door with a low squeak.

“You don’t have to call us that Kreacher, you may use our names if you please.” Regulus sighed as
he greeted the elf.

“Kreacher is very old, Master, some habits stick.” He said with a wink of his large eyes. Sirius
stopped pacing, but was now impatiently tapping his foot on the ground.

“May we help you with something then?” Regulus asked, trying to snide at his brother but Sirius's
eyes would not look at him.

“Master Arcturus asked to speak to the both of you. In the study if you please, Kreacher will bring
tea.” Kreacher said before shuffling out of the room and popping away before he reached the steps.

“Of course, the ringmaster calls.” Sirius huffed as he crossed his arms.

“Do you have no appreciation for all he has done for us? You’d still be rotting in Azkaban without
him.” Regulus exhaled, shoving his feet into a pair of slippers and pushing past his brother for the
narrow doorway. Sirius inhaled sharply in response as he followed a step behind his feet loudly
crescendoing to Regulus’ meek stride.

“I would have gotten out on my own, especially if I knew Peter was near. I can appreciate what he
has done without raving his praises. He’s still not a good person, Reggie. We both know this.”
Sirius grumbled.

“He’s not perfect and he’s made mistakes, but he’s trying now.” Regulus snapped slightly as they
reached the wide doors to the study. Sirius let out a sputtering sound that was drowned out by the
door pushing inward. Inside behind the desk with his heavily grey hair pulled tightly back was their
grandfather.

“The two of you really should know better. The walls talk in this house.” Arcturus said, rather
ominously as the portrait shimmered with movement and Regulus could see his namesake
retreating out of frame. Behind him, he could feel Sirius’ famous eye roll.

“Sit, I have had much worse critiques than yours. Most of them were from our family in these
ancient walls.” He said motioning to the two chairs in front of an wide old desk marred with scuff
marks and dents whether from old age or evil hexes one never could tell. Regulus felt a strange
recollection of his childhood, being called down with his brother to this same room with their
grandfather in his place and their father just beside him. He’d lost count of the reason for the call,
none ever left him with a sweet disposition after. Still, he and Sirius sat in the same places they had
all those years ago, almost like touching a beloved instrument well after its retirement.

“Your brother spies for you often?” Sirius inquired, the snark still in his tone. Arcturus turned his
posture to lean over the desk with his hands clasped in front of him, a move he used to pull when
they were children and it demanded obedience.

“Nearly always, both in life and in death. See he and I did not spend our adult years equal in sight,
but he was unfailingly loyal. I don’t believe there was an act I could commit to cause him to break
his oath of brotherhood with me, and I promise you, commit those acts I did. Each sour one of
them.” Arcturus replied in a solid even tone.

“But he is gone and a great loss his death was for all of us, you two especially even if you didn’t
know him. Alas we cannot dawdle on the past when the future seems so short. For the time being,
we all have a tangible goal. To collect this Mister Pettigrew and see his sentence served for the
acts he committed, bringing a better safety to Harry and potentially freedom to you, Sirius if we can
manage to have the Minister see reason.” Arcturus explained. Sirius’ lips twitched but did not part.

“As I find myself a prisoner to old age, I must do what I have known would happen for some time
now. I am relying on you both to enact a plan I have laid out. Everyone has their roles, but the two
of you have the most important ones. When we finally have a location for Peter, I need to trust both
of you to put your egos aside and be what you have always been. Brothers unfailingly loyal to one
another.” Arcturus continued with the lines on his face stretched long across his face.
 Regulus turned to Sirius, who had turned to him. Years had passed and they were better brothers
than they had ever been even as young children, but the divide between them was still there
cracking under any pressure laid on it from the freshly poured fill. If they could not be as their
grandfather wanted and be unfailingly loyal to each other, there was on person they could agree on.
Harry, they would move mountains for Harry.

Chapter End Notes

Said I would be back soon and intended to keep it this time. (Plus I had the majority of
this chapter written for awhile now). The last bit of domesticity from the holidays has
passed and the time is coming near (even though I do feel I have been saying that for a
while). Please enjoy and I will likely return next week with the next update! Thank
you in advance for any kind words or even just reading along in this massive journey I
have undertaken!

P.S. Yes there is more heavily implied lore of my own creation in this chapter.
 The Balkans
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of injury, brief mentions of blood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Never going to work.” Sirius grumbled his complaints for at least the tenth time in the hour.
Regulus had stopped glaring over his shoulder. Sirius wouldn’t be appeased. Regulus couldn’t deny
the strange empty feeling that had been in his stomach since they’d left the safe steps of
Grimmauld Place. The idea had seemed easier and simpler tucked into the old wooden floors and
looming dark walls. Once out in the fading sunlight surrounded by people, even under the guise in
Polyjuice Potion, Regulus felt exposed.

The ground cracked underneath his feet unevenly while they made the final approach. They were
entering through the dilapidated destroyed store front. Stepping in and it turned into the dingy ill-lit
Leaky Cauldron. The last heat of the sun was dying on their backs as they waded into the shadows
of the pub. A few wary eyes peered from the corners, but no one stopped them as they slithered
between the chairs and tables on their way out the back towards the chipping bricks that parted
when Regulus tapped his wand in the necessary pattern. Nearly all the stores had their lights turned
on above their doors as night began to fall upon Diagon Alley. It would only be darker where they
wander.

Knockturn Alley always carried a certain smell that reminded him vaguely of his childhood, maybe
it was the poisonous candles or the hanging incense dangling along windowsills. Either way it left
a cold sweat on his back forcing him to pull his robes tighter. Fewer wizards and witches were
found in the narrow alleyways all with their hats pulled low and scattering along the cobblestone
without much regard to the new arrivals. Regulus and Sirius made quick steps to the faded hanging
sign of Borgin and Burkes.

“Arcturus holds too much faith in old family ties.” Sirius grumbled. Regulus ignored him to open
the door with a tiny jingle of a bell above. The shelves were dusty and filled to the brim. The air
tasted like old parchment and carried the smell of rotting filth. Exactly as he had remembered it to
be. Scanning through stuffed shelves and behind large wardrobes, Regulus could not spot the
wizard they were looking for.

“He said he will be here.” Sirius whispered while his finger lingered over what seemed to be a
pristinely kept Opal necklace.

“I wouldn’t touch that.” Regulus warned as he glanced in a further corner. “He’s here. Just
remember what Arcturus said.”

Sirius’ eyebrows were in a thick line as he dropped his arm and kicked at a pile of dust under the
shelves. A few more moments filled by a strangely macabre clock ticking in the corner. Regulus
peeled his eyes away from the arms that appeared to be made of bones. Finally, a shuffling could
be heard coming from the back room and a greying hunched man appeared in the shop.

“Hm, I haven’t seen the lot of you before.” Mister Burke partially growled as he set down a crystal
ball onto the counter.
“What can I do for you? Poisons? They are in the far corner. Cursed objects are sorted by size.” He
said, his dark brown eyes warilying inspecting the two men with unfamiliar faces and non
descriptive black robes over their shoulders.

“We’ve come to collect a more precious purchase.” Regulus said, setting his hands on the counter
with Sirius crossing his arms just behind him. Mister Burke raised his bushy brown eyebrow and
shuffled closer.

“Have you now?” He inquired in a croaking voice. Regulus kept his jaw set hard as he reached
only a single hand into his robes and pulled out two shining gold Galleons.

“We’ve heard you have a proclivity for keeping a keen ear out on your patrons.” Regulus said,
lowering his chin just a bit to look down his nose. Every lesson of intimidation and persuasion
swirling in his head in the vague voice of his father. Burke only hummed as he picked up a Galleon
and held it into a yellowed light swaying above the counter before tucking them both away after
the clock had ticked loudly several more times.

“I hate to disappoint, but my patrons expect a certain level of discretion. However, if you were
wishing to make a purchase, please continue.” He said, waving his crooked fingers over his wares
with a mischievous grace to his face. Regulus took in a single deep breath as he reached in again
only this time to remove his wand and hold it tightly between his fingers as he lowered his hand
back to the counter. Burke let out a chortled breath.

“I happen to know otherwise, good sir.” Regulus said letting a malign smile grace his lips.

“On good accounts? I suggest you revise your sources. Where do you come from anyways? I have
yet to see anyone of the likes of you around. What’s your family name?” Burke asked in an
accusatory tone. Regulus tilted his head slightly as he heard Sirius crack a finger behind him.

“We come from France, an old family there.” He said with an ease to his voice that caused Burke
to perk up with much interest in his wrinkled eyes. The dinging of the clock revealed the hour had
come as did a small skull appearing from underneath in a strange back and forth motion. Regulus
did not peer his eyes away from the man in front of him though. His young eyes locked into the
lined face while thoughts swirled around in the man’s eyes. Careful to move not a single muscle
more than absolutely required he pulled out another Galleon from within his robes and placed it
down

“Hm.” Said the storekeeper as he lifted it between his thumb and middle finger. Tucking it behind
his back before parting his lips once more.

“I asked for your family name?” He inquired once more. Regulus didn’t let himself even blink,
keeping himself frozen without a hesitation to his stance. Sirius was the one who broke the ever
ending silence.

“I think a man of your wealth of knowledge knows the answer to his question before he poses it.”
He replied with a sharp lip that made Regulus want to swing around and reprimand him, but there
was no time. According to Arcturus, their best chance to find movement of prior Death Eaters was
Mister Burke.

“Tsk, tsk. Arcturus is taking risks now. I had heard my dear old uncle was in poor health. Now he
sends you to tempt me as a test of loyalty, I suppose? The Burke name owes much to the Blacks,
this I will not deny. For that I will entertain your queries.” He began showing a yellowed smile.
Regulus felt a bit of pride in his chest warming up to his cheeks. He was no Arcturus, and he
wasn’t even an Orion, but he still for a short time had been their heir.
“For my worth though, this only gains you so much query.” He said, revealing the three coins in
hand for a flash of a moment before they disappeared behind the grey of his robes. Arcturus said he
was loyal, but pernickety. They must pose their questions considerately for they would only hold
his attention for a small space of time.

“Have you heard of any movement from the former followers of The Dark Lord?” Regulus
whispered under his breath craning a bit closer to the man. His smile widened.

“So which one of you is he? And who is the other?” Mister Burke asked with a twinkle to his eye,
almost enthralled. Regulus felt a twitch pulling at his lips, but he refrained as a hand came down
harshly next to him.

“We didn’t pay you to ask your own questions.” Sirius nearly growled, clearly his dissatisfaction at
this mission reaching a peak.

“Ah, that temper would be his, but the coyness of you would be distinctly from the Blacks.” Mister
Burke said, turning his head from one brother to another until he paused at Regulus and brought a
clammy hand close to his face and his fingers moved nearly to his face.

“No, you are not him. Then who should you be? The rumours said Orion had a mistress for every
day of the year and two for holidays. A bastard perhaps? Where did Arcturus dig you up from to
restore his name? Tut, tut, I told everyone not to discount him yet, a name as ancient as theirs will
not die easily. Other families have legitimised bastards for less.” Mister Burke said as he shifted his
weight and leaned closer to Sirius, to where he could imagine his breath was touching his face.

“So you are he then.” Mister Burke said with a bit of finality. Regulus felt a tightness
encompassing his throat.

“Trying to find your old Master to serve? Or trying to find him to earn your freedom? I hear
whispers he is not dead, the question remains will his loyal servants raise him or smother him. If
these whispers were true, I think he would have entrusted you with his location. His most loyal
servant.” Mister Burke said, patting Sirius on the cheek in a less than comforting way, and Regulus
could see every muscle flex in Sirius’ arm as his hand balled into fist as the shopkeeper turned
away.

Regulus thought Mister Burke may be intelligent, but if Sirius moved quick enough one solid fist
would be enough to incapacitate him. Hence ruining any chance at information, and destroying
whatever tentative connection lied between the two families. Regulus stepped to the side, blocking
off Sirius and forcing himself closer to Mister Burke. His rushed movements did not go unnoticed.

“What do you hope to esteem from this, young one?” Mister Burke asked as he pulled the crystal
ball closer to him. Inside was black smoke unlike any he had seen before. Granted he did not spend
much time staring into them, Ancient Runes had been his fancy.

“The last boy who took his place did not fare well.” Mister Burke nodded backwards to a high shelf
pristinely clean for the old shop. On it were rows of old Death Eater masks. All black and silver,
each distinctly different so one could identify who was who with ease, the ones with more design,
more silver were of those with higher rank. Regulus’ own had been nearly entirely black, mostly as
a call to his own name, but also because he had been a boy in a league of men.

“Mister Borgin hasn’t collected his yet, he’d give you half the shop to have it if I did not restrain
him. His mother held it close some say, or as I believe, he died with it still on. A traitor, people
whispered, I knew the boy. He was a sad boy. I doubt he cared enough either way how he went, I
think he just wanted to die.” Mister Burke said, using his sleeve to wipe at the crystal ball before
he peered deeper into it.

Regulus felt his stomach drop and his mouth grow dry. Words danced on his tongue to inquire
more. They had gotten nearly nothing from this encounter, if anything it felt they had taken steps
back. Gripping the wooden unfinished counter so deeply he felt splinters dig into his palm. Oddly
enough, the pain brought him a calm as he licked his lips and leaned forward. The clock still ticked
painfully in the back. Arcturus had warned to be wary of the time, to make certain Mister Burke
wasn’t stalling. His loyalty may have been tied to them, but it was just as deeply wrapped in his
profits, profits that had been waning in the latter years.

“As a man of honour to his profession, you’ve certainly given us the run around for our payment. I
would almost believe you’ve purposefully dragged this on for your own benefit. The reward is
what, five thousand galleons now? Would keep the ratty old doors open another year or two, but
only if something terrible was avoided. Say, a tragic fire befalling all your dear artefacts including
the morbid masks lined up like trophies on your shelf.” Regulus said, his wand still in his hand’s
grasp as he flicked it slightly to point directly across from him at the shopkeeper. Mister Burke set
down the glass ball once more. A crooked smile broke on his face as he turned and leaned against
the counters casually.

“If you leave now, you could give the Aurors a run for their coin.” He said with his lips pulled to
reveal more yellowed teeth. Regulus felt Sirius stiffen behind him as a clattering and raising of
voices coming from far away caught his ears.

“When did you call them?” Regulus asked with his eyes bursting in flames. Mister Burke raised a
Galleon from his robes once again.

“The moment I heard the two of you speaking of Arcturus. As you said I have a habit of keeping an
ear on my patrons.” He said with a cockiness to his tune as he flipped the Galleon back to Regulus
who caught it with Seeker reflexes, not moving yet. Sirius kicked his ankle as the clattering sounds
grew clearer and more frantic. After a moment more stare down, he was forced to push off the
counter a few drops of blood on his hand as he used his wand to whisk away any evidence of his
being there. Pulling the hood over his head, he turned on heel to Sirius, who was already leaning
against the window peering outside and beckoning for Regulus to follow him as the bell dinged
above the door and he slithered out towards an alleyway not known to many. Regulus paused for
one more glance noting Mister Burke had crossed to stand in front of his counter.

“Young boy,” He called when Regulus' foot stepped out. “If you truly seek him. I would look to
the Balkans. Albania, I’ve heard, is quite befitting this time of year.”

Regulus didn’t linger any longer. His robes swept behind him as he slipped down the alley and
caught Sirius arm in time for them to both apparate away as the pounding sounds of footsteps could
be heard just out of reach of the two of them. Narrowly surviving was both thrilling and
exhausting.

When they landed down the street from Grimmauld Place, Sirius was already cursing in every
language he knew. Regulus pulled at his brother’s arm until they reached the steps. He didn’t
release until they were removing their robes in the Entrance Hall and Sirius was taking care to
stomp his feet extra hard on the scuffed floors.

“How did you fair?” A voice met their ears. Arcturus stood leaning heavily on the bannisters, his
weight being supported by the old creaky wood.

“Could have been better.” Regulus grumbled as he discarded his scarf.

“Bastard. He called the Aurors before he even saw us.” Sirius grumbled as he ripped his jumper
over his head, messing his hair. Regulus picked up the discarded piece and placed it on a hook as
Sirius crossed the Entrance Hall angrily.

“Did you get any information from him? The younger of the Burkes has always been a slippery
character. He took after his mother, she was a slinky minx. Couldn’t help but adore Aunt Belvina.”
Arcturus commented. Sirius huffed and jumped down the stairs towards the kitchen without
another word. Regulus still riled by the encounter, but was in more controlled terms remained to
explain.

“He picked up on Sirius within minutes, as you said he would. We played into his ego as you
suggested, but he has a way of hitting the sensitive points.” Regulus said, nodding towards the
kitchen where cabinets were slamming and tea cups struck so hard they must have nearly shattered.
Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling in his stomach from Burke’s comments on himself. The eerily
empty eyes of the Death Eater masks seemed to have followed him home and crept into the corners
of his mind.

“People underestimate the Burkes. They may have never been a grand family with a lavish manor,
but they were always the pulse of the Wizarding World. If he couldn’t give us any details–”
Arcturus said, shaking his head.

“He gave one hint, as we were leaving and the Aurors descended.” Regulus cut in. Arcturus raised
his head, his thin cheekbones accentuated by the shadows.

“He mentioned the Balkans, Albania specifically. Said it was befitting this time of year.” Regulus
explained. It was a morsel not even a mouse could feed on. Arcturus grew contemplative.

“Albania.” He whispered as both hands gripped the barrister.

“I suppose Sirius and I could try to get out of the country. See if there is any truth to these words,
but it would take time to search an entire country.” Regulus replied, not feeling much enthusiasm
for his suggestion.

“It would be too risky to send you in blind.” Arcturus said, shaking his head, but then pausing
halfway as if an idea had struck him. “However, there may be a way to know more about the
whispers.”

“How?” Regulus asked, tilting his head as the cabinet slamming finally began to subsided in the
background and Regulus thought he heard Kreature’s crooning over the whistle of a kettle.

“Igantius, he has a nephew in the Balkans. We could lean into him. See if he knows anymore. The
towns are small there, and secrets are hard to keep.” Arcturus hummed as he slowly descended the
stairs and Regulus offered his arm for his grandfather to take as they turned towards the kitchen.

“Charlie, isn’t it? Do you trust he can get what we need?” Regulus asked.

“He may have the name Weasley, but those boys and that young girl are still Prewetts. Ancient
blood carries its powers.” Arcturus answered as he took the stairs carefully. Regulus wasn’t
completely sold on the idea, but then again he’d never known Charlie Weasley, maybe he would
be helpful. It was one of their only chances.

“Harry. This is the first night.” Remus said, while Harry sat with his knees close to his chest. To
his disappointment, Remus had made their first meeting hardly any different than a standard
lesson. He wasn’t certain what he’d been expecting, a dementor behind the door was completely
impractical. Yet standing in the warm old classroom trying to make a blue haze take the form of
any animal was not how he wanted to spend his night.

“Some of the greatest witches and wizards struggle with this spell. It involves a rather old magic,
tied directly to your core. Pulling from the moments where your soul was truly free. To be as far as
you are after only a couple hours is beyond my expectations.” Remus said as he sat down slowly
next to him digging his balled fist into his hip as he did. Harry felt useless. A vague spell would do
him no good.

“Even if I manage one, how will I know it is good enough if I can’t face a dementor?” Harry
sighed, pulling his knees closer. Remus seemed to hesitate, his hands twitching from where they
rested on his knees.

“I couldn’t possibly in good conscience put you in harm’s way like that Harry. A dementor is too
unpredictable, if anything were to happen to you, I– I could never forgive myself. Not after all your
parents gave for you.” Remus explained. Harry let out another long drawn out sigh. A beat of
silence passed through them. Remus shifted a few times, uncomfortably, his hands rubbing at his
knees. Harry wondered if they ached. Part of him wondered if the pain potions Lancelot constantly
had on hand for his grandfather would bring him any relief.

“Harry, this may not work, but if I were to ask you what you believed your greatest fear is, what
would you assume?” Remus asked, his teeth digging into his lower lip, waiting for Harry’s
response. The small hairs on his neck stood up as he turned rigidly towards Remus. A part of him
immediately shut down his mind, putting up his shield instinctively as he’d been taught to do, even
though it was completely unreasonable for his Uncle Moony to be searching his mind for answers.
It wouldn’t be a lie to say he’d been on edge, and any mention of even indirectly that lead him to
his family, to his Regulus caused him to throw up every defence he had. Eventually, the walls
slowly unfolded as it realised it was under attack, and he rubbed at the headache that was coming
forward from the exertion of a sudden Occlumency shield.

“I– I suppose losing my family, well losing them again.” Harry answered, hanging his head

Remus tapped on his knees thoughtfully. Harry could feel him radiating thought, and part of him
wanted to probe, but another part wanted to lay down there on the hard floor and slip into sleep. At
least, there he could try and pretend he wasn’t haunted by nightmares. Remus finally stood slowly,
offering out his hand to Harry when he did to pull him off the floor. Harry grabbed it appreciatively
but was mindful to use most of his own strength to lift himself up.

“Take this to bed with you, it is good for the soul. I will look into other methods aside from a
dementor to find a way to challenge you in the way you wish.” Remus said, pulling out a chocolate
bar to hand to Harry. He took it with a brief smile and was about to bid Remus goodnight when he
turned to face him once more.

“Uncle Moony.” He said and Remus’ eyes got that bewildered look he always did when Harry said
those two words. As if Harry was speaking to a ghost.

“Sirius… do you really believe he did it?” Harry asked and Remus’ eyes went from shock to pain.
A deep hard pain.

“Harry, he— he betrayed your parents. He betrayed all of us.” Remus said, the silent words
denying behind his words, ‘He betrayed me’.

“But… have you ever considered it could have been, well, anyone else?” Harry prodded, hoping to
 strike any cord with his uncle.

“Harry.” Remus said, shaking his head and tucking his hands into his robes. “He— he comes from
a long line of dark wizards, some people, they are just born without the chance to get out. Some
may get so very close, but some trenches are too deep and too dark.”

Harry blinked a few times. Wishing he could spill every thought in his mind, but it would only
endanger everything. He had to trust his grandfather, he had to trust his family. Instead, he offered
a weak farewell, planning to see his Uncle Moony another night next week, but until then. It was
back to Professor Lupin.

He should have headed to Gryffindor Tower, he had a Quidditch practise in the morning but
despite his exhaustion, he imagined his night would be spent staring at the ceiling listening to
Neville mumble in his sleep and Ron toss and turn. Possibly seeing if he could find the lone spider
that occasionally rested in the far corner. If he was to be sleep deprived, it better be from more than
his own thoughts. Instead, he made a straight line towards the potions classroom, munching on
small bites of chocolate as he did and careful to avoid prefects and teachers patrolling heavily.
Finally, he entered the damp room with a thin layer of frost covering the high windows and the
only light coming from a few hanging torches of fire on the wall.

“Don’t you sleep?” Someone inquired as he entered.

“I could ask the same of you, Zabini.” Harry said as he pulled a calderon from the shelf and began
to search for the ingredients he needed. Surprisingly he’d never made this particularly concoction
before, but he’d watch Uncle Lancelot walk Uncle Marius through it enough. Blaise wandered by
his station, curiously looking at his notes over his shoulder.

“Pain relief? Planning on falling off your broom again?” Blaise said with a snark as he reached for
an ingredient on Harry’s table. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Not with a Firebolt, doubt even the fastest Ravenclaw could catch me.” Harry said, just as sassily
back. Blaise raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow up. Harry imagined that was his mother’s doing.

“The broom does not make the player, Potter.” Bliase said as he held up the vial and swirled it
around before letting out a sigh.

“Professor Snape isn’t going to keep believing all this brewing is me.” Blaise huffed before going
back to his own station.

“Tell him you're trying to outdo him as the youngest Potion master.” Harry shot towards his
companion as he cut the white willow bark into thin slices. Blaise gave a sharp short laugh in
reply.

“As soon as you manage to stay on your broom for an entire game.” Blaise retorted.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Harry said with a cocky smile as he checked to make sure his concoction
was boiling at the correct temperature. Blaise only shook his head, but when the two of them found
themselves as the cold Potions classroom weeks later after his victory over Ravenclaw, Blaise
would be quick to change the subject to Draco and his gang of fake dementors who Harry had seen
through in an instant and flown directly towards until the group had no choice but to dive to the
side with fear spread across their faces as they cling to the sides of the stands. Even Blaise had to
crack a rare smile as Harry recounted his story.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter End Notes

I have mapped out the rest of my chapters for PoA and can say we are two chapters
away from he fated reunion! Kind regards for all the kind comments and for even just
joining in this journey and reading along! Thank you for all the support!

Happy Holidays for all the wonderful celebrations that are occurring whether
Yuletide, Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanza, or any other celebration you
may have this season. I hope it finds you well and if not as I know these times can be
tough, I hope this story brings some reprieve and comfort. <3
 A Memory or a Thought?
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of harm

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There was a feeling of home here he couldn’t deny, a sense of connection and warmth he hadn’t
felt anywhere else in the world, not even his childhood home. It may seem strange given the
location, he’d travelled farther than any of his closest family and yet Wales felt like home. Hence
why when he received a letter asking to come visit his aunt and uncle, he had no trouble
answering. The breeding season for the dragons had just ended and winter was still a few weeks
away. McKenzie might be a bit of a geezer, but he let his men and women have their time off when
they asked and Charlie hardly asked. Since his bright idea to leave home just weeks after he’d
turned eighteen, bygone the last few months of his education, he’d only returned to Britain a
handful of times. England could be a tough visit, but Wales invigorated him. He was a welcome
sight here at least.

“Charlie!” His aunt greeted him the moment he stepped in the door, he was the shortest of his
siblings excluding Ginny, but even he was taller than his aunt, who stood on her toes to hug him.

“Oh my when did you get this one?” She asked, her thumb gently pressing towards his upper lip
where the new jewel was adorned. “Did it hurt terribly?”

“No, I’ve had worse.” He said, shaking his head, feeling a few long strands fall loose off the
leather strap containing it to the back of his head.

“Well I commend you, I had a few done in my ears and that was all I could bear.” Lucretia said,
waving vaguely to the few silver jewels adorning her. He’d never told her but seeing the various
jewels she’d put on everyday had partially inspired him to begin piercing his body. Though he will
admit he took it to another level.

“Come along, Uncle Ignatius is in his study, he got a letter from our old Vampire friend in Sweden
he felt the need to respond quickly. You know vampires when they have so much time, if you
don’t get to them right away it may be another fifty years before you hear from them and oh well,
we are getting to the age where fifty years may be all we have.” Lucretia said, quieting at the latter
part.

“Nonsense, Aunt Lucy you are not a day over forty.” He said, cracking a smile and shoving his
hands in his pocket following her up the stairs. A slight blush came to her face while she shook her
head at him.

Uncle Ignatius was quick with his quill behind his desk, an owl perched and ready in the window
cleaning its white feathers. He’d never seen that owl before, but his aunt and uncle typically had
several they’d use at any time. His uncle didn’t look up when they entered, but as was typical with
him. When he was focused on an issue, it could become singular so instead Charlie paced around
the room, looking at the old heirlooms and books from their collection. So many he’d thumbed
through with Bill in his childhood.
“Sorry Charlie. Ambrosia was inviting us to an annual dinner party with some of her oldest friends.
We've been awfully busy as of late but I’m hoping we can spare the day. I would like to update my
notes for a follow-up study on them. Ever since Gilderoy came to the scene the vampires have
been upset at the nonsense he writes about, only our old friendship with her allows us access.”
Ignatius said, taking off his glasses and rubbing across his forehead.

“My mother adores Gilderoy Lockhart.” Charlie said dramatically drawing out his words. Ignatius
shook his head solemnly.

“So I have heard.” He whispered more to himself.

“Oh well, as is the thought of popularity, you can’t say you didn’t get your fair share of attention
from the masses, particularly women when we were younger.” Lucretia quipped as she sat at the
edge of his desk with a smile she seemed to save only for him as he reached out to touch her hand.
Charlie never really understood the romance people talked about, but when he looked at couples
like his aunt and uncle, he believed he could see the appeal.

“So mystery letters about questions on rumours in the Balkans and now a portkey to come visit?
Did you peeve off McKenzie and get banished from Romania?” Charlie asked while bringing his
finger to run along the edge of a collection of his aunt and uncle’s books lining their case.

“Oh McKenzie would never, not my darling cousin.” Lucretia laughed quietly. Charlie looked over
his shoulder and continued to pace the shelves.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called him a darling before.” Charlie joked. He gave McKenzie a
hard time, but no one else could handle a dragon like him, especially not someone who had
managed to keep nearly every limb. He was missing his left pinky finger, but no one was supposed
to ask about that.

“We did have a request of you, Charlie. A rather large one that may be confusing, but we will need
you to trust us.” His aunt began as she wrapped her other hand over her husband’s. Charlie paused
before turning around to face them. His head tilted slightly, but he asked no questions.

“We have reason to believe there is dark magic being practised in the Balkans, Albania
specifically. We were wondering if you had heard anything, or knew of any local tales.” Lucretia
asked, a wary gaze given to her husband before looking back at Charlie. Charlie licked his lips
before answering.

“Does this have anything to do with… with Sirius Black?” Charlie asked, his glances going back
and forth between the two of them. Their faces were steady though, he knew his aunt and uncle
were difficult people to read on the best of days.

“Charlie…” Ignatius began, but he cut in.

“I– I heard about Arcturus, falling ill just as Sirius escaped… leaving Azkaban even for a Black
with their supposed connection to that island. I can imagine it would cause destruction. Look, I
know he’s your nephew too, but if he’s done even half of what they say–” Charlie said, shaking his
head.

“Charlie.” Lucretia replied this time. Her eyes grow wide and pleading. It made his heart ache, he’d
been told time and time again that he held the Prewett look more than any of his brothers. The wide
shoulders, the strong nose, and prominent brow line, he’d had more than one older person stop him
in his childhood to say he looked so much like the grandfather he never got to meet. His uncles in
his blurred childhood memories had looked like him and now she stared at him, beseeching him to
help her. It must sting.

“If you won’t tell me that, tell me this. Are you willing to help him or stop him?” Charlie asked,
trying to keep himself steady. It had to hurt to have lost so much and then to stare at a boy who
looked like the sons they lost while another boy they once loved slipped from their fingers, but he
couldn’t wrap his head around why they’d have any insistence. Sirius Black was a traitor.

“I can promise you this. We are doing what we believe is best and in time we hope to give you all
the answers. We are not asking you to help anyone besides us and we don’t want you to do
anything you're uncomfortable with. We’re just asking you to tell us anything you might know.”
Ignatius said, firmly. Charlie felt bumps on his skin, a way he didn’t feel often. Shifting his weight
for a moment he gazed out at the long rolling lands of the property, when he was young it seemed
to go on forever. He had only dreamed of owning such property and rising each morning to survey
the lands. Finally, he released a low sigh.

“I have a friend in Albania, I’ve been meaning to visit. I could stay for a few days. See if any new
rumours or complaints have arisen recently. I can’t promise to be successful, the people there can
be wary of outsiders.” Charlie answered, tugging at his earlobe.

“Don’t go chasing any danger.” Lucretia warned. Charlie had to crack a smile.

“I grew up with the two of you as my inspiration, danger is the only thing I chase.” He laughed,
shaking his head. The tension eased in their faces too.

“Your mother still blames us for you and Bill fleeing from those Ministry jobs, don’t give her
anymore fuel with such a statement.” Ignatius replied, an old familiar glint in his eye. Charlie threw
up his hands in feign defeat.

“Truthfully though, Bill or I, at a desk? We’d sooner cut our hair than sit at a desk.” Charlie joked.

Harry’s robes dragged on the ground as he took the stairs to meet for another round of Patronus
training with Professor Lupin. His heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t think of a single memory worthy
of a Patronus charm and he’d been digging. Regulus and him in the snow in Switzerland learning to
fly. Him sitting by a warm fire listening to Grandfather Arcturus tell stories of grand witches and
wizards past. Countless hours brewing potions and trimming plants in the garden with Uncle
Marius. Visiting patients and trying to cheer them up with Aunt Helena. Spending time toiling the
garden with Aunt Cassiopeia while she taught him about different herbs and vegetables and the
seasons they thrived in. Sirius and their late night teas recounting old memories of his father. All of
them got him the thin blue haze, none were powerful enough for a full fledged Patronus.

“Harry.” Remus greeted with a weak smile, his hands tucked into his robes for warmth against the
damp chill that carried into the belly of the castle.

“Professor Lupin.” Harry greeted, his lips not quite pulling as far as they usually do.

“I thought we would take a bit of a different approach today.” He advised turning to pull a cloth off
a beaten old wardrobe that rattled for a moment before settling. Harry approached slowly.

“Is it… a boggart?” Harry asked, tentatively putting out a hand without reaching the wardrobe.

“Indeed.” Remus said, coming close to the wardrobe. “Now, I know in the lesson we did not get a
chance to see your boggart and I will take some blame for that. I worried what yours would turn
into on both a personal and professional level. I didn’t know if it would turn into Lord Voldermort
or– something worse. Most children have fears that are more manageable, but to my detest you’ve
had more than your fair share of trauma and devastation. I could not predict what your fear would
be.”

Harry licked his lips. He could sense where Remus was going with his thoughts, but he wasn’t
certain it would be in the correct thread. Harry didn’t believe he would see a dementor. His fears
were too personal for it to become an impersonal looming figure even if it did suck out his greatest
loss. Remus seemed to have a silent understanding of Harry’s contemplations.

“We don’t have only one fear Harry and I believe you may have the power to do what other
wizard’s only dream of achieving. I believe you may be able to change the boggart.” Remus said
with a glint in his eye as he turned a chair around for him to sit in as he spoke to a wide-eyed Harry.

“This is year seven magic, Harry. Wizards and witches of more nefarious character have been
known to morph the boggart into different fears when abusing them to overtake an enemy. I don’t
see why in theory a wizard couldn’t do this to his own fears. Allowing you to face the closest to a
dementor, I can safely allow.” Remus continued. Harry approached the wardrobe again, placing his
hand on the splintering door. It shook under his touch for a moment. Swallowing, Harry turned to
face his Uncle Moony.

“Could–could you look away? When I open the door I mean? It’s not that I– I just– there could
be…” Harry trailing off. In all the tongues he knew, each one failed him a good way to explain.

“Harry, you do not need to explain yourself, if you wish privacy I will allow it. Just know if you
need me for even a moment, say the word and I will banish the boggart without a second of
judgement.” Remus said, standing and placing shaking hands on Harry’s shoulder before taking
several paces away. With a final face full of confidence meant completely and wholeheartedly for
Harry, Remus turned with his hands behind his back, wand at the ready if needed. Taking a long
deep breath, Harry placed his hand on the handle and on his exhale, he jerked it open and stumbled
back as quickly as he could. The darkness was empty and only seemed to be the movement of a
breeze that had intruded on the room. He narrowed his eyes, worried he could not see his own fear,
only to be shaken by his own gasp.

Falling back on his feet, there on the ground were bodies, still bodies unmoving and cold to the
eye. Dark hair atop each one of their heads and eyes unseeing as Harry clasped his hand over his
mouth. It was not real, it was not real. He repeated to himself as he closed his eyes and breathed
through his nose. He envisioned the cold dread sinking from head to toe, the horrific emptiness
that took over, and finally he listened for the beginning cries of his parents. Their final, desperate
pleas echoing similar to a chamber. A coldness flushed to his face.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t trust his own sight. Nearly touching his nose with the end of
the faceless dark figure was a dementor, one that could do him no harm and yet he felt the impact
still the same. Weakness in his knees and his breath came in short as his own reflection seemed to
morph in the dementor's face. Then came the worst part, the cries and the voices of strangers. As
much as Regulus had done, as well as he had kept a part of his parents alive, he could not recreate
their voices. Those were only captured it seemed in the essence of fear, he did wonder for a
moment was it his fear or was he reliving his parent's worst nightmare with each further glance.

“Harry, good job, Harry.” A small voice pulled him for only a moment from his trepidation. His
Uncle Moony had turned around and crouched down to come along his side without pulling the
boggart’s attention.

“A memory, Harry. The most powerful one you have.” He whispered the reminder as the drag to
his mind forced him back into the clutches of the dementor.
Staring in the listless face, he wondered how all those years ago Ekrizdis Black pulled such
darkness and capsulated it into a form. How he had unleashed it on his relentless brothers, cousins,
uncles, and furthermore family and rid them of any humanity that remained in their bloodstained
hands. All for the heirdom. For a seat each of them wanted to claim. Like lightning striking the tall
mountains of the Highlands, Harry had a thought. A mad unsubstantiated thought. What if not a
memory was needed, but only the power of a thought? Even more, he may have just stumbled over
the perfect thought. Raising his wand, practically grazing the cloak shrouding the dementor. He
summoned all will, and all power. A power that had survived thousands of years and with a single
breath of air.

“Expecto Patronum!” Harry called as his wand rattled in his hand and from the end a glaring blue
light became ablaze and as he pulled his other hand to the end of the wand for stability another
lurch pulled his body forward. From his wand emerged a perfect form of a large animal with
fearsome antlers and wide hooves. A deer— no a stag, his heart leapt as he realised. His father,
much like he had when Harry was only a babe, had come to him again.

“Merlin, almighty.” Remus whispered.

Harry brought his wand around and the stag reared its antlers and with a high pitched noise the
dementor retreated into the wardrobe with the door closed tightly shut. Holding the power for a
moment more, Harry had to take in the stag before him, proud and reliant. Just as he was to lose the
hold on the powerful magic, the head turned and bowed towards Harry. It was the thread that
snapped him and the exhaustion took over as he lost the grip on his wand and the glow of the light
faded while he collapsed into a nearby chair. Remus rushed to him with chocolate in hand while he
kneeled close to him.

“Harry– Harry I am at a loss for words. Never have I seen such an accomplishment. I– You’ve
astounded me.” Remus said, holding tight onto his hand and clutching onto his knee with the other.
Harry felt a rush behind all the tiredness slumping into his shoulders. The glory of the moment lay
on him like the golden haze of a sunset after a long day. Satisfied but welcome for the relief of
night.

“I have a good professor.” Harry said with a half-smile. His hand reached around his uncles aching
knuckles, hoping behind his pain there could be any comfort.

“It’s a letter from Charlie.” Ignatius said, his face red and frantic. Arcturus shifted curiously from
his place. He’d been reading, old histories he found often showed their faults.

“He found Scabb–Peter. He found Peter.” Ignatius huffed out, glancing at the letter in disbelief.
His wife had come tumbling into the room after him, just as out of breath. As if they had run all the
way from Wales themselves. Arcturus set his book aside and leaned forward.

“Is he sending him to you?” Arcturus asked, wishing he could pull the letter to him and read it
himself.

“I will confess I haven't gotten as far, once I read the heading I thought it best to be here.” Ignatius
said, as Lucretia came to grab his arm and read over his shoulder. Ignatius' eyes shifted from side
to side in a gaping silence that caused Arcturus to have pain from behind his temple. Idleness did
not suit him.

“Coc y gath.” Ignatius said, his eyes wide as the letter dropped to his side.
“I suppose that does not mean anything good.” Arcturus signed.

“He sent him back to Hogwarts!” Ignatius cried, his hands flailing in frustration. “He found his
brother’s lost rat in Albania of all places. Identified him by the missing toe and an old scar.
Thought it the strangest coincidence that after I send him to Albania, he finds him.”

“Sounds like the Weasley side may have taken over for a faulty moment.” Arcturus said, smacking
his lips.

“I– I do adore Charlie but he has a bit of oversight when it comes to creatures.” Ignatius replied
with a shake of his head.

“Oh where could he have ever gotten that trait from?” Lucretia sighed as she patted his arm before
crossing the room to pour a fresh cup of tea and hand it to Arcturus in his chair.

“It is a setback, but at least we know where Peter is and after what has likely been a right scare, I
feel he will not be leaving anytime soon. There is still over half a term left. It will give us time to
plan and Sirius told us about that map. It is another arsenal in our repertoire. We will still have
him.” Lucretia said, turning to each of them. Arcturus held out his hand for his daughter to take and
she did willingly. She was a woman he held so much pride in. A beat of silence followed, he
should have been suspicious.

“Where’s Sirius?” Regulus came barging in, throwing the doors wide. All eyes turned to him.
Arcturus felt what remained of his heart drop. Certainly the boy could not be this obtuse.

“Midnight she was crying and when I found her– the door, the front door was open. Now I can't
find Sirius anywhere, I sent Kreacher to locate him, but I was hoping maybe– maybe he wasn’t
absolutely mad.” Regulus said, his hands shaking.

“Ignatius to the MacMillians. It’ll get you as close to Hogwarts as you can.” Arcturus said rubbing
his temples after he released his daughter's hand. “If you leave now, you may catch him before he
ends up at the school.”

“One of these days, Murdo is going to curse me dead and I want you all to feel badly for it.”
Ignatius said as he gathered his robes.

“I’m coming.” Regulus said rushedly. The room paused.

“Regulus.” Arcturus began.

“No.” Regulus cut in quite boldly. “You said we needed to be loyal to one another. Now Sirius
might be right mad in his head, but that doesn’t make him any less my brother. Besides him going
there directly endangers Harry, I’m not sitting back. There is Polyjuice Potion, I’ll take it and come
with you.”

He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that was proud. Another part of him believed it
to be foolish. Sharing a glance with Ignatius, who shrugged his shoulders. He supposed he had a
different perspective of brotherly behaviours. He was loyal to his late brother, but he’d been taken
from him too young, first when Ignatius had been married into his family and again when he left
this earth behind.

“Go, but don’t leave your uncle.” Arcturus said. Regulus nodded and shot out the door in an instant
to collect the potion he would need.

“Ignatius.” Arcturus said.

“I know.” He replied, wrapping himself in his robes and exiting as well.

“They’ll be alright, Father.” Lucretia said, trying to convince herself as well as him.

Harry laid awake. Sleep was escaping him, but the journey to the potions room seemed too far for
his tired feet. Between the Quidditch practices and his constant need to take the long way to classes
to avoid stares, his feet tired easily. Yet listening to Ron snore and Seamus mutter in his sleep was
doing him no favours. Nights like these he craved Kreacher’s tea. When he’d awake aimless the elf
always seemed to know and wander out with a cut blanket tied across his chest as he’d make Harry
a warm cup of tea and listen to him aimlessly babble no matter what was on his mind. It was
almost as if he could hear him now, whispering in between the walls.

Sitting up, Harry strained his ears. No, it was strangely odd. He swore he could hear Kreacher’s
frantic voice. Swinging his feet over the bed to place into plush slippers, he’d told his grandfather
he did not need custom fitted. He shuffled out of the room, casting a glance over his shoulder.
Almost as if a breeze had caught his attention, but nothing moved.

Descending the stairs, Harry followed the sound of Kreacher’s voice. Part of him thought maybe
he’d drifted into a dreamlike state. How else could he explain his house elf being in the walls of
Hogwarts. Twisting around the stones, he could feel a warm air coming from the Common Room
as if someone had lit the fire.

“Master Sirius, Master Regulus will be upset. Little Master will be upset, we must go.” Kreacher’s
voice was saying. Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes to make certain he was not
dreaming. Yet when he opened his eyes he was still standing in the stairwell of Gryffindor Tower.

“Kreacher, move! I am helping Harry, go back and tell precious Regulus that!” Harry heard a voice
he couldn’t believe. With that sound he rushed down the stairs, and burst into the Common Room
to an unbelievable sight. In a strange standoff of sense, Kreacher had his back to Harry as if trying
to block the much taller Sirius from proceeding any further into the castle.

“Sirius!” Harry hissed, looking over his shoulder again. Two bewildered sets of eyes turned to him.

“Harry! Oh, Harry, where is he? Bring him to me. I will deal with him right now!” Sirius said, a
crazed gaze to his eyes. Harry shook his head.

“Sirius, where is who?” Harry whispered, distinctly to Sirius’ loud cries.

“Peter! I overheard he was sent back to Hogwarts. Bring him to me, Harry. I will kill him.” Sirius
said, beckoning with his hands. Harry went wide eyed and felt the air knocked out of him. Scabbers
still hadn’t been seen since they returned to Hogwarts. He thought Peter had ran off after Sirius’
last stunt.

“Sirius, he isn’t here! Ron hasn’t seen him since before the Christmas holidays. You need to leave,
Sirius. The dementors are getting closer and closer to the castle. If anything happens– Sirius please
go home.” Harry pleaded, an anxious feeling rising in his chest and his hands beginning to sweat.
Sirius was in danger and while Harry could pull a Patronus on a boggart, a swarm of dementors
seemed impossible for anyone, let alone a single teenager.

“He isn’t– but I heard…” Sirius' entire body fell. His eyes casting down, shoulders hunching while
his words failed him.

“You need to go before–” Harry began.

 “Harry, what are you doing down here?” A voice from above called as pounding careless feet hit
hard stones. Harry turned to see Ron heading towards him. Harry froze, stuck between tackling
Ron and chasing Sirius off. At the first sound of Ron’s voice, Kreacher reached for Sirius' hand
and the two of them disappeared in a snap. Ron joined him less than a second later.

“Oh did you start a fire? Couldn’t sleep?” Ron asked surprisingly chipper for well past midnight.
Harry looked in disbelief at the space Sirius had just been standing in a roaring fire now clearly
seen.

“Uh– no, worried about Quidditch and exams I suppose.” Harry whispered without looking at Ron.
Ron seemed to stare off following Harry’s gaze, obviously confused.

“Exams are forever away still and you have Quidditch in your blood, you don’t need to worry.
Want to play chess until you feel like sleeping again?” Ron suggested, already heading towards his
chess board he’d left in the Common Room. Of all his talents, Harry was awful at chess, but Ron
enjoyed it. Besides he couldn’t shake the shock of seeing Sirius in the Common Room, even more
he couldn’t shake the feeling of Peter being back. Sirius had said he wanted to kill him. Well, Sirius
would have to wait because Harry wanted to kill him even more.

Chapter End Notes

Happy New Year one and all! I will say I debated keeping Harry's Patronus the same,
but there is a part of me that can't let go. Also one more chapter until the fateful scene,
it'll be a busy one!
 Elusive Moments
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of threats, Violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

For a moment, Regulus was transported back some twenty years ago. Sirius in the centre of the
room and Regulus guarded by an uncle. The walls glistened in anticipation for the show that it
would be privy to once again, he wondered if they remembered. If they had lauded the years of
peace.

“You are lucky, I do not lock you in your room like the petulant teenager you are behaving as!”
Arcturus yelled one hand holding onto a cane and the other shoved in Sirius’ face.

“I am not a child! I am a man, a man not afraid to lose it all. You will not catch me gleaming for
jewels and clutching for riches. Azkaban does not scare me, I never asked to be rescued. I never
asked for any of this, but I have it now and I will use it!” Sirius yelled back as loudly as he had
when he was a boy. Regulus didn’t flinch anymore. Instead, he sat and waited for the match to end.
There would be no winners or losers, only two out of breath tired men.

“You didn’t have to ask, Sirius! Family doesn't have to ask!” Arcturus said, leaning heavily to one
side, but not wavering in his stance.

“What family?” Sirius spat out, his words tainted with a vile anger he did not hold for them, but he
could not unleash it to his true target.

“This family, Sirius! Whether you like it or not this is your family. You speak of sacrifice. Look
around and name one person here who has not given dearly for this family. You do not stand on an
island alone any longer, but if you keep being foolish you may sink out to sea beyond our grasp.”
Arcturus said, his words swallowed in a cough. His daughter tried to approach with a glass of
water, but he waved her away and let the fit wane on its own time.

“None of you understand, I have to catch Peter! He is my vengeance! James was my brother!”
Sirius yelled back, turning in a circle looking at all of them gathered in the old room from people to
portraits watching the display with thin pressed lips.

“What about your brother standing behind you? Does he not deserve your loyalty?” Arcturus said,
his cane rising slightly to point where Regulus sat with his knees tightly together and his eyes cast
down, only brought up by the use of his own name. Sirius paused, stumbling back as he caught
Regulus’ eyes. His lips quivered once, twice, but for one of the rare moments in his life, Sirius was
without words.

“This is foolishness your father wouldn’t even dare pull.” Arcturus said in a dying voice as he
reached out for his daughter finally, wary on his feet.

“I am– not Orion.” Sirius huffed, his expression pained. Regulus could feel his lips twitching.

“Father.” Lucretia said gently, placing her hand on his elbow. Slowly he was lowered into a chair
with Lancelot coming to his side with his two fingers placed on his wrist. Arcturus tried to fan
them away but neither listened as another round of coughs caused his chest to rattle and his
stomach to inflate.

“Come along Sirius, let’s get some air.” Ignatius suggested in the same thread with fatherly hands
on Sirius’ shoulders guiding him away.

Regulus sat there, lost and confused. Arcturus’ time was numbered. Sirius would not relent. Yet he
was there, neither moving nor falling back. It was a feeling he did not wish to keep. So instead, he
stood and found the first parchment and quill he could get his hands on. They could fight as they
needed, but Regulus was going to do something.

“It feels a bit foolish to be going to dinner.” Ignatius pondered as the shore raged just out of sight,
the wind catching the sound and dancing it through the old house.

“Dear, Ambrosia is fickle and despite these last few years I know you still have passion for this
career. Being on the vampire's good side by attending one dinner will not delay us. Peter is not
being caught tonight or tomorrow so focus on your duties at hand.” Lucretia answered as she fixed
his robes and picked at a few stray pieces caught on the fabric. Ignatius tapped on a large tower of
books sat to his side.

“Yes the trial,” Lucretia said, as she paused his moving hand. “Young Hermione must have spent a
fortune on post with all she has put together. I would dare say she’d make a fine protege one day.”

“She is destined for much grander prospects than I can offer.” Ignatius said, turning down to his
wife and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. They showed their signs of age with small lines and the
spot or two, but he held her chin in his caring grasp as if it was the first day once again. They had
suffered much and the signs of ageing were like a gold metal to wear on the brightest of days
catching every sun ray.

“Come Enaid, outshine me in every room we enter.” He whispered as a flush came across her nose.

The dinner was typical for the vampires, though less attended than he was used to. Ambrosia had
gathered them in her arms and offered a heavy wink at them both. Her skin was still pale and
faultless even though she had twenty years on them both. She’d likely live thirty more before she
began to blemish. Another hundred or two would be granted to her after. Lucky a woman she was,
but luckier was he as he held his wife close from wandering bloodlusting glances.

“Is the Lockhart Pojke.” Ambrosia hummed as she pulled a blood red drink to her lips. “He wards
them off, bad magi with him. Do not fret, Ignatius, they will return for you. You and your wife
have always been… favoured highly.”

Her heavy glances and petting to them both never went unnoticed, she fawned over how long it had
been with a few close acquaintances. Tugging at a grey hair or two he wore in fancy, speaking of
the fleeting life of humans and their kind, even those blessed with magic. The vampires had their
amusement and Ignatius had a journal full of notes and one or two quick spur of the moment
interviews. With a bit of tweaking, it could be a book. A final follow-up for his years of dedication
to them. The kisses on their cheeks went well into the morning, and when they arrived home the
sun was beating through the windows already. Ignatius had Lucretia’s shoes tucked under one arm
as he mused the lasts of his thoughts with another. His wife had indulged quite a bit as she laid
herself on the closet chair and unpinned her hair letting the wild curls fall loose and catch the
morning glow on the mix of black and grey strands. She never was more beautiful, and yet he’d
catch himself saying it again in a few hours and few days after that.

“Do you believe Ambrosia will miss us?” Lucretia asked, her glassy eyes turning towards him as he
lit the fire so she could warm her tired feet.

“She seemed to miss us greatly tonight, I am shocked she let us leave.” Ignatius hummed as the
words slid from his mind and onto the page.

“She nearly didn’t.” Lucretia giggled. A magical sound.

“Ah yes, I had picked up on her implications too, but we are no longer as young as we once were.”
Ignatius said with a quiet smirk. His quill twirled in his hand. A sentence or two more would do
and then they could rest.

“I mean will she miss us when we are gone? You know vampires, they see so many come and go.
It is why they stay tightly bound to each other. It is less painful.” Lucretia said, propping her body
up. The last sentence felt weak, he would need to correct it later, but it was enough for now. He
stared up at his wife in all her power, others would have walked away from him years ago, maybe
before the relationship even blossomed, and that would have been their right. Not she though, each
blow he took she lifted him up again ready to strike right back. Even he could not deny the
tiredness though, it crept in on warm evenings or cold nights. Age comes from them all if they are
lucky enough to see it.

“I like to believe she will, at least for a while. We may slip away from her memory as time passes
and she finds her beautiful new fancies, but I like to believe we’ve left our mark and isn’t that all
that matters in the end, what we believe.” He replied. Efa had arrived with warm cups of tea and
fresh baked biscuits, Ignatius relished in the sweet sound of the pour, but before she handed him
the teacup, a letter was placed before him.

“Came in a rush in the middles of the nights. Startled Efa right awake. I be thinking it's important.”
She said as he flipped it over in his hand.

A Ministry seal was staring back at his face. A Ministry letter served in the middle of the night on
a rushed owl was never good news. The letter about his brother and his sister by law had arrived as
such while he was in Thailand. The letter about his mother had come much the same. Little good
news arrived at night, though his dear departed nephews had come after many hours in the earliest
hours of the morning after a long night, so maybe all hope was not lost.

“What does it say?” Lucretia asked, gingerly sipping her own tea. Ignatius popped the seal off and
unfolded the letter. It may not all be bad, but this did not seem favourable. He grazed the words a
second time, the last few drinks finally blurring his vision.

“Efa, do we have any sobering potions?” He asked as he stood slowly to keep his balance.

“Ig.” Lucretia said raising perfectly poised as she’d been born to do.

“Lucius seems to have penance he wishes us to pay as well. The trial for Buckbeak has moved up.”
Ignatius explained as he poured himself a glass of water washing some over his hands and then
patting at his face and neck.

“To when?” She asked, setting down her tea and running a hand through her mess of curls.

“Oh well if I leave now, I believe I should arrive with approximately two minutes to spare.” He
said with a weak grin at her befuddled look.
“Oh my.” She said smoothing out her wrinkled grey dinner dress, looking side to side for some
answer that had not come to her yet.

“Caraid, you rest. I will handle this one. Besides,” He began, “I have all the information I need.”

With a sigh, she resigned herself. Calling for a robe more suited for the occasion and helping place
it on his shoulder. Efa raised a small vial for him to take, it smelt like cracked pepper and sharp
vinegar, but it would work nearly instantly.

“To the brightest young witch I may have the pleasure of knowing, let me do well by her.” He said
before downing it all in a single bitter gulp.

Harry sat on the steps of Hagrid’s Hut after Hermione, Ron and himself had helped him to rush to
ready. He and Buckbeak had been called to London for the trial. Hagrid had been trying to hide his
sniffles, but when he tied a bowtie around Buckbeak's neck, he burst into tears. Tugging at all of
their hearts, but leaving them at a loss for words.

Now Ron was rummaging about in Hagrid’s garden while Harry sat with his chin in his hand and
Hermione to his dismay was crouched over a rather thick book reading as if her life depended on it.
The quick turn of page came every minute or two as she chewed on her inner cheek and dug her
feet into the dirt. She and Ron had come to an uncomfortable truce. They spoke to each other now
and again, but sometimes Ron would wake up with anger in his head and he would downright
ignore her. Harry had been doing his best, but ever since Sirius’ visit he had been racking his brain
for where Peter could be with his eyes strained from staring at the map hoping for the name to
blare with alarm should it every show. All he learned was McGonagall was an early riser going for
a stroll to the Quidditch Pitch before dawn and Dumbledore seemed to have a nocturnal habit as he
paced the corridors well into the night.

“I hope I have sent Professor Prewett enough information. Hagrid was broken before he left, if it
goes poorly…” Hermione mumbled as she turned a page with such vigour it tore. Before she could
pull her wand, Harry had waved his and repaired it as he watched Ron prod at a rotten pumpkin.

“Mione,” Harry mumbled the nickname she only allowed when no one else could hear. Even Ron
wouldn’t be allowed to utter it in their current state, it made Harry feel special and sometimes
despite their intellectual pursuits, he and Hermione had a gap in their friendship that lacked in his
relationship with Ron. The name caused her to slowly ease the book into her lap with a mark where
she’d left it.

“Yes, Harry.” She said with a tired sigh.

“It’s a Time Turner, isn’t it?” He asked with no other context, but she gasped nonetheless and
clutched towards her chest where it must have been hidden.

“I–I… no…” She stammered nervously as Harry shook his head.

“I won’t say a word. I just wanted to say, please be careful Hermione. Time is funny magic, but
terribly dangerous and all for marks… I will not judge you. I can’t pretend to understand what you
face everyday, neither can Ron or many of the witches and wizards here. I want you to know, no
matter your marks. I believe you to be the brightest witch of our age and I don’t want you running
yourself into the ground before you can prove it to all of them.” He said gesturing with his chin to
the castle nestled on its hill. Hermione let out a long contemplative sigh as she shoved the book
aside.
“I had– I’d been wondering if it was worth it. Or if there were better ways…” She trailed off
shaking her head and her full hair moving in waves.

“There are other ways.” Harry pointed out.

“Five people! Five people in this century have sat and completed and succeeded in getting Twelve
OWLs.” She moaned as her face fell into her hands.

“Likely six soon.” Harry said, calmly. Hermione raised her head.

“I am terribly poor at Divinations. Even if I tried, Trelawney would never pass me. You heard her,
‘Oh poor dear, no sight at all,’ it’s rubbish you at least have to see that Harry!” Hermione replied.
Harry shrugged.

“Trelawney’s great great grandmother was named Cassandra. There is a story of a great Seer
named Cassandra, but she spurred the great god Apollo and was cursed to never be believed no
matter how truthful she was.” Harry hummed, as Ron stumbled over a vine and the sun began to
fall behind the castle. The Committee was likely deliberating now on Buckbeak’s fate. It seemed so
small from here.

“Those are fables, tales to tell children.” Hermione said.

“Witchcraft is a tale to tell children.” Harry quipped back quickly as Hermione blinked her eyes at
him.

“I mean, if we can exist, why not the gods of old? At the very least, who is to say they do not to
those who believe their stories.” Harry said, standing and brushing himself off before outstretching
his hand which Hermione took gladly.

“Ron, let’s go to dinner. Hogsmeade is tomorrow the sooner to bed the sooner we can be there!”
Harry called to his friend, who had resorted to kicking rocks out of boredom. He perked up at the
prospect of Hogsmeade.

“It’s useless to warn you against going, isn't it?” Hermione mumbled as they started up the path as
Ron raced ahead.

“Sirius doesn’t scare me, Mione.” He whispered back.

“You are brave, Harry. Brave, but foolish.” Hermione said with a small smile that said she only
partially meant her words. Harry reached his hand to hold hers as they walked back to the castle
hand in hand, losing sight of Ron after only a minute or two, but quick to find him with a few new
beads of sweat waiting for them before entering the Great Hall.

The next day was warm against his skin. Hogsmeade weekends carried a sweetness in the air. Even
if Harry could not attend in the traditional sense, he played the part well. Seeing his friends off
with a gracious wave and making certain to be seen in several different places by several others
before he pulled out the cloak and the map and disappeared with a quiet comment to an excitable
Colin that he was going to lie down for a while. Colin offered to make him tea, but Harry politely
declined. Telling him instead to see if he could get any pictures of the Slytherin team practising for
the upcoming match.

Ron and Hermione agreed to a truce as they barricaded Harry from other students stumbling into
him from where he hid under the cloak. They spent time in Zonko’s Joke shop, where Harry and
Ron stocked up on odds and ends, the Owlery, where Hermione nudged Ron to write to his
brothers, Bill and Charlie. Harry slipped a few coins onto the counter when Ron wasn’t looking for
the international travel fees. Even paused for a break to let Hermione get her fill of tea from
Madam Puddifoot’s. They ended the dying hours of sunlight wandering to the Shrieking Shack for
a quick peek at the supposed haunted building. Yet when they paused, it was still and quiet as the
forest surrounding it.

“Bill and Charlie tried to get in, they said it was impossible. Didn’t stop Fred and George from
trying, but it’s locked tight.” Ron explained where they all sat with Harry enjoying a few moments
of fresh air before he’d have to sneak away to make it back to the castle in time.

“Rubbish.” A voice was saying, echoing off the old bark of the trees behind them. Hermione threw
the cloak over Harry roughly as he ducked down.

“A Prewett stopping a Malfoy, never. To suggest such an idea, Blaise is mad, and you're rather daft
for believing him Goyle.” Harry knew that high nasally accent. Ron’s fist were already balling as
Harry risked a reach to touch Ron’s hand and they eased for a moment.

“Oh, look here. Doing the house shopping Weasley? I think something of this grandeur would be
out of your price point.” Draco’s face sneered as he and a small group came to stop.

“Oh and look a perfectly little Mudblood wife all ready for you.” Draco chimed in when his cold
eyes fell on Hermione.

“You ruddy–” Ron began, but gritted his teeth to stop himself.

“Oi, say it, Weasley.” Malfoy egged him on with his lips pulling back on perfectly white teeth.
“Did you hear what I said about your uncle? I’d say maybe he could buy the poor creatures
freedom, but the Prewett vault must be suffering if he lets his niece live in squalor. Or maybe your
mother is just used to pigs.”

“You tosser! I ought–” Ron was ready to charge, but Harry reached out hoping the high grass
would cover his hand and yanked on Ron’s ankle. Malfoy deserved a good punch in the nose, but
not now. Not here where they were outnumbered even with Harry three to one.

“Never enter a fight you can’t win, Harry. Walk away and come back when they don’t have a
chance.” His grandfather’s voice bounced around in his head.

Ron snarled, but froze. The group was blubbering with laughter. Harry’s blood was boiling, but
eventually they grew tired at the silence that greeted them and wandered off. Ron was steaming
when Harry removed the invisibility cloak. Even worse night had fallen and Harry would have to
run the whole way back to return with everyone else.

“Should have let me hit him.” Ron muttered as they rushed into town and Hermione distracted the
sweetshop owner with her questions as Harry sneaked away. Harry didn’t have a chance to respond
as he jumped down the stairs and into the secret compartment, careful to close it well. The map hit
against his back from where it was in his pocket and the cloak weighed down his one hand, but his
quick feet and Quidditch trials had him reach the witch statue in record time. Pulling out the map,
he confirmed the halls closest to him were clear and climbed out.

Peeking his head out, he assured with his own eyes he was in the clear. He closed the map and
sealed it from prying eyes and moved his feet towards a more appropriate end of the castle for him
to appear. His shoulders started to relax and his gait became cheerful as the portraits stared down at
him on his trip back to the Great Hall. He was just hoping there would be chicken tonight when he
rounded a corner and found himself staring into a void of darkness. He’d been foolish, a touch
arrogant.

“Mister Potter.” Professor Snape said in an amused tone.

“Professor.” Harry said, taking two steps back. Snape leered down at him.

“Bit late to dinner aren’t we? Perspiring as well, have you just gone on a strut?” Professor Snape
asked. Harry could feel the invisibility cloak like a solid rock in his robes and the Marauders Map
seemed to stick to his chest from where he’d hidden it in his shirt.

“A walk to clear my head.” Harry corrected with ease. Professor Snape did not seem appeased. His
tongue licked his lips before they parted, but his words were drowned out by the tapping of a cane.
Harry and Professor Snape scanned down the hall. The welcome sight of Professor Lupin was
moving slowly towards them.

“What a coincidence.” Snape snipped. Professor Lupin brought his cane front and centre to lean
forward on. His was much more plain than Arcturus’ own cane, no silver ornaments or black onyx.
Only a simple polished wood with a plain pale handle.

“Harry, I was just looking for you. Mister Creevey said you were resting, but when he went to your
bed, he found it empty. I had been wondering if you wanted to have tea together.” Professor Lupin
said in a kind yet suspicious way.

“Gladly.” Harry answered and scuttled around the furious Professor Snape. He wrapped himself in
his cloak and stormed off without another word as Harry and Remus’ headed towards his office.

“You weren’t wandering about were you, Harry?” Remus asked, waving away Harry’s arm when
he offered his assistance.

“I may have been Uncle Moony, but I was being careful. I swear.” Harry promised. Remus
shuddered at the word like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on him, but they kept moving
forward.

“It would be better if you stayed around people, where we could keep an eye on you. I know your
father’s spirit was passed to you, but I would hope some of dear Lily’s logic did as well.” Remus
said before he pushed open the door to his office. Tea sat steaming with small sandwiches to the
side. It was not the feast of chicken he had hoped for, it was even better.

Harry left just before curfew. Wishing Remus a good night as he did. Carefully, he pulled out the
map and used it to guide him around everyone, keeping a watchful eye that Professor Snape’s
name remained down in the dungeons. Nearly to his room, he pulled his wand to seal the map for
the night when he noticed a name. Bells rang in his head as he pulled the map to his nose to be
sure. He had not gone mad, there was in fact the name Peter Pettigrew staring back at him on the
grounds just out a window beside him. Harry threw himself into the window and peered into the
darkness, the moon lit the grass and shrubs weakly, but there was no movement he could see. He
turned back to the map which showed the name for a moment more before it disappeared. Staring
into the night, Harry caught the sight of swaying limbs and a muted rustling of leaves.

“Oh no.” He whispered to himself.

“I know where Peter keeps running off too!” Regulus said the second the doors opened to the
study. Aunt Cassiopeia, Aunt Helena, Uncle Marius and Uncle Lancelot were sitting with tea and
 his grandfather at the centre.

“Please tell me Sirius is nowhere near us.” Arcturus replied sharply. Regulus shook his head.

“In the garden, I made certain of it.” Regulus replied. Watchful eyes surveyed him for a beat of
time, waiting for an explanation.

“I wrote to Harry, told him to keep an eye on the map. If he ever saw Pettigrew on the map to write
to me instantly. Never follow him, I made him swear to it.” Regulus emphasised when a few eyes
narrowed at him.

“Well Peter appeared tonight and Harry noticed him heading somewhere in particular.” Regulus
continued before pausing a breath.

“We believe he’s hiding in the Shrieking Shack.” He finished, to the suspense ridden faces.

Chapter End Notes

Posting this real quick so I don't forget, more to come soon! Thank you for the
patience and any and all comments/kudos!
 A Freed Hippogriff
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, injury

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Harry! Wake up!” Someone said, loudly. His broom was shaking strangely, but he was reliving
his crowning moment. Winning the Quidditch Cup and outsmarting Malfoy on top of it. Being
hoisted up on everyone’s shoulders in glee as the sun seemed to warm up just for him. Yet they
were holding him a bit unsteady. He was moving a bit sideways, in fact he felt as if he was falling.
No, he was certain he was falling.

Jolting upward, Harry nearly collided heads with someone looming over him. The room was fuzzy,
but distinctly indoors. Harry was not on the Quidditch Pitch.

“Bloody hell, Harry. You nearly toppled, Hermione.” He heard Ron’s voice through the fog.

“Hermione…” Harry said slowly as his hands reached out. A warm pair touched him and opened
his palm to place his glasses in them. He smiled sideways, while he put them on. He blinked a few
times, notably dark the room was, turning to the side he realised he was in the dorms. The boy’s
dorms with Ron and Hermione at the end of his bed staring at him with a mix of worry and
possibly annoyance.

“Hermione, how are you… why am I?” Harry asked, turning side to side noticing each bed was
empty and the sun was low and warm in the sky out his window.

“Mate you slept all day! I mean we didn’t get to bed until nearly morning! Wicked party, Fred and
George even let me try the firewhiskey. You had a few sips, but I didn’t think it was enough to
have you knackered until night.” Ron said, looking Harry up and down. Harry shook his head.
He’d been drinking wine since he was ten, Sirius had been slipping him sips of firewhiskey all
summer. The liquor had not made him tired, the sheer exhaustion had. Sometime last night as he
lay awake staring at the curtains covering his bed, it felt as if the Knight Bus had struck him and
now here he was, sleeping from sunup to sun down. The rumbling in his stomach caused him to
start.

“Here I had an elf bring us these. Ron skipped over all the important information.” She said with a
snip to her tone while Ron rolled his eyes. She was leaning forward with a pair of thick
sandwiches. Appreciatively, Harry bit into a corner as he waited for Hermione to continue.

“What Ron should have mentioned was Hagrid and his Uncle Ignati– er Professor Prewett wrote.
Buckbeak won! Even after an appeal was tried.” Hermione said, clapping her hands. Harry grinned
behind his full mouth.

“Dat’s wondefil.” Harry said, mouth full trying not to make a mess. ‘

“Yes, though Hermione is missing information now.” Ron cut in, giving a side eye to Hermione,
who blew out a tuft of her hair from her face.
“He won, but he has to be relocated away from students. Hagrid is a bit sad to see him go, but
considering the alternative… well lets say they stopped by The Leaky Cauldron and I think Uncle
Ignatius ended up buying the whole pub a round. It was a gruelling few days, he said. Malfoy had
clearly paid off most of the Committee, but when Malfoy got the habits of a unicorn mixed up with
the habits of a hippogriff, Uncle Ignatius sank him!” Ron exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, very astute and he said my notes helped him incredibly!” Hermione chimed in.

“Oh and Charlie is coming! He knows a fella in Hungary who has a couple of hippogriffs and
could take care of Buckbeak. They are bringing him back for the night here and then they’ll have
to leave with him first thing in the morning, Hagrid asked if we wanted to say farewell for now
before they go. Uncle Ignatius said he’d escort us from the castle since it’ll be nearly dark and the
dementors are about.” Ron finished.

Harry finished his sandwiches as quickly as he could and downed a cup of water before slipping on
his shoes and following Ron and Hermione on their heels to the grand front door. Standing on his
toes, they waited a few moments until jovial laughter cut through the dark.

“Ignatius, I’ll never be able to repay you. A good bloke you are, knew it from the moment I joined
Gryffindor House, yer were the best Head Boy, no don’t shake yer head. You stood up for me
when they took my wand. You and Lucretia both, I’ll never forget.” Hagrid was going on. When
they could see them in the yellow light shining from the windows of the castle, they both had a
warm flush to their faces. Harry thought they deserved this win.

“Ah, sweet children!” Hagrid said as he kneeled down and they all fit in his wide arms for a warm
hug.

“I heard ye all helped. Convinced Ignatius to take Buckbeak’s case. I appreciate ye all, I had to
come and say it myself. Sad Buckbeak has to go, shed a fair few tears, but Charlie is a good boy. If
he trusts this man, then so do I.” Hagrid said, pushing back to his tall height.

“Come along now, we dropped Buckbeak in the garden with some ferrets to keep him busy. Yer
must be quiet though students aren’t to be out, but well Ignatius here has faced his fair share of
battles. I believe were all safe with him.” Hagrid said, nudging roughly into Ignatius' side, he
wavered slightly, but broke into a smile with a chipped tooth to show off one of those battles. He’d
never fixed it, said it showed character. As they approached Hagrid's Hut, Harry saw from a
distance that the warm home was not empty.

A rather rugged looking man stood in the doorway, with fur over his shoulders even for the warm
season and a full yellow beard and matching sandy hair that was held back with a thin strap tied
much like the scarves Hermione sometimes wore. His eyes were watchful and his ears seemed to
catch every sound as he turned his head up to the sky.

“Murdo?” Ignatius called out, his face falling slightly. The well built man turned towards him and
as they approached, Harry could see the scars on his arms and the callous on his hands. He was a
man who had worked and worked hard for such marks to remain. Yet there was a look to him that
kept a youthful appearance even at his age, his face was lined but his hair still bright.

“Ignatius.” He greeted friendly, as Ignatius approached him.

“You’ve left from your farm.” Ignatius commented.

“Me brother’s farm, lest you forget Morton still holds his title.” Murdo corrected, his accent heavy
and his words firm.
“Yes, but you do as much for it as anyone.” Ignatius replied quieter than his typical tone.

“Murdo.” Hagrid called out as he caught up with them pulling Buckbeak along with him. “A treat
to see you, let me pour a cuppa.”

Murdo nodded and cleared the doorway to allow Hagrid and Buckbeak in before motioning for
everyone else to enter before him. Harry felt the piercing blue eyes burrowing into his skin. It did
not cause it to creep or prickle, but it felt like warning still as he slowed while Murdo took in his
every last movement. Like a hunter with prey they observed from afar to learn their movements,
yet Murdo was not a hunter. He was a farmer, he cultivated what he would kill.

“What drags you deeper into the Highlands, Murdo? Not that you need a reason, these are yer
family's lands more than anyone’s.” Hagrid said as he shuffled about for tea. Buckbeak took up
much of the kitchen, chewing on more ferrets.

“The dementors. I had come to speak to Dumbledore. They’ve been wandering close to our lands,
too close. Me children’s children have children now, they should be allowed to run the lands far as
I did and my ancestors before me yet we must confine their spirits close. It does no good for their
growth. I had come to Dumbledore to advise me brother, Malcolm is having an audience with the
Minister. We wish for him to attend. These Highlands are our land, the ancient magic caught in
them does no good being intruded on. We intend to warn them that much longer and the Highlands
will fight back. It’ll be called hogwash, but me kin know. We are charged with these lands, we
know as many secrets as they allow us and if this continues much longer than reckoning will come
fir ye all.” Murdo answered as his eyes stared out a window into the forest he knew well.

The Forbidden Forest was only one area, the entirety of the Highlands was another. Few families
had survived so far north for one reason or another, yet the MacMillians were the oldest of them
all. One of the original four families to land on this island years ago. Of them only two remained in
their true name, the MacMillans as one and the Prewetts as the other. If it were up to Harry, he’d
heed the words of such a family, but as he were to learn, not everyone respected history for the
story it could teach.

“Will Dumbledore join you?” Ignatius asked, a dark cloud coming over his face as he brought the
steaming tea to his mouth. Harry felt they were privy to a deeper conversation than they meant as
he glanced over at Ron and Hermione, tucked into a corner with the large tea cups bigger than their
hands.

“He says he’s made his complaints known. He has nothing more to add nor does he believe the
Minister to listen to him. I considered it as much, but me brother told me to come so I did as
much.” Murdo said, his eyes straining into the fading light outside, tea cup set aside.

“Ay, for his faults, Albus has been outspoken in his dissatisfaction with the dementors. For them to
be intruding on your land, I’ll take it up with Arcturus. He may be able to get an ear with the
Minister.” Ignatius added with a nod.

“Hagrid.” Murdo said as he rose from his seat. “Are you expecting more company?”

“Er, no. Not much reason for anyone to be out at this hour. Shouldn’t have the children out, but it’s
a celebration and a farewell party.” Hagrid explained. Murdo’s sharp eyes caught Ignatius’ and
they both stood shooing Harry and the children farther into the hut, behind a slumbering Fang, who
Harry gently poked awake. The drooling dog raised his head and appeared to be little defence, so
Harry pulled his wand. At the other end of the hut, Murdo and Ignatius had taken a place on either
side of the door with Ignatius having a hand on the door handle. There were a few tense seconds
where neither spoke with words, but only with their faces before the door was yanked open and a
pair of wands japped at the unknown intruder shrouded in shadows.

“Eh, I’m friendly!” A voice cried out. Harry was still on his toes as Ron’s head popped up.

“Wait a minute–” Ron began before he was cut off.

“Charlie, by Merlin, announce yourself before approaching a house in times like these.” Igantius
huffed as he and Murdo lowered their wands.

“You’re the one that sent for me, Uncle Ig. Alright, Mister MacMillan?” Charlie said as he stepped
into the hut. Hagrid lit the fire as he did to give some much needed light.

“The portkey was for the morning.” Ignatius pointed out, his head turning around the hut before
closing and locking the door behind him. Murdo took his place still standing looking out the
opening curtain.

“Switched ‘em. Oi, alright Ron? I didn’t know you’d be here.” Charlie greeted with a wide
crooked smile. Ron smiled back looking over his shoulder at his friends before crossing the room
to hug his brother.

“Charlie.” Ron said when they separated. Charlie ruffled his hair before nodding to both Harry and
Hermione.

“You two alright?” Charlie said.

“You know them?” Ignatius asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Course I know them. They helped me smuggle a dragon out of the country their first year. Bloody
masters they are.” Charlie said, pacing the cabin with his hands tucked into his pockets. His hair
was longer, Harry noted. Tied into a knot on top of his head, the fading light caught the various
silver jewels adorned on his head.

“A dragon? Don’t say anymore, the less I know sometimes.” Ignatius said, his eyes pausing on
Harry for a lingering moment. Harry tried to play it off with a smile, but Uncle Ignatius was no
fool.

Hagrid offered Charlie a cup of tea, which he took gratefully. Then the two of them went into a
conversation on the land Buckbeak would call home soon and the man who had offered to take
him. Ignatius came closer to the three of them in the corner, Harry could tell he was checking the
clock to see when to take them back. Buckbeak chimed in occasionally with the crunch of a ferret
bone. Murdo stayed quiet in the corner. There was a contemplative line drawn across his forehead
as he stared into the forest as if it was speaking to him in a language only he could understand.
Maybe that is why Harry jumped when he broke the silence.

“Did you bring a friend?” Murdo asked his eyes trained on Charlie. Confusion cast over his eyes as
he shook his head. Murdo turned back out the window, tracking movement Harry couldn’t see
from his position.

“He was not out there alone.” Murdo stated to his muted audience.

“Sirius.” Regulus said, firmly.

“Reg, I know you, but even more I know this family. You are all hiding something from me.”
Sirius demanded from where he stood blocking Regulus' door, effectively cornering him.

“Sirius, don’t tell me you're going to try and keep me in here until I tell you. We’re not children
anymore.” Regulus pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Where’s Uncle Ignatius?” Sirius asked, ignoring Regulus’ comments. Regulus let out a low sigh.
Sirius had many positive attributes, his determination one of them, but his personality also allowed
them to quickly turn sour if not kept in check.

“He’s in London. Likely staying at Uncle Lancelot’s flat since he has to be at the Ministry
everyday.” Regulus said, turning his attention to the collection of letters on his desk. He and Harry
had been corresponding frequently. Not only on the map and what it would reveal, but also on any
matter of issues that bothered Harry as it came. The sneers from the Slytherins, the whispers from
fellow years, the hounding by professors and prefects alike doing their best to keep Harry in line.
The last one made Regulus smile, Harry could only be kept in line if he wished to be. If he wanted
he could leave.

“What are those letters?” Sirius asked, leaning closer to Regulus. The skin on his arms pricked up
as he collected them and shoved them into a drawer. The one with the most damning evidence was
locked away under a loose floorboard in the far corner of his room. It wasn't that he didn't trust his
brother, but he didn’t trust his brother.

“They are from Harry, speaking of which have you written him recently? He won the Quidditch
Cup. First time for Gryffindor in a few years.” Regulus pointed out, trying to pivot the conversation
and ease the fire burning behind Sirius’ eyes. There was a moment of defiance before Sirius
blinked and it seemed to dull. Regulus felt wary, but his brother stepped back towards the door
with his hand on the handle.

“He did write about it, but I haven't had the chance to write back yet.” Sirius admitted with an
emotion Regulus couldn’t place, maybe a touch of shame, or guilt.

“Hm.” Regulus hummed, searching his brother’s face for truth.

“I’m not letting it go. I’ll find out, but I'll reply to his letter.” Sirius admitted after a long pause.
Regulus watched each careful flex of his muscle as he turned the knob and slithered out of the
room. Almost as an afterthought, Regulus shouted out.

“Don’t bother Harry for answers!” He called. There was no reply, just the sharp shut of Sirius’
door. Maybe some things never change no matter how old one is. Brothers were still brothers.

Regulus cast a spell to have the drawer blare if anyone tried to open it, and shut his door with a
tight lock. The old jinx he cast years ago still lingered for anyone who entered without his
permission when the door was locked. Sirius may have figured how to get around it by now, it
wasn’t the best magic considering he’d been a young teenager when he cast it, but it gave him
some solace as he walked down the stairs pausing halfway down to turn around for a moment and
stare intently at the solid wood of Sirius’ door. It did not budge.

He left behind his pouting brother to meander down the halls of Grimmauld Place, though he was
certain the house had fallen back into his Grandfather’s name when he’d be declared dead. It still
felt his responsibility to stroll the home from time to time to check the state of it. He found a few
paint chips and a room with peeling paper, it took a few quick flicks of his wand and they were
repaired. Eventually, he wandered into a room that was not vacant. Instead, he found his
grandfather sitting in a large chair pushed into the sunlight of a cracked window, his eyes fluttering
and dozing. Regulus tried to back out as quickly as he came.
“I am not asleep.” Arcturus said, out of the side of his mouth as he pushed himself to a better
position.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Regulus said, half in and half out of the door, unsure of whether to
move forward or back.

“You didn’t.” Arcturus said, motioning with his hand to a free place not far from him. He stepped
in and shut the door quietly. Tame as he could he took the chair, soaking in the image of his
grandfather across from him. When he was young, he wondered what his parents would look like
as they aged, how their skin would wrinkle and their hair go nearly all grey. He never did get to see
it, they both perished before then, but when he looked at his grandfather he could imagine for a
moment what they may have taken.

“Where is everyone?” He asked, searching the room for any other forms of life.

“Ignatius has won his court appeal, I believe he was going to Hogwarts and Lucy mentioning
possible stopping by her cousins before joining him. As for my own cousins, they went out and
Lancelot was called to St. Mungo’s, an unfortunate case of Cerebrumous Spattergroit.” Arcturus
answered, slowly raising himself higher in the chair.

“I heard you and your brother.” Arcturus said before he waved his hand and Kreacher popped up.

“Need more potions, Master?” Kreacher asked, quickly before he bounced back on one foot and
noticed Regulus. With a warm smile, he greeted him.

“I will be fine for now, Kreacher. Tea would be nice if you don’t mind.” Arcturus asked, as he
rested his hands across his chest.

“Of course, no caffines for Master Arcturus, Black tea for Master Regulus?” Kreacher asked, his
ears twitching a bit.

“That’ll be perfect, Kreacher. Thank you.” Regulus replied and Kreacher popped away to gather
the drinks.

“To think we used to take their heads, and now we're thanking them.” Arcturus said once Kreacher
was gone. Regulus’ face must have been at least half as horrified as he felt by the way his
grandfather had an amused smirk.

“I complain not, I used to find the trait barbaric. Even worse, we displayed the heads for all to see.”
Arcturus answered his look.

“Why did you not end it then?” Regulus asked, before he caught himself challenging his
grandfather’s authority and recoiling his tongue out of habit. Arcturus shook his head, as if to
assure him he was not angered by the reaction as Kreacher returned and set the teas down before
disappearing once again to somewhere else in the home.

“Because for all my might, I was weak.” Arcturus answered after a warm sip. Regulus collected his
own tea cup and held it out to let it cool a moment more.

“People say you were the Last Great Heir, even when they knew I was still living.” Regulus
pointed out. Arcturus nodded again.

“They did, and I should have stopped them, but I didn’t. Another weakness I had, they did not
speak the truth. Time has a way of painting everything in brighter colours. When I was young they
would speak of how I would never live up to my grandfather, to my stature. I was too disobedient,
too independent, too strong willed in my ideals. I married the wrong woman and had the wrong
children, and damned the line to extinction. Only as time dimmed their harsh eyes, did I become
great.” Arcturus advised. His voice was steady despite his ailings, holding the wise drawl that had
captivated him when he was only a young boy. Regulus had esteemed to have such wisdom in his
mind one day.

Sipping his tea in the momentary silence, did he look up and see his long deceased great uncle
resting in a portrait. His namesake that he only knew bits and pieces of. Whom he seemed to differ
from so greatly.

“Did you and your brother bicker as well?” Regulus asked, turning the conversation back.

“There were times it was the only way we communicated.” Arcturus replied, a short smile catching
his lips as his head turned up to his brother.

“It’s exhausting.” Regulus whispered before tipping his tea cup back again. Arcturus let out a wry
chuckle.

“If Sirius exhausts you, Regulus would have driven you mad. Though I will admit I had it easier
being able to split the duty of keeping a reign on him with my sister. He did always favour her.”
Arcturus said. Regulus tilted his head to get a better look at his uncle, his portrait and photos all
held a young likeness of him and from what his grandfather had said, Regulus' own father had
favoured his Uncle Regulus. He wondered what would be of him if he had survived longer than the
years he was given.

“Let me tell you a story.” Arcturus cut into his thoughts. Regulus turned to face him and made
himself comfortable in the chair. His grandfather was full of endless stories, many with morals
tucked behind them.

“When I was very young and quite foolish, I did the one thing a man in our family is forbidden to
do.” Arcturus began setting his tea aside. Regulus leaned closer.

“I fell in love. A folly and susceptible emotion, Blacks did not marry for such foolishness. They
married for purity and alliances as far back as we can see. It was the way we survived.” Arcturus
continued with one final small pause.

“But I fell, and my stubbornness came to haunt me. It may seem strange in these times, but then
honour, especially the honour of a young woman, was sacred. Without giving too much detail, your
grandmother and I broke such honour and with it a time bound tradition. Anyone could see it if
they looked hard enough, they used it to spite your grandmother. Many women would have left,
would have run home and hidden away behind the protections of her father, her many brothers,
cousins, and uncles. Melania did not do that, and I would not leave her to such. I would redeem any
of the honour still to be found between us. We married, quickly and in secret. My brother and sister
were the only witnesses. But in trying to be honourable to one, I was dishonourable to many others.
The girl I had been promised to, her father had a wrath of fury. A wrath that we’ve suffered under
for years. See, my brother despised me for what I did. For by doing so, I sealed not only my fate,
but his as well. A heir and a spare, it is what they teach all of us. Not one son, but two, for cases
much like my own. When they knew what I had done could not be undone, they turned to their
next option. My brother. They tried to force him to fulfil my end of the arrangement, wed this girl
off to him, have them have sons and then there would be no need for mine. The issue with Regulus
was he oft didn’t like being told what to do. Yet there it was all within a touch, he could have it all.
The heirdom, the riches, the name would be his, I can’t say he wasn’t tempted. Many men would
be, but he never took it. He never wed, he never sired children. He remained loyal by my side, all
while despising me just the same, for I took away his choice. I backed him into a corner where he
 had to choose, and he chose me over himself. That is what I mean when I say you and your brother
must be loyal to one another. For when Micheal MacMillain was trying to turn my neck sideways,
my little brother, much smaller and thinner than any of Melania’s brothers, was the one to force
him off of me before he turned and cursed me out all the same. You may never see eye to eye, for
decisions both of you have made, but beyond all that you are still brothers.” Arcturus finished his
tale. Regulus felt a pit in his stomach as he set his tea aside. Arcturus had said it before, but it felt
like he was driving the point home once more. He wondered for a moment if Sirius had gotten a
separate reinforcement.

He did not get to think of it long as scratching at the door drew both their attention away. Regulus
waved his hand and the door popped open and small furry feet came dashing in. Midnight came to
his feet rubbing along his ankles. Her little mouth parted with a loud meow before she walked
away and sat facing the door.

“Is it hungry? There are some biscuits.” Arcturus asked. Regulus narrowed his eyes as Midnight
looked back at him with her large dark eyes and meowed again.

“No, I think she’s trying to tell me something.” Regulus said, standing and she immediately popped
up with tail raised high and exited the room. Regulus looked out into the hall and went side to side,
looking for any signs of life. Midnight stood with one paw up and her head turned on the stairs
leading up, Regulus narrowed his eyes again as he strained his ears for any sounds of movement.

“Regulus.” Arcturus called from the room behind him. “Where is your brother?”

Chapter End Notes

See the next chapter ;)

 The Shack
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of injury, attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry along with Ron and Hermione were rigid and looked over the adults in the room. Each
carrying themselves with a different aura, Hagrid a bit confused as he rubbed at his beard, Charlie
with his nonchalant air, and Ignatius and Murdo with similar scowls of uneasiness on their faces.
Harry waited for someone to say something, instead, Ignatius made his way towards the window
pulling the curtain back slightly to peer out into the darkness himself. Unfortunately, Harry could
see nothing from his angle as he tried to shuffle to the side.

“Who did you see?” Ignatius asked after a minute had passed and he could not locate the person.

“Rather lanky lad, dark long hair, headed determinedly towards that tree there.” Murdo said with a
jut of his chin. Now Harry felt an icy cold chill run down his body. The Whomping Willow was in
that direction. Ignatius flashed the slightest of glances at Harry and pulled away just as quick so no
one would see.

“Charlie, I need you to take the children back to the school. Do not leave them. Do you understand
me? Do not let them out of your sight.” Ignatius said removing his fancier outer robes he wore to
the Ministry.

“Ignatius, don’t tell me that was S–” Murdo began before Ignatius cut him off with a dark glare.

“Go home, Murdo. Floo your cousin, my wife. Tell her what you saw, nothing less, nothing more.
She will know what to do.” Ignatius said, as he pulled the belt he had tucked behind his robes often
and strapped it over one shoulder. A small knife, a circle of rope, and a place for his wand cut
across his chest.

“Hagrid, if you could get Dumbledore. Tell him Arcturus will likely be coming, I’d expect the
Minister as well. Keep Fang inside if you don’t mind.” Ignatius said, as he tinkered with the strap
before reaching for the door. Murdo stepped in front of him blocking the way.

“You think because you're his uncle he’ll spare you. He killed that boy he called his brother, lest
we forget all he did to his blood brother. You are nothing to him, Ignatius. Wait for the Aurors, let
them do their job. He was lost to you long ago.” Murdo warned in a tone that grew more intense
with each word. Ignatius chest was heaving heavily under his breath.

“Murdo.” Ignatius stated.

“You will not make my cousin a widow for your own pride, I won’t allow it.” Murdo said in a
rather final way with his hand lingering over his wand. Ignatius' head tilted in a plea for the other
man to let him go without a fight. Harry was still shoved in the corner with his friends and Hagrid
to one side, Fang in the front, and a rather confused Charlie stuck in the middle. No one moved for
two beats of a moment.
“You trust a Black as much as you can control them. Your ancestors knew as much.” Murdo
warned, his hands twitching. Harry knew Murdo and Ignatius went far back, they were friends by
choice and family by marriage. Neither wanted to fight the other and both were standing for what
they believed was right. Ignatius needed a second, a second and he could push through without a
duel in Hagrid’s rather cramped hut. Harry looked around, he was tucked close to the counter
where the kettle still sat with a thin line of steam. He’d have to apologise to Hagrid later. With his
wand pulled slowly from his side and twisted behind his back, he aimed as best he could and shot
off a light coloured spell behind him. Only he underestimated his own strength. The spell went
straight through the kettle and smashed a hole in the window over the kitchen sink causing
everyone to duck for cover aside from him and his uncle. Harry flashed a hurried glance at Uncle
Ignatius. Murdo had stepped aside to investigate the sound which gave a momentary chance for
Ignatius to rush forward, apologising under his breath before taking off into the night.

“Ignatius! Yer aff yer heid!” Murdo cried out with his wand pulled but Ignatius was too far away
for a hit to strike him with any accuracy. Instead, Murdo stormed off in another direction, likely
back home. Harry just hoped it was to call his cousin and not the Aurors.

“Uh.” Charlie started turning to look at the three young children left behind and Hagrid who was
scratching his head at the perfect hole through his kettle and window.

“Um, maybe you should go to Dumbledore, Hagrid. I’ll get these three to bed.” Charlie said with a
worried glance over his shoulder into the open doorway of the hut. A breeze had picked up and
was making the hinges creak against the yellow glow of the fire. Harry felt a dreadful sinking cold
deep in his chest. If it was Sirius and he was heading to the Whomping Willow, and Harry was
right and it led to the Shrieking Shack he could only be tracking one person. Peter, he’d caught
wind of Peter.

“Alright, Alright, I’ll lock Buckbeak and Fang up in the hut. Lead you lot over the hill so you don't
have far to take them to the side entrance.” Hagrid agreed as he leaned a spare piece of wood over
the window to block out the wind. Swallowing deeply, Harry followed Charlie and Hagrid out.
Hagrid grabbed an umbrella by the front before locking the door, and Charlie with his wand held
high and bright to lead the way. Hermione seemed to have a pinched expression across her face as
she looked at Harry, as if she’d just had a tart lemon drop plopped in her mouth. He tried to ignore
the way it made his stomach toss.

“Alright, just there Charlie get them in and take ‘em up to Gryffindor Tower, may as well stay
there yerself. I’ll let McGonagall know on my way to Dumbledore if I can.” Hagrid said, using the
end of his umbrella to point Charlie in the right direction before heading off to the entrance closer
to the Headmaster’s office.

“I don’t know what Uncle Ig is doing but you three get in front of me.” Charlie said and they all
shuffled to his front in a strange semi-circle under cover of the light he held above them. Harry
noted they weren’t far from the Whomping Willow, in fact they would have to cross its path to get
inside. A part of his heart thumped to chase after his uncle and Sirius. To have his own words with
Peter, his own hands in his capture. Another part of him argued to let the adults handle it, even
with his knowledge he’d be no match for Peter and would just hinder his capture. In the end, it
would not be a decision he would have to make.

“Scabbers!” Ron cried and darted off from the group.

“Oi! Ron!” Charlie called stepping out from behind them just a few paces, using his wand like a
torch to wave at his brother.

“Charlie! It’s Scabbers!” Ron cried as he jumped forward landing on his middle as a small squeak
escaped and the grass moved a bit.

“Scabbers? But Ron I sent him back to you weeks ago, did you lose him already?” Charlie asked,
his eyes brows thick under the shadow of his arm and tightly wound together.

“Sent him back? Where did you find him? I haven’t seen him since before Christmas.” Ron said,
turning over his shoulder before he pushed himself up and started chasing something half crouched
over with his arms stretched out.

“Albania, where Uncle Ig sent me to weasel around for dark magic… Ron! Let the rat go!” Charlie
yelled as he took a few more paces with a worried glance at Harry and Hermione.

“What?” Ron yelled as he stood to full height.

“Ron! Behind you!” Hermione yelled in a high pitched voice as Harry turned his head slightly to
see a limb rising high above Ron’s head. There was the terrible misfortune of Ron being just in the
grasp of the Whomping Willow.

“Ron! Down!” Harry yelled as Hermione covered her mouth and Charlie tried to charge forward,
but there was too much space. Ron tilted his head back and with not a second to spare fell back on
his bottom and then rolled to the side. Only he didn’t stop rolling and with a cry he disappeared
into darkness where his voice slowly died out. Harry took a few steps forward, only for Hermione
to clutch on his arm.

Charlie was in front of them, he’d tried to swipe away at the branches, but they only pushed him
back. There was a line of frustration in his forehead as he called for his brother time and time again
to no response. Hermione’s breath was coming in short and Harry could feel his own hands
growing clammy. Charlie had to eventually take a step back.

“The two of you, can I trust you to get to the castle? I have to find a way past this tree and get
Ron.” Charlie said after a few gasps of air. Hermione looked to Harry for an answer. Harry felt
under the nervousness a new feeling blooming inside.

“No. We will help.” Harry said, as he bent down to get a better look under the shaking limbs full of
thick leaves. He could hear Uncle Marius now.

“Every magical plant is containable, if one only finds how. Some from proper care, others from
little secrets. Find it and you will always be the gardener.” Marius would say with a little wink
while holding some of the most fearsome plants known to their kind.

“There’s a knot. Look, see.” Harry said, motioning for Hermione. She crouched down next to him.

“Oh but Harry, how could we reach it?” She asked. Just then as if in a dream a small noise caught
their attention. The three of them turned to find emerging from the dark of the quickly falling night
two small figures with tails held high and their steps in sync.

“Crookshanks?” Hermione questioned.

“Midnight!” Harry cried as the bright yellow eyes turned up at him. “How did you get here?”

As if understanding him, Midnight nudged at his leg and then sat directly in front of him before
looking back at Crookshanks, who gave a distinct flick of his tail before moving forward again. He
was heading directly for the Whomping Willow.

“Crookshanks!” Hermione called, reaching forward. A sharp meow froze her and Harry looked
down to see Midnight with her mouth still open and her front paws firm in the dirt as if she was
about to pounce if Hermione moved any further. Hermione’s mouth fell open.

“By Merlin—” She never did get to finish her thought as Crookshanks let out a less forceful meow.
In the seconds they’d been distracted, he’d reached the base of the tree and a soft orange paw
raised and fell softly onto the knot. The Whomping Willow gave one sudden shake before it fell
limp as a body could.

Charlie’s eyes were going back and forth between the two creatures. With his wand held high, he
took a few ginger steps forward, eyes sharply assessing every breeze that fluttered through the
leaves. But the Whomping Willow was still.

“Kneazles, fascinating creatures.” Charlie whispered with one last glance at the two furry pets
sitting with their chest puffed up and proud.

“You lot, get to the castle. I’ll grab Ron and we will meet you by the Great Hall. Don’t wander!”
Charlie yelled at them before he slid down the hole, his wand light dropping off instantly and a
soft thud barely heard.

“Harry.” Hermione said carefully. Harry was mentally debating. One part said to go, but the other
part implored him forward. To get his answers once and for all. His thoughts were interrupted by
the hairs on Midnight raising and a dark hiss escaping her lips before she dashed across the grass
and jumped down the hole herself. Crookshanks followed loyally. Harry felt his stomach drop to
his feet.

“Something’s wrong.” Harry said as his feet moved before his thoughts, the dirt gave way under
foot and he found himself surrounded with rustled dust and sliding over rough roots and rocky
ground until there was a small drop and his feet touched soil. He saw the end of Crookshanks' tail
disappear around a corner for a flash before it was dark again. He needed to hurry or he’d lose his
only guide. Except the ground above him rattled and when he looked up the light was blocked as
he took two steps back, just in time for Hermione to tumble down with twigs and leaves sticking
out from her head.

“I—I couldn’t let you go alone.” She explained brushing off some of the dirt. Harry plucked the
largest twig from her hair before turning and following the small paw prints on the ground. Two
sets going in the same direction.

“Where does it go?” Hermione asked as she lit her wand to see towards the end of the tunnel where
it branched off in two different directions. The paws led right.

“I don’t think you want to know.” Harry whispered as he ducked away from sinking roots and
continued forward. Hermione let out a small whimper, but kept putting one foot in front of another.

Of course the floors had been freshly waxed, he thought as he fell onto his back on his aunt’s clean
floors. Laying their dazed for a moment, he stared at the dark grey vaulted ceilings with all their
detailed cravings wondering what they made of the mess of this family.

“Regulus.” A small voice called as he propped himself up on his elbows and his aunt stood with
her hands having gathered her robes above her ankles.

“Was it you trying to call through the Floo? I was in the attic, I couldn’t hear the voice.” She asked
with one eyebrow higher than the other.
“Call? No I–” He was cut off by the Floo roaring to life. Scambering out of sight to the side he
watched it spit and sputter for a moment before only a face emerged in the embers.

“Co-ogha.” Someone called from the flames. Regulus could not get a good glimpse of the face as
he hid his own in the shadows.

“Murdo. I am here.” Lucretia said, stepping up to the fire for him to see her in the glowing light.

“Your bloody husband.” Murdo began before tapering off into a language Regulus did not know.

“Murdo, mas e do thoil e, slow down. My Gaelic is not as good as it used to be.” Lucretia said,
placing her hand on her chest.

“Too many years with Cymraeg.” Murdo said half in a huff. “Your husband has gone after Sirius. I
had business at Hogwarts, he sauntered onto the grounds bold as ever. I tried to stop Ignatius, for
you Lucy, but he went anyway. He told me to tell you what I saw and you would know what to
do.”

“Oh.” Lucertia said, glancing at Regulus, who nodded slowly to confirm what Murdo was saying.

“Well–” Lucretia began but she was cut off.

“You don’t get involved, Lucy. I should call the Aurors.” Murdo said rather firmly.

“Murdo please.” She pleaded.

“I won’t, but I should. If you need anyone to get involved, you call your father. I hear he has taken
to recovery in Britain, not yet found by the Aurors or any the like.” Murdo continued. Lucretia
turned to where Regulus was and in the shadows he popped out the vial with the potion he needed,
and downed it painfully.

“I will get my father, Murdo. You should know he is not as he once was, in fact he has sent
someone in his place, if you will allow him to go through your lands to Hogwarts.” Lucretia said,
turning back with her chin held high as she held out her arm for Regulus stepped forward, now
coated in the skin of someone else to stop from being recognized. The fire offered little warmth
and even less light, but he could see his aunt’s cousin with his thick eyebrows in one solid line as
he took in every last inch of Regulus before responding.

“I thought you said Orion had no bastards.” Murdo grumbled before looking over his shoulder and
whispering to someone they could not see. When he turned back his gaze was less intense.

“My wife says to let him through. I will tell my family he is to be allowed the lands to get into the
mountains. We will let him pass, but he gets no assistance from us.” Murdo said before shutting
his mouth tightly.

“Tapadh leat co-ogha.” Lucretia said before facing Regulus and tightening his robes across his
chest.

“Ton frère, l'amène chez lui.” She whispered in his ear before gently pushing him towards the
Floo. Murdo had disappeared and when his feet touched the embers there was a quick twist and
pull before he landed on old wooden floors covered with a hand woven rug. The dizziness caused
him to hold his hands out and someone reached for him. He tried to recoil, but their grasp was firm.
He looked up and met dark eyes.

“Direct connections can make one off balance.” A voice with a vague French accent spoke to him.
Looking around, he could see his aunt’s cousin standing defensive in the corner with his arms
crossed. Two slightly younger men stood behind him looking confused, but steady and the
resemblance uncanny. His sons, they must be, Regulus thought as he gained his balance and tried
to avoid eye contact.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband, he is suspicious by nature. As he has the right to be, but if
Lucy trust you. So do we.” The woman who had grabbed his hands said as she guided him to a
sturdy door with two small windows on either side. The stars were already sparkling bright away
from the city as the sun set.

“Head straight to the forest, you’ll need to get to the clearing beyond those woods. You’ll be able
to apparate to Hogsmeade from there. It's as close as you will get.” She instructed as she opened the
door to fresh air and the distinctly sharp smells of a farm, animals mixing with fresh crops that he
could see extending far beyond his eye to one side. The forest she spoke of was directly ahead not
too many paces from the small cottage.

“Go between the two trees there and don’t divert from the path. Be careful, dementors fly close
anymore, keep your wand nearby.” She warned, patting at his side where his wand was tucked.

“Thank you–” He lost his words realising he could not place her name, and even if he could, he
likely shouldn’t know it.

“Ottilie to those close to me, Mistress MacMillan to everyone else.” She said with a wink before
easing him out the door.

The fresh brisk air left him feeling terribly exposed. He’d visited the MacMillan Farm a handful of
times in his youth. He remembered the grass made him itch and there had been more children than
he could count, but it had felt safe. Regulus when he was young had hardly felt safe.

As he crossed the wide open land, he could feel various eyes peeking behind curtains or from
windows above as whispers circle on the strange man with dark hair on ancient land. The
spattering of houses varied in size around the land, but the oldest sat directly in the centre with an
old paint job and the windows bright and wide open. A shadow was standing in the doorway that
Regulus tried to not linger on. The home would hold their heir, and while Murdo may be
sympathetic he was the youngest brother that Regulus could remember. He moved quickly through
the throngs of grass as pigs squeaked in their pen and the wings of an Augurey flapped in a nearby
tree. The MacMillans were in charge of many animals, both Muggle and Magical, only adding to
the leering feeling as he stepped into the dark forest.

The path he’d been instructed to follow was no formal way. Only ground that had been worn down
by years of passage. Careful to keep his eyes peered for dark looming shadows approaching, he
followed over upturned stones and roots breaking free from the confines of the ground, he could
see a patch of light ahead. As he stepped in he felt the gentlest ripple of magic, he’d felt light
breezes with more pull, but it was likely purposeful. The MacMillans did not want people to know
where their wards began and ended. With a deep breath, he centred himself and hoped with
whatever faith he had, he’d catch his brother before he did anything irreversible.

“Sh, did you hear that?” Harry said as he came to an abrupt stop, Hermione nearly crashing into
him. Leaning forward, he strained his ears to the muffled sound.

“Charlie.” Someone was saying.

“Let me by!” Someone said even louder as the sound of a boot hitting the ground caused the dirt
above them to rustle loose. Hermione let out a squeak before clasping her hand over her mouth.
They had arrived.

“He’s just a rat!” Someone cried and Harry knew they had all found each other.

“Stay close, Hermione.” Harry whispered as he pulled out his wand. He felt her do the same
holding it close to her side.

Moving as silently as possible, they entered the first level of the Shrieking Shack. The entire first
room was in shreds, with broken furniture and shards of glass on the floor. However, there was not
a person nearby. The voices were coming from elsewhere. Hermione tapped his shoulder and as he
turned around she pointed up. A small crack in the ceiling revealed movement. They had made it
upstairs. On the lightest feet the two of them could manage, they made their way up the wobbly
stairs with only a squeak or two that was drowned out by the ongoing argument. At the top of the
stairs with their tails flicking back and forth in sync were Crookshanks and Midnight, sitting
perfectly in front of a door that was partially cracked. Harry froze as shadows danced under the
door and the voices rang in his ear.

“Charlie, put down your wand.” Ignatius was saying in an uneasy voice. There was a rough
shuffling of feet and grunting that followed.

“Sirius.” Ignatius said in a gruff tone as the shuffling came to a halt.

“Let. Me. Free.” Sirius said through teeth tightly clenched. Harry could imagine it. The strange
standoff happened in the other room. Charlie with his wand raised, begging with his eyes for
guidance from his uncle. Ignatius using all his weight and force to restrain Sirius, who was
wrangling like a trapped dog in his grasp. Ron had to be in there, holding Scabbers tight from the
squeaks that came every few moments, maybe tucked in a corner or hidden behind his brother.

“Harry.” Hermione whispered in his ear. He could also imagine her thought process. She’d stayed
loyally beside him, but he could feel her feet wanting to turn around and find the closest Professor.
Little did she know how detrimental that was, Harry was already concerned with how many people
knew. Hagrid was going to Dumbledore, Murdo had returned home to his numerous family
members. Lucretia would soon inform the entire family, Ignatius had mentioned the Minister. A
plethora of people were soon to descend and it would be best to have control before long. Harry
weighed the risks. It was reckless, but maybe this recklessness needed a touch from another person
to balance it out. At least, that is how he tried to justify it as he stepped forward and pushed the
door in with such force it rebounded with a loud bang against the wall before he stepped in, causing
all of the occupants of the room to jump.

Inside was a scene much like the one he had envisioned. Ignatius stood across the room with his
body blocking Sirius and his arms wrapped around him with what appeared to be a partially cast
locking charm keeping Sirius legs tightly together. In the corner, stood Charlie with his wand still
raised in one hand and his other arm stretched out in front of his brother, Ron, who was standing
awkwardly and favouring one leg. Scabbers was crouched in his hands, but once his small beady
eyes landed on Harry he let out a screech and began to fight with all his might.

“Ignatius!” Sirius cried trying to wrangle free with a lopsided force from only being able to use his
top half. “He is right there! Let me do it!”

“Harry, you need to run!” Ron cried from behind his brother, squeezing onto Scabbers a bit harder.
He had good intentions, Harry was standing in the middle of the room in the eyeline of everyone, it
would seem Sirius was trying to get at him from any outside onlookers.
“Sirius.” Harry said, his voice quieter than he would have preferred, but the adrenaline was
wearing off and the anxiety setting in. Sirius continued to struggle as Ignatius pushed them both to
the side to squeeze Sirius in between the wall and the brute force of his body weight. Harry could
see the strain it was taking on his uncle, but if he released even for a moment to grab his wand and
restrain Sirius further there was the chance that either Sirius by some miracle made it across the
room, or Charlie shot off some spell with irreparable damage. They needed to calm down, the
whole room was swallowed by intense pressure. Harry was the one common factor threading them
all together, so with might he had to dig deeper for, he forced his voice stronger.

“Sirius, stop!” Harry cried, louder and more desperate than before. It took a moment for the sound
to register in Sirius’ head whether from sheer stubbornness or adrenaline, Harry couldn’t tell.
Muscle by muscle he stilled and finally his eyes looked up at Harry with a darkness in them he’d
never known. The type of look he must have held during the war caused by watching friend after
friend, ally after ally, innocent after innocent perish and he himself helpless to more than he’d
already done. The darkness that had to be fed by the dementors torment for the years he had
suffered. In Sirius, there was a helplessness no one could touch, a part of his soul broken and cold
never to be filled again. He dug his entire clutches into those dark reaches at this moment and
Harry knew he may be the only one to pull him out.

“He’s right there, Harry. The man responsible for it all. Take him, Harry. Bring him to me! Let me
finish what your father never could.” Sirius said, baring his teeth with the wildness of his hair and
clothes torn and tattered from his trek in the woods.

Harry felt his stomach lurch as he cast his eyes away from anyone else in the room. The
temperature was rising on the cool summer night, questions seemed to seep in through the walls,
but he did not have the time for that. It was tempting to say the least. He could take Ron, he may
even be able to take Charlie with the advantage of surprise and then Peter would be his. He may
not be able to cast the spell, but Sirius could. Sirius could do immeasurable amounts of dark magic
with the tainted bits of his soul flushing to the surface. The years of turmoil at Grimmauld, the
touches of his mother and father, the rumoured instances of madness all coming to light under the
silver spots of the rising moon above. The thoughts blared in his head. Revenge, take the revenge
offered so easily to him. Yet beneath was a quiet steady voice, he couldn’t place. Reminding him
as fervently as it could that this was greater than just him.

“Ron.” Harry said, finally turning to his friend. Ron was shaking in his place, having inched closer
to his brother, who now had his free arm wrapped protectively around Ron. He watched as a drop
of sweat slid down Ron’s temple rushing towards the ground. Harry felt a pang of guilt.

“I need Scabbers.” Harry said, his voice wavering slightly.

“H–Harry, have you gone mad? He’s a psychopath, he wants to kill you.” Ron stuttered out, eyes
growing wide as saucers.

“Ron, please I need you to trust me.” Harry implored. Ron pulled Scabbers closer to him, trying to
hide him behind his side.

“Mate, he’s just a rat. A rat Bill and Charlie got years ago.” Ron said, looking at his older brother
for reassurance. Charlie finally broke eye contact momentarily to look down at his little brother
before glancing back at his uncle who could for the first time focus on someone besides Sirius.

“Charlie, think. You're smarter than this. That rat, it's nearly twelve years old. Likely older, it was
no baby when you got it. A common house rat has a life span of two to four years, seven if you're
lucky, but twelve years, Charlie. I should have seen it earlier. Think about where you found him.
Do you believe it coincidence that I hear of dark magic in the forest of Albania and you just happen
upon the same old rat from your childhood? Think, Charlie.” Ignatius implored before Sirius
flinched and his muscle tensed again and his eyes stared down at Sirius with the utmost
dissatisfaction. Charlie’s eyes didn’t stop moving, first to his brother, then his uncle and Sirius
entangled in their fight, and finally to Harry. Thoughts seem to explode behind his eyes as his head
shook only barely detectable to one’s eye. Harry held his breath.

“Ron, give me the rat.” Charlie finally said, untangling his one arm and holding his hand out.
Ron’s mouth went slack with betrayal.

“Charlie–” Ron began to plead.

“I won’t give it to them. I want to look myself. You have to trust me, Ron.” Charlie informed, his
wand arm not wavering yet from the strain.

Ron’s lower lip quivered, and the familiar pang of guilt hit Harry even harder in his gut. Slowly,
his hands reached for his brother and he placed Scabbers into the free palm. The rat tried to jump
loose, but Charlie had Seeker reflexes and he clenched tight before his paws could leave his hand.
Scabbers let out a cry of pain, but he was still in one piece. Charlie brought the rat even with his
face twisting and turning it as best he could, examining every tuft of fur and limp whisker with
scrutiny.

“What is it?” Charlie asked to the room not looking at anyone in particular.

“An Animagus!” Sirius cried out his legs slipping out from the spell that held him, not able to
support his weight just yet but it was only a matter of time.

“That can’t be.” Hermione squeaked out. She’d been silent watching from the doorway, unmoving
and mostly unnoticed by everyone. Until now, when she stepped forward.

“That can’t be.” Hermione repeated in a steadier voice. “Animagus have to be registered. I checked
the register for extra credit with McGonagall. There are only seven registered Animagus in this
century. None of them took the form of a rat. A cat, a bird, even a moth, but no rat.”

“Ha! Young lady, you may be bright but you miss the most obvious answer. He did not register.”
Sirius said with half a laugh. Harry felt his nose twitch, Sirius was angry, no he was furious, but
Hermione did not deserve to be ridiculed.

Charlie stood with both hands raised, one with a wand and another with a rat. His thoughts seemed
to be racing as Harry swallowed down a dry throat. A muted howl came from somewhere in the
distance. The clouds began to cover the slowly growing moon, and Sirius’ legs twitched with force.
Ignatius would not be able to hold him, not with the rage driving him forward. Someone had to
make a decision. If Charlie wouldn’t, Harry had to give it his best chance. Moving achingly slow,
Harry wiggled his fingers till he could feel the smooth touch of his wand where he had tucked it
away when he burst into the room. Yet, he would have no chance to pull it as a loud bustling noise
from below shook them all. They were no longer alone.

Regulus was out of breath from the trek up to Hogwarts. He’d apparated as close as he’d dared
before moving as fast as his legs would allow him. Sirius had managed to get around his alarm and
find the loose floorboard. The letter had been thrown on his bed half crumbled when he’d gone
upstairs. He’d know when he stepped out in the hall. Sirius had run again. Regulus was growing
quite tired of chasing after him, but there had been no one else. Arcturus was in no state to catch
him, and everyone else was gone. Regulus’ only hope was that Ignatius had caught Sirius first and
he would run up on the scene of the two of them safe and away from everyone. He’d feel such
relief, the foolishness of him being frantic would wash right over him. As his feet stomped on the
ground past Hagrid’s Hut and towards the Whomping Willow with no sight of either of them, his
idealised version of the evening faded to the background. He had to pause not far from the Willow
out of sheer necessity to catch his breath. When had he pieced together it was the entrance to the
Shrieking Shack? Likely third year. Not long after he’d realised young Remus retreated to the place
to transform. Admittedly, it was an ingenious decision.

As he pulled at his boots to keep them in place he heard a sharp rapt come from not far away.
Quickly, ducking into the best place he could hide, he waited. Moments later, a pair of tattered
robes clutching old parchment in a fist was someone rushing down a hill. Remus. Limping, ill
looking Remus was moving as quickly as he could, picking up a stone to toss at the bottom of the
Whomping Willow causing its lively leaves to fall. Without its traditional fighting spirit, it was
quite easy to enter, Regulus noted, seeing it up close for the first time. Remus disappeared into the
trunk. A sense of dread took over, none of what he was seeing could end easily. Sirius had truly
done it this time.

Regulus was about to follow Remus' path when he heard the striking of another pair of feet.
Whipping his head around, Regulus could feel acid rise in his throat at what lay before him.
Severus with his haughty robes fluttering behind him and his pace even as if he was enjoying his
stroll, walked only a few moments behind Remus and slipped into darkness. Regulus’ night was
quickly turning to shit.

The leaves shook gingerly causing him to bolt up and jump down the entrance in the trunk before
the Whomping Willow would stir awake. The dirt flooded into his nose and mouth causing him to
strain to withhold the choke in his throat, lest he give away his presence. Stealth was the best
attribute he had at this point. The hike to the Shrieking Shack would be no pleasure and was best if
he took it quickly, following more than several sets of feet down the dirt halls. It was like the
Shack had become the finest venue for the grandest tea party. Wiping away a bit of dirt from his
upper lip, he trudged on. He’d be damned if he didn’t get an invite.

Startled backwards, Harry couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. Bursting into the room out of
breath and with a ghastly pale face had been no other than Professor Lupin. In his hand was the
Marauders Map. Harry had to blink twice to assure he was seeing it correctly. Remus seemed stuck
as if a Sticking Charm had been cast to his worn loafers. His eyes fixated on a single person in the
room, as if the rest of them had melted away into the floor the moment they had caught one
another.

“Sirius.” Remus said in a mythical way, like the simple sound of his name would shatter the
daydream he had entered into. Sirius went slack for the first time since Harry had entered the room.
Ignatius used it as a moment to get a better grip on his nephew with no resistance.

“Remus.” Sirius whispered back, his eyes turning the licks of fury into something even deeper,
something held even longer than the anger he carried on his shoulders.

“I–I thought– the map… I thought I was seeing things.” Remus stammered his explanation, finally
leaning forward on his toes, yet not daring to step through the threshold, guarding himself with one
final obstacle.

“The map never lies.” Sirius answered, a crooked grin mixing with the thick line in his forehead.
Remus licked his lips and after a moment where it seemed his heart may beat out of his chest, he
allowed a single toe to shuffle into the room.
“If you’re here, then where is…” Remus trailing off, letting his eyes break from Sirius for the first
time and with a shudder of shock seem to notice there were others in the room. He’d taken in Harry
and Ignatius before a small voice rattled them all.

“You can’t! You can’t— no! I didn’t say anything, and you– you know him!” Hermione cried, her
face distraught. Harry flicked his gaze to her trying to signal for her to stop. It wasn’t the time.

“All this time, every month gone by I haven’t said a word. And you’ve known him!” Hermione
pointed a strong finger towards Sirius. Before looking over the room aghast.

“He–he’s a… well he’s a werewolf!” She declared, clearly expecting a bigger response than she
would receive. Only Ron seemed to recoil at the revelation, the rest of the room simply breathed
on as the realisation settled.

“Wait… if you’ve all know about him, then oh Merlin, have you all known about…him.”
Hermione said, shivering in her spot as she pushed her back against the wall as if trying the
become one with it, her hand still raised and pointed at Sirius.

“Miss Granger, you are a rather bright witch to have deduced my secret when your classmates had
not, but even the best pupils can miss some of the equation when they focus so intently on the
answer. There is more than you see.” Remus said calmly, turning back to Sirius. A darkness to his
eyes, Harry had not seen before.

“Where is he?” Remus asked Sirius and Sirius alone. Sirius chin jutted towards where Charlie, ever
steady, held Scabbers in his hand.

“Ah, tricky tricky. Even I did not see it, but there you are before us in the flesh.” Remus said,
sauntering slowly towards Charlie, his focus singular. Charlie glanced Remus up and down.

“Please tell me you're talking to the rat.” Charlie muttered, his nose wrinkling.

“That is no rat, Mister Weasley, that is an–” Remus began.

“Animagus. We’d gotten as far before you arrived. What I do not understand is what is so
important about this Animagus. Being unregistered is illegal, but it can’t possibly justify all this.”
Charlie said, motioning with his chin the dishevelled nature of the room.

“Bloody hell, enough talking. Grab him. Remus. We will kill him together!” Sirius cried, his legs
standing firm on the ground once again as he pushed against Ignatius with force, but Ignatius
would not go down without a fight. He and Sirius ended in a toss as they each tried to push the
other off themselves.

“Remus get him! Get Peter!” Sirius called out. Remus seemed to be contemplating it, but before he
could reach out his eyes fell on Harry again. A flash of realisation struck him.

“Harry, Sirius, Harry he doesn’t even know.” Remus exclaimed as Sirius was pushed up against the
wall, this time with a wand under his chin that Uncle Ignatius had managed to slip in his hand.

“He knows, Remus! He knows everything!” Sirius revealed. In a moment yet also in a lifetime it
seemed, Remus’ face went slack and ghostly white. His tongue hung out from his mouth in shock
as one arm had the strength to clutch at his chest. His head swivelled from side to side with such
force, Harry was afraid he’d sprain it.

“Harry knows everything.” Remus repeated in a quiet whisper.

Sirius beamed with pride as he gave a strained nod with the wand still poking into his neck. There
may have been more realisation to come that would sink Remus to the bottom of the Black Lake if
he had a moment more to ponder. Alas, the moment was broken with a flash of red sparks from the
open door that caused Hermione to scream and Harry to cover his head as he ducked to the side.
There was a clattering when he looked up and Harry nearly jumped from his skin. Ignatius’ face
dissolved into a momentary shock as his wand slipped from his grasp before he fell rigid and hard
onto the ground. Sirius, who had been fighting with him only moments before, was the first to
jump to his defence with his wand pulled, but a green spell caused his wand to fly off towards the
side of the room in the blink of an eye. Red started to cloud Harry’s vision as he turned to the
doorway where the most unwelcome sight stood with his wand raised.

“I told Albus your precious family had to be involved. Wrote to the Ministry to look deeper into
them, no way anyone, least of all you break free from Azkaban on his own.” Severus said with a
pompous grin, his wand raised to Sirius' chest. Harry felt the need to jump in front of Sirius, protect
him from whatever spell lingered at the end of Snape’s wand. Only someone beat him to it as old
brown robes crossed his vision and in front of Sirius with a raised wand. Severus only seemed to be
filled with more glee.

“And you, I warned everyone with ears about you. I had planned to serve only one person to the
dementors tonight, but I doubt they will protest to two. Even if one is less than savoury.” Snape
said with his signature sneer more prominent than ever.

“Oi, shut it Snivellus. The dementors are just as likely to take you, or do you forget what mark is
burned into your arm.” Sirius said from behind Remus’ shoulder, which granted him a rather
displeased glance from Remus.

“Sirius, hush.” Remus muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Look at the two of you, going out quarrelling like the old married couple you are. It would almost
be special if not sombre.” Snape growled as he pushed his wand further forward. Remus’ wand was
all that stood between them. At least, Harry assumed that is what Snape thought. He had to be
quick to draw and even quicker to aim. He’d only have one shot, and Snape would not go down
easy, but he had the element of surprise. The spell was second nature, but the satisfaction as it
landed directly in Snape’s chest before he collapsed into a heap was unmatched. That could not be
taught. There was a stunned silence that followed as slowly they all realised Harry had stunned his
own Professor.

“I apologise for this.” Sirius said seconds before he tackled Charlie with a blow and ripped
Scabbers from his hand. Charlie recovered with the speed of someone who was used to having less
than seconds to respond to crisis and his wand was whipping to Sirius, but in his way was none
other than Remus with his own wand level with Charlie’s face.

“Please, one minute. We need one minute to prove we aren’t mad.” Remus reasoned. Charlie didn’t
look convinced, but he fired no spells.

“Peter, Peter. Your reckoning has come.” Sirius said with a toothy grin as Scabbers wailed and
wrangled with all his might. Sirius bent down to pick up his wand and poke it into the belly of the
beast.

Harry was slightly flabbergasted as one blink there was a rat and the next there was a man
sprawled on the floor. Peter looked far different from his pictures. His hair had thinned
considerably and he’d lost weight in a way that caused his skin to hang loose. His lips were
puckered and dry, and his eyes bloodshot with dark purple circles as if he had not slept in months.
On his chest was the heavy dark boot of Sirius, the pressure strong enough to crack ribs.
 The room felt as if all the air had been sucked out of it. Ron had gasped, Charlie’s arm had finally
faltered as his wand fell, and Hermione was frozen against a wall. Only Harry moved closer, his
feet nearly touching the dirty robes laid out on the floor. His head leaning over to take in the man
who had betrayed his parents years ago. In his mind, he expected Peter to have turned into this
larger than life character, but in reality he was only a scared short man with eyes watering the
longer he lay trapped on the floor.

“Give me the word, Harry.” Sirius whispered, his wand aimed at Peter’s face. Peter let out a sound
half between a wail and a whimper. The words were on Harry’s lips. A single word and he could
avenge his parents, give them the justice they rightly deserved. His lips parted and he could feel
his tongue curl. His eyes cast down towards the floor that trapped Peter, and he felt the sound
building in his throat. Except at the final instant, his eyes caught something in between the
floorboards. A sight that caused the words to die on the tip of his tongue.

Chapter End Notes

See the issue was I said one more chapter, and I'll admit that. However, I happened to
look down after writing it and seeing that said chapter was 12k words... so I decided to
split them. In order to lessen the blow, I am posting them back to back! Hopefully all
is forgiven, even if this chapter ends a bit abruptly, I really couldn't have a 12k word
chapter when most of these are 4-6k it would bother me a bit too much. Also I did take
a brief hiatus at the beginning of the year. Every year I think the holidays will be less
difficult and every year I am left winded and exhausted come January, also I will
admit this has not been my best start to the year, as I sit here writing this with a broken
foot propped up on many pillows and somehow that is one of lesser worries. (Also
don't ask how it happened, it was dumb and embarrassing and just know I am clumsy.)
Anyways all this to say, thank you! I've noticed a bit more engagement these last two
months than usual and wanted to say welcome one and all on this journey, I hope you
continue to enjoy it. Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!
 Full Moon on a Starry Night
Chapter Notes

CW: Descriptions of injury, threats of violence, attacks

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Mercifully, he’d caught his eye. At the last moment with his mouth opened and posed to say the
word, Regulus had caught his eye. Harry didn’t know death like they did. He did not need to see it
so closely and personally with the spell cast by his own godfather. Regulus didn’t dispute Peter
deserved worse than death, but not in front of Harry. Regulus knew the swelling feeling of
accomplishment would fade as fast as it rose and Harry would be left with feelings he didn’t
understand. Hardly ever did revenge taste as sweet as it sounded.

He could see Harry’s eyes drop with his face as his mouth snapped shut and with a glance at Peter
he turned his head back to Sirius. A momentary pause caused Peter to try and shuffle away.
Regulus wanted to run up there and help restrain him, but someone needed to keep their head about
them.

“We need him.” He heard Harry speaking above him. Sirius nearly stumbled back allowing
Pettigrew to shuffle back, but the impact of a boot hitting him in the chest caused the floor to shake
and more dust to unsettle.

“Harry, he’s a traitor. What could we need him for?” Sirius hissed out. Regulus wanted to fling his
wand at his brother for being so oblivious.

“To free you. They will need to hear it from his mouth, Sirius. The Ministry threw you into
Azkaban without a trial. A body and your story won’t suffice. We need him.” Harry explained.
Regulus let out a small breath at least someone had logic and their wits about them. Turning to take
in the room, Regulus felt a large weight of sympathy in his gut. Remus had gone through hell for
years on end month after month from the sheer destruction.

He didn’t know where to go, he didn’t want to reveal himself yet. There didn’t seem a need, but he
didn’t want to leave either in case something went wrong. Another part of him wondered what was
going on back at the castle. Had Lucretia and Arcturus arrived? Had Murdo kept his promise to not
call the Aurors? Where was the ever looming threat of the dementors? He didn’t like the amount of
unknown they faced. He wanted to get Harry to safety and present Peter to his grandfather for
handling. There was no doubt he would know what to do with him.

“Harry, I—” Sirius started to protest before a voice cut him off.

“I was right.” The shocked voice of Hermione said. Regulus turned back to listen.

“I was right.” She repeated, he could hear her head shaking. “I was researching the families of old,
the purebloods. I wanted to know who you were living with, you were always so elusive, Harry.
You said they were your cousins, through your father’s side since they were wizards. I searched
and combed through every book following your family's history. Besides learning there is a terrible
inbreeding problem present, I could only find one family that fit everything you said. The houses in
France, Switzerland, London, but I told myself I was mad. So mad, there was never a chance you
could be with them. Your cousins, they seemed… normal, a bit quiet, reserved, I thought maybe
they just weren’t used to the British society. It couldn’t be the Blacks, there wasn’t anyone your
cousin's age left because well, Sirius was in Azkaban and the only other son died in the seventies.
For all intents and purposes, the line had died out. Only the elder members of the family remained
in name, and when Draco’s grandfather died it only left two. Arcturus and Cygnus were the only
men left. I couldn’t put it together, but– it’s here in front of me. It was you, wasn’t it? You in
disguise, Polyjuice Potion if I had to wager, but that means… that means you escaped Azkaban
years ago, and who’s the other? I… Harry?” Hermione finally quieted off her rant. Regulus felt his
skin crawl. She was threading too close to the truth for him.

“Hermione, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you or Ron. I just– I can explain better later, I promise. Sirius,
Remus, we need to get back to Hogwarts. We need to get Peter back. Sirius if you’re gone,
Arcturus has already arrived. We need to give him to Arcturus. He will know what to do.” Harry
tried to reason.

Regulus could feel it. The resistance in Sirius, the anger, the emotions palatable in the air. He had
fought so long and hard. His vengeance was at his fingertips, and it was Sirius, Sirius who saw
little logic beyond his own heart. Holding his breath Regulus waited for his response. Hoping for
once a light would shine into the darkness Sirius carried as his burden and he could see more than
one answer. The moments ticked by with the room above them frozen.

“Remus.” Sirius said, calling to Remus who was out of the thin eyesight Regulus held in between
the broken floor boards. He could hear Remus’ loafers shuffle closer to Sirius.

“Wake my uncle please. We will need his help if we are to get everyone back.” Sirius requested.
Remus moved quickly.

“S-Sirius–” A squeaking voice Regulus hardly recognised with all the years that had gone by.

“Shut it!” Sirius said, flashing a spell at Peter that must have silenced him from the grumbling
noises that followed. Reasonably, Sirius could have cast a silencing spell, but from the way Peter
twisted and tumbled on the floor above. Regulus could assume Sirius had taken his mouth away
from him. It had been a favourite charm of their father’s not that Regulus would ever remind Sirius
of such. Another stirring caught his ear as Regulus stepped back and for a brief moment caught
Harry’s quick bright eyes once more.

“Merlin, Is everyone– everyone’s fine.” Ignatius called out as he started up.

“Uncle Ignatius.” Sirius called, and Regulus watched the floors bend under the weight as he walked
over.

“Godric himself, it’s really him. He really– where’s his mouth?” Ignatius asked.

“He doesn’t need it yet. Look, we need to get him and everyone else back to the castle. Harry has
decided to be merciful and return Peter to custody.” Sirius explained.

Regulus started to sink into the shadows. A gentle touch came to his leg as he looked down to find
Midnight rubbing on his leg with an orange companion not far off cleaning his paws. He bent
down to pick her up and hold her close.

“How did you get here?” He whispered, but she only rubbed her face against his before he set her
down with a pet on the head, whispering for her to be safe.

Regulus would stay nearby with eyes and ears open, but out of sight. For the time being, the
situation was contained above. He would be there if they needed him, but he would slip back down
the long corridor when they descended the stairs and stay a few paces ahead of them shrouded in
darkness with eyes peeled and ears tuned in. He’d exit by the Whomping Willow first, checking
for clearance from Aurors and dementors both. He would be their first line of defence as the
strange lot made progress towards the castle. To what would hopefully be the ending of a long
chapter.

Harry could feel each heart beat. The rise and fall of each breath. His mind racing and blank all at
the same time. When they had walked downstairs, Regulus was gone. As he looked around, he
noted Midnight and Crookshanks had disappeared as well. For the best, he thought. There was
enough to explain as is.

Behind him, Ignatius and Sirius had their wands pointed at Peter, Ignatius in front, likely because
he did not trust Sirius to stare into Peter’s eye for the whole journey without the temptation to kill
him growing unbearably strong. Sirius was in the rear instead with a sinister sneer across his face.
Leading them was Remus, levitating the still unconscious Snape through the low hanging roots and
around the tight corners. Hermione was walking in front of them, pulling at her hair and glancing
over her shoulder at Harry, who was supporting half of Ron’s weight. Charlie had tried healing his
ankle, but it only caused him to cry out in more pain. So the two of them both took one side to
support and help Ron hobble over the uneven ground. Occasionally, Charlie would use his strength
to lift his brother over a particularly large rock or through a sharp curve. Putting him back down
for Harry to offer his arm to him. Ron couldn’t stop staring out at him with a flabbergasted
expression. His words came out in stutters and gasp, never forming a complete sentence until they
finally died on his lips and he retreated to varying degrees of shock.

“We’re here.” Remus said as he paused with Snape hanging with his hands nearly skimming the
ground. Remus climbed up the entrance before turning around and holding his hand out to help
Hermione up. Then Charlie helped lift Ron up, then Harry nodded for him to go ahead. There
would only be a second alone, but Harry turned around to his Uncle Ignatius and Sirius, with Peter
shoved in between the two of them with his eyes mousy and fearful. Harry was surprised with who
spoke.

“Go on, Harry, it'll be alright. Arcturus will be waiting for us. I know he will.” Sirius encouraged
him. The spark in his eyes that wanted to shoot a flash of green directly into Peter’s heart was still
there, but it was simmering instead of burning. Logic may prevail after all.

The ground shook underfoot as he climbed, but Charlie and Remus grabbed onto an arm each and
he made it up. Getting Peter up was more difficult, Sirius had to practically shove him up the entire
way on one of his shoulders as Charlie and Remus strained lifting him from the way he dug his feet
into the ground. Ignatius returned last and kept his wand raised as the Willow began to shake to
assure everyone would be out of the way before the limbs came crashing towards the ground in
anger. The night has fallen and clouds covered the skies, but Harry could feel the adrenaline finally
dropping in his body. A sudden feeling of exhaustion was coming over him.

“Harry!” Hermione called out, and he turned to her expecting a question or for her to wave him to
continue on. No, she was shaking in place with a shivering hand pointing past him. Harry turned
over his shoulder, the skies were breaking apart and light was shining onto the ground. A bright
white light streaming down from a large wide full moon. A full moon, Harry whipped around, but
someone had moved quicker. Sirius had dashed across the opening and pushed himself up against
Remus, gripping onto his shoulders with an intimacy as if they had only seen each other yesterday,
not years ago.
“Remus, the potion. Did you take the potion?” Sirius asked, as all colour drained from Remus’
face and he stumbled back. There was a weak nod, barely detectable.

“Good, good, come over here closer to the woods. Oh! It’ll be alright, Remus, you’ve done this
before, you’ve made it through this before.” Sirius said as he pushed Remus towards the darkness
of the forest as his limbs started to shudder uncontrollably and he jerked forward slung half across
Sirius.

Flinching at the sounds of bones cracking out of place, Harry crossed the divide to Ron and
Hermione and reached his hands out to them. Hermione covered her eyes and turned to put her
head into Harry’s chest. Ron even had to look away, his brother putting his hands on his shoulder.
His eyes did not waver, they may have watered, but Harry watched with a mix of admiration and
horror as Remus’ body twisted and contorted into angles not natural. The sounds merging between
human and animal. Sirius refused to leave his side the entire time, trying to talk to him until the
transformation was complete. A final loud drawn out howl dotted in pain marked the end as the
four paws fell to the ground and caused Sirius to stumble back as a full fledged werewolf was at his
feet. Harry had never seen a werewolf in person. They were larger than he expected. Harry could
look in the eyes and see an animal did not reside back there. His Uncle Moony was still there.

“It’s alright.” Sirius whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s Remus, he’s in there.”

“Sirius.” Ignatius said, causing them all to turn and face him. In the shock, Harry had momentarily
forgotten about Peter, but Ignatius had not. At his feet was a stunned body, rigid and sideways.
Thank Merlin for Uncle Ignatius, he thought.

“We need to get inside. It’s dangerous out here.” Ignatius said in a stern voice, his wand still pulled
to his side. Sirius gaped, his head swivelling back to where Moony was cowering and pushed up
against a tree, a small whimper coming as his paws dug into the ground.

“Sirius.” Ignatius emphasised. “I know you want to stay with him, but we need to go.”

Harry could feel the resistance building in Sirius, the spark growing in his eyes again. Ignatius was
not one to back down easily. Especially when he was right, the night already felt colder and each
sway of the forest appeared to be a dementor waiting to swoop in and perform The Kiss. Harry let
one of his hands drop and linger over his wand. The Patronus Charm was their only defence as
Sirius dug his feet defiantly into the ground with hands strong by his side, ready to argue.

“I’ll stay with him.” Charlie blurted out before Sirius could retaliate. Everyone turned their heads
once more. Charlie squeezed his brother’s shoulders for more time before moving around to the
front of him.

“I’ll stay with him.” Charlie repeated. Harry had to give it to Charlie for someone who had came to
claim a Hippogriff and been thrown into this whole matter unexpectedly, he was handling the
fallout in stride.

“Charlie, the dementors–” Ignatius started.

“I know the Patronus Charm. We can go back to the Shack.” Charlie cut in. Moony shivered a bit
in his corner.

“I know, it isn’t the comfiest place, but it’s contained. We can wait until dawn and then come back
to Hogwarts together. I know werewolves as well as anyone Uncle Ignatius, you taught me that.
While on Wolfsbane Potion, they are harmless. The transformation back can be difficult, especially
after the night we’ve all had. I’ll stay with him until it’s done and then we will meet you back up at
Hogwarts.” Charlie explained. Ignatius weighed the option well aware of the passing precious time
and the howling noise of the breeze picking up causing all their necks to prick.

“Alright, Sirius. Charlie will stay with him. We have to get you inside. Ron needs his legs looked
out and we need to get to Arcturus.” Ignatius declared, using his wand to point at Sirius to
emphasise his point. Sirius grumbled, but there was a curt nod.

Sirius had to use his wand to lift Snape from the ground where he’d fallen when Remus began to
transform. Notably, Harry saw he wasn't at all gentle with the way he lifted him or how he carried
him towards the entrance. Ignatius had Hermione and Harry put one arm each under Ron to get
him to the hospital wing. Harry had offered to try and levitate him, but had to admit he’d never
done it before. Ron had shook his head at the offer favouring his twisted ankle more than before.
Hermione and Harry balance him as best he could. Ignatius took up the rear, suspicious eyes cast to
the sky with Peter tight to his side, still immobilised. Charlie and Moony dipped back under the
Whomping Willow, forced to make the long trek another time in a single night.

Once in the warm halls of Hogwarts, Harry felt a familiar sense of safety. The sense only
multiplied when he heard the familiar clank on the solid old floors. Harry twirled himself around as
best he could without losing grip of Ron. Harry realised it had only been a few hours from when
he’d woken abruptly in his bed to his friends peering down at him. Since then it has been nonstop
chaos. One event after the other, he did not realise how breathless relief could feel until he stared
down the forlorn hallway and the first sight to grace his eyes was his grandfather approaching
them. His cane held him up heavily, but nothing else. His daughter and his cousin over either
shoulder ready to assist at his first single, but he made it down the entire way on his own. Letting
out a laboured breath as he paused in front of the mismatched group.

“We will be having a very long discussion on your behaviour later.” Arcturus huffed, catching his
breath between words as he addressed Sirius first. Shockingly, Sirius bowed his head in
submission, the events of the nights exhausting him.

“This is him.” Acrturus said motioning to the still form of Peter still hovering.

“It is him.” Ignatius replied on behalf of the solemn Sirius. Arcturus jutted his chin out, leaning
forward to get a better look at Peter, mouth still missing from his face and completely unmoving as
if he was dead.

“I had expected more.” Arcturus humphed as he poked Peter harshly on the side with his cane
before turning up to Ignatius.

“Any injuries? I had Lancelot set up in the hospital wing as a precaution.” Arcturus said, returning
to his dominating yet casual air.

“Ron’s ankle, he fell. Professor Lupin had the unfortunate circumstance of transforming just before
we returned, he will need caring in the morning, but for now Charlie has returned to the Shrieking
Shack with him.” Ignatius replied.

“Charlie is here?” Lucretia chimed in, her hands poised perfectly in front of her but her eyes wide.

“It has been a long night, my dear.” Ignatius replied, the circles under his eyes catching in the
sliver of moonlight breaking through the clouds once more.

“Well, let’s get the young man to the hospital wing.” Arcturus said, turning to the side to make the
journey.
“But–but shouldn’t we go to Dumbledore?” Hermione squeaked out before ducking her head.
Arcturus paused and slowly approached her, using the end of his cane to lift her head by her chin
until their eyes met. Harry could see the flash of fear in her eyes and the tremor that went down to
her feet. Desperately, he wanted to tell her she was in no danger. Arcturus would never harm her.

“Sweet child, never bow your head when you inquire. Especially to powerful men, they will take
advantage of your meekness, temporary or not. We will go to the hospital wing and have your
friend looked over. Dumbledore will come to us, I assure you.” Arcturus said before he let his cane
drop, not moving until Hermione gave him a sharp nod of her head. He returned it with a slight
bow of his.

The journey was slow with Arcturus on his cane and two unconscious men to carry. However,
when they did arrive with the double doors opening before them. Two healers were poised side by
side ready to greet them. Lancelot and Madam Pomfrey had those tense looks on their faces of
people expecting the worst. Seeing only two people having to be laid in beds, and only one new
body limping seemed to ease them both incredibly.

“Ron, how did it happen?” Lancelot asked, kneeling down immediately as Madam Pomfrey caught
sight of Severus first, who Lucretia had taken over from Sirius after his hands began to bleed from
where they dragged on the ground. She had him laid in a bed to look over as Peter was left to be set
aside on a bed just out of sight. Sirius also lurked in the shadows, clinging to the wall with eyes
shooting back and forth. Lucretia and Cassiopeia kept close watch of him.

“Fell down a hole, Charlie tried to set it, but it only made it worse.” Ron said as he grimaced with
Lancelot laid his hands on his shin.

“Yes, you’ve had the unfortunate case of fracturing your shin bone and twisting your ankle.
Charlie was doing his best, but this will take specific care.” Lancelot said before standing up the
grab supplies.

“You wish for my position, Lancelot?” Madam Pomfrey snipped as she looked over Professor
Snape.

“I had wished for a quiet retirement by the sea.” Lancelot said quietly, pushing up a pair of glasses
onto his face to read a vial.

“Ha, no one believes that. You will work until your last breath.” Madam Pomfrey said, in a jesting
tone.

“I had thought my last breath would have been long ago.” Lancelot replied, and Madam Pomfrey
likely would have had a response to that if she had not looked up and let out a loud gasp.

“By Merlin what is he—” She was interrupted by the door being thrown open again. Dumbledore
had finally made his arrival with McGonagall not far behind. The room fell into silence, the looks
exchanged enough to write a captivating novel.

Dumbledore in the centre of the room with McGonagall and her ever steady face behind him. Peter
discarded on the first bed, just out of sight of everyone stuck on his side. Professor Snape in one
bed with Madam Pomfrey still leaning over him. Ron on the other side of the room from them with
Lancelot sat at the end of his bed and Ignatius standing to the side. Lucretia and Cassiopeia use
their bodies to keep Sirius behind them a few beds away further from the door. Arcturus directly
across from Dumbledore, not wavering in his stance. Then Harry and Hermione were just behind
him with Hermione gripping onto Harry’s arm. No one moved for a long moment
“I had suspected you would be here.” Dumbledore finally said, crossing his hands in front of him.

“And I suspected you would find us before long.” Arcturus replied. The sharpness in the air felt
like the sky before lightning struck.

Dumbledore cast his eyes over the room behind half moon spectacles. His eyes narrowed a bit as
he got towards the end and noticed Peter, and it appeared as he searched further he was looking for
someone else. Regulus, Harry realised, he was looking for Regulus who Harry himself wondered
where he had snuck off too, but in this moment was relieved he had yet to reveal himself.

“Well this seems to be quite the situation.” Dumbledore began just as the noise of several feet
moving at once rebounded off the wide halls. Arcturus turned to motion for Lucretia and
Cassiopeia to move Sirius behind him. As they did, Lucretia gently pushed Harry and Hermione
further away, tucked into a corner holding one another. Harry saw a flurry of movement as Ignatius
moved to the end of Ron’s bed, his head first turning to Arcturus, who nodded distinctly before
Ignatius had his wand pulled from its place then tucked up his sleeve. Clearly, they were not
expecting friends.

Harry felt his chest tighten as the door to the hospital wing flung open once more squealing on their
hinges at the rough treatment and in barged the Minister of Magic himself with a bowler hat atop
his head. Following in his steps were nearly a dozen Aurors with their wands held tight in hands
and many with heavy boots on their feet. Harry had never seen them up close before with scowls
on their faces, but they all appeared rather human. Many of them around the same age as Sirius and
Regulus. For a moment, his mind wondered if any of them were their old schoolmates. If they had
once faced off on the Quidditch Pitch in casual fun instead of this high stakes game they play now
on behalf of men greater than them.

“I knew. I knew you were involved, Arcturus.” The Minister declared with a short finger pointed at
Arcturus as his eyes burrowed into Sirius, his face pink in rage. “Your whole family it seems. Seize
them. Seize them all.”

“Ah.” Arcturus said, raising a single hand and a ripple of magic floating across the room and
suddenly the heavy boots of Aurors seemed to melt into the ground causing many of them to
struggle to budge their legs at all. The Minister’s face went a shade paler.

“Treason! T-Treason! I should call the dementors!” The Minister cried out as he looked over each
shoulder at the Aurors struggling in their place.

“Call them, see if they listen.” Arcturus replied in a steady tone, his hand still held up easily. Harry
knew it had to be draining him, but he did not tremble. Ignatius stood with his head tucked down
and his fingers at the end of his hidden wand if anyone made a move not to his liking.

“Minister, if you will give us a moment. I believe you will find no need for such drastic measures.”
Arcturus said. The Minister did not speak, only gulped visibly.

“Well Minister Fudge, if you happen to look at the bed just behind you. You will find what I
believe is a familiar face.” Arcturus nodded to where Peter lay.

“I see the only face I need! Sirius Black! A mass murderer and convicted Death Eater!” Minister
Fudge cried out his face growing red.

“Never convicted, Minister. You must have a trial to be convicted.” Arcturus retorted. “Now
please, look.”
It was not a request from the way Arcturus spoke. The Minister turned his head to the side of the
room, where Peter’s eyes were now open and spin wildly in his head and his cheeks pulled from
where his mouth should have been. The time ticked by slowly, The Minister taking a few steps to
the side to look closer. Removing his hat to run his hand through his thinning hair.

“By Merlin, a trick! This must be a trick!” The Minister cried out, shaking his head as he faced
Arcturus once more.

“A trick it is not, you are looking at the face of Peter Pettigrew. One of the people my grandson is
accused of murdering. You see Minister, the events of that day have been greatly misconstrued. My
grandson may have acted irrationally, but he did not murder those people.” Arcturus explained as
Minister Fudge only huffed deep from his chest.

“Nonsense! I should call the dementors for you all! Azkaban is too kind for any of you. I have long
said the House of Black should have been dismantled years ago! We all know your bloody history,
how you came to power, how you have eaten your own. I will not stand for this, seize them!” The
Minister said, the Aurors finally being able to pull their bare feet out of the boots. A few made it a
few steps, some even had cast a few spells that all missed their targets. Yet within a blink of the
eye, they were all disarmed and swooped by what could only be described as a large gust of wind
holding them harshly against the doors of the hospital wing with different expressions of confusion
and rage.

The Minister was trembling as he turned back to find several wands and a varying level of spells
had been cast. Ignatius with wands at his feet, Cassiopeia with her wand shaking, but well gripped
in her hand. Lucretia with hers held high in the air, holding the Aurors in whatever spell kept the
pressure on their chest and caused them to be one with the wall. The Minister was right, the Blacks
had come to great power, and maybe too much at times, but in that moment, Harry couldn’t help
but feel the smirk on his face that he tried to hide in the shadows. Hermione caught a glance though
as her eyes swelled even further in shock, but her arm still remained clutched to him.

“I had been forgiving, Minister. By not tearing the Ministry brick by brick when they took my
grandson, my only living grandson and threw him into Azkaban without a touch of justice. No
trial, no questioning, not even a chance at petition, no he went from the streets of London to prison.
By the time I had arrived to plead his case, I was dismissed. Every one of my words fell on deaf
ears, they were too busy celebrating. Year after year I sent letters, I petition for a trial, for fairness
and equity. I heard you laughed at my letters, Minister. I don’t take kindly to people who dismiss
me. So yes, you may take him into custody, but I will follow him every step of the way. There will
be no Azkaban, there will be no dementors, he will go to the holding cells at the bottom of the
Ministry and you will call a full Wizengamot from their beds if you must and hold a trial here and
now.” Arcturus commanded.

There was no hesitation in his voice, no waver in his stance. He appeared to be the man he had
been before this summer, granted greyer and with weathered skin, but tall and proud behind it all.
Harry peered at the Ministry, who was fidgeting with his hat in his hand and his face pale and his
body beginning to perspire. A pink tongue lashed out to lick his lips multiple times before they
parted with words.

“Albus, do you have nothing to say?” The Minister said, turning to face where Dumbledore was,
having been pushed to the side at the intrusion of the Minister and his gang of Aurors.

“Minister, these happen to be my favourite slippers, I would hate for them to suffer the same fate as
those boots.” Dumbledore replied with an amused look. Fudge grew even more fidgety with his
lower lip trembling, there was no one left to take his defence. It was him and Arcturus alone to
stand off. He would have to concede, Harry knew. It was beautiful to watch one of the triumph
moments of his grandfather that he had heard so many stories about.

“Without the dementors, I cannot. The people will not be safe.” Minister Fudge replied, his tone
not strong or carrying down the hospital wing halls.

“They will not protect you Minister, only you will be able to defend yourself and if you are unable
to do so, no cloaked floating piece of madness will do anymore than it pleases.” Arcturus snapped
back. Harry swore he saw the Minister shake in his boots just a hair.

“F-Fine, but the Aurors will take him into custody, him and the Mister Pettigrew. They will both be
held in the holding cells while I convey the Wizengamot.” The Minister said, nodding to the
Aurors behind him. Two of them were released from their hold, each stepping up without their
wands.

“Go Sirius, go quietly. I will follow and I will stand your defence at the trial.” Arcturus said,
stepping in front of the Aurors and cutting them off from Sirius for just a moment as he laid a
gentle hand on Sirius cheek and tried to calm the wild lost look in his eye. Sirius gulped and his
face was crestfallen, but he went quietly. His diligence was done, Peter was caught. He would
listen now.

“Daughter, I leave you in care of the situation here.” Arcturus told her with a sharp nod as he
switched his cane to the other side and followed at his own pace the Aurors as two held on Sirius
and another picked up their wand gingerly to lift Peter from his bed.

Harry felt nervous as they left. They were outnumbered and Arcturus would be growing weaker by
the moment. If the Minister backed down on his word, they would stand little chance. Harry turned
to his Uncle Ignatius, who he had suspected would follow them, but he stood confident as each
Auror came to pick up their wand at his feet and left one by one, not moving from his place. The
only movement came from his aunt who turned and whispered something Harry could not hear.
Trying to angle his head, he thought she may be conversing with Aunt Cassiopeia, but at the last
minute he thought he saw a flutter of movement. A trick of the eye, he tried to tell himself as she
turned around and no one was there.

“Well, Mistress Prewett, I would say this has been an eventful night. However, I believe it to be in
your faithful hands as I have a trial to prepare for.” Dumbledore said with a slight bow before
shuffling out of the room. McGonagall’s eyes seemed as if they would pop out of her head.

“Albus!” She called, picking up her nightgown in her hands and chasing after him.

“Albus, you cannot be serious.” McGonagall said. Harry wasn’t certain, but he believed
Dumbledore may have committed that he was in fact not Sirius, as he had just left the grounds.

Eyes all fell on Lucretia, her lips in a stern line. Her brow knitted together closely in deep thought.
Harry sometimes wondered what would have happened to the family if they had not forced the line
to fall to the eldest male, if she had the chance to take their family name and create it. Alas there
was no time to wonder what the past could not change.

“This isn’t done. The Minister doesn’t want to be seen as a fool. He will try for the worst sentence,
not only for Sirius, but for us all. We have hours at best, but we need to prepare. Gather those to
our side we can, evidence, witnesses. Sirius’ life depends on it.” She said finally, a cold air
following her woods as a howl struck through the windows.
Chapter End Notes

Ah we are not at the end yet! Thank you for reading and commenting and for being
understanding as always.
 To the Stars and the Fates
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Hiding at Hogwarts wasn’t as easy as he once remembered it. Granted the stakes had been less dire.
It wouldn’t have been the disastrous fall out if he was caught back then. Then he was alive and
expected to be there, he just found comfort in the shadows and avoided the constant eyes and
whispers that followed him.

“Regulus Black, the spare who prevails.”

“Regulus Black, he’ll never survive as heir.”

“Regulus Black, the Death Eater.”

The memories were not fond and the voices that whispered them were long gone from these halls.
Still as he clung to the edges of darkness out of view of any wandering eyes or portraits not yet
snoozing, he felt his heart beating at the threats both old and new. The Polyjuice Potion would not
last forever, and he had a mission to complete. Following not far behind him was the group from
the Shrieking Shack. He’d gotten out without being seen and snuck away into Hogwarts.

Now he had to wait and predict their movements. The hospital wing seemed likely, Ron had
seemed injured. He slid down the long corridor away from the Entrance Hall. Moving until he
heard a sharp rapt on the floor ahead. Frozen he tried to hide the best he could as he listened
intently, trying to place where the sound was coming from. He heard two more hits before voices
struck his ear and instinctively a sigh escaped his lips. Checking once more to assure he could see
their faces, Regulus stepped out.

“You made it.” Lucretia said with a small satisfied smile. Regulus could only nod as he looked
over at his grandfather, standing as tall and proud as he could.

“Were you able to find your brother?” Arcturus asked in a serious tone.

“Yes, Uncle Ignatius had found him first. They have Peter. Harry is with them and Hermione and
Ron. Remus was with them, but he turned. He will return in the morning.” Regulus explained. The
thumbing in his heart was palatable. Even as he said it, it didn’t feel real. They had Peter. Last he’d
seen him, he was frozen at Uncle Ignatius’ feet while they debated their next move.

“We’ve got him.” Arcturus said, nodding his head in satisfaction. Regulus was bound to say more,
even if he didn’t know what. A small noise distracted him, followed by a brush of fur to his legs.
Looking down he found Midnight, staring up at him clutching something in her mouth. Knitting
his eyebrows together, he plucked it from her as she purred happily. Shuffling the item in his hand,
he watched it wrinkle in the air before appearing to be nothing in his hand.

“Harry’s invisibility cloak.” He whispered. “How’d you find this?”

Midnight only stared at him blankly sitting on her hind legs. Regulus wrapped it around his body,
watching the bottom half of him disappear. It would work.

“Use that to be cautious. I will get everyone to the hospital wing. I sent Lancelot ahead in case
there were any injuries. I assume Dumbledore already has an inkling of what has occurred. I want
him to come to us.” Arcturus explained. Regulus nodded, ducking his head under the cloak and
slipping the back way to the hospital wing. Hoping they would have some semblance of a plan to
move forward with Peter being caught and maybe Sirius could have his freedom as well.

Arcturus carried himself down the halls of the Ministry trailing closely behind the Aurors, who had
a hand on each of Sirius’ arms. The Minister was moving quickly just to their side, casting glance
after glance at Arcturus behind him. Mumbling to himself, trying to make sense of it as Peter's still
frozen, was floated by a set of Aurors at the very front. His entire side radiated in a burning pain,
but he pushed it down. His childhood had prepared him amply for working through pain.

They approached the lifts, all of them shuffling inside to reach the bottoms floors where the
courtroom would be. The Wizengamot members still had to wake from their sleep, there would be
a good few hours until the trial could convene. He only hoped his daughter could gather enough
evidence, witnesses, and testimony. Anything to assist them in their try for freedom. Convicting
Peter would be one matter, proving Sirius innocence would be an entire other. Not only did people
believe him to be a Death Eater and mass murderer, he was also an escaped convict.

“Here should be good enough.” The Minister said as they stopped just short of the stairs that led
down to the holding cells.

“The Aurors will take it from here. You may wait in the courtroom.” The Minister said, a few
drops of sweat touching his brow line. Arcturus cleared his throat.

“I stay with Sirius.” Arcturus demanded. He could feel the Aurors shuffling for instruction from
the Minister. Fudge removed his hat and ran his hand through thinning hair.

“You escorted him here. He will be put into a holding cell until trial can be called. We do not allow
visitors in the holding cells. It is law.” The Minister said, likely feeling more confident than he
sounded. Arcturus flicked his tongue to reply, but a movement in the corner of his eye, out of sight
of everyone caught his attention. It would be best to concede at least slightly, have a bit of favour
from the Minister. Besides, he knew now Sirius wouldn’t be alone.

“Fine, but I recommend you put these two as far away from one another as possible. My grandson
may not be the murderer you accuse him of, but I do not trust this other man. And if I get even an
inkling of mistreatment I will have all your jobs before you can even think about your actions.”
Arcturus commanded, meeting eyes with each and everyone of them. A few of them were shifting
their eyes suspiciously. He only needed them to feel threatened.

“Yes, yes. Put them in separate rooms please. Mister Black I will show you to a seat before I send
out the owls.” The Minister said, motioning with his hand to the side. Arcturus gave one last glance
to see a flutter of movement before locking eyes with Sirius and giving him a steady look. He
would understand in a moment. He wasn’t alone. His brother had come.

Harry was watching the flurry of movement as they set up base in the hospital wing at the spare
bed next to Ron. Lucretia had acquired some spare parchment and Ignatius a quill. Somehow
Hedwig had made her way to the window and was plucking at her feathers waiting for an
assignment. The ideas were flying off quickly from their mouths, some jotted down, others
dismissed before the sound had even died.

“We need a mind healer. One to speak to Sirius’ state of mind. Show that he has his wits about
him. Lancelot, who can we trust?” Ignatius said, turning to his cousin.

“Me.” He replied without a pause as he finished wrapping Ron’s ankle.

“Mind healing isn’t your specialty.” Lucretia pointed out.

“It is not, but you can trust me. More so, the Wizengamot can trust me. I am the one who was there
when many of them were only children, healing their wounds and curing their illnesses. I am the
one who eased their grandparents and parents until their end. They know me, and my words will
carry more weight than any mind healer.” Lancelot stated, standing to his full lanky height.
Ignatius dug his teeth into his lip, but Lucretia nodded and jotted down a few notes.

“Our goal is to keep Sirius out of Azkaban. But the Ministry may hesitate even if his innocence is
proven to let him free. The holding cells were only a temporary solution.” Lucretia pointed out with
a sigh.

“I can help with that as well. I can offer an alternative to Azkaban. Sirius will despise it, but it may
be our best hope. We can admit him to the St Mungo’s Janus Thickey Ward, say we are keeping
him for observation at least until the initial buzz has died down. Then the Ministry can release him
as quietly as possible. It is not ideal, but St Mungo’s doesn’t have dementors.” Lancelot suggested
and Harry had to nod his head at it. They are getting somewhere he thought, finally taking a
moment to turn to Hermione. Only to find her already staring at him with wide eyes and jaw ajar.

“D-Do you want to sit?” Harry suggested, pointing his thumb at the free bed on the other side of
Ron. There was a blank stare for a long moment before her feet shuffled forward. Harry held out
his arm to help ease her into the bed as Ron turned to face them, confusion clear as daylight across
his face.

“We must write to Amelia first. See if she will hold any sympathy for us. She is tough, but fair.
Even years later; she thought it unfair Sirius didn’t have a trial.” Ignatius suggested. More words
were jotted down.

“We could write to Emmeline. She still writes every Christmas to us. We… we could use Gideon’s
name. He was Sirius’ cousin. Just ask her to speak on his character before Halloween. When they
were in The Order together.” Lucretia suggested, careful with her words. Ignatius' face twitched,
but he agreed.

“Cassiopeia, could you go to some of the closer allies we still hold? It may be better if they see a
face versus a letter. The Greengrass Family, The Longbottom Family, even stop by and speak to
Tessie for us. They all have members on the Wizengamot. They’ll be disturbed by the intrusion
late at night, but I trust you can speak to them on level terms.” Lucretia added turning to face her
cousin. Cassiopeia nodded before with a click of her heels, she was moving out of Hogwarts to visit
the families they needed on their side for a majority. Harry dug his hands into the bed he and
Hermione sat on. Racking his brain for any idea that could help Sirius. He didn’t want to sit useless
by the side while his fate was in the balance.

“Sirius needs to know it’s best if everyone believes he escaped this summer. The shorter the time
period the better. They’ll be more forgiving.” Ignatius pointed out, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I’ve handled that. Sirius will have a talk before the trial.” Lucretia said with a pointed glance at
her husband. Speaking underneath her words to say more than she could out loud. Harry’s heart
jumped. Regulus, she’d sent Regulus after Sirius.

“The sun is rising we will not have much longer.” Lucretia pointed out, gesturing with her chin
towards the sky as the black faded into a lighter grey. Ignatius’ brow knitted as he took a piece of
parchment and began scribbling on the parchment. With barely a murmur, he called for Efa who
popped up with her nightgown still hanging towards the ground. The small elf rubbed her eyes as
she listened to Ignatius request several items, and within a matter of minutes she returned with
them all bundled in her arms. One of which was the Prewett seal, Ignatius plucked it first with a
quick thanks before folding one parchment and sealing it closed with hot wax, pressing his family’s
name into the back of the letter like a beacon in the darkest night.

“Let us hope the Prewett name still carries some weight.” He whispered more to himself as he
sealed letter after letter. Finally, tying them to Hedwig’s dutifully waiting leg before she ruffled her
feathers and set out into the rising sun. The rays shining so bright they made Harry’s eyes hurt,
turning away he felt compelled to try and explain to his friends sitting around him, but the words
escaped him. The world seemed to be spinning faster. His ears perked up as his lips failed him.
Noise was coming up to the hospital wing, the sounds of someone struggling to make their way up
the winding long stairs.

“Shite, Charlie.” Ignatius said as he rushed to the doors and threw them open to disappear for a
moment before returning with an ill ashen coloured Remus propped on one of his shoulders with
Charlie doing the same on the other side.

“Didn’t want to use magic, I remember what Uncle Lancelot used to always say. Never use magic
if their magical supply is low. It can only drain them faster.” Charlie grunted out his explanation as
they lowered Remus onto a bed, where he was quickly surrounded by two healers doting on him
trying to check his vitals, but Harry could see Remus, coughing and propping himself up on one
arm.

“S–Sirius, where is Sirius?” Remus huffed out as his breath came out in wheezes. There was a
silence that followed, the type of silence that sucked all the air out of the room.

“Remus, lay down. You do not need to be worrying about this.” Madam Pomfrey insisted as she
put her hands on Remus’ shoulders and tried to push him down. Remus weakly shook her off.

“S–Sirius, the dementors, did the dementors get Sirius?” Remus asked, his face losing any
remaining colour as his lips trembled. Lancelot placed a hand to his head before responding with
another hand gently pushing down at the middle of his chest.

“Sirius is with Arcturus, he is in the best hands he can be. Now tell me, do you typically break into
a fever after you transform?” Lancelot said methodically as he lifted a hand to call his bag over to
search for one tool or vial Harry couldn’t discern. His heart was pulsing as he leaned forward,
Remus looked worse than he typically did, his face perspiring and his lips bloodied and bruised
and the way his skin had taken a grey undertone so quickly.

“A–Arcturus, his grandfather? I had thought– heard he was unwell. Where is Sirius?” Remus asked
again, but no protesting as a blanket was pulled over his chest by Madam Pompfrey.

“When he was young, he would get ill like this, especially the first year or two. It grew less
traumatic as time went on. I must say he has not taken this poorly all year.” Madam Pomfrey said,
with concern knitted between her brow as she answered on Remus’ behalf. Lancleot hummed as he
pulled one vial out and mixed it with another causing a strange puff of smoke to emerge.
“What is it you’ve found Ignatius? That the emotional state of the person prior to the
transformation can cause the wolf to lash out further.” Lancelot said. Ignatius licked dry lips before
nodding.

“From what I have been able to gather, the person and the wolf share the same mind, the same
emotions, just one is human and one is animal, and like animals do when under intense pressure,
the wolf lashes out and if confined to nothing but himself it will do harm to himself.” Ignatius
explained as he looked over at Charlie, who was still standing with mouth open and his hair half
fallen out in pieces skimming near his collarbone.

“Uh– I had to lock the door. He had control but there were moments where the wolf would break
out. He’d howl and throw himself against the door and then it would go quiet. It was like the two
of them were fighting one another all night.” Charlie added after a stunned pause, running his hand
through his hair that was knotted with a few twigs and leaves falling loose as he did.

“He’ll be alright, but he will need rest. Madam Pomfrey, I will leave this in your hands. You have
cared for him longer.” Lancelot said as he pushed the potion to Remus' lips. Madam Pomfrey
stoutly nodded as she went to where her tea kettle was in the corner, waving her wand for the water
to boil as quickly as it could.

“Where is Sirius?” Remus demanded a final time when he had finished his potion wrapping his
hand around Lancelot’s wrist so he could not ignore him once more. Lancelot sighed as he placed
his hand on Remus’ chest, not in a forceful hold, but a gingerly touch. The touch of a man who had
sat by death beds and comforted grieving widows, children, and friends for decades.

“Arcturus has petitioned for a trial. Sirius is at the Ministry in a temporary hold. You cannot fret
about it, you must focus on yourself. We are gathering the evidence and the people to his side as
needed. He is in the best hands he can be.” Lancelot informed him. Remus' eyes grew wide as the
words registered.

“I have to go.” Remus tried to kick his legs up and pull the blanket off of himself, but he was
rushedly pushed back down without much resistance.

“Young boy, I commend your spirit. I promise you I understand, but it would do no good for either
of you. What is best for you is also best for Sirius. You must rest.” Lancelot said with the sage,
that can only come from a place deeper than most people are able to touch. Remus paused, his
body quivering after frantic movements. He could not resist as he was laid down in the bed for the
final time.

“I am not young.” He whispered as Lancelot adjusted his pillows so he could sit up and take the tea
from Madam Pomfrey. Lancelot cracked a faint smile.

“To a man my age, you have barely passed childhood, though I will not disregard how this world
has made you grow older than your years. Drink and rest, you are in good hands with Madam
Pomfrey. I must go to assist Sirius as best I can. You will hear the news as soon as we do.”
Lancelot reassured Remus, who with a bit of colour flushing to his cheeks did finally appear closer
to his age despite the grey hairs and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Write to Mary MacDonald, er Cattermole now. Tell her about Sirius’ trial. Ask her… ask her if
she will go on my behalf.” Remus blurted out as if an afterthought. Aunt Mary, Harry hadn’t heard
much of her. He wondered how she was, who she had married, what her life looked like now all
these years passed. There were a few mumbles and looks exchanged, but Ignatius penned another
letter. A school owl had to be borrowed and the owl fluttered away with a feather falling behind on
the window sill. Harry tried to not stare at it.
“We will have to see who arrives on our side. I suggest we take a moment to freshen ourselves up
and then head to the Ministry to meet with Arcturus.” Lucretia said, whipping away a spare bit of
ink that had smudged on her hands. Harry swung his feet back and forth. He wanted to ask to come,
but in his mind he knew he could only be a burden. One more loose thread they would have to
watch over, but sitting and waiting seemed agonising. He could understand why even if he was
barely able to stand on his own Remus wanted to be there.

Strangely enough, Harry did not have to ask. The doors to the hospital wing opened once more
causing the room to start. In the doorway was Headmaster Dumbledore with fresh robes of light
grey embroidered with designs wrapped around his body and pointed hat that sparkled and
glimmered in the morning sun. Harry was used to his eccentric dress at Hogwarts, but he did not
realise Dumbledore went to official events dressed as such.

“Ah, I had suspected you would still be here. I am afraid I don’t have long as I am already running
behind, but I have come to collect Harry.” Dumbledore said. Harry’s feet stopped moving as his
head jerked up at the sound of his name. For a moment he thought he imagined it, but slowly all
eyes turned to him and he felt Hermione nudge him. Slipping his feet the ground he crossed the
room to stand in front of the Headmaster with his jaw slightly ajar.

“Why do you need Harry?” Lucretia asked, stepping in front of him at the last moment, her skirt
swirling around him. Harry swallowed, thankful someone had asked because he wasn’t sure he
could form words.

“I believe it will be good for him to be there. I do not plan to put him on trial if that is what you are
worried about. In fact, I will bring him to your father first if it so pleases you, Mistress Prewett.
Have Arcturus have a word with him and if he deems it inappropriate, Harry will be sent back in a
moment.” Dumbledore responded, bowing his head slightly, but Harry got the inkling it was not a
sign of respect. Lucretia looked over her shoulder, asking Harry without words if he wanted her to
protest further, or if he wanted to see Arcturus. Shaking his head slightly to thank her, he stepped to
the side himself.

“I will go, but I want to speak to Arcturus.” Harry said, feeling the strange tingle on his tongue as
he purposefully dropped the Grandfather title that sat in front of the name commonly. Following
Dumbledore out the room, he had to restrain himself from looking back. He could feel the eyes
peering at him. Looking back would only make his stomach drop further, he had to look ahead. To
think ahead and hope this was the right decision.

Harry stared up at the grand ceilings of the Ministry, the quiet squeaking of the earliest arrivals
catching on the wide open space above them. In other circumstances, he would have loved to
wander the long corridors and halls, taking in every moment. Instead, Dumbledore’s cold hand
touched his shoulder and escorted him towards the lifts, where a few wizards and witches were
grumbling and messing with ornate purple robes. As Dumbledore approached, they all quieted and
lowered their heads in respect, letting him and Harry step onto the lifts first and waving with their
hands that they would take another. Harry couldn’t help but feel eyes wandering up to his forehead
where dark hair only barely covered his scar. It felt as invasive as if he had been stripped of his
robes.

The lower levels were chilled in a way that crept under his thin robes. He had not thought to
change as he left. He was still wearing the ones he had thrown on to visit Hagrid in what felt like a
lifetime ago. There was dirt and mud caked onto the bottom. Trying to flip it off was useless, he
found after a moment attempting to do so. He tried to hide it behind him, but then he noticed a spot
on the end of his sleeve and realised his attempts were futile.
Dumbledore walked with purpose towards the end of a long hallway after exiting the lift. The
doors opened as they approached and inside was a tall courtroom. The seats were empty except for
one, Harry could feel a pressure release in his chest as Arcturus came into view. He had stood at
the entrance, but the look on his face said he had been expecting someone else. His eyes narrowed
and he crossed his cane over to the other side, freeing his favoured hand, closer to his wand.

“Albus.” Arcturus greeted tensely.

“Arcturus.” Dumbledore replied with a more whimsical tone.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, nodding towards Harry at his side.

“Well, I believe Mister Black is young Mister Potter’s godfather according to the final testaments
of his parents. I thought it would be best if he were here. To see the proceedings and if needed bear
witness.” Dumbledore informed. Harry cracked his knuckles tucked into the arms of his robes. He
wasn’t prepared to stand in front of a full Wizengamot and plead for Sirius' fate. Arcturus looked
over Harry with one eye while keeping another on Dumbledore. A clock ticked in the background.

“He can stay, but he will not testify. If anything he only needs to be in the room to remind people
how close James and Sirius were.” Arcturus said after the moments had passed by. Dumbledore
nodded and motioned for Harry to join Arcturus.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I wish to have a word with the Minister prior to the trial
beginning.” Dumbledore said before pivoting and exiting the same way he came.

“He’s playing games. Sirius’ fate will be hung in this room, a man who dedicated his entire life to
him and he is playing games.” Arcturus grumbled with his nose flaring. He turned to Harry and
with one look at him cast his wand to clean off the mud and dirt. Another moment passed and there
were thick robes being placed over his shoulders. Arcturus had taken off his outer robes and
wrapped Harry in there.

“Won’t you need these? It's awfully cold down here, I’ll be fine, but you–you need to be in your
best shape for Sirius.” Harry said as he tried to remove the robes, but a hand was placed firmly on
his arm to stop him.

“Do not worry about me Harry, I will be fine. I will do my best by Sirius. You need to remain quiet
and still, sit in the galley, near the back in the shadows and do not rise unless I tell you too. Hurry
now, the first members are arriving.” Arcturus said with a pat on the back as the sounds of
murmurs began to catch in the air. People began to file in with the deep shades of purple wrapped
around them. Arcturus had stood and addressed each of them, some with only a nod, others he
reached across with his arm to shake their hand. Harry was racking his brain for the names, the
families each person was associated with and how Arcturus interacted with each of them. The short
stout fellow with a tuft of dark hair was from the Parkinson family. A woman with a strict face
who held her hand out for Arcturus to kiss that Harry assumed was a Rosier. Finally, three friendly
faces appeared after the room had half filled.

Technically, Harry wasn’t supposed to use magic, but he couldn’t resist as he raised his wand to his
ear to tune in to the conversation below. Aunt Lucretia, Uncle Ignatius, and Aunt Cassiopeia had
huddled around Arcturus as a few more people entered the room with suspicious glances sent their
way. Swallowing down a dry throat, Harry leaned forward.

“I was able to get the Fawley farm and the Longbottom Cottage. The Greengrass home was empty,
I suppose they must be away. I do not know if they will send a relative in their place. Instead, I
made a stop by the MacMillan land to see if we could count on them. Your cousins, Lucy, are men
not easily intimidated. Morton heard me though, he thought for a while. He takes after his
grandfather like that, little words and long thoughts. He did not give me a straight answer, only that
his brother sits on the Wizengamot and he would be fair and true in hearing the facts.” Cassiopeia
explained her chest moving heavily as if she had run between each home.

“Malcolm does not live on the land. He has his own home in London with his wife. He left the
cottage to his sons and moved to the city.” Lucretia said, shaking her head. Arcturus cleared his
throat and nodded his chin to the newest arrival who had paused behind the group of them. Harry
shot his eyes over. The man there was a MacMillan for certain. He looked quite like his brother in
fact now that Harry had seen one of the older MacMillan’s sons in person.

Lucretia and Ignatius were arm in arm with tense looks on their faces. They turned to face the man
who was adjusting the gloves over his hands. His eyes set heavily in his face.

“Malcolm.” Lucretia began before the man raised his hand to stop her.

“I am here as an impartial member of the Wizenagmot, Lucy. I ken we are family, but I cannot
speak with you. I will not have my place called into question, but I wish the best co-ogha.”
Malcolm MacMillan said with a bow of his head before straightening the ends of his robes and
making his way up the stairs beside him to take his place among the Wizengamot members. Aunt
Lucretia’s cousins, Harry was getting the feeling, were growing tired of the constant noise
surrounding her.

“I fear the MacMillans are growing tired of us. Melania has long passed, and half of them blame
me for her death and the others blame me for her fate. They are fair, it is our only advantage with
them at this point.” Arcturus said with a sigh. Harry felt the skin on his neck prick as he listened to
them whisper and vaguely motion at one member or another. The Longbottoms would listen to
reason, but they had their vengeances against Death Eaters for rightful reasons. It would be tough
even with Cassiopeia’s visit to get past their pride. The Parkinsons would vote with the majority.
The Rosiers would likely side with Arcturus out of obligation. Ignatius believed he could count on
his sister to have talked reason into the Fawley's representative. Some members were too distant
for them to make any claim. It would be up to their arguments and the stars they would whisper.

The final few members meandered in rubbing their eyes and grumbling at the early hour. Lucretia
let out a small gasp as an older man with a hat dragged over his eyes entered with the very last of
them. Harry tried to get a good view of him, but he seemed to be purposefully trying to blend into
the walls.

“Benedict.” Lucretia whispered hesitantly as if she was unsure her eyes could be trusted. A man
with bright eyes surrounded by the beginning of wrinkles turned to face her. His hair was streaked
with grey and cut short to the base of his neck as he removed the hat to address her.

“Lucretia.” He said with a small nod of his head.

“I had not known you received a place on the Wizengamot.” She answered.

“I haven't. I come in my cousin's name. He and his family are in Brazil for the summer. He hadn’t
expected two days after he left for such an affair I am certain, but alas I came in his name. If the
rumours are to be true, I believe you are directly in the middle of this trial.” The man said each
word with much thought behind them. Lucretia swayed closer to him.

“Benedict–” She began, but was cut off once again.

“I will hear the evidence, Lucy. I will keep an open mind, and be as sympathetic as one can. For
 Alphard and his favoured nephew, I can promise you only as much.” He said.

“It is more than most will offer us. I thank you greatly.” She said before stepping back with her
head bowed. Benedict nodded at each of them before he placed the hat back on his head and once
he was seated the doors on the next level opened. Out came the most important members. The
Minister with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to one side and the Senior Under Secretary to
the other, behind them standing tall with his beard long and in perfect form was Albus
Dumbledore. A hush came over the crowd and Harry creeped into the shadows. The trial was
about to begin and hardly a breath could escape him.

Chapter End Notes

A bit later than I wanted to post this, but it is here! Also this chapter had to be split in
two to keep it inline again. I still have the second half to edit and trim, but it should be
up soon. Thank you for reading!
 Wizengamot
Chapter Notes

CW: References to prior injuries, references to prior deaths

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus had barely made it through the door before it snapped with a click locking him in. Sirius
was locked in a cage, like one used with an animal. Rippling around the metal bars that stretched
from floor to ceiling was magic, every defensive spell one could think of and then a few more for
good measure. Regulus had the cloak tied tight around his shoulders while he moved left and right
assessing for any other tricks to be seen. All he saw was his brother pacing the small cell back and
forth pulling at his hair and muttering himself. Regulus supposed the cells were more to keep
people in than to keep people away. Stepping as close as he dared, he peeled the cloak away from
him and waited for Sirius to notice him. Sirius could only pace five steps before turning around but
he did it twice before looking up and locking eyes with his brother. Pushing himself to the edge of
the cell where magic sparked and steamed, his dilated pupils looked Regulus up and down.

“Reg, you can’t be here.” Sirius said, his lips puckering and his tongue flicking out nervously.

“The Polyjuice, Reg you look like you.” Sirius pointed out.

“I will be fine, Sirius. You're the one in a cell. We have to get you out.” Regulus answered, kicking
at the cloak that had dropped to his feet. Sirius’ nose twitched.

“Yeah, and who put me in this cell? Arcturus. After all that happened, he let them take me without
a protest. I–I– we got Peter. We got Peter. I–I didn’t kill him, Reg– but I wanted to. Harry, he–”
Sirius tried to explain.

“I know, Sirius.” Regulus said, nodding his head and circling the cell, looking up at how they
melted the bars into the ceiling so they wouldn’t budge. Sirius shut his mouth sharply.

“I was there. In the Shack, Arcturus sent me after you. You shouldn’t have run, Siri. But he’s doing
what is best for you. If we can prove Peter was the one who did it. It could mean freedom for you,
Sirius. No more running, no more hiding, you could be out there, living your life in the light.”
Regulus said. Sirius shook his head and backed away slowly.

“Reg, they'll never let me go. Even if they can’t convict me of the Death Eater thing, they’ll find
any reason to keep me locked up, or worse. Because if I am out there, they might never be rid of
the Black Line. I am their fear, not Acturus or Cygnus, they are old men past their prime. They will
die old and alone, but me, and even you, we threaten them. If by some miracle I walk out of here.
I’ll never be free. I will be tied to this damn line for the rest of my life and what happens when
Arctuurs dies, because if you haven’t noticed, he’s not looking all that spry for a ninety year old.”
Sirius said, picking up his pacing again and pulling at the ends of his hair. Regulus could feel the
emotions swimming in his chest. Sirius had spent his whole life trying to detach from their family
name and in the end he still could never escape. But their name was not what it had once been and
if Sirius was freed, he could change it.

“Sirius, I understand the mental quandary, but we want to keep your soul in your body right now.”
Regulus pointed out. Sirius stopped pacing and stared at him with his nose wrinkled. Bluntness
worked with him.

“Whether you believe in Arcturus or not, he will be your only chance to get out of this. He has the
whole family working on your chance for freedom. Aunt Lucy sent me here to remind you we are
all going to support you and fight with our teeth, but we need your help, Siri. We can’t tell them the
whole truth, they need to believe you escaped Azkaban this summer and that you have been on
your own. They are going to call on you Sirius, and you need to keep your calm.” Regulus warned.
Sirius' face was incapable of not twitching.

“Of course, they want me to do what they want.” Sirius sneered. Regulus was about to respond
when the sound of a presence at the door had him throw the cloak back over him. Thankfully, as
the door closed he was able to discard it just as quickly.

Lancelot had entered the room with his bag tight to his side. His eyes hardly even wavered as they
fell on the two brothers. Before they could blink he was crossing the room, snapping open the bag
and pulling a quill and parchment from it. The bag dropped with a huff to the ground as he stood in
front of the cage, pushing his quill feather towards the magic and then the end of it beginning to
steam. With a sigh, he began to write without a word as the two stared with open mouths at him.

“My young cousin helped to create the magic that holds you in here. He was a rather intelligent yet
untethered young lad. Always wanting to push the bounds of his mind to the edges of reality. His
wife was quite the same, they made a good couple. It did seem fitting when they perished, they
perished together. I couldn’t ever imagine one without the other. It would have been sadly like
Alwyn and Freja. Her heart couldn’t take holding him in her arms as he breathed his last, I believe
she would have held him until he rotted if not for her children. Maybe it was better she died then.
Losing a son would have destroyed her soul, losing her grandchildren? Well, maybe it is better not
to imagine.” Lancelot concluded as his quill scratched harshly on the parchment, Sirius and
Regulus exchanged a glance that did not go unnoticed.

“I am an old man, we ramble on about the past. I need to fill the air anyways as I write out this
parchment with my assessment.” Lancelot said, nodding towards his hands.

“Assessment?” Sirius asked before Regulus could speak.

“On you. The only reason I was allowed past was because I had stated I was coming to do a mental
assessment on you to present to the courts. I believe they are hoping I will say you are mad and be
justified in imprisoning you. Hence I must make certain these notes are thorough, but also appear
fresh. They will be under the careful eye of the Wizengamot as evidence.” Lancelot confessed as
his hand never slowed.

“What are you saying?” Sirius asked, trying to peer out of his cage, but careful not to get close
enough to causing the hissing sound of steam.

“No diminished amount of mental capacity, no signs of psychopathic tendencies, though an acute
case of depression and impulsivity issues, possibly a bit of a personality disorder but I likely won’t
mention that and most importantly, a traumatic stress response caused by ongoing mental
exhaustion. But that is just my loose opinion, I am not a mind healer.” Lancelot said, his words
finally reaching the end of his page. Sirius recoiled in defence.

“I don’t have depression. Or ongoing mental exhaustion, or–or whatever else you said.” Sirius
declared. Lancelot looked from under his eyelashes at Sirius and snapped the paper out before
folding it. Pivoting, he paused to glance at Regulus.
“Watch after your brother.” He said in a solemn voice before picking up his bag and exiting the
room, Regulus ducking under the cloak as the light broke through from the hall and quickly died
with a loud snap.

“You are not my keeper.” Sirius huffed, kicking at imaginary dust on the floor. Regulus could feel
the tension rising in his chest.

“I am not, nor will I ever pretend to be, Sirius. Right now, I just need to be your voice of reason.
You go and stand in front of the Wizengamot, you take as little blame as possible, and you follow
Arcturus’ lead. You worry about yourself for once, Sirius. Not James, not Harry, nor even Remus,
worry about yourself for just a few hours and I promise you I’ll run off to wherever you want, hunt
whoever you want and make whatever amends you feel guilted too. I need you safe first, Sirius. I
need my brother.” Regulus said, pushing himself so close to the bars he could feel heat radiating on
his skin.

Sirius’ eyes grew wide and pleading. An internal battle of need and want. Regulus severely
doubted his brother wanted to be kissed by a dementor, despite the lack of care for himself in his
recklessness. Carelessness for one’s own being Regulus understood sadly well, but even he had to
draw the line at his soul being sucked from his body.

Pounding sound of boots broke Sirius’ contemplative silence. A frantic look came across his face
as they both turned towards the door. The clicking of heels on the hard floor was indistinguishable.
People were heading towards the room that contained Sirius. Regulus scampered for the cloak,
pausing for only a moment to look at Sirius who was waving for him to hurry.

“Siri?” Regulus asked, one final time. Sirius' face was hard set.

“I take your promise. Now go, I need a brother too.” Sirius replied, pushing himself more in direct
view of the door so the intruders would notice him first. Giving Regulus a tick to slip past them.
Entering into the cooler areas of the halls, his feet slowed under the cloak. Pondering for a
moment, he pivoted towards the stairs. He’d been in the Ministry before with various members of
his family, even moreso once he’d been named heir. He knew there was a way into the chambers,
shrouded in darkness hidden under the seats. With a bit of luck and chance on his side, he could
watch it all playout. There was no going to wait and see, hoping someone would report back to him
in a timely fashion. No, he wanted to be in the room when his brother’s fate was decided, so being
as sly as he could for a man who had remained mostly hidden for years, he entered the chambers,
filled to the brim and with voices carrying about. Crouched low to the floor, he watched the hawk-
like eyes and phoenix-like spirits, no one seemed particularly pleased with the trial, yet no one
seemed to be openly spiting either. Leaning close to the shadows a few moments passed before any
change to the atmosphere arose.

Silence fell over the room, eyes gawking at the centre. Whispers cascading from the partially
domed ceiling. Sirius rose from the floor. He hadn’t even seen the opening as the cage came up
slowly. Regulus swallowed down a dry throat and peered his eyes to his grandfather, who had
stood behind an old wooden desk. His face determined and eyes sharp as they had been when
Regulus would stare up at him thirty years ago. His body may be failing, but his mind would be
their only hope. His sharp tongue and commanding presence that caused rooms to halt and people
to freeze would be their strongest defence. Sirius just had to do as he was told, for once, for his
own sake. Curled under the cloak, close to an exit if needed, Regulus a bit ambitiously sat on the
cool floor and waited for it to begin.

“The members of the Wizengamot, I apologise for waking you from your sleep, but as you can see
this is a matter of the most urgent importance. In the early hours of this morning, mass murderer
Sirius Black was apprehended by a talented select group of Aurors.” The Minister announced as
Harry hung back in the shadows of the uncomfortable benches of the gallery.

A small noise came from below the gallery, not quite clearing a throat, but enough to be noticed by
a few eyes. The Minister looked down his nose with his eyebrows in a firm line. Arcturus corrected
his collar, unnecessarily. It was in perfect form, but he was pulling more eyes towards him before
he smacked his lips and spoke in a clear voice.

“Supposed, dear Minister.” Arcturus said with his hands crossed in front of him, his head turning to
address the members of the Wizengamot. “There never had been a trial for this crime until this
moment.”

The Ministry, in Harry’s opinion, could not have grown more red in the face. His lips sputtered and
he removed his hat to set aside from him. Someone that Harry could not place, a woman with a tuft
of dark hair close to her head like a bowl and dark red lipstick leaned forward and whispered words
he could not make out in the Minister’s ears. Like a dragon breathing deeply before spewing fire,
the Minister took several deep breaths.

“Might I remind the chambers, the decision to imprison this convict was not approved under my
administration.” The Minister said, his head bobbing like those toys he had seen in a Muggle
tourist store in London.

“This is not a trial on your likely successful campaign as Minister, sir. We are well aware the issue
was prior to your tenure. However, I believe it will speak greatly to your legacy for correcting such
an egregious error.” Arcturus said with a stane face. The Minister's nose wrinkled and lips
puckered, but he did not respond to the quip.

“Members of the Wizenagmot. We are here today to conduct a trial on the murder of thirteen
people and the coalition of a known Death Eater collection, in which deaths of one James and Lily
Potter can be directly connected with. All of these charges are brought up to one Sirius Orion Black
the Third of his name. With this declaration, I will turn the trial over to our Head of Magical Law
Enforcement, Amelia Bones.” The Minister said, his face with a gleam of sweat and the warm red
colour still as he motioned with his hand to a stern looking younger woman with neatly pinned hair
and perfectly kept robes. Bones, Harry recalled, the Bones Family had been nearly annihilated in
the war. Only Amelia and her younger brother remained, their elder brother, his wife, children, and
their parents were all killed by Death Eaters. Harry’s skin crawled. At one point, Sirius and Amelia
would have been on speaking times, but now with the bias no one could completely overcome, he
wouldn’t be surprised if she spat at his feet for what he was charged with.

“Members of the Chamber, these charges are large and I know the sting of this war all too well.
However, I command that we hear the entirety of this testimony with an objective outlook as is our
values of this Chamber. The evidence as it stands conveyed to me is that Sirius Black was found on
the grounds of Hogwarts and then escorted, unimpeded and willingly to the holding cells of the
Ministry. His parental grandfather then contested for a full and fair trial with himself standing at
his defence. We will hear, for the documentation, Arcturus Sirius Black the Third of his name and
what his testimony is at this time.” Amelia said with her chin jutted forward and her face neutral.

Arcturus stood carefully with his cane for support. Piercing eyes from all corners assessing his
every move, his competency, his strength that had been known and if it still held. Harry leaned
forward from the shadows only slightly, his teeth dug into his lower lip. Sirius was in the centre of
the room, his eyes cast down and his hands balled into tight fists that had turned his knuckles
white. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room with each clank of Arcturus’ cane striking the
floor as he painstakingly slowly made his way around the simple desk he sat behind. Finally, once
on display for everyone to take their shots behind tight lipped whispers and furrowed brows, he
crossed his cane to hold in between his two hands and parted his lips.

“Members of the Wizengamot, I know many of you believe this trial to be a folly use of time. You
believed this matter settled years ago, and had been reduced to whispers that crept into
conversations as the seasons changed and grew more bitter as our spirits once were in such
treacherous times. Yet I stand before you prepared to make the case of the ill guided actions that
lead to the false narrative surrounding my grandson, Sirius Orion Black the Third of his name.”
Arcuturs began and Harry had to admit, he felt some pride swelling in his chest.

“Death Eaters defending Death Eaters.” Someone scoffed just beyond Harry’s sight as he whipped
his head around.

“My family did not stand with this man, may I remind you sir.” Arcturus said, his eyes narrowed at
a man who looked suspiciously like he may be an Abbot or at least descended from one.

“Your grandson! We all knew of him, and couldn't even be a good warrior for the other side. He
wound up dead!” A woman with a thick Irish accent called out. Arcturus was taking each thrash of
character in time.

“Regulus was a boy, hardly even eighteen years old and there was never any concrete evidence
presented of his associations either.” Arcturus retorted.

“The Lestranges! You cannot deny Bellatrix.” A man barked from the last row. Arcturus seemed
to be enjoying the old jest as his lip twitched in a smirk.

“We are not Lestranges, and even so Bellatrix comes from my cousin's line. Madness breeds
madness, and pity to speak ill of the dead, but my cousin's line was long lost to their own pride and
arrogance. As their heir, I take my own responsibilities for not curtailing their actions, but their
loyalty does not reflect mine. Tell who here wishes to be associated with every last member of their
family with their closets aired freely?” Arcturus said, twisting his head in a slow circle. Nothing but
a lowly cough responded.

“Now, as I was saying, there was a traitor among the ranks of those who opposed He-Who-Shall-
Not-Be-Named.“ Arcturus commanded. “But it was not my grandson and to help prove my point, I
have pulled a select few people who knew him from his time during the war. I wish for you to hear
from them first. To know who my grandson was leading up to that fateful day in nineteen eighty
one.”

Suddenly, Harry noticed that next to Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Cassiopeia was empty. Aunt Lucretia
had made herself scarce. There was a hum of voices as Arcturus nodded into the darkness behind
him where the entrance would be, out of Harry’s line of sight. The room hushed as small steps
could be heard. Holding his breath in his throat, Harry leaned as far forward as he dared to catch a
peek. Slick long dark hair was his first clue and when she turned to face the sides of the
Wizengamot, Harry felt his eyes widen. Emmeline Vance. Harry hadn’t grown up hearing as much
about her. She was a few years older than Sirius and Regulus, but she was supposed to marry their
cousin. He died just months before the expected wedding date. When Harry turned his attention
back to the floor, a chair had appeared, not far from where Sirius was sully in his cage, but at the
glance of Emmeline, his fists eased slightly. Harry couldn’t see it from his place, but a flicker of
hope passed in his eyes.

“Young ma’am, could you please state your name.” Amelia Bones said with a sort of stiffness in
her voice. She would know Emmeline, at least in name. They attended Hogwarts in the same year,
and Amelia’s brother fought by her side in the Order.

“Emmeline Vance, Madam Bones. Old associate of one Sirius Black.” She said in a clear voice,
holding her head high as she lowered herself into the seat. Eyes seemed glued to her every
movement.

“I apologise for any intrusion ma’am but for sake of transparency, could please state how you were
associated with Mister Black.” Madam Bones asked, her lips in a thin line as she spoke.

“I understand, Madam. I was to marry his cousin, hence we spent quite a bit of time in each other’s
presence.” She answered, steadily as she folded her hands in her lap.

“Which cousin?” Some indiscernible voice scoffed. Madam Bones’ eyes twitched like a phoenix
on hunt for who had spoken out of turn, but Emmeline took it in stride.

“Gideon Prewett of the Ancient House Prewett, Order of the Merlin, First Class not that I ever
cared much about names and titles as the lot of you do. I would forgo them all to have him back
even for a moment.” She said, her sharp angular features wavering slightly under the pressure as
pain sparked in her eyes, but after a moment she suppressed and collected herself. A silence fell
over the crowd, the type of silence only brought on by the mourning of someone young and who
carried the idea of importance in their loss.

Harry gritted his teeth and in the space of time lifted his head. He was met with a piercing set of
eyes staring over at him. Dumbledore’s attention was amiss, he barely gave a notice to the
squabbling going on around him. His attention was fully on Harry, and Harry alone. Scooting back
on the hard bench he sat on, Harry tried to blink a few times to allow Dumbledore to pull away
naturally, but as if made of stone his face stayed rigid. Eventually, he was pulled away by the
sounds of his Grandfather’s voice rising in the room once more, but the feeling of Dumbledore
assessing each fidget he made never left him.

“Miss Vance, I understand it may be painful to bring up old history, but I ask you to do this out of
necessity alone. You say you were an acquaintance of Mister Black, you spent a considerable
amount of time around him and his friends, correct?” Arcturus asked for assurance. Emmeline
nodded once.

“Then if you could tell these members, what was Mister Black like in the months leading up to
October thirty-first nineteen eighty one? And if I may ask, was any of his behaviour deviating
greatly from how you knew him in the years prior?” Arcturus said, leaning back on the desk and
loosening his shoulders as he spoke to her.

“Well, in reference to his character, I knew him for the overlap of our years at Hogwarts. He was
quite young then, but I was his Head Girl for a year. He had a particular talent for innocent
mischief. A characteristic that seemed to run in the family, as my Gideon had the penchant for the
occasional joke or two. As time went on, I watched him mature. In his later teenage years, he spent
quite a bit of time coming around to see his cousins. They were always good natured with each
other even as times grew dark. Gideon and Fabian were Aurors, as many of you know. Sirius asked
them often about their careers, it seemed he would like to follow in their footsteps. The war threw
everything off, but he was a talented dueller, quite good with spells and more than anything, I
noticed his steadfast loyalty. He had this impulsive childish nature to him that many of us carry
several years past childhood, but beneath was a loyalty that burned brighter than most. It is why
when I heard the news of his actions, I could hardly believe my ears. It took days to sink in, for no
one was he more loyal to than James.” She said, her words carrying more emotion than her face.
Harry noticed that since she arrived, she had not looked Sirius in the face a single time.
“And in the months preceding, did anything give you an inkling of worry that he or anyone may be
willing to betray the Potters?” Arcturus asked, his nature growing more grandfatherly, and less
stringent with Emmeline. Inhaling deeply, she thought with her eyes cast over the Wizengamot.

“The months leading to October were the darkest of days. Gideon’s uncle as we always called him
would tell us of the old war, the years he spent on a battlefield as field healer and all the darkness
and despair that encompassed him and everyone around him. He seemed to still carry some of it to
those days, I didn’t understand until later that such feelings never leave you. They become like old
friends who you see in passing strangers' faces, or in the movements of shadows. Everyone
changed that summer. War hardens you, closes you off from those closest. I saw Sirius less, and I
must admit he did seem more withdrawn and sullen, but for the benefit, nearly everyone did. I
cannot say I would know a traitor by looking at them, but I would think that if one was to be one,
you would want to blend in, to be a speck on the wall, noticeable by walking by each time and
forgotten until passed again. Sirius was none of those, he was louder, brasher, more reckless with
his own life. He was critically hurt more than once, a traitor typically behaves as such to try and
save themselves or to be infamous or any type of reason, but a death wish does not seem to be a
decent motive. Why betray anyone but yourself if you want to die?” She posed, her face harsh
under the light. The murmurs had begun to pick up as a woman stood with her hat slightly
lopsided.

“Are you saying you do not believe Mister Black is a traitor? That he did not betray his friend and
in an attempt to escape kill thirteen people, one of whom was also Mister Black’s closest friend?”
She asked with a face scandalous. Emmeline turned her sharp chin up to look at the woman.

“That is not my decision to make, what I am saying is if you had asked me prior to October thirty-
first who was the traitor, Sirius would be near the bottom with my own betrothed and his brother.”
She replied. Harry was impressed with her impartial and particular personality. A steady head
would be good for their case.

“Who then if not Sirius? He was found at the scene of the crime, confessing his blame!” Someone
shouted, and several people echoed the sentiment.

“Now, now, I will address all concerns before this is taken to a vote. Including the fine point
brought up, but I do not wish to force this young lady to sit here any longer than necessary when
she is not the one on trial. Miss Vance, do you have any final remarks?” Arcturus said, his stance
straightening when he addressed the crowd with a hand raised.

“Only this. I hope the chamber will be fair in their assessment. After my retirement as a Hit Witch
in the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, I have found a joy in solitude as an Archivist of our most
potent histories and records. I would like this to be a history for future Archivists to look at
pleasantly.” She said before standing, nodding stiffly at Arcturus and exiting the same way she
came.

The murmurs seemed less harsh as she left, but more numerous. Harry saw nearly every mouth
moving and every ear tuned in. Harry didn’t need to turn up his eyes to know Dumbledore was still
gazing at him from where he sat higher than the rest, directly behind the Minister. Arcturus stood
and nodded his head to the door once more. With the creaking of its hinges, the room fell eerily
silent as they all leaned forward to look towards the new arrival. Harry felt his heart jump. Aunt
Mary. Her hair was in tight braids to her skull now, and her face aged, but he could still recognise
her.

“Ma’am, for the transcripts.” Amelia said, waving at the court scribe with two parchment and
quills at their fingertips.
“Mary Cattermole, though Mister Black would have known me as Mary MacDonald.” Her vague
northern accent faded from years in London.

“Mrs Cattermole, please state your association with the accused.” Amelia said before leaning back
in her seat. Mary, unlike Emmeline, could not peel her eyes away from Sirius, like she was
imprinting him in her memory. Her eyes cast up and down and side to side, seeing nothing else in
the room.

“Sirius and I were schoolmates, we attended Hogwarts in the same year in Gryffindor House.” She
answered after the room had filled with silence.

“Mrs Cattermole.” Arcturus greeted, stepping forward to garner her attention. Marry briefly took
an interlude from her assessment of Sirius to acknowledge him.

“I pose you the same questions I did Miss Vance. Could you please speak on Sirius’ nature during
the time you knew him as young schoolchildren to young adults?” He asked. Mary’s lips parted but
no noise escaped until she had licked them at least three times.

“He was kind, not in the traditional sense, not like how James was a caring kind, or Remus a
knowing kind, or Lily a sympathetic kind. It was almost a brotherly kind. Teasing you about the
gap in your teeth before cooling your hot chocolate so it wouldn’t hurt your gums. Bright he was
too, never had to study, but could handle magic better than most of us. I considered him a friend
right up until I heard. There were a lot of whispers then. People wondered if he could push past his
name and be greater than his expectations. He had his downfalls certainly, he was rash, quick to
anger, and careless, but at the same time he was true-hearted, always willing to laugh, and canny in
ways we were not. I did not listen to the whispers, I thought he was a good man back then.” Mary
explained.

“Were there any actions or feelings you had of Sirius prior to his arrest, anything that made you
suspect he had turned against his values?” Arcturus asked. Mary shook her head a few times.

“The month or two before were awful times. Many of our close friends had died. Sirius was
vengeful more than most, he fought harder. He hurt himself well enough trying to sort out the
person who was betraying us. For we knew it could not be a coincidence so many of us were
falling sequentially. I remember he stayed by my flat a few nights when I felt I was being followed,
he’d stay up until the sun rose with his wand by his side. We knew someone was betraying us and
yet while it was he and I alone, I did not waver once in my decision to ask him. I felt I could trust
him.” She answered, her eyes growing softer as she recalled the memory.

“Mrs Cattermole, I mean no disrespect by this question, but who are your parents?” Arcturus
asked. The inquiry drew Mary’s attention as she squinted her eyes trying to assess Arcturus’ ploy.
After a minute of a standoff, she conceded.

“Aubrey and Dele MacDonald, they are Muggles.” Mary answered, her voice stern and Arcturus
bowed his head in apology, but the room filled with whispers. Harry hated it, but the statement had
the impact it needed to when combined with the anecdote that Mary had been alone with Sirius on
multiple occasions, perfectly situated for him to prove himself if he was a Death Eater as they had
determined with no facts before.

“Thank you, most kindly Mrs Cattermole.” Arcturus said, offering his arm to help her up. The
room whispered even further as she placed her hand without much weight held onto him and rose.
She gave him a strained smile before she left with her heels moving quickly on the floor. In his
mind, he wished she didn’t have to leave so quickly, but she also did not deserve to be here under
the scrutiny of the chamber.
“As for the next step, with the permission of the Minister. I had a rough evaluation completed on
Sirius, the means of course were under a time constraint, but an expert we can all agree on has
conducted a cursory examination on Sirius’ mental state.” Arcturus said as the door opened and
Lancelot stepped in with the lips pulled back on many of the members.

“Healer Prewett, I thank you for coming when called. Please.” Arcturus said, motioning for the
chair. Lancelot had his bag close to him which he placed at his feet and snapped open to pull a
piece of parchment from.

“I had given a copy to be added to the records as well, but I will read from my original notes.”
Lancelot said as he pushed his glasses up. No one protested.

“After a short period of observations, I was able to concur the patient as having little to no mental
deficiencies. There is expected shock and stress of living through traumatic events that has been
evident in my studies of more than several patients after differing wars. Most importantly, the
necessary mental capacity to kill thirteen people with indifference does not appear present.
However, if this chamber will allow, I can suggest a more thorough inspection be done, I will
admit to this being a cursory exam. If this trial ends in acquittal, St Mungo’s would be willing to
intake the patient for further examination at the Wizengamot request." Lancelot said briefly and in
a matter-of-the-fact tone.

A hush had fallen over the chamber when Lancelot had entered and it took his words dying on his
lips for several moments before they were able to speak again. Harry watched people lean to those
around them both sideways, forward and behind. Speaking and digesting the information they had
just heard. A few people seemed to be nodding their heads in agreement, but others seemed veiled
in disgust.

“He is being tried as a Death Eater, how could someone of your stature defend him?” A woman
questioned, shaking her head.

“I defend no one ma’am. I am healer, we do not have the privilege to pass judgement. When
someone is in need, we heal whether they are for one side or the other, when a man is dying on a
battlefield, few of them are thinking of who or what they are fighting for, most men are simple.
They wish to live a long and relatively happy life, and for many of them I am their only hope
remaining to pursue that dream. So whether Death Eater or not, I heal them and what they do once
they leave my care. I cannot control. So I present you the knowledge I know. You are to decide
how to take it.” Lancelot said. Harry watched as his words sunk deeper than anyone else. They
trusted him, the wise age old healer who had helped many of them himself in their moments of
need. For much of the Wizarding World, Lancelot appeared as a symbol of hope to them all. Even
as he left, his words did not carry out with him, but stayed hung in the gallery to mull on.

“Well this was quite the group Arcturus, tickle me impressed.” The Minister said blankly, putting
his hat back in his head. Clearly, the trial was over in his opinion and he was ready for a swift
decision.

“Oh, Minister. I have two more people to present.” Arcturus responded practically. The Minister
wrinkled his nose and cracked his knuckles from squeezing on the brim of his hat.

“And whom, may I ask, do you have in your pocket now?” The Minister said with the expression
as if he’d just smelled sour rubbish. Harry felt heat rising in his face. He was implying Arcturus
was blatantly paying for Sirius’ freedom. A move befitting Lucius Malfoy maybe, but Arcturus
Black? He could pay off every member in any number of their demands and still have funds for his
whole family to live out their days in comfort. No, Harry noted, this was talent and experience, and
maybe the rules had been bent a smidge, but he was not cheating. Not entirely.
“I will let your implications go to the wayside, Minister. As you may contact Gringotts and see, my
vault has not been touched in some time. I would ask the Chamber to hear from Sirius, in his own
words on the recount of what led to the events of October thirty-first and following days.” Arcturus
announced as the crowd broke out in cries of outburst, and a few people threw their hats to the floor
in protest. Arcturus waited, still as he could be until Madam Bones had hushed them all with her
lips pursued and her forehead wrinkled from effort.

“Mister Black, we will grant your request, but only if Mister Black speaks in reasonable truth.”
Madam Bones declared to an excitable noise rising around her.

Arcturus nodded to her in thanks before turning to Sirius, his eyes hard and steady. Keeping a
distance from Sirius, as his grandson stepped up close to the bars with his shoulders set back. In
another world, Harry could imagine this is how they used to look when they would challenge each
other in years past. The heir who’s time had passed and the heir who’s time had not yet arrived.
He’d been told the relationship was always a delicate balance. The older heir watches as the youth
comes of age, marries and eventually has their own heir surpassing their father. The weight of
sunken success could either lead to respite from the responsibilities or bereft of their only known
duties.

“Mister Black, leading up to the day of events with which you lay charged for, what was your
mindset?” Arcturus asked, each word carefully placed before Sirius, imploring him to be the even
mannered heir, he never was.

“Suspicious. We knew there was a traitor amongst our ranks. Some many people dying one after
another, someone had to be giving up their locations and the amount of people we could trust was
dwindling.” Sirius said, through gritted teeth with his hands flexing at his side.

“Did you have your own thoughts on the traitor?” Arcturus asked. A dark look passed through
Sirius' eyes, but once it did his face fell and nose twitched.

“I did, but I like everyone else, assumed incorrectly. I suppose we underestimated those around us
and how slippery they could be.” Sirius answered, his eyes cast down for a moment before
matching Arcturus’ face once more.

“Leading up to the night of October thirty-first, did you communicate with Lily and James Potter?”
He posed to Sirius. Sirius’ lip trembled at the names, but his voice strained forward anyways.

“I was one of the final people to see them before they went into hiding, but once they were gone, I
did not know where they were. It was my own suggestion, to place someone else as their trusted
confidante. I thought I was too public, I was too close to the other side as so many people here
believe is my downfall. I left Lily, James, and Harry in the hands of someone I thought could be
trusted and hardly a week later they had been betrayed. I knew when I heard exactly who had done
it, and I went and hunted him down, but we had all underestimated him. He was ruthless and yet
spineless. Coy and yet brazen, he had outdone us all and I swore on James and Lily that I would
make it right damn the consequences. So yes, I went to that street to kill somebody that night, I’ll
admit as such. I wanted him dead, but he outdid me once again. He blew up the street and ran off
from the scene leaving everyone to think he was dead. When they finally found me, I was
screaming it was my fault, because I let him get away, because I suggested it to them to trust him
over me. If I had only taken the role, James and Lily would still be here. I would likely be dead, but
want a small consequence to pay for your most loyal friends. And yes, I escaped Azkaban this
summer, a feat no one has done, because I saw a glimpse of this man back in Britain, and I wanted
to get my revenge. I may die, but what a consequence to pay for your friends!” Sirius said, his
hands nearly touching the bars, the tips of his fingers growing red to match his flushed face. His
voice had gone up a touch with each frantic sentence until he reached a fever pitch that caused
several people to jump at his final exclamation, but Arcturus was steady, not wavering on his cane
as he made his final request of Sirius. Stepping up to the cage with forehead taunt in determination.

“Sirius, roll up your sleeves and show your forearms.” Arcturus commanded, the magic around the
cage sparking at how closely he leaned, but even as few flung near his face he did not flinch.
Bewildered, Sirius did as he was commanded, painstakingly rolling up one sleeve and then another.
The arms were covered in a thin layer of dirt from his trapeze through the forest, and the stark
black ink of tattoos slowly fading around the edges, but there was no scar left of The Dark Mark.
The crowd had all collectively leaned forward and as the words got around the room that his arm
was clear, people began to speak in rushed, concerned tones.

“How do we know it cannot be removed? Or a spell used to hide it?” Someone leaning in the front
row asked.

“I am not certain the Chamber knows the exact properties of these cells used in the Ministry or the
magic encasing them. It would not be the fault of your own, for sadly the great pair of minds that
created these cells have since passed and not all of their notes were ever found. However one of
their greatest features is they strip the person inside of their magic and spellwork. Only the most
extreme forms of magic would survive passing through the doors. Polyjuice Potion, Concealment
spells, even most invisibility cloaks would be rendered useless. I can promise you whatever
whispers may be said of my grandson, he is no Merlin. He is not even an Atlas. He would not have
the capabilities of bewitching these cells.” Arcturus said, circle the spell with his hand coasting
close to the edge to show the heat and power that admitted when he had near contact with the
magic.

“Then finally, a perfect transition into my final witness. One I believe all of you will be fascinated
by. I must admit, I have lived a long eventful life, but it appears there are still surprises for me. For
the ending of my testimony, I wish to bring forth Peter Pettigrew.” Arcturus said, his voice rising to
a commanding tone at the final two words. Chaos ensued. People were yelling, someone may have
fainted, boots shook the entire chamber as all matter of objects were thrown to the ground. Arcturus
unmoving even as a few of them struck him. His face was stony and cold. Untouchable by any of
these people’s meagre protest.

“Silence! Silence!” Madam Bones called with her wand to her throat to amplify her voice. It took
several cries before the noise was to an acceptable level and she could speak from her place.
Instead of addressing Arcturus, she turned her whole body to the Minister.

“Minister, when you said there had been two men apprehended tonight, you failed to mention the
identity of the second man and in my error, I did not question you for the shock of Sirius Black’s
capture. Are these words true? Was the second man, Peter Pettigrew?” She asked, her voice
sounded uncannily like McGonagall’s when Harry had given Ron an exploding quill during her
quiet study hours.

The Minister had gone from red as sunset over the Welsh sky after a dark storm, to as pale as the
white fluffy clouds that would inevitably roll in later the next day. Harry was legitimately
concerned for his well-being and was wondering if Lancelot was still out the hall with his bag
close by. The Minister seemed in need of a healer as he pulled at his collar harshly causing purple
marks to slowly form under his patchy skin.

“I–I hadn’t thought… Amelia you must know. Sirius–Sirius, he is the threat. We can– it is a later
issue.” The Minister stammered out barely audible over the shuffling sounds of the chamber as
they turned to face the standoff at the most prominent point of the room. Harry swore behind them
with one finger resting on his temple and another on his jaw, Dumbledore was smirking behind his
full white beard.

“Bring the other prisoner.” Amelia declared, huffing as she swirled around with her robes snapping
at her feet. At her command, the floor shook gingerly as another opening was revealed strategically
placed by the other, but still an arm’s length away. In it was a nervous man, rocking on the floor
with his knees tucked and his arms wrapped around. When the brightly lit chamber hit his eyes he
scampered away only to let out a small noise as he came into contact with the cell's magic and
caused sparks to fly into his back.

A quill could have been heard floating through the air on its slow descent to the ground. Harry
couldn’t even hear the steady rhythm of breath besides his own. It was as if everyone had lost the
air in their lungs as they stared down at the man with balding blonde hair, his eyes bulging from
his skull as he tried to find a place to hide unsuccessfully. Madam Bones appeared she would fall
out of her seat from how far she leaned forward, but to her credit she was the first to speak.

“Peter Pettigrew.” She breathed out, being the first one to take a breath in the room. Harry could
hear the ticking of a clock. The room grew warm as he suspected the sun had risen outside. No one
moved until another person raised their hand with a single finger pointed towards Peter.

“He’s missing a finger.”

Harry had to cover his ears from the noise that followed. People screaming and yelling. Madam
Bones frozen in her glare, unwilling to stop them this time. It was Arcturus, who crashed his cane
with a spell so powerful it knocked the room back into their seats. Harry had to cling to the bench
feeling his wrist twist to stay upright.

“Now, I understand the reaction of the Chamber. But let me fill in the final parts of this story.”
Arcturus said, pacing a few steps before having to stop with his hand wobbling on his cane, and
breath thready.

“On Halloween night, in nineteen eighty one, James and Lily Potter were betrayed by a friend, but
not the friend you all so easily pointed a finger at. Sirius was the only person who knew who it was
and that is why he fought Pettigrew in the streets, trying to avenge his friends. Peter has known
Sirius’ loyalty to James and likely expected some repercussions. When he met Sirius that day, he
baited him into a trap and caused the explosion that killed all those Muggles and in an effort to free
himself of his treachery, cut off his own finger to leave behind before Aurors and Hit Wizards
could arrive at the scene. Sirius in grief admitted it was his fault, but he was not admitting to the
bloodied crater around him, but instead of the lack of retribution he had gotten for a man he
considered his brother. How Sirius handled the affair was erroneous; however, I ask you how you
would react at the death of your closest friend after experiencing loss after loss in a war. We gave
forgiveness to soldiers we sent after Grindelwald in my time, sent them to healing and care in order
to work through the unspeakable actions they had to commit for our welfare to survive, I ask of this
Chamber the same now.” Arcturus said, concluding his speech with wavering lips, the exhaustion
wearing on him, but he would hold himself up for hours if he needed to make them see sense.

Amelia Bones was contemplative as she leaned back. Assessing the entire scene with a smooth
complexion on her face then moments ago. People tried to lean and whisper to her, but she waved
them away.

“Arcturus. Give us a moment.” She said and with a wave of her hand, half the chamber was
engulfed in a powerful silencing charm. Harry could see them moving and discussing. See the
hands being thrown up and the mouths open wide in loud speech, but not a smack of lips, or scuff
of boots could be heard. By the time they had finished speaking, people were looking physically
worn. With ruffled robes and hair unkempt from where their hats had been ripped off. Amelia with
a single look, had them all sitting, some leaning on their arms to keep themselves propped up.
Harry himself could feel the lull of sleep where even the splintering bench looked comfortable.

“We have come to a decision.” She said as she stood to her full height and clasped her hands in
front of her. Clearing her throat and inhaling once more, she began her announcement.

“On behalf of this entire Wizengamot, we would like to express our deepest regrets to one Sirius
Orion Black, the Third of his name. For his years falsely imprisoned for a crime he did not commit
and the slander of his name. Due to the matter of illegally escaping Azkaban, we will count the
time served as penance.” She announced. Harry could see Sirius slipping down to his knees with
his mouth agape.

“However, due to the nature of the events Mister Black has encountered, we will require a
committal of an involuntary stay in St Mungo’s Janus Thickey Ward for a time span of no less than
a fortnight for evaluation and treatment, if at that time the experts within the ward believe him to
not be a harm to himself or others, he will be released with full freedoms and the rights to a wand
once more.” She finished, her face unreadable as it had been when the trial began, but Harry swore
for a blink of an eye she saw her lips twitch upward.

“My greatest regards to this Chamber.” Arcturus said with a bow of his head. Several people’s
mouths opened wide at the action, but no words escaped them.

“In the means of one Peter Pettigrew, a full investigation will be instigated and for the time being,
he is to be committed to Azkaban Prison.” She said, her eyes narrowing. Peter let out a wail and
folded over in a sob, but Aurors came and watched his cage lower and Harry could see more
waiting for him below. Peter was caught. He would be tried and if there was anyone above
watching, sentenced to the full extent of their laws. Harry felt he should be elated, feeling like he
was flying on his broom surrounded by the clouds, but instead he felt this intense heaviness in his
chest and more than anything. He wanted to lie down. To be in Regulus’ bed with the window
cracked to hear the people wandering about their day below and lay there until he’d rot into the
sheets and not move again.

The room cleared out slowly, people shaking their heads and unbuttoning their robes. Once the
room was half empty, a single Auror came forward and with their wand, caused three of the bars to
disappear. Sirius flinched as he stepped through but nothing caused him to burst into flames or melt
into the floor. Instead, two neat young healers in their bright robes were standing by the entrance
with a bag between them. Sirius faltered over his own feet as he looked at Arcturus, but he only
nodded Sirius forward. The young healers did not grab at his arms, only filed behind him as the
door opened and helped ease Sirius out the door. Two weeks in St Mungo’s likely seemed a
hellscape to Sirius, but it was a haven compared to Azkaban. He would be safe, and honestly may
benefit from the stay, he had been so resistant to Uncle Lancelot’s attempt to have him speak
through his feelings. Now he would have nothing but time to do so. Harry let his head drop to his
feet, mud caked onto his shoes as he thought he wouldn't mind a long session speaking on his own
feelings at the moment.

When he glanced up again at the nearly vacant chamber, Harry saw a glimmer in the corner, a trick
of the light anyone else would say, but he knew better. He knew his own invisibility cloak when he
saw it and there was only one person that could have hidden under it for so long. Harry felt the
weight lift slightly. Maybe he could hold Regulus for just a few moments and the pressure would
alleviate a bit more. Enough for him to rest, for him to take whatever steps came next because even
though he was uncertain, Regulus would be there and that made him feel safer already.
Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the delay, fatigue has been my enemy this week, but at least this is a long
chapter right? Please enjoy and thank you for reading along, hitting the kudos button,
and leaving lovely comments!
 Any Means Necessary
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of thought violence, mentions of prior war and death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The air that filled his lungs felt new. A weight he didn’t know he carried felt lifted off his
shoulders. Sirius was free. His brother was free. Maybe not free yet to walk the streets of London,
but it may be for the best. Even if he disagrees, St Mungo’s was a safer place for him. Talking
about his feelings for a few days may make his brother want to be sick on his shoes, but healers
were not guards and they would not treat him as a prisoner.

He left once the chambers were nearly empty and he would not have to fight through crowds and
avoid anyone brushing up against the cloak, but the Ministry was starting to bustle with everyday
people. It was well into the morning now, and Regulus had a predicament. He could not find an
escape. The Floo networks were monitored and going out the guest entrance poised its own risk.

“To the side.” Someone whispered and he nearly jumped out of the cloak and betrayed himself by
dropping the cloak. His grandfather stood leaning on his cane, surveying the floor without even
glancing at Regulus. How he could see him, Regulus did not know.

“The door to your side. Go wait there. I will come for you in a moment.” He said before clicking
his cane once and turning around to head back to the area that held to Wizenagmot.

Regulus turned to his side and saw the door his grandfather spoke of. It was slight and rather
standard as far as doors go. He had to wait for the timing to line up, but when he could slide the
door open and slip in without anyone noticing he was rather taken aback. There was absolutely
nothing in the room except for a singular fireplace unlit and locked behind a gate surrounded by
empty bare walls of eggshell paint. It felt a bit maddening as he risked peeking out from the cloak
to assure nothing else slipped his vision, but it was as empty on first glance as it appeared. So he
sat under the cloak across from the fireplace with his eye trained on the door. He would wait, a few
minutes Arcturus said and while he waited he began to dream of all his brother would be able to do
soon. If it had to be one of them who deserved their freedom to live plainly, Regulus would choose
Sirius every time.

His shoes clicked on the floor, but Harry was in a rush. He didn’t want to miss his chance and the
Ministry was a bit of a maze. He didn’t think he’d struggle so greatly in a maze, but his mind
wasn’t collecting the corners he took, and the halls he went down. Until he had to come to an
abrupt stop as he saw his grandfather speaking with someone whose back was turned. Arcturus
gave him a stern look that made him step to the side and look at his shoes, tilting back on his heels
impatiently as he waited. Eventually the person reached his hand out and gave Arcturus a good
shake before moving on. Harry searched for any wandering people, but no one was glancing their
way as they carried on with their own busy schedules.

“Est-il ici?” Harry asked under his breath, noticing that as he approached a few eyes peered from
over their papers or from under hat brims. French may not be the most secure language for secrecy
with so many families coming from there, but it was the first one that came to mind when he
looked at his grandfather.

“Oui.” His grandfather answered, nodding towards a door behind him. Harry placed his hand
gratefully on his grandfather before rushing to the door. They would have minutes at best, but
Harry would take it. He entered a room barren of any decor, but there was a flurry of movement
from the second the door clicked behind him.

“Harry.” He heard as he felt warm arms wrapped around him. “What are you doing here? You
should be at Hogwarts?”

Regulus was squeezing him so securely he could not move his mouth to form words, but he didn’t
mind. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Regulus and held on. He could hardly imagine it had
only been hours since he’d seen him through the cracks of the floor and how so much had changed.
How much of their lives had changed.

“Did you see it, Reg? Did you see Grandfather Arcturus, he did it! He freed Sirius. And–and Peter
he will be tried and my parents, my parents will have some justice at least. We’ve done it, Reg
and–and if Grandfather Arcturus can do it for Sirius, maybe one day he can do it for you. Maybe
one day we can all be free.” Harry said, before he buried his face into Regulus' warm coat over his
chest. It smelt like woods and dust, but underneath he could smell tea and spice and the scents that
reminded him of home. Regulus seemed to freeze for a moment but then his hand went gently to
Harry’s head.

“Maybe one day, Harry, but let us focus on today.” Regulus said, his voice not carrying the sound
of confidence as he pulled Harry back to place his hand under his chin. His fingers grazed over a
scratch below one of his eyes he’d gotten sometime in the night. It was not deep or long, but
Regulus’ eyes carried a touch of worry.

“It’ll heal, Reg. No more scars on my face if I can help.” Harry tried to joke to loosen the tension.
He hadn’t meant to make Regulus upset with the comment on his freedom, but it seemed to weigh
him down even still as he gave a weak smile and brought Harry’s forehead to his lips to place a
gentle kiss.

“No more scars, Harry.” He whispered so faintly, as if he didn’t believe the words himself.

Harry wanted to inquire further on Regulus’ mood, but they were interrupted by the door open.
Harry turned quickly, covering Regulus fruitlessly with his own body. Regulus still stood a good
head and a half taller than him. It was unnecessary either way, but Regulus let out a small laugh
while Arcturus entered the room, his body moving slower than even typical now. He’d been on his
feet too long, Harry could tell.

“Commendable effort, Harry.” Arcturus said with a half grin as his free hand dug into his hip trying
to alleviate some of the pain. Harry felt his own mood turn down at the reminder his grandfather
was not the strong sturdy man he’d been only a year ago.

“This is the Department of Mysteries entrance, it's untraceable for their own reasons. How I know
it is here is a question I will not answer, but it will return you both where you need to be. Harry, I
have spoken to Dumbledore, he will be waiting for you in his office.” Arcturus explained. Harry
felt his face turn downward further.

“Must I? The year is practically over, I just wish to return home.” He asked, clinging to Regulus’
arm much like a small child, but he did not want to leave him. They had only just reunited and it
seemed pointless to return to school for such a short time. Exams had finished and there were only
a few days left to wait for exam results and lounge around the school in the summer’s heat.

“I believe your friends will be wishing to see you before summer holidays, Harry. Besides it is best
we all act as normal as possible while the news breaks. The Wizenagmot may have cleared Sirius’
name, but the rest of society will not be so kind, I assure you.” Arcturus replied, his words firm in
their decision. Harry let out a defeated sigh, and turned to hug Regulus one final time, Regulus
leaning down to squeeze him tight and whisper in his ear.

“Only a few days Harry and then we will have the whole summer.” He said with his tone finally
carrying a more positive infliction. Harry would take the upturn in manner and use it to take his
leave as he went and gave his grandfather a brief hug, careful of any aching joints and then the gate
unlocked and lit without even a turn of his wrist.

“Uncle Lancelot is going to have you on bedrest all summer for this.” Harry said with a lopsided
grin. Arcturus shook his head with a smile before nodding Harry forward. With the flash of bright
flames, he caught one final glimpse before the world became a blur.

Regulus stood watching the flames die out and turn to ash. The absence of Harry felt instantly with
the way the warmth seemed to suck out of the room. Wrapping his arms around himself, he told
himself it would only be a few days, but there was this suspicion that the summer would not hold
the hopefulness of years passed and he worried for Harry. Even with Peter captured, there were
other Death Eaters available, ones who had tricked their way out of prison. Anyone of them could
use this news of Sirius to renew their energy for their former cause, and even with more than half
locked away, their numbers still towered higher than he pleased. Instead of dwelling, he forced
himself to return to the present and face his grandfather.

“How did you find me while I was under the cloak?” Regulus asked before life ripped away his
chance to inquire.

“An answer for another day. Did you return the cloak to Harry?” Arcturus asked and Regulus
decided to let the question drop. Arguing with Arcturus was a useless task.

“No, I didn’t think to give it back since he will be home before long.” Regulus replied, pulling out
the cloak for observation. Arcturus held out his hand, Regulus passed it along easily. His
grandfather hummed and fiddled with the fabric between his hands.

“I have an inkling of idea… I will need this to look into further. Please let Harry know I have it, if
he has need for it I will give it to him gladly though I can’t imagine anything, but mischief would
call for such a tool.” Arcturus said with a small smile pulling on his tired face.

“Is the idea about Harry? If it’s about Harry, I want to know.” Regulus asked, stepping forward,
but his grandfather raised his hand to pause him.

“In due time, Regulus, in due time. I do not withhold this information to bring you worry. I will tell
you when the time is best.” Arcturus said, tucking the cloak away before changing the subject. “I
suggest you return to your aunt and uncle’s for the time being. Do not wander, I don’t think this
display will lessen the eyes on us, if anything they will only increase. If things grow too heated,
return home and stay there until I or another family member comes for you. Harry will be safe for
the time being at Hogwarts, I doubt anyone else will make a great break-in so soon after a thwarted
one and the MacMillans will be on high alert for their own lands. I have a few more matters to
attend to before I plan to visit your brother while I can. Do you need anything further?” Arcturus
asked. Regulus shook his head, for all he wanted was Harry, who he would have in his arms again
a matter of days. For now, he would listen and find ways to pass the time. Maybe read up further
on some information that had been pestering him. Arcturus had his ideas as Regulsu had his own.
So he stepped into the Floo with no further protest, but to count the days.

Harry had to let out a dry cough as he stood himself up on the floor of Dumbledore’s office. The
dust settled to reveal the pointed windows coating various items in a warm glow. Harry stepped to
stare at a globe standing beside the edge of Dumbledore’s wide desk, one further inspection he
noted it did not hold the names of countries he knew, but their shapes were nearly the same as
when he’d studied the different placements of countries with Regulus.

“It can change to reflect how the world would have looked at any given time in history.” A sage
aged voice explained, and Dumbledore seem to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. One
second the office appeared empty and the next Dumbledore loomed over his globe with eyes not
fixated on the slowly turning sphere, but on Harry instead.

“When is this time period?” Harry asked. His hand shot out to pause the globe before stopping to
glance at Dumbledore, who gave him a short nod of approval. He paused it just as it reached the
continent that was shaped like Europe without the borders and names he knew existed today.

“I consider myself surprised you do not know. I assume you know what this place is in modern
day, and this one and this one as well?” Dumbledore asked, as a crooked finger touched three
different locations. Harry’s brow tightened but he answered all the same.

“Germany, France and Great Britain.” He replied, the words on the map could not be understood in
any tongue he knew, but they seemed to grow from the roots of old languages.

“Yes, very good Harry. I have turned this globe back many years, years older than many people
even care to study any longer except the exceptional history student. Alas many people have heard
of this time period, they can recall the general facts, the scandalous rumours, but they do not know
the details.” Dumbledore spoke, and slowly the recollection shifted into view. Harry felt his eyes
pop as they grew wide. Dumbledore let out a low chuckle.

“Yes, it was a very dark time in history, but one that people still recall as if the bloodlust is fresh in
their memories. Much like Merlin’s rise, or the founding of Hogwarts, the War of the Brothers is a
great feat. We teach only to fifth years and above for how gruesome the tale is, but great lessons
can be found in the great legends. The greed that caused the rise and near destruction of a great
family, the alliances forged that still hold roots in our society today, and most of all the power dark
magic holds for generations.” Dumbledore said, his hand touching the top of the globe and a warm
golden light appeared, circling first in modern day Germany before travelling to France and then
across the stretch of open sea to land in southern England before continuing further west to Wales
and then north to Scotland and then back through England to France again. Harry had a cold chill
go down his spine as Dumbledore’s voice rose again.

“You see Harry, the House of Black landed in this country many years ago, seeking asylum from
the home they had destroyed with their own darkness. Three young boys and their mother were
sent to a country where they did not know the customs, did not speak the language and would be
considered as low born bastards in the family that accepted them out of pity. Those three sons
would grow up completely apart from all their known family. Raised here in what we now call
Wales, as their blood across the sea continued to pervade, infect and kill one another. One could
hope boys raised beyond those temptations would grow into dignified young men, who would take
their stature in society and wish to rise above it and for a time it seemed they would. Their mother
married the man who granted them reprieve and they were raised among their half brothers, given
status and education just as the legitimate sons. They took noble wives and had several children. To
all it seemed they were the lucky ones, the ones to carry on the name with decency and grace, but
alas, temptation came as an unsteady peace befell the families of their brothers across the sea and
those three boys with the people loyal to them took to the peace and disturbed it once more with
bloodshed, a bloodshed so great it ended all war to speak of. There was no challenging them as
they placed the eldest of the three in the seat of heir with his second brother, his closest confidante.
The third returned home a soiled soldier to take claim of the southern land his family had first been
received on in this strange land. And from then on the name Black carried with it a dark and dirty
past, but one people would not challenge for they had seen how three sons had cut their own
father’s head from his neck and dared anyone to challenge their legitimacy even if three other sons
carried a better claim as heir. I do not tell you this because I do not think you know, I am certain
you have been told this tale from a view of greatness and power, I tell you this story because not
every perspective is the same. Where you have heard grandeur, others have heard horrors and you,
Harry, must decide for yourself how you understand it to be.” Dumbledore said, his hand lifting
from the globe causing it to grow cold and still. The golden light faded until it was no longer seen.

Harry twisted his neck uncomfortably but agreed with Dumbledore before being dismissed to the
grounds, breakfast long over, Harry hoped he could find reprieve in the solitude of Gryffindor
Tower. The papers would have likely already had a cursory cover of Sirius’ trial and people would
be speaking nonstop until a special edition of the Prophet hit the dinner tables tonight for everyone
to hang onto each thread of gossip. Harry would rather face the challenge ahead with good rest.
Only when the portrait opened and allowed him into the nearly empty common room, he found
two pairs of arms flung around him.

“Oh Harry, we were worried for you!” Hermione cried as he felt her face growing damp on his
chest.

“Worried? It’s bloody brilliant is what it is! You must tell us everything Harry!” Ron said even
louder and Harry held his friend close until minutes passed and they parted ways.

“Can we do it after I have changed?” Harry asked, his exhaustion showing. Hermione jumped with
concern.

“Oh of course, Harry! You must be drained, come let's get you showered and changed before we
bombard you with questions.” Hermione said, suddenly very concerned with the state of Harry’s
robes and hair.

“I’ll get snacks! It can’t be a good story without snacks, and besides I’ve been to the Ministry with
dad I know their food can be bloody awful.” Ron added, his body already turned to the door. Harry
nodded his head thankfully, wondering for just a moment how he had gotten such luck in not only
his family, but also the friends he surrounded himself with.

Remus hated the coldness. It ached his bones. The smells were worse though, particularly so soon
after a moon when even the slightest scent could be picked up in the wind. A hospital was rancid
with smells, holding his breath helped a little, but caused the burning in his muscles to light again
in searing pain. He wasn’t certain why he had come, but after the long morning he had, his feet had
taken him without consulting his mind. His heart from deep within a past life had taken control and
led him to St Mungo’s.

Turning the final corner to the door that leads where he would be, where Remus would likely only
peer into the windows before scampering away afraid to only return to his flat. Or maybe not his
flat. His flat had once been Sirius’ and if Sirius was free. He may not want Remus living there any
longer. Though Remus himself did not fancy having to return to his father’s cottage in Wales. He’d
sold the home they’d lived in when his mother was ill, downsizing he called it. Remus called it
running from a ghost, and at least he knew for certain which parent he’d gotten that trait from. He
was absorbed in his own thoughts, his feet leading the way with determination that he did not
realise he wasn’t alone in the hall until he nearly toppled over the person. Having to catch himself
on the wall he began to blubber an apology, but when his eyes caught who he was speaking to he
felt his throat constrict.

“I’m– my apologies. I am–well you may know me, I am the Defense Professor, well was, I quit
this morning, but–” Remus said, his words lost to even himself as he let them die. There was no
sense of his thoughts, let alone forming sentences.

“I know who you are. Remus Lupin, Lyall’s son.” Arcturus said, placing his cane in front of him.
Remus flinched a bit being referred to as his father’s son, but he tried to overlook it.

He’d only see Sirius’ grandfather from a distance. During the holiday breaks, standing on the
station platform with his son and daughter to each side as people stood in awe. Remus had huffed
and called it shite as Sirius used to, but he couldn’t ignore the tickle deep inside him as he watched
the entire station sway and turn at his whim. The power he held was not a power they would see
again, a generation by gone and passed with only remnants like the obdurate figure of Arcturus
Black to remind them. Now as he looked at him, Remus grown and wizened with age and
experience, and Arcturus smaller and weaker from his own years, he only saw a man, albeit still
powerful and strong, but not all knowing and omniscient. A man who had his family in the
forefront of his mind, even if not for the intentions they pleased.

“I suppose you’ll take Sirius back with you when he’s released. Have your heir and all.” Remus
mumbled as he looked down at the scuff marks on his shoes with the worn down edges. They
looked like complete rubbish to the perfectly glossed one’s on Arcturus’ feet.

“Sirius will be allowed to do as he pleases once he completes his stay. I had come to terms with the
fact that my heir died years ago.” He replied simply and Remus couldn’t help the way his neck
snapped upward. He blinked a few times to assure that it was still Arcturus in front of him.

“But–your name, without Sirius to have sons, your name will…” Remus dared not finish. Arcturus'
face did not change nor even flinch at the implication, it stayed rather undisturbed.

“You will find great names have a way of resurging back to life when everyone has considered
them passed. However, it will not be from myself forcing Sirius into anything he does not please.
Though if you do happen to visit with him, I can promise you he does believe this stay to fall under
the category of forced, so I believe a face that is not mine will be a welcomed sight. Though I
know the time has been long and journey difficult for the two of you and I would understand if you
need time.” Arcturus said, moving for the first time to step aside and allow Remus a glance into
the wide windows.

Sirius was there in pale robes with his long hair plaited down his back and his arms crossed over
his chest. His lower lip pouting, though Remus knew he would never admit to it. There was tea in
front of him, long grown cold and a healer came to speak to him with her perfectly manicured
hands touching the handle of his tea and speaking to him in a soft quiet voice from how little her
lips moved. It had to be driving him mad, the coddling, the constant care. He’d likely wish one of
them would snap, break their calm facade and throw him into a wall so he could yell and scream
and tarnish his family’s reputation even further with the whispers of declining mental state, but
everyone in the room seemed perfectly polite as they cared for their patients, Sirius included, with
little more than a few glances that defined him from the other patients huddled in their own
corners. Nervously, he licked his lips and adjusted the old robes on his shoulders. He hated
hospitals and their smells and unnerving gentleness of the healers, he could understand Sirius’
uncomfortableness that exuded even to him outside the room.

“I–I am not certain… he will not wish…” Remus paused to clear his throat. Arcturus' face did not
smile and for that he was appreciative.

“Son, he would be more than thrilled to speak with you, there is an hour left on the companion
hours. I suggest you use them.” Arcturus replied when Remus’ words did not come again and
Arcturus was only left with a fit of coughs that caused a few worried eyes to pause and look at him,
but with one glance at him they hurried their sensible footwear elsewhere.

Remus gave one final glance at the older man. He only nodded towards the door and Remus felt as
if he was wading through thick mud up to his waist, but his hand reached out and pushed in the
door. A sterile room filled with gentle colours and plenty of sunshine even as the sky grew orange
outside greeted him before a healer with a quick pace came and asked for his name and took note
of it with the time and the person he was here to visit. There was a pause of quill before it touched
down forming a crooked S in the beginning of the name. S. Black, Sirius would hate it if he knew.
Sirius, who hadn’t caught his eye yet and was still staring into his small white tea cup at the murky
layer of tea curling with too little milk for his taste. Remus came from behind, he wasn’t sure why,
maybe to gain confidence, maybe to hold onto his chance to escape until the last minute, but before
he could register, his shadow had fallen on Sirius, who huffed and shuffled his feet.

“I said I don’t want any tea.” He called without turning his head up. Remus felt his stomach sink
but confidence came from somewhere as his dry lips parted and weakly responded.

“You don’t think there’s any firewhiskey to make it bearable.” Remus half joked with his hands
trembling in his coat. The adrenaline had worn off, there were no other people to hide behind. It
would be only him and Sirius, and an hour wasn’t nearly enough time, but it would be a start. Sirius
moved achingly slow as he placed his hands on the back of his chair and twisted around with his
mouth agape and his eyes somewhere between despondent and disbelief.

“To be fair, it looks like shite tea now matter how you’d make it.” Remus said as the silence
radiated from the two of them. Sirius closed his mouth firmly, it seemed to keep his jaw from
quivering.

“Well, you know me, like my tea so sweet–” Sirius began.

“It could rot your teeth. I remember.” Remus finished, his cheeks twitching as he placed a cold
hand on them. It felt strange, like a memory he couldn’t recall, but there it was the laughter stuck
behind his tongue beckoning to come out. The laughter he used to only share with those closest to
him.

“Remus, I–I don’t even know where to begin. I–I am so sorry, I can never apologise enough. I–it
was… it was my fault. It should have been–” Sirius stammered over his words until Remus shook
his head. Looking over his shoulder, he could not see Arcturus anymore out the windows. When he
turned back, he tilted his head to the seat across from Sirius to which Sirius nodded
enthusiastically, pushing the tea further to the edge of the table and placing his hands on the edge,
tapping them dynamically like it was a piano. He could recall his times at the Potter House, when
the nights were cold and Euphemia would ask so kindly for Sirius to play. Sirius would make a
fuss about it, but then at night when Remus would sneak into his room under the cover of
moonlight, Sirius would giggle and whisper how despite it being forced on him, he did quite enjoy
the piano. Remus would whisper how greatly he enjoyed listening to him and maybe that was how
their conversations would need to begin again. Quiet and simple and just between the two of them.

“We will have time, Sirius. To do all our own apologising, but for now, I just wish to hear about
 you. How you are here and how you hope to be.” Remus said, placing his hands halfway on the
table. It was a rather small table, meant for a paper and tea for a single person, meaning once
Remus placed his hands on the table there was little distance between the two of them. A twitch
and their fingers could brush, but Remus couldn’t move. Not yet, and from the way Sirius hands
stilled neither could he. It would take time, but for once in their future, they had time.

Arcturus stood hidden from view. He watched the slow movements of old lovers meeting once
again. The uncertainty mixed with the hope of a second chance. It was a beautiful and
heartbreaking scene, and he couldn’t help but to stare for a moment as they began to converse, their
hands nearly touching one another. He had meant what he said, he would not force Sirius, except to
take his freedom and enjoy it to the fullest. It was the one act that could make his old heart feel full
again to see his grandsons happy and fulfilled. He only had wished he had learned the simplicity of
happiness earlier in his years but some lessons only come with age.

Also with age came the way to know information before it was spoken. He heard the determined
steps of sensible and strong boots. The same ones his son by law had been wearing for years, both
for work and for pleasure. The harsh floors and empty walls made the sound amplify in the halls
and the heavy sound of heels on hard floors made his stomach twist. Turning over his shoulder just
as Ignatius rounded the corner, it took only one glance at his face, dropped with disappointment
and anger to know what news he carried.

“I can tell him if you wish me to.” Ignatius offered with his head bowed slightly. With age, he also
could look back on his past and see his myriad of mistakes. Many which his son by law carried as
his burden to share. It was a relationship typically saved for fathers and sons, but Arcturus would
be the first to admit, he had never been the father his children deserved and Orion of them both
received it worse. The fight between father and son, and heir and heir apparent directly clashed
every time and more often than not the heirdom would win and the relationship of family would
fall. It was his fault and his fault alone when he looked for the relationship of son elsewhere, he
and Orion and Ignatius had all seen it. It was Ignatius and himself left as the ones to bear its
consequences. Arcturus shook his head and turned once more to his grandson, who’s face he could
not see from this angle, only the way he’d leaned closer to his companion across the table.

“I will tell him, but I will wait till tomorrow. He deserves one evening of peace before we are right
back where we’ve begun.” Arcturus said, feeling the deep sigh tight in his chest.

“You’ve done your best Arcturus, we can't fault you for the Ministry’s mistakes. They should have
cared better transporting him. It is their fault they underestimated Peter.” Ignatius tried to comfort
as a son tries to comfort a father who is reaching the end of his usefulness to his children. Arcturus
shook his head again. Sirius would not be so forgiving. For Sirius, his freedom would be
meaningless without the justice he craved. If Peter has escaped, he would find the blame to put on
Arcturus, real or imaginary, and Arcturus would bear it as fathers do.

“I will tell him tomorrow.” He repeated, before peeling his eyes away from Sirius. “I will need you
to be my eyes and ears Ignatius. Peter will not have his anonymity anymore, listen for whispers, for
stories told in the shadows of pubs and around fires in dark alleys. We will find him and with
Sirius’ freedom given, we need him no longer. Use any means necessary.”

Chapter End Notes

Hello all, it does seem there has been a slight uptick in readership over these past few
days, I do welcome one and all and am glad to have you! As a few ground rules, no I
do not have a schedule for uploading. Unfortunately even if I had one I would never
keep it, I know myself too well, but I do my best to update once a week. I also make
no claims to be perfect, in grammar, translation or the like. This is a simple little
passion product on the side of trying to survive everyday life. Finally, yes I do plan to
continue this until seventh year and slightly beyond, also yes this did spiral out of
control and is now 101 chapters in and only beginning on book 4, but I am hoping you
all continue to enjoy it and I appreciate all the comments and kudos left!

Est-il ici? - Is he here?

Oui - Yes
 Ancient History
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior injuries, Mentions of prior abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There was a hippogriff sitting outside his house when he returned. He wasn’t all that surprised, but
they had no way to contain it, and the chain that allowed it a rather large bandwidth to wander the
grounds didn’t seem completely sufficient. It was the last thing he needed to have a rogue
hippogriff associated with his family, but Ignatius would have to set the issue aside. Inside his
kitchen was his nephew with cups of tea already prepared at the table and his arms crossed and
eyes glazed from the exhaustion.

“Charlie.” Lucretia began. Charlie turned up at her in a state of disbelief.

“He was a mass murderer.” Charlie began, his eyes wide behind the steam of the tea cup. “And
now he’s not.”

“Technically speaking, he never was a mass murderer. Only accused and now declared innocent.”
Ignatius replied, crossing his hands in front of him. Charlie turned up his head at him with a look
that said the semantics didn’t really change his confusion on the matter.

“So he was put into prison for years on a crime he was never even tried on?” Charlie asked, his
eyes turning down again and his hand fiddling with the handle of the tea cup.

“Correct.” Ignatius said, the burn of the half truth touching the back of his throat, but he was
quickly able to swallow it.

“Well where does he go now?” Charlie asked, genuine curiosity touching his voice. Ignatius bit
into his lower lip. It was a good question. Sirius was free, well nearly free. Lancelot had assured
he’d most likely be released from care in a fortnight, but there was the matter of Regulus. He was
confined to the shadows while his brother could live in the spotlight once more. Though if their
childhood had been any indication, it may be how Regulus would have preferred it.

“My father will likely offer to take him in, but he had a flat before all this. My cousin Alphard left
him his entire inheritance. Given he still had the spare title in name, it was quite a hefty amount.”
Lucretia added as she took a seat at the table setting down a plate of freshly warmed biscuits she
had procured from somewhere. Charlie reached for one happily before leaning back in his chair to
think as he chewed on a corner. Ignatius took it as his opportunity to light tug on the chair back
causing it to scratch on the tile floors before he lowered himself to sit.

“Will you allow him back here?” Charlie asked after a moment’s thought. Ignatius had felt the
question coming and looked over at his wife. They had the quality that certain couples possessed
where they could carry a conversation without speaking. A little turn of her neck, or a blink of her
eyes and he could tell her inner feelings.

“If he is released, and he does wish to come here. He will be welcomed as any of our nephews or
nieces are.” Ignatius said carefully. Charlie took another bite of his biscuit and kept his eyes
forward.

“Mum won’t like it. I’m sure dad will read her the entire Prophet article this morning and I’m sure
she’ll have plenty to say.” Charlie noted, his face still forward not looking at them. “But he’s your
nephew. She can’t really have a say in what you or he does.”

“Molly is allowed her opinions and if she wishes to keep her children in her house away from
Sirius, we will respect that decision, but you, Bill, and Percy are adults now. You can make that
decision for yourselves. However you choose when he is around, we will respect you as well.”
Ignatius said, after another cursory glance at his wife as she nodded along to his words. Charlie
didn’t say another word until his biscuit was finished and he wiped away the few crumbs with his
head tilted sideways slightly.

“He’s not actually mad like they say he is, right? I mean you let him around before but one hears
rumours. I try not to listen, but there are quite a few not just about him but his whole family.”
Charlie said, quietly much like when he was a young boy trying to ask questions his mother refused
to answer.

“I know the rumours, Charlie.” Lucretia said, reaching her hands across to touch his and hold them
gently. “I’ve heard every awful thing that can be said about my family, and I can’t pretend they are
all false. Many awful and despicable instances have been caused by some of those closest to me,
but Sirius? Sirius is one of the good ones, he has his flaws. He angers too quickly, he’s stubborn as
that hippogriff outside, but he’s courageous and brave and values his friendships higher than any
other. He’s as imperfect as any human, but he is not mad.”

Charlie nodded, holding onto Lucretia’s hand and squeezing it once for reassurance. Ignatius
always hated how they didn't have the same connection with all of Molly’s children. Bill and
Charlie were the two they saw most often before Molly started pulling away. After her brothers’
deaths, the grief had been so great, none of them had handled it properly. She had her rights as did
they, and their reservations held true for each of them. Molly had been quick to anger, and Ignatius
could only see her getting that from him. How could he judge her for his own characteristics? They
let her and her family be, to recover how they needed to. He was only sad it kept the rest of his
nephews and his niece so far from him. Bill and Charlie had a few years before, when Fabian and
Gideon could convince Molly to let them spend time at Prewett Hall. She never could say no to her
brothers when they truly tried. He was happy the loyalty those three siblings held had passed onto
her children and he hoped nothing would ever break it.

“I’d like to meet him. It doesn’t have to be soon, I have to drop Buckbeak off and return to
Romania before he’ll even be released, but one day, I’d meet him and like to draw my own
conclusions.” Charlie finally stated with a look of determination on his face.

“We can arrange that and if he isn’t your cup of tea then so be it. You tried and I will respect you
for such.” Ignatius said, letting a small smile cross his face.

Charlie couldn’t stay any longer, he was delayed on delivering the Hippogriff. So after a
complicated dance, Buckbeak finally allowed him to board him and they were off to the skies after
several reminders for him to write when he returned. Charlie often forgot to return his letters when
he was busy with work, more than once Lucretia had written to her cousin that ran the dragon
reserve to confirm he was well. There was usually a crass response to her checking up on a grown
man surrounded by every detail of his being to show he was perfectly taken care of even with the
injuries that came with caring for dragons. Even if he was a grown man, the two of them stood out
in the field feeling a breeze across their face and the scents of the salty sea below well until he was
gone from sight, just for the assurance. They knew what loss was, and if any bit could prevent
more, they would do so. When the sun began to slowly fade and fall closer to the ground, they took
each other arm in arm and returned to their home. For once in the past many months, being truly
alone as the hidden Aurors had finally been called away. They made good use of their privacy until
they would be undoubtedly and happily disturbed again by one person or another. They were just
content to have some meaning in their life after what had seemed such an endless darkness
covering them.

“The Blacks? I still can’t bloody believe it.” Ron said in what Harry assumed him to believe was a
whisper, but it sounded as if he had yelled it loud enough to compete with the train's distinct horn.

“Ron.” Hermione snipped and turned her head towards the door, which appeared much more
flimsy when secrets were being exchanged. Ron shrugged and reached in his pocket to count his
loose change for when the trolley came. Hermione considered her job done and decided to change
the subject for which Harry was grateful.

“I can’t believe Professor Lupin resigned.” Hermione said with a sigh.

“You’re right! Who bloody cares he’s a werewolf? We had a professor with a second face on his
head for a year and they think a werewolf is terrible? He was nearly the best Professor we had, and
I only say nearly because my uncle was the one before him! If his head hadn’t gotten all caved in,
he’d still be here, but something about nearly dying on the job turns people off I suppose. Uncle
Ignatius has had quite a few near death experiences. Hogwarts, Brazil, that time in the Alps he
won’t talk about, it's a long list.” Ron said, his fingers having started counting out the times.
Hermione’s face was aghast and her jaw fallen open.

“How is he still alive?” Hermione asked, shaking her curls out. Ron’s face hardly even twitched..

“Ask Harry apparently Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucy have been in on the secret the whole bloody
time!” Ron exclaimed again as Hermione and Harry shushed him together.

“You know Harry, I was wondering.” Hermione began, her trimmed nails tapping on the now well
worn binding of her book of great European families which she had finally admitted was to try and
understand Harry’s family further.

“Your two cousins, the ones you live with? Who are they related to? I studied the Blacks up and
down it feels and I can’t place them. All the male descendants of Blacks of male or female line are
either dead or much older.” Hermione posed, her cheeks going blush under the warm lights in the
cabin. Harry bit on his cheek. It was the one part of the story he left out. He didn’t want to address
it, and in the excitement the first time neither of them had asked, but he knew it would come. He
was just hoping to have the whole summer to drum up an answer.

“Er well–” Harry began as Hermione's eyes went wide and her neck snapped to him.

“Sirius. You knew him in the shack and I had just thought, but he was really–this whole time he
was with you… oh my how long has he been out, Harry?” She asked as Harry now had to shush
her. Ron’s ears were turning red while he leaned forward.

“A while, not the entire time, but a while.” Harry answered, saving specific as best he could.

“How?” She asked her brow furrowed together until they popped high on her forehead.

“Arcturus. It had to be Arcturus everything I have read about him, he seemed, well, ruthless in his
youth. There are rumours… oh nevermind them. He had to have gotten Sirius out, no one else
could have managed.” Hermione pieced it together as she turned her head down and clutched her
book closer to her chest. Harry shrugged.

“Bloody brilliant! I have to meet him. My mum can’t know of course, she’d lose her head, but I
have to at least once, Harry!” Ron pleaded and Harry licked his lips. Arcturus was not in his best
form, but he may be able to manage.

“But the other cousin, there is no one else Sirius’ age, I mean not unless…” Hermione let her
words die on her tongue. Harry could feel the more sensible option she was implying. She was
intelligent, but logical and Sirius' little brother who’d been declared dead over a decade ago wasn’t
logical.

“Unless what?” Ron asked, looking between the two of them.

“Unless there was a bastard.” Harry whispered and even Ron went silent after a sharp ‘Oh’. It was
the safer assumption for his friends and for Regulus. He trusted his friends with his life, but
Regulus was his world. The less people that knew would only be for the better at the end of the
day.

“Well everyone knew Sirius’ father was prone to the night’s whims, or at least that’s what my
mum says. I’ve heard her and dad speak about how they were surprised none of the bastards came
clamouring for the name after that younger son died. What was his name? Reginald?” Ron said,
scratching his chin.

“Regulus Arcturus Black the Second of his name. Died in nineteen seventy nine of unknown
causes at only eighteen years old after an extended disappearance. Known Death Eater and
suspected deserter.” Hermione quoted it from one of her readings. It made Harry go cold down to
his toes. All Regulus was to him and to everyone else he was a footnote in the long history of
Blacks. The heir for a few months, dying too young and not tragically enough for anyone to mourn.
A heaviness descended on his chest. He wanted to be home. Even though he enjoyed the train rides
with his friends. He wanted nothing more than to be home, in Regulus’ arms where he could find
his rest.

“Well, well what do we have here?” Arcturus muttered as he pulled the page closer. It had faded
with age, even magic didn’t seem to be reviving it, granted his magic was depleted from the last
few days and he found himself forced into a bed with people dotting on him every few hours. At
the least, he’d convince them to bring him handfuls of ancient books and journals. If he could not
be on his feet, he would at least be of use.

“Bloody portraits.” Someone whispered as his door cracked open. Grimmauld Place was nearly
empty of sound with only him and one other member available. He could hear every little
movement even in his weakened state.

“Was it your father or mine?” Arcturus asked without looking up.

“No I didn’t dare let any of them see me, it was your brother! I tried getting tea and he decided to
have a duel with himself it seemed. I dropped a perfectly good teacup and oh well, I can’t repair
it.” Marius sighed as he handed over the next stack of books and journals with a few pieces of
loose parchment sticking out the odds and ends.

“I could fix it if you bring it.” Arcturus mumbled as he marked the place that had peaked his
interest.
“Ha, and have Helena lose her head. No thank you, I quite like my wife and rather enjoy her
company which I will have less of if she feels the need to hover over you even further.” Marius
said, before he crossed the room and pulled a curtain open and cracked a window. Arcturus had
always enjoyed the sounds of the Muggle world outside the home. It had been just outside their
walls, but it felt a universe away when trapped inside. He had even lowered the silencing charms in
his office when he was a young man just to breathe in some of their life.

“She needs not to hover, I will be fine.” Arcturus replied as he picked up a quill to take notes on a
spare bit of parchment. The issue with ancient stories is they have been told and retold so many
times and with so many different perspectives, it could be so difficult to decipher the facts from the
fiction.

“We both know that is a lie you tell to everyone else.” Marius hummed as he leaned forward into
the warm air that burned up from the early summer heat. Arcturus paused his writings to turn his
attention to his cousin, who glanced only momentarily at him.

“Pardon me if I am a bit forward, I happen to find it refreshing after so many years surrounded in
secret, but I know and I believe you know as well as Helena and Lancelot know, that you are far
from fine.” Marius said with a slight nod to acknowledge him. Arcturus placed his hands in his laps
and set the books aside for a moment.

“I am dying, but so is everyone else, I just happen to be more acutely aware of my predicament.”
Arcturus replied. Marius gave him a look that was half sympathetic before turning his attention out
the window once more. Arcturus turned back to his papers after such a healthy dose of reality had
been poured on him, he was more determined than before to try and find his answers.

“Tell me what you hope to find in ancient history.” Marius asked, his attention still to the streets.

“Answers. Understanding to prevent what I fear is an unfortunate fate.” Arcturus mumbled as he

found a line he noted to look into further. So much of this information was assumption only, those
who knew this magic kept it close to their chest and passed it only by word of mouth. He had to
rely on the conniving habits of others who tried to mimic their powers. Luckily for him, he came
from a family who made their name on conspiracy.

“It’s about Harry, isn’t it?” Marius said, leaning forward on the window sill, his air all together
casual. He would have been locked away after his lessons on proper behaviour and stature, but it
seemed he had forgotten all his learnings. Maybe that was healing. Arcturus wouldn’t know.
Instead, he let out a long sigh.

“How much has Helena told you?” He asked.

“She need not say. I just simply know. It's a habit we picked up long ago.” Marius responded,
turning to look at him with a knowing glint in his eye. Arcturus nodded, he knew the ways of wives
and husbands, of partners who had been through much and lived long together. There was an
unspoken rule to their communication.

“The information everyone has gathered, from the horcrux Regulus destroyed to the visions in
Harry’s head to even this invisibility cloak.” He said lifting it for the glimmer to catch Marius' eye
before he set it down and it became unseen to the naked eye once more. “I believe it is all
connected and I believe the answers to it all lie in the past. There is little that has never been done
before.”

“You believe it is connected?” He asked.

“I would have difficulty believing it is not.” Arcturus said, having to set his work aside and forced
to take a deep breath.

He could feel a coughing fit building in his lungs, pulling at the strained muscles and lighting his
chest on fire. Sometimes they would last so long his vision would go blurred and his hands would
shake. Weakness, he was filled with weakness. He wondered if it was retribution for all the
suffering he had caused. His death would be no grand gesture like his brother, or noble act like his
wife, or a swift movement like his father. No, he would slowly slip further and further away until
he didn’t even know himself and wait. Wait for the approaching darkness. The sleep he would not
wake from. He’d seen his sister fade and wash away, she lost her voice near the end. Her high
sounding elegant voice turned into nothing more than a lowly croak and even as she couldn’t
speak, he could see in her eyes. She was in pain and she had no need for this earth anymore.
Arcturus began debating if it would be a better mercy just to slip a potion into her tea one afternoon
as she stared over the grand grounds of the manor she’d kept for decades. Let her go in peace
surrounded by the home she had claimed and with the last of her family by her side. She had other
plans, she always had other plans. Just as the idea passed his mind, the very next night as he was
reading her one of her favourite books of French poetry her hand had reached for him. It distracted
him from his reading, but she shook her head. She didn’t want him to stop, but there was another
look, much deeper in her eyes that caused a sting to the back of his throat and forced him to
swallow his tears. She passed that night with her hand still holding his, and him watching as her
chest rattled until it moved no more. Then he was left with another family member to place in the
burial grounds outside. He did wonder sometimes how much longer it would be until he’d be
placed in the plot remaining for him. A simple empty space of dirt and overgrown weeds between
his wife and his son.

Marius crossed the room as his chest rattled after the long attack. Pouring a glass of water and
offering it. Arcturus with his eyes closed took it and had some time trying to swallow, but
eventually he was able to find his words again.

“Do you remember these stories?” Arcturus asked as Marius took the glass and set it aside with a
small plop before turning with a grimace across his face.

“I try to forget.” He replied. Arcturus nodded.

“I cannot for I believe our answers lie here.” He said. “You recall at least this story I am certain.”

Marius reached out his hand to take the book. Procuring a pair of glasses from inside his shirt
pocket, he placed them on his nose as he read. His face twisting and turning quite like many would
if they were asked to read the story they had heard in history classes and whispered by older
relatives time and time again.

“I know this story, as does nearly everyone, even if they wish not to speak of it, but I am not certain
how our ancestors play a role in Harry’s fate.” Marius said as he pulled off his glasses.

“They may not, not directly, but we have had a hand in nearly every family since we landed on this
isle years ago. Most importantly, we must look at where our family crosses with the Potters, for
there we will find the history we need.” Arcturus said, taking a deep breath that never seemed to
reach the end of his lungs anymore and brought the books back to his lap.

“I never cared much for family history, but other than my sister's dear husband, where have we
crossed with the Potters significantly in the past?” Marius asked, pulling a chair to the side of the
bed. Clearly, he had decided to stay and learn further.

“There was a rather scandalous incident I believe with one of our sons and a daughter in their
house, oh probably two hundred years ago. Cost us a small fortune and a lost connection to one of
the old houses of the north when he married her, but I am looking further and harder than some
gossip. I am looking past the Potters, into the family they claimed when it dissolved, a family
arguably older than even our own.” Arcturus hummed as he turned another ancient page with care,
the crinkled edges always threatening to tear and with the age it held it may never be repaired.

“Are you going to make me ask?” Marius said, leaning back in his place with arms crossed. Truth
be told, Arcturus was only half focusing on their conversation, it took most of his limited energy
just to keep track of the work in front of him.

“The Peverells. One of the first great families to go extinct in male line. When our ancestors first
landed on these shores, there were three great families on the island. The MacMillans to the north,
the Prewetts to the west, and then to the east were the Peverells. The south had once been guarded
by an old family, but due to in-fighting and pride they had fallen, and with its failure the Blacks
then took the south. We have been plotters since the time of Atlas and his brother Polaris and their
means of going from young boys in a one room cottage in the Black Forest to amassing the largest
confederation of wizarding kinds in mainland Europe in a matter of years. Their descendants were
no different. When those three brothers landed on these shores, they knew they would be looked
down upon. Considering the reputation of their family, being acknowledged as bastards was a step
higher than they deserved, but the Master of House Prewett did have a fondness for his new wife,
and she brought him four sons. Naming her first sons’ bastards was an honour he could allow, and
I doubt he knew to what extent they would go to reclaim their rightful name when they were only
boys. I wonder sometimes if he became suspicious when his daughter from his first wife fell to her
knees and pleaded with him to allow her to marry Mars. I wonder if he ever regretted the decision.”
Arcturus explained. Marius remained silent in his place, so he continued on. This storytelling, it
had always been a favourite of his. When the children were young and would come with their wide
eyes and fresh minds, begging for the stories, for the histories they had heard of. Those were times
he felt most at peace. Histories he could handle, the present was ever more challenging.

“So it went. Mars married Angharad Prewett, Jupiter married Deirdre of the MacMillans, and
Neptune, well Neptune married Arcanuma Peverell and he was the only one of the brothers to
return to England, to take his mantle in the south. Some say it was so he could look over the seas
and see his brothers where they sat in their bruteness, but others say it was his wife. His wife who
made him return home and make his claim on the land. For all the families carried a quality, the
Prewetts had their leadership, the MacMillans their strength in numbers, but the Peverells, they had
their secrets just as we did.” Arcturus continued.

“And you believe their secrets hidden in old journals and history stories told by a hundred different
mouths before they dared be recorded.” Marius said, reaching his hand out to push a sliding book
back into its place. Arcturus grunted. It was not a perfect method, but it was all he had.

“It all connects, it all connects back to the Peverells. The cloak in Harry’s possession, I believe it to
be an old family heirloom, left to the Potters when the Peverells name died out. The Gaunts, Tom’s
family, they are said to descend from the Peverells.”

“Would we not too descend from the Peverells by such logic, our ancestor married their daughter
and the lines got terribly blurred along the way of who we came from. There were bastards given
true names, sons and daughters exchanged across seas, our great fleeing from France. We do not
know which of the three brothers’ line still lives. With our family reputation, they likely married it
so closely together that the line crossed between all three.” Marius pointed out. He was teetering
very close to the truth.

“And that is why I study us because the Peveralls were famously reticent of their magic and we
 were notoriously…” Arcturus searched for the word.

“Thieves.” Marius added plainly, and it wasn’t quite encompassing the entire complexity, but it
would work.

“There was something there that night. Something that occurred between Tom, Harry and his
parents. A magic unduly touched by wizards and witches today. A magic our ancestors would have
known. Tom used to try and steal these very books from my son and nephews. He wanted to study
the ancient arts and now with hindsight in my advantage, I see his reasons. I underestimated him.
He has used magic in ways that cannot be amicably resolved. This is darkness that must be fought
with darkness.” Arcturus answered. Marius was contemplative for several drawn out minutes as the
noises from the street picked up below.

“It’ll kill you and likely a fair few people with you.” Marius said, finally placing his hands on his
knees and stretching up.

“Only me.” Arcturus said under his breath, which caused Marius to pause, but he shook his head
and said no more.

“Speaking of family history, I always wondered how my father died, and how unfortunate it was
for your father to perish within the same time frame.” Marius said with that touch of nasal British
left in his voice.

“There may be some history best left to the rumour mill.” Arcturus replied, hesitantly. Few people
alive knew the truth to such. He’d rather it die with him. Marius searched Arcturus’ face for
answers. None would be found, except for the pain and suffering of an old man and he turned
towards the door. Arcturus was content to continue his work in the dying light, but a final creak of
the floorboards had his neck tilt up.

“Tell me one thing…did he suffer?” Marius asked over his shoulder. Arcturus could feel it, the
touch of their family under his skin that never left no matter how far one ran.

“Greatly and for some time.” Arcturus replied. It was not a lie. Cygnus Black had died a long and
drawn out death after a rather short and useless life of nothing but vileness. Arcturus knew, no
matter how good Marius may be when put to shade with his family, he was still a Black.

“Good.” Marius muttered and then the door opened and shut with a brush of wind which caused a
light flutter to the corner of the pages furthest from him mixing with the sounds of the late evening
horns and chatter on the street outside. It was all so mundane and yet, it never was.

Chapter End Notes

I think that about rounds up everyone's reactions to the end of PoA, now onto the
summer! Thank you for reading and leaving comments and kudos! I greatly appreciate
each and every one <3
 Old Tales and New History
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of Injuries, Mentions of Previous War, Mentions of death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Remus could feel his breath coming in short, but he forced his feet to stand firm even as he picked
at his nails. A fortnight had come and went within a blink of an eye and an entire lifetime. Each
day like clockwork, he had shown up at St Mungo’s for two of the four visiting hours. He let his
family have the first two and he the last. He’d pass them sometimes in the halls. His aunt and
uncle, or his grandfather, each of them giving him cursory nods or small smiles to greet him as if
they had known him for decades. It felt strange.

Now here he stood, tucked in a back hallway waiting for a healer to arrive. The front lobby was
crowded with people, he had been escorted through a back way to avoid it, but as he passed he
could see people with cameras and quills trying to get a glimpse as a pair of medi-witches tried to
keep them contained. They were all here for the same reason. Sirius Black was being released
today.

“Sir,” Someone said, shaking him from his anxious running thoughts. A small wizard with large
eyes and the colour robes that told Remus he hadn’t finished his training was standing in front of
him with a quill and parchment. Remus blinked and he took that for a reply.

“I need you to sign here, it’s a form that the patient is being released into your care. It won’t hold
you liable for his behaviour, it’s simply for record keeping.” He said turning the parchment over
and handing him a worn feathered quill. Remus’ hardly looked as he sighed his name sloppily. The
healer in training was content and turned on heel down the sanitised halls without another look.

Sirius asking him to be here alone when he was released had confused him. Why would he be the
one he chooses over his family? He had wanted to ask, but Sirius brought it up at the final visiting
hours in the last few minutes as he was being rushed to leave for the evening, Sirius pleading with
him to return the day after next when he would be released. He’d agreed in a haze that hadn’t
broken until he arrived and saw the waiting crowds. Then the pit grew in his stomach and the
lightheadedness began behind his eyes. He and Sirius had been speaking for two weeks straight
every day of the week, but in the confines of St Mungo’s with healers and medi-witches and
wizards always within arm’s length their conversations could only go so far. Now Sirius was free
and would be able to speak in private and a part of that terrified Remus. It had been thirteen years.
Thirteen years since they had parted, what if they no longer fit together? What if too much time
and damage had come to pass?

Shaken from his thoughts again as he heard the sound of a pair of feet approaching him. Looking
up round the corner, he caught the stark black hair and thick leather jacket even in the heat of
summer first. He smelled the same, Remus noted. The same scents of leather, oil, and smoke. Next
to him stood a lanky old healer Remus knew well enough, at least in prominence. Lancelot Prewett
had been the one called all those years ago when Greyback had done his worst. He had saved
Remus’ life, but he could not save his livelihood. All miracle workers had their limits.

“Take the potions, Sirius. I will be checking on you.” Lancelot was saying as he approached in the
most regal and ornament of the healer robes. The sign of service long completed.

“Yes, Healer Prewett.” Sirius said, batting his long eyelashes. Lancelot gave a look as if he didn’t
believe a word he said before turning to Remus.

“Good luck.” He said, leaving afterwards to let them be alone in the hallway.

“Come on, there’s a back way most people don’t know about.” Sirius said, shoving his hands in his
pocket. He twisted and turned until they reached a door that looked like it could use a good scrub
and coat of paint, but maybe that was just his old odd jobs coming to the forefront. Sirius pushed it
open and they stepped out into an alleyway full of rubbish and a few stray cats cleaning themselves
on top of bins. One hissed as they passed and jumped away with a stunted tail, an old battle wound
it must have had, Remus thought. As he looked down each way, he couldn’t see a way they would
be able to exit, they were surrounded by walls of crumbling brick.

“Sirius…” He began, but when he turned back Sirius was gone, Remus’ heart dropped as he
worried Sirius had led him this way only for him to run, but then a whistle attracted him. Turning
his eyes up, he found Sirius straddling the brick wall with his boots clanging against them causing
dust and rubble to tumble towards the ground. He held out his hand.

“Come on, Moony, trust me?” He asked in the voice of ease, but his eyes betrayed him. His eyes
were begging for Remus to grab his hand. Remus debated it for a moment, but he knew the reply
before Sirius even opened his mouth and his hand shot out to grab Sirius. With a strong yank, he
was pulled up to the brick wall, not too trustworthy of its sturdiness as he swung both legs over to
the other side. The drop was further than the climb had been and his legs already ached at the idea.

“Let me.” Sirius said, as he jumped down and then lifted both hands up towards Remus, clearly
intending for him to jump into his arms and ease him down. Hesitantly, he pushed off the wall with
his legs bracing him as best he could, the moon was still a few weeks away, but he could feel the
signature burn in his joints beginning to bloom. Sirius’ hands wrapped around his waist, squeezing
firmly but not painfully and much to his embarrassment, Remus could feel himself blush at the
touch. Sirius had not touched him so intimately in years.

“There we can walk from here, it’s a bit of a ways but I like to see the sights. I haven’t truly seen
London in some years.” Sirius said once his hands had unwrapped slowly from his grasp and he’d
turned down towards where a street began.

“Sirius.” Remus said, pausing to lick his dry lips. Sirius turned to him with the sun catching his
eyes and his hair loose down his back, if he squinted it would be as if no time passed at all, but he
knew it would be false and living in falsehood had ruined them once.

“Where are we going?” He finally found his voice to ask. Sirius gave a weak grin and a shrug.

“I want to take you somewhere, but I can’t say until we're there. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need
you to trust me.” Sirius said. There was the word again, trust. Trust they hadn’t the time to rebuild
yet, but Remus knew it began with a single step. Sirius was offering him the space to take it. With
a short, hardly seen nod, he put one foot forward and Sirius jumped in excitement as he led the
way.

Their walk was no deeper than most of their conversations across the table at St Mungo’s filled
with card games to avoid the awkward silences. Sirius pointed out records shops, and lamented
about compact disc music. They passed small tea and coffee shops and Sirius asked if he’d grown a
taste for coffee to which Remus replied he had and Sirius wrinkled his nose. They even passed a
pub Mary used to work at and Remus wanted to mention it, but the words held in his throat as
Sirius chatted on about the weather. Mary had been brought up twice in their conversations. Remus
had gone to see her after the trial. Her and Emmeline both. Mary had more to say, but Emmeline
was always quieter. She had balanced out Gideon well, always smiling along to his antics and his
voice that raised above most, but never without a sharp wit on her tongue.

Emmeline had been simple. She had said her piece and she would in time come to write her letter
to Sirius. He owed her nothing in her opinion, and that was that. Mary was more complicated.
She’d spent the night at Remus’ flat, going over and over everything they had ever known. Every
little act, every strange look Peter had ever given, each time someone would snide about the
Blacks at a meeting and Sirius’ face would twist. How all the little aggressions had added up and
turned even his closest confidantes against him. How they had all fallen into the trap laid before
them. It had been a long night and neither of them had slept. She eventually went to visit him one
day, but only once. Remus had watched from a window as she hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder
when she approached. They spoke for over an hour and Remus hadn’t questioned either of them on
what. Only when he went to sit with Sirius, he was solemn and yet lighter than he had been before.
They hadn’t spoken much that day. Merely played cards to pass the time.

“Nearly there.” Sirius mumbled when they rounded a corner and a local park came into view. He
knew the area, it was Islington in London. He couldn’t say he’d been here frequently. His flat was
on the other side of the city. Sirius paused near a row of old brick houses which had seen better
days, fiddling with the toe of his shoe at a piece of lifted concrete.

“You know how I said you have to trust me?” Sirius said, his face turned down. Remus cleared his
throat and made a noise in some form of affirmation.

“You need to really trust me, Remus. It took a lot to convince him… he didn’t know if you should
know, but I insisted. Finally, he agreed.” Sirius whispered, Remus hardly knew him to whisper.

“Who, Sirius?” Remus asked, and with that Sirius lifted his chin and shook out his hair. His eyes
fixated on a point ahead of them.

“You will see in a moment. First I need to tell you where we are.” Sirius answered, his tongue
sticking out slightly. Remus tried to see where he was looking, or even what street they were on,
but there was nothing identifying nearby besides the park on one side and the row of old homes on
the other. There wasn’t even anyone else walking about at the time.

“We are at 12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London.” Sirius said with a new found confidence in
his voice. Seconds later the ground rumbled and Remus’ head whipped around to the row of homes
which were now parting in the middle and emerging from them was another house, aged more than
the others and with a darker appearance from the brick to the steps that lead to wide double doors.
Remus rubbed at his eyes, but the home didn’t disappear.

“Sirius.” Remus began, but Sirius grabbed onto his arm and hurrided them up the steps looking
over his shoulders as he pulled a wand to cast an undetectable spell to unlock the doors. Remus
didn’t even know he had gotten a wand, as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, we–we just have to get inside and I can start answering your questions.” Sirius said, a
meekness coming to him as he held the door open to reveal an ornate, but dark entrance way wider
and taller than it should have been. Magic, the home was filled with magic obviously. A portion of
him screamed for him to run, but he suppressed it. He had misjudged Sirius once, he wouldn’t
again. Swallowing down a dry throat, he stepped inside to the scents of must and paint. The door
closed with a ring behind him and then there was silence. No birds chirping or cars passing on the
street. A complete silence fell over them.
“Welcome.” Sirius said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “To the ancestral home of the
Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.”

“This–this is your childhood home.” Remus said when he had a moment to let the realisation dawn
on him. Sirius nodded as he took two steps further in. A chandelier bigger than Remus’ childhood
bedroom hung above them and the rug beneath his feet had to be worth more than a year's wages.

“In the flesh she is. A house of horrors really, but in the past few years… well there have been
some refurbishments and it’s not as awful as it once was.” Sirius said, turning in a circle around
himself, hands shove in pockets once more.

“Refurbishments– uh was it– has your grandfather been working on it?” Remus asked, trying to
decipher why of all the places they had come here. Sirius gulped and tapped his boot on the
wooden floors.

“H-Harry is in Wales today. We thought it best we do this slowly.” Sirius said, his words catching
in his throat causing him to cough at the end. Remus didn’t understand what Harry had to do with
anything. Sirius’ shoulders dropped as he stumbled back and sat at the wide end of the stairs and
let it creak under his weight.

“Bloody hell, we’re dragging this out and there is no good way to explain it. By Merlin, just come
out. It is better he just sees.” Sirius said, waving his hand towards a dark corner that led a few steps
down into what he assumed was a kitchen. Movement shuffled in the shadows and the faint sounds
of socked feet were stumbling about until he could see the outline of the person in the darkness.
Sirius raised his hands and clapped twice and the chandelier above flooded the room with warm
candlelight. Standing in the corner of the room was a person. A person with dark hair curled at the
ends and silver eyes, not the blue tint Sirius held, but like the precious metal, liquid and solid all at
once.

“I–who are you?” Remus said, leaning forward trying to place it. He seemed familiar and unknown
at the same time. The person stepped forward carefully and he could see his features better. Sharp
cheekbones and long eyelashes, objectively attractive in an old and established way. Like royalty
one would almost say.

“I told you he wouldn’t be able to tell.” The person said, directing his words to Sirius, who was
sitting on the stairs still. Sirius shook his head in disagreement.

“Give him a moment. It’s been years, none of us look the same anymore.” Sirius replied.

His words were strange. As if Remus should know this person. There was a familial relationship. It
was plain to see the man held the same features the Blacks prided themselves on. Remus knew
there was no other legitimate son of the House of Black, Sirius had lamented it thoroughly that he
was to be the heir. Well, there were no more sons of the House of Black. Long ago there had been
two. It could not be though, he shook his head to himself. It was not possible. A bastard perhaps,
Sirius said his father was famous for his affairs, permanently silencing a few husbands who stood
in his way. That wouldn’t explain why Sirius believed he should know him though. He had no
reason to know Orion’s bastards. He racked his brain over and over. The three of them stood in a
strange formation, none of them moving, hardly breathing. Remus took another look, there was the
scar, just by the hairline where it should have been. From the pieces of wall falling on him as
Sirius had cast a spell in their duel back in Hogwarts, but it could be coincidence. Then there was
the dimple, the single dimple on the right side of his face showing from how he pulled his lips tight
out of nervousness. It couldn’t be though. Unless it was a trick, a test of some sort he had to pass.
The Blacks were known to do madder acts.
“No.” Remus breathed out. No one moved, they only stared at him.

“Sirius, this isn’t funny.” Remus said, leaning back on his heels. His eyes went to Sirius who had
never owned his name better in the moment. His appearance was almost grave as he stood and held
out his hand tentatively towards Remus. He shooed it away.

“Stop it, it’s too soon for jokes, Sirius.” Remus said, his eyes starting to sting. To his dismay, the
other person stepped forward.

“I swear it isn’t a joke. Sirius was as in the dark as you were once too. E–everyone was. I did it on
purpose.” The person spoke and now he could hear the similarities in the voice. Remus closed his
eyes hoping to rid his vision of the person and opened them to find Sirius laughing at his cruel joke
of bringing his dead brother’s likeness back to life. When his eyes opened, he was still there.

“No.” Remus moaned as he brought his hand to his mouth.

“Remus.” The person said, their voice sympathetic if he didn’t know better.

“Don’t say my name.” Remus was quick to snip. The person held their hands up in a move of
defeat.

“Then let me say mine.” The person replied. Remus did not protest and they took a long deep
breath, building courage to say their own name causing a tremble in Remus’ tired knees.

“I am Regulus Arcturus Black.” He said, and with it went any notion otherwise that Remus could
rationalise.

Harry pushed open the door to the office with some effort, it had a habit of getting stuck at times,
being warped from age. He wondered if there was a spell to fix it or if it would be another quirk of
the old house. Once the door was pushed in, Harry found the person he’d been looking for. His
grandfather sat tall behind a desk with glasses on his nose and an old book with yellowed pages in
front of him.

“Harry.” Arcturus greeted him and motioned for Harry to take a seat as he picked up a quill and
noted information on parchment. Harry wandered slowly to the seat taking in the sights of the
office, Arcturus’ brother was snoozing in portrait nearby. The artefacts that dated back centuries
lined the shelves and hung on the walls, he stopped by a particular piece of work he’d always
admired and that had been on his mind recently. A painting with no magic portraying a man just
older than Regulus’ age sitting with a staff-like device in one hand on a looming chair while
indiscernible people bowed before him. Two men sat in the shadows over each shoulder looking
terribly like the man in the middle, though a few years younger with their hair long and plaited
down their shoulders while the centre man had his hair cut short and starkly to his head.

“Mars Black, the rightful heir.” Arcturus said without lifting his head.

“You’ve told me the story, but you haven’t told me it all have you?” Harry asked, keeping his eye
on the painting, his eye catching to the three women painted on the edge, in similar formation to
their husbands with one in front and two over shoulder, their fairer skin and colourful hair made
them stand out in the sea of darkness.

“I had thought it inappropriate to give you all the details I confess, but you know the basis. Mars,
Neptune and Jupiter were the children of Titan and Alpha Black. A cursed union for Titan was
selfish and immoral and when his second wife produced only two daughters, he caused her
disappearance and likely her death and then took his own daughter as wife. She bore him three sons
before she reached twenty and when her third was only newly born and the war between Saturn’s
fourteen sons began to rage, she feld with them. Pretending they perished in a battle by burning the
room they shared. She boarded a boat with three young children and landed on this isle where
through her own cunning and ambition was able to find herself in front of the recently widower
heir of House Prewett. They married a year after they met and he took her sons and raised them as
one would raise bastards of a great house, given education and combat skills, but not given land or
great fiance. When she bore him four more sons, he had no need for her bastard sons and they
knew they would have to make their own name and through encouragement of their mother the
three of them married daughters of the great three houses at the time and eventually set sail with
their own warriors back to their home land to claim the heirdom.” Arcturus said, setting his quill
down.

“By claiming you mean killing.” Harry said, his head turning slightly to look at the way the lines
had been drawn into Mars brow as if the weight he carried was heavy so fresh after victory.

“There was much death, much destruction, I will not lie to you, but they were not the first, they
were only the last.” Arcturus replied.

“Their wives fought as well did they not?” Harry asked. Arcturus cleared his throat before
answering.

“Angharad Prewett was a dragonrider, one of the few to ever live. She rode her dragon into battle.
Deirdre MacMillan was skilled in combat and she fought along the sides of her husband and
brothers. Then, Arcanuma Peverell was, well, a Peverall, and they had magic great and unknown to
most.” Arcturus explained.

“The Peverell line has died, it was the first on the ancient lines to die while the other three
survived.” Harry added, finally tearing his eyes away from the painting. His grandfather was
staring at him from his desk with his arms crossed and a perplexed look in his eye Harry couldn’t
place.

“They died in male line, but their daughters still live on. Come here, Harry, I want to show you
something.” Arcturus said, motioning with a frail arm for Harry to come to his side. Harry moved
around the back side of the desk leaning over at an old piece of parchment his grandfather was
holding.

“Do you see that?” He said, pointing to a name and tracing down a long line until he paused at
another section. Harry’s eyes widened as he leaned closer.

“So Potters are descended from the Peverell family as well?” He asked as he looked at the different
ancient names of Potters listed for generations back, his grandfather unfolding the paper more and
more until it tipped over the side of the desk and the last few names could be seen. His finger
traced over his own name before following a line up to his fathers, his birth and death dates written
in dark ink less faded than those before him. Arcturus' hand came to meet his and bring it back to
the top where three names stood side by side.

“The Blacks are not the only family with a famous three brothers, these of which the remaining
lineage descends from had three brothers and there are many whispers that they once held the
greatest tools known to wizardkind. You’ve heard the story, Regulus read it to you when you were
young.” Arcturus explained and Harry narrowed his eyes at the faded names.

“Ignotus. Three brothers, do you mean the Tale of the Three Brothers?” Harry asked, turning
around to face his grandfather, who had leaned closely to him. With a wry smile, he nodded.
“Is the Tale of the Three Brothers real? But wait, that can’t mean?” Harry said, his mouth dropping
slightly. Arcturus opened a low drawer with a scratch of old wood on wood and from within he
pulled the hardly visible shimmer of cloak before it became indiscernible to the naked eye.

“The Invisibility Cloak, money could not buy you a finer one. If I am to believe what I have
studied extensively, it is the same one Ignotus had. It will not age or tear, there will never be
another like it. It is your inheritance, your right from the Peverall family to own and treat it with
the utmost respect.” Arcturus said with a shuffle of his hand as he passed it over to Harry. Harry’s
hand touched it more gingerly than he ever had before. Pulling it close to his face, he could hardly
believe the history that must be woven into the fabric. If it could speak, no doubt it would have
more knowledge than anyone in the house, even his grandfather.

“But if the cloak is real..” Harry trailed off, his eyes fascinated with every corner of the cloak.

“The other two seemed to have been real at one point as well. Though their locations are harder to
determine. The wand switched hands many times, though I believe it may have been the secret
weapon that helped our ancestors win their battle so many years ago. I believe Arcanuma Peverell
was given use of the wand by her family and her hurriedness to return home was not driven by her
want of family or her husband’s land to claim in England. I believe she needed to return the wand.”
Arcturus said, his hand going to another worn book to his side with small scratchy writing lining
the pages.

“Neptune’s diary, he committed to it greatly over the years, more than either of his brothers kept
record. I believe as the youngest he felt it his duty to record their history. He does not state outright
that they have the wand, as he does state of Angharad’s dragon or Deirdre’s command of her
brothers and cousins that fought with them. But he speaks of their own magic, of their own tool,
never giving it a name. There was a moment, a long heavy moment, when it seemed even with their
numbers and their dragon, that they would lose. To what avail that would have been for our family
I do not know. Titan sat back as the heir after the death of all of his sons, his brothers, and his
grandchildren, but he was an old man, older than I. He would sire no more children and the only
heir they had was chained in a dungeon for his refusal to take another wife and sire more sons after
his two young sons were killed by passing spells in their own home.” Arcturus explained, a
crooked finger shifting the pages and flipping to a new one. Harry couldn’t decipher what the
words meant, they were in a language old and dated.

“The stone?” Harry asked, his hand gripping the cloak tightly when his eyes turned away.
Arcturus' jaw was hardset and he shook his head slightly.

“I have yet to find the stone.” He said, plainly giving no further explanation.

“But if you did, if you found all three, would it really do as the story says? Could one defeat
death?” Harry asked, shifting his weight to lean over the desk and scan the mess of weathered
parchment and creased books and ancient journals. Stories of people come and are long gone.
Some remembered, some forgotten to history.

“I could not say. Stories have a way of being exaggerated over time. I have seen no evidence of the
truth or falsehood, but I am still looking, Harry.” He replied, putting his other hand on Harry’s head
and ruffling his hair. It was in need of a cut, but part of him wanted to grow it out and see if he
could compete with Sirius in hair length. Sirius would probably win though no matter how hard he
tried. Harry looked up at the painting one last time and from this angle, it looked as if Mars Black
was staring directly at him beckoning to tell him something he never could with the stillness he’d
been painted in. There was no life or magic behind him, only blended colours and careful brush
strokes to try and convey a story with no words.
“Professor Dumbledore mentioned them.” Harry said, nodding towards the painting which tore his
grandfather’s attention away from his work. Arcturus' tired eyes studied the painting for a long
moment before speaking.

“What did he have to say?” He asked, in a solemn voice, but his hand was still resting comfortingly
on Harry’s head.

“That I have been raised to think them heroes, but others believe them to be horrors. That they had
all chances to leave their family behind and start anew and instead they returned home and fought
just as ruthlessly as their brothers before them. They became what everyone expected of them.”
Harry replied, turning his head up to his grandfather. Minutes ticked by contemplatively, his
grandfather only slowly stroking his head without words to say until he peeled his eyes away and
looked back at Harry.

“They did not abandon their family, Harry. They did not forget who they were or where they came
from and because of that our family still stands today, while their methods were questionable and
the bloodshed horrible, I say we must give credit where it lies due. Do you agree?” Arcturus asked
with no pressure in his eyes for Harry to agree. He could disagree openly and there would be no
malice to be had.

“I think so.” Harry answered quietly, the eyes from the portrait still on him.

“You are a smart boy, Harry. You come to your own decisions and do not let old men like me or
Dumbledore bestow our own values on you without challenging them yourself. I will admit I am a
faulty man more than many others, you have no doubt heard and will hear many things said of me,
but let your judgement lie here.” Arcturus said, bringing his hand to Harry’s chest, tapping twice
before letting his hand drop and a small groan escape him as he pressed into his side with his eyes
tightly closed. Harry held onto him until the pain had passed and his grandfather’s eyes opened
duller than before.

“It’s nearly dinner, why don’t you clean up?” Arcturus suggested as he adjusted in his seat. Harry
knew better than to make a fuss of his pain and instead left the room with the cloak in hand to store
it away safely as he could before dinner. Arcturus followed his moves with watchful eyes, listening
to his feet climb the stairs until his ears could hear no more, and they travelled less and less with
sound anymore.

“You didn’t tell him everything.” A voice said and he looked up to see his brother with his eyes
open lying on his back staring up at the ceiling.

“I will not frighten him until I know for certain. Tomorrow I begin training him and by the end of
summer I hope to have my answers.” Arcturus replied the roaring pain raging again up his side. A
sign he had overexerted himself once again, what had Lancelot warned him? Continue to do it and
his heart would fail him as it had once failed his son.

“Those ancient books will only tell you what you already know, Arcturus.” Regulus I replied,
rolling over on his side, facing away from his brother.

Arcturus felt no need to reply. His brother may be right, he’d been right in life more than Arcturus’
pride let him admit. For Harry’s sake, he hoped he was wrong. That there was some other
explanation in his books and pages he toiled over day after day, and if what he worried was true
that there was another way, any other way so that Harry would not have to suffer. His hope lied in
the past as he looked at the painting Harry had been infatuated with. He could see what Harry
could not. The tremors from the painter's hand, the mixtures of colours over and over again trying
to darken it further, the fear it was meant to impose. The blood freshly dripping from each brothers’
 fingers as they tore their father’s head from his neck.

“If only you could speak.” Arcturus dared challenge the portrait that more than once he swore had
moved out of the corner of his eye, mocking him with the knowledge at their fingertips that was
out of grasp for him. With a sigh, he turned his blurred vision down once more to mark his final
spot before having to abandon his work for the night. The passage in Neptune's journal was not
useful for his work, but it struck a chord.

My mother was honest and truthful in her words. We would be men who could never return to
boyhood when we left her hold. I had heard, but not understood. She had wisdom beyond any of us
and if we had known what would lie in wait for us, would we have ever left her grasp? To feel this
way, to crave the hatred and the violence, if we had known– if I had known who I would become, I
would have never let my mother put me down on the soil of this ground.

Chapter End Notes

I will admit my own lore conflicts with the bit of Peverell history we know, mainly in
timeline. But canon? What's canon?

Thank you for reading I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the lovely comments and
seeing the kudos and bookmarks grow!

P.S. This has surpassed 500k words and... this spiraled out of control very quickly and
I am sorry for that -.- I will try and hurry up and get along with it, but there is still over
half the series left... I make no promises.
 Memories
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior death, Mentions of prior miscarriage

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“I may need you to explain it one more time.” Remus muttered, both his hands resting on his
forehead, pushing his hair off his face. He felt warm. He typically felt warm, but in the stuffy
house with his head pounding in confusion, his face felt like he’d spent the entire day in a garden
with the sun beating down on him.

“I’ve explained it three times.” Someone hissed, as he heard the impact of what was likely an
elbow to side.

“Regulus.” Sirius hissed. There was that name again. Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black. Remus
remembers the first time he’d heard such a name. His father had been reading The Daily Prophet
over weak tea with dark circles under his eyes and his mother served toast and jam that Remus
knew his father would hardly nibble on. The snort had caught his attention.

“Love?” His mother had asked as she sat down, her eyes fascinated with the moving pictures of the
newspaper.

“Look at this, The House of Black announces the birth of the spare to their home, Regulus
Arcturus Black the Second, named after his deceased paternal uncle, Regulus and former heir,
Arcturus Black. Regulus is the second child of Orion and Walburga Black.” Lyall had said,
pointing to a photo on the front page. Hope leaned forwards and nodded, but she had that look in
her eye where she never quite understood what her husband was on about.

Remus was small, but he wondered what caused a family to have the birth of their son take over the
entire front page. He had hunted down the paper when his father had finished it to stare at the
picture. There in muted colours across the front page in clothes he’d never seen before with high
collars and thick fabrics was a family looking quite unlike his own. A man nearly his father’s age
was standing with his hand on the shoulder of a young boy with pale skin and wide eyes, and
sitting in a chair in front of them was a woman with a refined nose and dark hair all piled on top of
her head. In her arms was a baby wrapped in black lace with his eyes closed and face peaceful. The
only peaceful person in the photo from the fear stricken look in the young boy's face and the scowl
across the parents. Remus had chucked the paper away again before he had to stare at them any
further. Regulus Arcturus Black was a funny name anyways.

Years later, he would meet the boy with the funny name. Be introduced to him by his older brother
who had an equally funny name. Granted Remus couldn’t speak much, his mother had gotten his
name from an old tale and it had ended up coming with a curse that followed not long after he’d
first seen the photo. Only the boy he’d met all those years ago and the man in front of him now
couldn’t be more different. For one, that boy had died, years ago.

“I just don’t understand, you are dead. They buried you. You’re telling me you tricked everyone,
including… Voldemort into believing you were dead.” Remus said, heisting over the word, but he
got a bit of satisfaction at the way it made Regulus shiver.
“I did.” He answered, simply. Clearly tired of his drawn out explanations he’d been giving for the
better part of a day as for the first time he noticed the sun setting on the walls across from him.

“And you’ve just been holed up here the entire time, raising Harry?” Remus asked. If anything the
first part he could wrap his head around on the sheer fact that the latter was completely
preposterous. Dumbledore gives Harry Potter to Regulus Black, supposedly a deceased teenage
Death Eater. Dumbledore must have been hit with one too many spells, but then again, he did go
along with the belief that Sirius was guilty. They’d all been wrong about that, well all of them
except his family he supposed. The Blacks were thicker than blood.

“Not here per se, we spent some time here and we’ve come back more since he began at Hogwarts,
but it is true, he was raised in Switzerland. Our Aunt Cassiopeia, you may remember the name. I
wrote you a letter under her name many years ago, saying to keep Uncle Alphard’s flat after Sirius
was arrested.” Regulus said, sheepishly.

“That was you?” Remus breathed out, once again feeling as if he was in a dream or a prolonged
prank they had not broken yet, but he dung his nails into his palm and could feel pain.

“He sends the wolfsbane potion too.” Sirius added, his eyes eager, like a child trying to get to his
friends who had never met to get along. Sirius and Regulus, two opposite ends, vehemently against
one another, sitting side by side once again as brothers. Maybe he had died. Maybe this was some
prolonged hell.

“You– you send that? But— why?” Remus asked, the ache growing in his head. Why would
Regulus of all people willingly send him an expensive and difficult potion each month with nothing
to gain from it.

“I didn’t want you to suffer.” Regulus answered, and part of Remus was so used to sharp cuts and
breathy undertones of disgust that he flinched waiting for more to come, but it was all Regulus
said. When he lifted his head, he did look sincere, a bit tired at the whole affair. Remus couldn’t
understand and thankfully the door to the room they were in opened slowly. Only when he noticed
the person standing in the entrance did he hesitate.

“My daughter said she will keep Harry for the night, he’s asked to visit his friend at The Burrow
tomorrow. I agreed on your behalf because it seemed you needed more time.” Arcturus Black
replied, his towering form leaning onto an ornate cane. It probably cost at least ten times more than
Remus’ old one he’d picked at a second hand shop.

“Thank you.” Regulus replied half turned around in his seat and Remus could not yet wrap his
mind around that Regulus was the one in charge of Harry’s care. Every summer after Hogwarts, all
those times Remus had wondered how Harry was being treated, Harry wasn’t even in England.
Everyone acted as if it was the most normal event, coming to Regulus to inform him of Harry’s
whereabouts, Regulus sending Harry to an aunt and uncle’s for care. Merlin, if he had cared to look
for the Hogsmeade letters, Regulus’ signature was likely on it. Even though McGonagall had
explained he’d be held back for safety purposes.

“Son.” Someone said, and it took Remus a long moment to register who he was speaking with and
even so he looked over his shoulders.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner, my cousin has prepared quite a feast for the affair.” Arcturus
said when Remus finally met his eye. Words seemed to turn to mush in his mouth, yet somehow he
managed a weak nod and muttered thank you.

“It’ll be ready in a moment, don’t keep your aunts waiting.” Arcturus warned, before with great
effort he backed out of the doorway, letting it close sharply behind him.

“Aunts?” Remus asked, the exhaustion on his mind unable to allow him to form complete
sentences. Sirius and Regulus exchanged a look, but he did not care to think about it further than a
glance.

“I believe technically they are our cousins as well, but you know the family gets all crossed over.”
Sirius said with a shrug.

“Aunt is a respectful term in this case, they grew up with Arcturus or around the same time as him
so he calls them cousins, but we call them aunts, you pick up on it eventually.” Regulus added
softly while he stood. Sirius jumped up, eagerly looking at Remus with eyes not taunted by years of
Azkaban imprisonment. He’d let that portion of the story roll off, he’d ask more on it later. Sirius
had been free, for years, hidden away with Regulus and Harry by their family. Regulus exited first
yet Sirius lingered so Remus, falling into old habits, paused for a moment.

“It was me, you know. The letters all those years. I sent them.” Sirius whispered, his usual
brightness and cheer fading from his face for a moment. A bashfulness seemed to take over.
Remus realised he worried a recoil, a betrayal for not expressing it sooner. Remus had known the
worst betrayals, he’d lived with the guilt on his conscience for too long.

“Thank you.” He replied, and Sirius’ head snapped up. Shock written on his face until it faded into
appreciation and for once, Sirius chose not to speak with words. Instead, he held the door open and
allowed Remus the honour of going first. Maybe it was small, but it was beginning.

Descending down the creaking stairs, he could hear the raised voices of conversation and the
enticing smells of food freshly cooked and his stomach betrayed him as it growled. Sirius only
chuckled under breath and it sounded strange. Transporting him back to a time he felt didn't exist
anymore, warm spring days filled with laughter. Maybe what had died, could be revived again.

Once he stepped through the threshold of the kitchen, he was engulfed in a hug and felt a gentle
kiss pushed into his cheek. Bewildered, he kept his hands frozen to his side. Once he was pushed
back and an older woman with a light pink colour on her lips and grey and black hair tight in a bun
on top of her head welcomed him.

“Remus, so good to meet you, we have heard this one go on and on for sometime now.” The older
woman said.

“This is my brother here, Marius and oh there carrying the roast is his wife, Helena. Merlin me, did
we cook too much?” She said, pointing to a man setting plates on the table and a woman with a
jolly appearance pulling a hot dish from the kitchen.

“Harry is staying at Lucretia and Ignatius’ home tonight. He’s going to see Ron and the rest of the
Weaselys tomorrow.” Regulus informed as he sat down at the table.

“Oh good for him, though I know the visit won’t be easy for Lucretia and Ignatius, Molly will
want her words with them.” Cassiopeia said, shaking her head as she put a hand on Remus’ back
and offered him a seat near the middle of the table. Sirius took the seat next to him rather
enthusiastically.

Remus was trying to be easy with the stark intrusion to his routine. Hogwarts dinners had been
painfully strange, reminding him of a time passed he could no longer touch, but the joy of the
youthful students pushed him through. Here he was out of water. Completely estranged on how to
proceed. A small knocking sound interrupted their dinner and he was almost grateful for the
chance to catch his breath. The woman who greeted him earlier went to respond to the noise with a
wand, he noted, pulled to her side. Always on watch, the scene wasn’t as serene as it may appear.

“A letter for you.” Cassiopeia said once she returned. She passed a yellowed envelope over the
table to Arcturus before taking her own seat. Arcturus pulled glasses from his robe and placed them
over his nose as he unfolded the letter and straightened out the parchment inside, his forehead
creasing.

“Oh.” He murmured as everyone had paused to intensely watch Arcturus, Remus was caught in an
attentive fate of the circumstances. Clearly without dispute, Arcturus was the head. Much like the
students would hush and stare whenever Dumbledore rose in The Great Hall.

“Cygnus.” Arcturus said before folding the letter and tucking it from sight. “I had suspected a letter
the first night, but he had always been the more competent of the three sons. Not rash like Alphard
or prowling like Orion, I am certain he sat on this letter for several days before mailing it. He
wishes to speak, now that an heir has returned to the House of Black.”

Remus felt his stomach drop, and Sirius lost some of his colour. Arcturus had said the heirdom was
in Sirius’ hands on how he chose to go about it, but from the way he reacted there had not been a
conversation on it yet. Arcturus caught the look and with some effort waved his hand at Sirius.

“Later Sirius, we will discuss it over tea. Enjoy dinner, I have delayed us all enough.” Arcturus
said, and the forks and knives were raised again. Remus was a bit confused by the settling but
when a toe gently touched his ankle, he caught Sirius looking at him.

“Furthest from the plate.” He whispered, Remus nodded thankfully as he raised the last fork to
pierce into the salad in front of him. It felt curious, sitting at the table surrounded by these people
he never thought would allow him a place, but strangely enough as conversation rose around him,
the most mundane of news, it felt right. Maybe it was temporary. Sirius had a difficult conversation
after tea, Harry would return tomorrow from Wales, and this feeling would likely pass. For the time
being, he would enjoy the moment. With a glance over at Sirius, who had lights twinkling in his
eyes. Yes, he thought, he would be alright with this for now.

“Harry, sit.” Arcturus said, the office he inhabited had been rearranged for their lesson today. Each
day he would have Harry focus on his magic, his abilities, to carve them into greater works with
more control than most. To make him powerful for the life that lay ahead, a path chosen and
created by someone else.

Harry sat, looking much like a teenager Arcturus had seen time and time again in his life. The
crooked grin filled with the hubris of the age, and the energy of one without the wear of time. It
would be both a curse and a blessing.

“We’ve worked on this before, Harry, but I wish to push further. I want to assure no matter who
tries, they will be unsuccessful in getting into your mind.” Arcturus said from his chair directly
across from Harry, their knees nearly touching with how Harry had grown. He may sprout up
higher than all of them at this pace.

“Make the mind blank.” Harry said, repeating what had been taught to him before.

“Yes, but more than just make it blank. So people will be so powerful they may be unreasonable to
keep out for long periods of time. The mind tires as the body does, so we will practise what to do if
someone gets into your mind. For it is your mind, Harry, and it has power beyond what you know.”
Arcturus explained, setting his cane aside. It would be difficult to teach him in the small doses his
health allowed, but he had plans. Help to assist in getting Harry a lesson every day in magic left
untouched by him. Magic, he feared, Harry would need.

“I am going to enter your mind, and I will sit in the front as I have taught you to do. Allowing you
to get used to the feeling again, but then I will move further in, like the house example I taught you.
Your current thoughts going through your head are the Entrance Hall, but your memories and
desires are deeper into the house like the kitchens or the bedrooms. What you will need to do is
guide me to what you want me to see, not what I am looking for.” Arcturus explained, Harry was
attentive, though his eyes were turning to the side, looking down at the floor.

“What if there are things I don’t want you to see, but I’m not able to change your path?” Harry
asked. His hands were picking at his nails, Arcturus reached out to put his hand over his.

“Keep your eyes up, Harry, otherwise people will take it as a sign to step over you.” He cautioned,
removing his hand slowly as Harry cracked his hands, but put them still to his side. “What would
you not wish me to see?”

“Well you can see my thoughts, not just my memories. Any of my thoughts, even the private ones.”
Harry said growing flush under the lit candles surrounding the room and the windows that had
been thrown open behind them. Arcturus felt a jostle of youthful embarrassment. He put his hand
on Harry’s knee patting twice before he spoke.

“You know it might surprise you, Harry, but I was a young man once as well with thoughts I didn’t
want to be intruded on. Never stopped my father, but I have astutely resolved to not be him. So I
will not go searching for anything private, but be warned, others will not be so kind and the reason
we practise is so you can keep them away from everything in your mind, Harry. The good, the bad,
and the normal stuff we’d rather not be known.” Arcturus said, giving a slight wink. Harry gulped,
but he nodded.

Arcturus had him breath deeply a few times before he was in his mind. Harry did well of emptying
it of thought, but he could feel the slight uneasiness cross his mind briefly before it passed. He
went searching for memories he felt Harry would be more comfortable with. Memories of summers
when he was younger, the reflection of the bright sun on rippling water, of dirt between his toes as
he ran across the grass, or the feel of the air rushing past his ears as he flew at speeds a bit reckless.
It took a moment for Harry to adjust, this was difficult magic, even the most studied of wizards
would not know how to take control of someone once they were in their mind. Expelling them was
the best course of action, but there was no guarantee it would always work. Harry needed to be
armed for anything.

Harry caught onto the memories, he could feel the slight movement in his mind as he tried to push
Arcturus back to front of his mind. Where only his current thoughts could be, there was the slight
pulse of power. More impressive than he expected on the first try, but he pushed further in.
Disarming the power Harry had used, he moved onto newer memories. Harry’s Quidditch
practices, study habits, and late night strolls under moonlight with the invisibility cloak in hand. A
bit too much like the people who raised him, he was, but Arcturus continued on. Harry tried a new
approach, pushing him back to the childhood memories. It was a good effort, but Arcturus moved
forward still. Then with a pang of power, Harry pushed him towards an entirely new thought
process, the increased heartbeat, the sweaty palms while staring up into the field trying to catch the
glimpse of a flying person and oh– Arcturus pulled out of Harry’s head completely.

“Merlin.” Harry said, putting his face into his hands. “I meant– I was trying to keep you away from
there and I– Merlin.”
“Harry,” Arcturus began, “it is fine. The fact that you were able to move my path at all was
impressive. It takes practice and control.”

Harry was still flustered and Arcturus thought it best to move onto another method. He would do
no good with his mind distracted. While he needed to be worked under pressure, Arcturus did not
require ridicule for his lessons to take effect.

“Here, look at me.” Arcturus said. Harry’s eyes looked up from under his eyelashes.

“Enter my mind, let me show you how I would do it.” Arcturus said, Harry’s eyes grew softer in
appreciation. As he went for his wand, he hadn’t mastered the Legilimency wandless yet, but he
planned to work on that as well this summer. Arcturus leaned back into his seat, letting his
defences fall. Harry’s magic was softer, more gentle than he was used to when people entered his
mind. He let the thought slip by for Harry to know, to encourage him forward. Harry went on,
moving to recent memories. The dinner with the young Mister Lupin at the table, the conversation
with Harry only days ago, after a moment Arcturus paused his movement, keeping it frozen on
Harry observing the Portrait of the Three Brothers. He tried to push harder, but Arcturus had him in
a hold and with a bit of effort he switched the memories.

Harry was now surrounded by memories he wouldn’t know, old ones. Memories he would not have
gone searching for, hoping to convey confusion could be a tactic used in these instances. Instead of
recent memories of people Harry knew, he gave him brief moments of others. People who have
long passed. A moment with his brother, Regulus at the manor in France during the war, a tea he
had with his sister at the seaside cottage when they were both incredibly young, not much older
than Harry, a moment in the Ministry as he followed on the heels of Alwyn Prewett, breathing each
word as if they were scripture, and finally, a quiet moment of peace with his wife, holding their
first child close to her chest as he looked down at the two of them. Complete tranquillity. Enough
time had passed with a gentle push he told Harry to leave his mind.

“Wow.” Harry whispered, letting his arm fall limp. Arcturus took a cloth and dabbed a bit of
perspiration at his temple while Harry soaked in the moment.

“How have you lived through it all? The loss.” Harry asked, and Arcturus felt they may have just
come onto another lesson.

“I had to, much like you have. I am not the only one who has experienced loss.” Arcturus said,
adjusting himself comfortably into his seat. Slowly, Harry nodded.

“But I don’t remember them. I don’t really have any memories of them. I don’t know how to miss
them.” Harry said. Arcturus patted close to him and Harry stood and sat on the edge of the seat,
gentler and more careful than he had once been. Arcturus was not ignorant to it.

“Harry, you miss them however you please. Miss them for all the three of you never got to do, miss
them for memories you did not create, miss them for the first year of your life your mind does not
let you recall. Do not let anyone else tell you how you should miss them. It is your grief, you carry
it as you need.” Arcturus offered. Harry nodded, fiddling with his hands again, but he kept his eyes
up this time. Arcturus rubbed his back for a moment until he could feel his lungs fill full once
more.

“Again. I want you to try again.” Harry said, courage back in his voice.

“Then again we will do.” He replied, showing Harry back to his seat and letting him get settled.
Then they began again, and again until the afternoon hours waned to evening and Arcturus knew
he had overexerted himself. Harry's improvement was noted. He didn’t send Arcturus reeling to the
 memories he’d rather hide again, though he still had some difficulty with pulling Arcturus away
from the memories or thoughts he latched onto. A small knock on the door interrupted what would
be their final break.

“Harry, it’s nearly supper.” Regulus said, stepping in with his brother over his shoulder. They did
stick together much again, like when they had been infants and Arcturus had poorly left them in
the hands of their parents. He should have taken them. He knew it, but he was too weak to raise a
child let alone two without his wife.

“Go on, Harry, ready for supper. Tomorrow I have asked Aunt Helena to take you to St Mungo’s to
study some remedial healing. She’ll expect you to be in top form.” Arcturus said, waving Harry on.
He hurried past Regulus and Sirius, likely propelled by the hunger he would have only now
released. Arcturus did not wish to intrude, but he had one final comment to make.

“Regulus,” Arcturus said before he was outside the door. He and his brother turned together in time
to face him.

“Maybe talk to Harry, I think he may have a small fancy on someone at his school, just assure he
knows the proper ways and the consequences of any actions. I’d hate for him to follow so directly
in my footsteps.” Arcturus offered the bit of sage advice he could. Regulus turned a bit pink, but
nodded and pushed his brother out the room as he began questioning what Arcturus meant behind
the heavy wooden door.

“Have you really never noticed, Sirius? Aunt Lucy’s birthday is six months after their wedding
date.” Regulus was hissing under his breath causing Arcturus to chuckle a little. Yes it had been a
scandal back then, but hardly a comment would be made now.

“Wait– so, Merlin nevermind I don’t want to think about that, he’s our grandfather.” Sirius said
back.

“Merlin be, Sirius he had two children.” Regulus responded before their voices muffled too greatly
for him to hear further, but he whispered to himself.

“I had five actually, only two survived past the first day, some never past the womb.” He
murmured as he looked at a small picture to the corner of his desk where a person he no longer
recognised sat beside his wife, smiling. Such a dangerous act, but he was doing it on her behalf.
How terrible it had been for her, they had just found out they were expecting once again and she
had sworn to him it would be the final time. She could take no more loss, no more babies that
would never grow outside of her. He’d agreed, no matter how much it damned them both if the
baby did not survive, or in the eyes of his family a worse fate befell them, if he had another
daughter. Next to the photo was the one of the cursed daughter he’d been given, a newer one from
only a few holidays ago, standing tall and proud with grey streaks in her hair and a wrinkle or two
on her face, looking ever like her mother in some ways, and forced to look like him in others. She
never was a curse, from the moment he learned until his last breath, she was his greatest blessing.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the delay! I got caught up in a lot, had to help some friends move and that
left me thoroughly exhausted, but it is here now and I hope you enjoy!
 An Itch
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of torture, death

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Does this look alright?” Lucretia asked, turning to her husband for confirmation. He was busy
with a letter that had arrived.

“Looks lovely, dear.” He said with only half a glance at the table she had set for the meal, his brow
knitted together at the letter in his hand.

“Ignatius.” She said, straighten out a spoon. “You usually attempt better.”

“My apologies, love. Take a look at this here.” He said, removing his glasses as he handed her the
letter. She took it with delicacy. One glance at the scratchy writing and she knew who it was from.

“Charlie, oh is he in any trouble?” She asked, as her eyes scanned the words.

“Not yet.” Ignatius said with a sigh, rubbing at his temples. The same way he would when he’d
have to try and reason with their sons when they were younger. They were too much like him and
he had confined to her had his father still been alive, he’d owe him an apology for his behaviour.
She’d smile and reminded him such behaviour was half the reason they ended up together and a bit
of the tension would released from his forehead. Now their nephews and niece seemed keen to the
same attitudes.

“Oh.” She said, after completing the letter. Charlie wasn’t in any trouble yet, but there would be
some coming his way.

“Exactly.” Ignatius sighed again, pulling out the seat and sitting with his head buried in his hands.
She took a place next to him.

“Molly and Arthur are on their way and this is what Charlie wishes to ask? Do you believe he had
told them?” She asked, rolling her lower lip between her teeth. The discussion to come was tough
enough as it could be and this would only add to it. Molly and Arthur had asked to come to dinner
to discuss all that had happened. Away from the children, they had emphasised.

“Knowing Charlie, he will tell his mother and father after he lands in Britain.” Ignatius answered,
dropping one hand to tap on the edge of the well set table. Molly would think it uppity, but to
Lucretia it was commonplace. The communication and generational difference seemed starker than
when she was a child, but maybe this is how her father felt, why his ways were so difficult to
change.

“We did invite them.” She sighed back, taking the sit across from him and reaching to still his
antsy hand.

“Well the Quidditch World Cup, Charlie could have played in it if he wanted and it wouldn’t be
fair to not invite his brother. I’ll try to extend the invitation to Molly and the rest of the children,
but I fear she will reject it.” Ignatius answered, twisting his hand to wrap his fingers with hers.
“Well if Charlie wishes to stay here instead of The Burrow he may, but we let him tell his parents.
We will have enough on our hands until then.” She answered and with cosmic timing, the door
rebounded with the sound of a steady knock. Their small elf scurried forward to answer it. She
adored Molly and had helped raise her. She’d put together a pretty dress of fabric her and Lucretia
had purchased for the occasion.

“Molly!” Efa cried out, and Lucretia could nearly hear the small wrinkled arms doing their best to
wrap around Molly in a hug. Ignatius assisted her up as they went to the entrance. There stood
Molly gently patting Efa’s back with Arthur removing his hat in the doorway, fiddling with it. He
had more difficulty hiding his emotions, his nervousness set Lucretia defences on edge.

“Uncle Ignatius, Aunt Lucretia.” Molly greeted her jovial nature dropping once she saw them. A
difficult time was ahead for certain.

“Good to see you, Molly. It has been so long since you were home.” Ignatius said, stepping up first
with his arms open, she allowed a brief but tense hug.

“Home is The Burrow. Prewett Hall is a place of the past.” She added with a snip. Lucretia pushed
her lips together. No anger, she had promised herself she would not get angry.

“Supper is done.” She said instead of the biting words on her lips. Molly nodded sharply before she
took Arthur's hat from his anxious hands.

The table was set in their kitchen to allow a more casual air than the formal dining room. They
hardly ate there unless they needed the extra space; the long table with a myriad of towering
wooden chairs remained from a time when Prewett Hall had been bustling with numerous family
members. Now there are three who resided in the Hall, and only a handful left with direct claim to
the name.

“Porcelain I see.” Molly replied as Arthur pulled out her chair for her. Arthur kept his head down.
They had clearly decided Molly would be the one to speak.

“It is what we have, Molly.” Lucretia said, passing the bowl of greens over the table.

“How’s the Ministry, Arthur? Lucius giving you any more trouble?” Ignatius tried to break the
conversation. Arthur started at the mention of his name, nearly flipping the salad bowl over.

“Oh no, been quiet from him for a bit now. The Ministry though, bustling always bustling. Percy
has got the more important job now, right proud of the boy. I don’t envy the work he’s been doing
with the security for the Cup and all, they’ll likely be pulling us off our work to help any day
now.” Arthur said, Ignatius nodded.

“I suspected the Cup has always been an affair. We took Molly and her brother’s the last time
Britain hosted. Molly never enjoyed Quidditch much, but Fabian and Gideon had a good time.”
Ignatius tried, but Molly’s face only went pale as she stabbed with her fork. They lulled into an
awkward sort of silence, casual conversation brought up every few moments but never enough to
fill the void. Until it did, and Lucretia wished it hadn’t.

“Oh by Merlin.” Molly said, halfway through the main course. ”Might as well be out with it.”

The entire room turned to her. Molly was smoothing out her long skirt and licking her lip, a habit
Lucretia had been prone to and still could be caught up in on occasion. Had she picked that up from
her?

“We don’t think you should be around the children.” Molly said firmly, her hand gripped tightly
around her silverware.

Lucretia could feel her own stomach sink. Even worse, she could feel the hurt radiating from her
husband beside her. Molly and her children were some of the last of his family, he had his cousin
Lancelot of course, his aunt Muriel and his sister, Tessie, but of their name, of his father’s legacy,
Molly would be the only chance for its survival, and even beyond that, he adored her children like
they were his own. Even after all that had happened, the loss of Molly’s parents, the war, the loss
of Fabian and Gideon, never once had Molly barred them from seeing her or her children. At worst,
she’d keep them at an arm’s length away, but celebrations, birthdays, summers, they were always
allowed.

“Molly.” Ignatius tried to say, but she could feel him choking on his words before anyone else. She
knew that gruffness in the back of his throat that carried lower than his usual tone.

“Molly.” Lucretia took over, grabbing her husband's hand in her own. “I know you have your
reservations.”

“I have every right to have my reservations. Sirius Black is a convicted killer, he betrayed his very
best friend and had him and his wife killed, nearly killing his own godson.” Molly replied, her nose
flaring. No anger, Lucretia reminded herself. No yelling, no screaming, only understanding.

“Molly, the trial…” She tried to explain.

“The trial, I hear what they are saying about the trial. Arcturus Black paid off the members of the
Wizengamot to get his heir back, to survive his line. I suppose his near brush with death over the
summer caused him to evaluate his own mortality. Despite what he believes, he will not live
forever and with his son and other grandson dead, he only had one choice left. No, I don’t believe
it. He and Peter must have been working together, I read an entire article the other day practically
confirming it.” Molly said, as Arthur tried to reach out to comfort her. Lucretia squeezed her
husband's hands tighter.

“Rita Skeeter’s article? Molly, you must know better, she’s a fraud. She’s been trying to deface
every family from here to France to sell an article.” Lucretia said, her chest becoming tight.

“I know well enough to make my own decisions. And I don’t appreciate the implication on my
intelligence, I am very well enough in my education. The two of you made certain of that, and I do
appreciate all you’ve done for me and my family. But unless you are willing to set aside your
family, Lucretia, I cannot fathom allowing my children around such influences. Maybe, Aunt
Lucretia, you should know better. Come on, Arthur, the children are waiting.” Molly said, standing
and placing her napkin down and turning without another glance to Arthur who was stammering
reaching for the hat he’d taken off.

“I–I tried to reason with her… but you know Molly, so determined, I adore it, but– oh I must go.
I’ll have my mother write, alright?” Arthur offered, before scampering to the door, the hollow
ringing layering a thick blanket over the room. Neither of them spoke as their food grew cold in
front of them and their hands didn’t make a move from each other.

“It’ll be alright, Lucy. She… she can’t mean it. She can’t keep the children away–I… it will work
out.” Ignatius mumbled, rubbing his thumb over her palm, his words meant more as a comfort for
himself from the vacant way he spoke. She wanted to reassure him, give him some morsel of
comfort, but there was little she could say. It was his family, even after their marriage, she was
always seen as Black. Still given her father’s favour, her brother’s confidence, her family’s shining
heiress, even it was not her title to have. That distinction caused the rift in not only her own family,
but Ignatius’ family as well, even with her name being Prewett, she was always a Black, she was
born a Black and she would be buried a Black. He would be a Prewett, a title only given back to
him through tragedy; for if life had gone as it was supposed to he was to marry her, be one with her
family. It was safer, easier in a way. Protecting everyone involved of what had happened if
Ignatius stayed under her father’s protection, but life never did go as planned and now as it stood,
he would be their last heir. The final standing Prewett and she would watch.

Remus stared at the park out the window as he pulled back the curtain. Somehow he had always
known where Sirius lived. An old brick home in northeast London that had been claimed by one of
his ancestors from Muggles some time ago. An heir wanting to make his claim in London as
opposed to the countryside, he had ‘displaced’ the Muggle owners when he found the home he
could use. Remus had assumed displaced was a Black family word for kill. There were several,
‘handled’ ‘cared for’ ‘displaced’, it was a different language when speaking with them.

“Do you want some tea?” Sirius offered to try to break the impossibly awkward tension strapped
across the room between them still. “Kreacher’s still alive, if you can bloody believe it, could have
sworn he was at least three hundred when I was a child.”

“He’s only a hundred and ten, Sirius!” Regulus exclaimed, offence riddled in his voice. “We
celebrate his birthday every spring, and you’ve never thought to ask his age!”’

Remus couldn’t understand it. He could but he couldn’t even as he continued to visit. Regulus
sitting there, alive and breathing. How Harry jumped down the rickety stairs to grab his broom and
beg to go to Wales to fly it. Arcturus’ old bones snapping into place each time he sat, the myriad of
extended family that were constantly present. It was strange as he snapped back to the current issue
on hand. Cake.

“Oh sorry, I’m always a bit taken aback by you making an absolute disaster trying to bake a cake
from scratch before dawn.” Sirius snipped back, the tension of the room feeding both of them.

“You said you liked my cakes.” Regulus huffed, his eyes betrayed.

“I like your cakes, Reg. I just don’t know why you don’t go about it easier—it’s just an e— oh
nevermind.” Sirius huffed back, crossing his arms. Regulus stood abruptly.

“Well, I’ll go get the tea unless you are going to say you hate my tea too.” Regulus stated. Sirius
just turned his head away so Regulus stomped out of the room, the heavy clash of his feet carrying
down the stairs.

Remus had to have entered another realm. Digging his nails into his arm until they smarted with
pain was the only solace that dropped him back down to reality. A reality where instead of
throwing Unforgivable Curses at one another, the Black Brothers were arguing about cake.

“We could go out.” Sirius blurted out. Remus’ heart skipped a bit as he bit into his lower lip. Sirius
noticed his reaction immediately.

“W-with Harry. Outside the classroom, get to know him as a kid, well teenager now. He’s grown
so much this last year, I hardly recognise him. We could take him into London together, show him
some nonsense sights, maybe grab some fish and chips before the day’s over. Regulus will sit by
the window the whole time biting his nails, but I promise he lets Harry out of his sight.” Sirius
stuttered over his words at first before easing into his usual cool tone.

With Harry, they could go out and spend a day with the three of them. In another life, he would
have never questioned the idea. It would have been a regular idea, and the dotting parent would
have been James or Lily, not Regulus. Such a life did not exist, it had been ripped away from all of
them.

“I’d like that.” Remus said after too long a length of silence. Sirius let out a long breath when his
lips parted. There were no other words before the door pushed open.

“I got biscuits, don’t worry I didn’t make them since my baking is under question.” Regulus
replied, bringing over the tray with a small elf coming behind him with a sweater over his
shoulders and socks well knitted on his feet.

“I like yous baking, Master.” Kreacher croaked as he began to pour the tea despite Regulus’
protest.

“Just Regulus, Kreacher.” He sighed, but sat down to let Kreacher hand the teas. Remus was
prepared to give his usual order, but to his surprise, Kreacher poured it exactly as he liked it.
Remus accepted it with his mouth wide open.

“Kreacher knows how Mister Lupin takes his tea, Master Sirius whispers it in his sleep.” The elf
croaked before setting the teapot down and popping away. Sirius grew warm in the face quickly
sipping piping hot tea without a grimace to be seen. Remus turned his face back to the window,
hoping the warmness would explain why his face was tinted red as well.

Regulus tapped on the desk. He hated this. No, he despised this. Yet he wouldn’t let anyone else do
it. Not when it was Harry, everyone had offered, but he would be the one to hold this lesson. The
door creaked to his side and with it he stood firm and strong. Harry stood with wide waiting eyes.
He had no fear, no disgust, only that yearning for learning he’d held since childhood. This was not
knowledge for a child.

“I wish you didn’t need to know this information, Harry. I wish you could have the issues of other
children your age, but that would be poor parenting on my part to shield you out of my own
selfishness and not prepare for what may come for you. There are people, Harry. People that look
just like you and I who want to do you harm. You need to know who they are, and when to get
away from them. I know these people, know them better than I wish, but now that knowledge will
prove useful for you. So I will teach you who is who, and who to avoid, and what magic they may
use, and then I hope, and I plead that you never need it, but I will not let you be harmed from your
own ignorance to information I held and refused to provide. I could not sleep at night knowing that.
Do you understand, Harry?” Regulus asked, crossing the room, restraining himself from squeezing
Harry’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug and never letting him leave. It was not practical as
much as it would please him. Hiding would not work forever, he knew these people, that statement
was too true, and they would not stop until they had Harry and no amount of hiding and running
could keep them safe, nor was it fair to rip Harry away from his life and his friends and force him
into isolation. Regulus had left Grimmauld all those years ago to avoid such a predicament, he
would not be the reason they were forced back into it.

“I understand, Reg.” Harry said with a nod. Regulus brought him in for one brief hug inhaling
deeply before he let his arms grow lax and step out of the grasp.

“Come along, you’ll know most of these families by name, but I know them more intimately. What
magic they excel in, who is more loyal versus apathetic, and who are the most dangerous of them
all.” Regulus said, motioning towards the desk with books and old newspapers. He wanted Harry to
have names, faces, familial connections, anything to assist him. Harry sat and his hand went to an
old book with tattered binding from constant use, he would know it well.

“The Sacred Twenty-Eight.” He commented. “The last of the purebloods as deemed by

Cantankerus Nott back in the early thirties.”

“Highly biassed and riddled with inaccuracies, but still revered today. Those listed nearly
unanimously gained a boost in power and those not, even if known pure-blood, had a new less
glamorous light shined on their family.” Regulus explained. Harry thumbed through a few of the
pages, looking over old names, some that could no longer be deemed pureblood and others that still
held to the strictest of scrutiny.

“This is what… Voldermort used as a recruitment tool.” Regulus said, weakened by the way his
breath left his lungs at a word. But it was only a word, it held no power, it was no spell.

“Certain families were inclined, others were nonstarters, even more were not listed, but this is
where he began long ago.” Regulus said, pointing his hand to the top of the page, drawing Harry’s
attention.

“The Abbotts didn’t fight.” Harry noted at the first name, Regulus nodded. Harry turned his
attention which had drawn upward back to the book in front of him.

“The Averys were Death Eaters.” Harry said, the word seeming so easy on his tongue. None of the
shame or disdain that curled on the lips of those older than him. If anyone could speak so cruelly it
would be him, yet he did not.

“Indeed, John Avery Junior took after his father who was one of Voldemort's most loyal followers
until his death.” Regulus emphasised. He knew John Avery, he’d been a year above him, friends
with Snape and Mulciber. Roberiders who wanted to rise through the ranks, they had despised
Regulus when he had been Marked at sixteen. He would have traded his place with any of them,
but he couldn’t say so, couldn’t show so. He had to raise his neck high and look down at them.

“Blacks, their loyalty was never concrete.” Harry said, and Regulus felt his throat burn and scratch,
but he would get through it.

“Blacks do not serve.” Regulus repeated the mantra he’d heard over and over. Harry’s hand went to
his chin as he followed Regulus as he began to pace.

“My father used to say that constantly. He and my mother fought terribly anytime he would say it.
Calling him his father, and to him– to Orion that was the greatest insult, to be compared to his
father.” Regulus explained. Harry’s brow furrowed tightly and caused a distinct line in between his
eyes.

“Why?” He questioned, Regulus missed a step. It was a complicated question, one he did not know
the full answer for certain, his father and grandfather had lived an entire lifetime before Regulus
was even an idea, and he could never catch up.

“It is a difficult relationship, the one between reigning heir and heir apparent. To my knowledge as
my father grew so did the distance from his father grow, it was made worse when his mother died.
A sort of chasm formed when she died. I never did get to meet her, but I’ve heard she was a strong
woman. The kind to keep a family together, a good heiress. Aunt Lucy did her best, but she was
still only a girl herself when her mother died, they were large shoes to fill.” Regulus said. Ghost of
the past swimming in his vision as he forced himself to blink them away.

“Nonetheless, the Blacks in the majority sit staunchly against Voldemort now, but you must not
discount them all. My cousin, Bellatrix. She is the worst of them all. The most dangerous of Death
Eaters because she lost herself in her role and with so went any morality she may have once held.”
He answered, leaning close to Harry to run his finger off the faded text of his family name. So
different it was from what it had once been, yet how the same.

“She tortured the Longbottoms.” Harry whispered, his finger trailing down to another name that
caused Regulus’ heart to pound in his ears.

“With the other two Lestranges, and the Crouch boy.” Harry recounted. Regulus swallowed. The
Crouch boy. He would hate it, being known as such. He deserved to feel hatred, and vileness, and
any other awful word he could think of in any language he knew. To torture two innocent people to
insanity… he was dead. He had died. There was nothing to be done now.

“Yes. Crouch is dead, but the three Lestranges remain, though Arcturus says Rabastan has gone
mad, it may not be irreversible yet, but each day that passes sinks him further away from his own
mind.” Regulus said, turning his back to Harry for a moment to place his hand on his chest and feel
it rise underneath. He was dead.

When he turned around he went down the list. Bulstrode hadn’t done much for either side, Burke
could not be trusted, Carrow was to be carefully watched. Fawley was loyal to the Order, but did
not fight. Flint had been a foot soldier hardly worth a glance, but not to be forgotten where they
stood. Gaunt line was dead, Greengrass was never loyal to Death Eaters, nor Longbottom or
MacMillan. Malfoy was highly dangerous. Nott as well, though his age hindered him. A fortune he
sat on though, willing to give. Ollivander was no dark wizard. Parkinson clung to whoever held the
most power. Rosier, Rosier was dead, blasted to pieces, not even enough to be buried, he had
heard. Rowle is dedicated and talented. Sewlyn held bitterness that fueled his duels. Shacklebolt
were too proud to stoop to darkness, Shafiq was nearly dead in name, Slughorn hadn’t fought
though he had taught more than a handful of the Death Eaters. Travers had always been a bad name
to the Blacks for as long as he could remember which only grew worse with his reputation as a
Death Eater. The Weasleys had not fought, they raised their children and helped bury the dead.
Yaxley, he was intelligent and one needed to be wary. Then there were others, Dolohov, who killed
Fabian and Gideon Prewett and to Regulus' knowledge slipped from Arcturus' own hands when he
tried to corner him for Ignatius, though he left that detail to the imagination. Harry need not know
all. Crabbe, Goyle, Greyback, Gibbon, Jugson, on and on Regulus listed each one and gave every
piece of information he could to Harry until the sun began to set. Only a soft knock interrupted
him. Much to his surprise, Remus pushed open the door.

“I wish not to intrude, but Harry needs to get ready for the theatre.” Remus said, his own shoulders
covered in fine new clothes. Harry jumped at the chance and raced out the door, leaving the two
men with little to do, but look at one another.

“I disagree with Sirius.” Remus said after the silence lapse too long. Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“The cake? It was bloody brilliant, and I have a bit of a knack for sweets.” Remus said, a gentle
smile taking over his face. Regulus felt his lips twitch.

“Sirius suggested the chocolate. I thought maybe it was too decadent, Sirius was giving me such a
run about over it the other night.” Regulus said, shaking his head. Remus had been a regular
attendee to dinner now.

“No, it was perfectly to my standards.” Remus answered, and Regulus nodded, digging his toe into
the worn rug beneath him.

“It’s been good of you and Sirius to bring Harry along. I know you two must wish to reconnect,
alone.” Regulus said, his words slightly choked in his throat. Remus twisted his face for a moment.

“If I am to be frank, sometimes having Harry… it’s, well, easier. He is easier to focus on, Sirius
and I, it has been so long. It will never be the same.” Remus said, teeth digging into his lower lip.
Regulus tilted his head.

“It doesn’t need to be the same.” He replied without meaning too. When Remus looked at him with
a peculiar glimmer in his eye, Regulus stammered to get the right words out.

“Oh– I just mean… Well Sirius and I, our relationship is not bloody near the same… it’s changed,
not for the worst, but it isn’t how it was when we were children, I just mean… people change
constantly. You have to choose to change with them.” He tried, letting a breath sputter out his
mouth. He had to blink twice to confirm, but Remus was grinning, a sly hardly conceivable grin.

“Ready.” Harry declared as he appeared dressed and with his hair mostly contained. Regulus ran a
hand though the locks, nearly touching the back of his neck. He wouldn’t let Regulus cut it.

“Handsome, Harry.” Sirius greeted, his leather jacket not matching his formal wear, but Sirius
couldn’t be bothered with matching.

“Don’t stay up, Reg. We're going to take this one out for a proper feast after. All the midnight fish
and chips we can muster finished with custard and chocolate and anything sweet.” Sirius said with
a wink towards Harry, who was standing on his toes.

“Behave.” Regulus warned, but the sparkle in his eye gave away his true feelings. Harry’s grin
pulled to one side of his face.

“I won’t.” He replied with a smugness he couldn’t have learned from anyone in the family clearly,
Regulus thought with a chuckle.

Regulus watched Harry go off with Remus and Sirius, chatting away about a night in London. He
waited behind, letting the three of them have their moment. In the doorway, he leaned and watched
them until they rounded the corner disappearing from his sight. Lingering a moment, he felt the
summer breeze and warm sun dying in the sky even through the charms that protected the home. It
was a typical summer evening with children playing in the park, yelling and chasing after one
another as their parents tried to wrangle them home to wash up. Maybe he’d spend some time in the
garden, enjoying the nice weather until the stars showed. He nearly decided when he felt an itch on
his arm, he went to scratch it until he realised where the itch was. Under his sleeve on his lower left
forearm. A cold dread fell over him as with steady hands he slowly rolled back the sleeve. There
sullying his arm was a faded pink scar stretched with age. The itch had disappeared by the time
he’d finished rolling up, but he was staring with intensity at the Mark. Daring it to flush with
colour or tingle with pain, but he stood there for long moments and nothing came of it as he was
shaken from his focus.

“Regulus.” Someone called his name, as he stumbled out of his leaned position, shoving his sleeve
back over his arm. At the base of the stairs, leaning on his cane was his grandfather with a white
eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Is something the matter?” He asked after a moment when Regulus had opened and closed his
mouth without words to explain.

“I had thought, but no, I was wrong. Just a trick of the mind, a little itch.” Regulus said, pushing his
lips together and shaking his head. It was just an itch. Nothing more than an itch he told himself, as
he excused himself to the garden.
 Arcturus’ eyes didn’t waver though, even as the younger man tucked his head and slipped by. It
was the beginning. Even if none of them were willing to speak it aloud. Regulus hadn’t felt an itch.
It was power, power returning to the one who had made the mark on his grandson’s skin, damning
him in the process. Arcturus had been right, even if some feather of hope had made him wish he
wasn’t. The Dark Lord had been found by his former servant and together they would attempt to
bring him back to power. Regulus would feel more itches until they evolved to pain. Eventually the
nasty Mark on his arm would return to its former glory and before that Arcturus needed a plan. It
seemed his time was fleeing with each passing moment. His health may be running out, but The
Dark Lord was returning and if he had to damn his way to it, he would survive long enough to see
the motions beginning on his downfall. He would not allow it to be any other way.

Chapter End Notes

I'm sorry! Been having a bit of a rough time of it lately and writing has slipped through
the cracks, but hopefully it has wound down now and I should be back to speed here
shortly. Thank you for your patience.
 Forward
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of war, prior death, abuse, injuries, implied sexual context

See the end of the chapter for more notes

A storm cracked overhead. The ocean roared outside crashing against the shore. It reminded him of
childhood. Walking the rocky shores of Wales in his boots too high above his ankles but too tight
around the toes, his mother laughing and waving at him as he ran from rock to rock. He always
wondered what it was like to live on a high cliff overlooking the oceans as a storm raged, and now
he knew. He wondered what young Remus would feel? Would he be thrilled or confused how he
had ended up here?

“It’s nice innit?” Sirius' voice came as he swung the door in with two cups of tea in hand. Remus
reached for one as Sirius curled into the seat with him, their knees nearly touching.

“Are you certain your aunt and uncle are fine with us being here?” Remus asked for at least the
third time. Sirius had just pulled him along to Prewett Hall and when they arrived the house was
quiet and still with no sign of life. Yet Sirius sauntered into the kitchen and began to rifle through
their food options as if they had greeted them with a smile. It felt strange as he had lingered in
doorways and along walls. Prewett Hall could fit the cottage his father lived in ten times over at
least. The rooms filled with old heirlooms and snoozing portraits, he didn’t feel he had the right to
be shuffling through such history without permission and even then he felt small and timid in such
a place.

“Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ig? No, they won’t mind. Too busy trying to reason with Molly, but she
won’t speak with them so they are having to go through Cedrella.” Sirius shrugged, his own drama
always nonchalant to him. He supposed if one was raised as Sirius had been a tuft with a niece was
a simple matter, compared to the rumours he had heard swirl about their family. Never ending it
was, even now.

“I always liked Wales. Don’t get me wrong, London is good fun and I loved living in the city.
Uncle Al’s flat, bloody brilliant it was, but there is something about Wales. This used to be the
room I would always stay in, they’ve even kept the bed.” Sirius said, blowing gently on his tea to
cool it. Remus mesmerised still with each curve and even the small lines that pulled at the corners
now. His own face was already wrinkled and uneven with age. He must have been staring. Sirius
turned red and looked down, rubbing at his upper lip.

“It’s a bit strange.” Sirius commented, and Remus had to agree even without a single clue of
context. It was strange.

“I used to look at my father, even my grandfathers and uncles and see them turn into old men, I
mean my father was only a bit younger than my age now when he had me. He went all grey and
wrinkled by the time I was a teenager, and I remember thinking it was a consequence for him. A
debt to pay, losing the looks our family coveted, but now. Well, I look in the mirror and I can see
him. I can see the same man I remember from when I was small and sometimes…” Sirius shook
his head, his hair long and flowing. Grey hadn’t really touched his colour yet like it had Remus, his
hair an ashy shade of what it had once been.
“You think you’ll never become your parents until one day you look in the mirror and they are
haunting you. My father’s brow, my mother’s eyes. They're dead and they still manage to bother
me.” Sirius whispered, his eyes going out over the ocean.

“You aren’t your father.” Remus said, because he wasn’t and because it felt like the only thing he
could say. Sirius gave him a half smile, not reaching his eyes. As if he only partially believed the
statement. They had changed. The Sirius he knew would have fought until his voice was hoarse
that he and Orion Black didn’t have a lick in common. Now, he seemed almost resigned to the fact
that he was his father’s son.

Sirius stared off into the storm. The sounds raging above them and travelling fsr over the rolling
empty fields that surrounded the home. It felt similar, the two of them curled away entirely alone
overlooking a storm. They had done so more than a handful of times before, when they were still at
Hogwarts, one of the windows in an old abandoned tower had a ledge just wide enough for the two
of them. They used to sneak away for a chance to snog every now and then. He wondered if Sirius
was recalling the same times, when he turned his face, he heard the gasping sound of his name
before he felt the pressure pushed into his lips. Warm and comforting, yet new and bright.

His heart was beating too quickly. It was the only thought he could cling onto. His heart was
beating too loud and Sirius could hear and he’d pull away and they’d be forced to either pretend it
never occurred or speak about it and neither were options he wanted. Sirius didn’t pull away
though, he didn’t push closer together either. His lips just remained on Remus’ own with light
pressure. After a moment passed, it didn’t seem so awful or radical. They were kissing. They had
kissed before. Granted it had been over a decade. Remus couldn’t recall the last time he had a
proper snog. There had been others. Especially right after, there had been too many. He didn’t
know names or faces, only night after night being temporarily filled so he wouldn’t have to look at
an empty half of a bed. Then one day he stopped and never truly started again. Mary had tried to
set him up once or twice, but even she gave up after a time. Some people touch a soul and never
again will it be as it once was. Sirius touched like that. Desperate and needy, whole and broken,
and Remus knew. No one would ever touch him the same.

Now he had the chance, the chance to hold him once more. To slip their bodies together and
pretend they didn’t notice the skin that sagged in some places, or the hair thinning in others, or the
moles that had popped up. Pretend for a moment it was the same it had been over a decade ago,
two children unaware of how brutal life would get. Two children thinking they had the worst of it
so why not try and if they ruin each other, well it was bound to happen anyways. Remus leaned in
with that same passion and abandon he’d managed to find when he was younger.

“R-Remus.” Sirius said after a moment, they both were breathless with their hands on the other’s
face. Remus paused, worried for a moment it had been too much. He had pushed Sirius away
again.

Hardly able to open his eyes, their faces were still close, lips brushing against one another. In a
change of character, Sirius appeared to be anxious. His eyes unfocused and hands clutched tightly
to him for steadiness. Remus tried to pull back, giving him space to breathe. To move.

“No.” Sirius whispered, shaking his head slightly as he caught Remus’ eyes. “No, I didn’t mean…
I just– it’s, erm.”

Remus understood. Even after all these years, he understood the complexities and worries of the
great Sirius Black, supposedly untouchable. Here his hands were touching him.

“It has… for me as well.” Remus whispered, not letting his grasp waver. Sirius swallowed and he
was so close he could watch as it travelled down his throat.
“We don’t, it doesn’t have to be…” Sirius said, his tongue sticking out to lick his lower lip. It
didn’t have to be. Maybe it wouldn’t. They could find out as they went. For once in his damned
life, Remus was just going to go for it. Sirius hadn’t been his in twelve years, longer really. They
had drifted apart for months, maybe years before then. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but at least they
could try.

With a vigour he didn’t know he possessed any longer, he pushed his lips back into Sirius’ lips.
There was a momentary pause, a moment where Sirius seemed prepared to retreat and Remus
braced for it. The pull never came, instead Sirius sunk into his touch, pulling them both up from
their seat and back onto the bed. Slowly Remus brought his knees down on the edge, and like they
were teenagers again. He heard Sirius laugh. Breathless and airy with his high accent somehow
floating through, like he always had.

“We don’t move the same.” Sirius muttered as they adjusted on the bed. Remus let his lips pull
into a smirk.

“I think we’ll manage.”

Regulus had run up the stairs at least five times that day. He could apparate, but he supposed it was
good for his heart to move about. Sometimes he found himself running out of breath chasing after
Harry. He used to jog. Maybe he should jog again, he thought as he came down the stairs once
more. The Floo roared to life as he did, pausing for a moment to see who was returning so late into
the night.

“Sirius.” Regulus asked, one eyebrow raised. Sirius had sauntered in with a satisfied grin and his
hands casually in his pockets..

“Regulus?” Sirius stopped short, his face growing warm.

“Why are you still awake, aren't you a bed by nine type?” He asked, rubbing behind his neck.

“Harry, he’s writing letters to Ron and Hermione about the Quidditch World Cup.” Regulus said,
holding up the ink he’d gone and gathered for Harry. He seemed to have been writing a novel with
the pages he’d compiled, but when Arcturus had said he’d gotten space for them at the event,
Harry began to plan every detail. He wanted to assure that Ron and Hermione were on the same
page, even if his letters to Ron had to go through his brother Charlie first. Hedwig had grown with
muscle after all her trips to mainland Europe and Regulus was spending a pretty Galleon on the
postage, but anything for Harry. Who had been livid at the idea Ron was being trapped in The
Burrow all summer, but quickly found a way around it. Even if his letters did end up in Romania
first.

“Oi. Right.” Sirius said. He seemed distracted.

“Alright, Sirius?” Regulus asked, planting his feet firmer on the ground. Sirius blinked heavily.

“Erm? Grand, Reg. Erm— yes, Grand.” Sirius replied, his head bobbing up and down.

Regulus narrowed his eyes. Sirius was acting perfectly out of character. And why was he only now
returning from Wales. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight. He knew his aunt and uncle
may be more fond of late night studies, but why had Sirius not just remained. Regulus licked his
lips in preparation to ask; however, he noticed as Sirius ruffled his hair back a small bruise on his
brother's neck. A small suspicious round bruise, and oh— Regulus shut his mouth astutely.
“Tell Harry good night for me, eh Reg?” Sirius said, as he shuffled his arms out of his jacket.
Regulus only nodded stiffly before his brother kicked off his boots and took the stairs two at a
time. Regulus blinked a minute, shaking his head out. Oh. His brother must have found something
more interesting than just the shoreline.

Harry was waiting. Regulus clutched his hand tightly and returned to the kitchen where Harry was
sitting at the table with cold tea half drunk next to him and his quill quickly at work. His tongue
stuck out slightly as he concentrated. Regulus was forever thankful he could allow it without the
burning from the end of the wand. Regulus still couldn’t taste on the tip of his tongue from his
mother’s antics.

“Alright, Reg?” Harry asked, his eyes coming from under thick dark bangs he had tried cutting
himself only coming to Regulus later with his wand and tears dotting his eyes. Regulus was no
stylist, but he did his best and then Aunt Cassie came by with her steady hands to clean up the
edges so the hair blended all together.

“Sirius came home.” Regulus said, setting the ink down and trying to shrug it off. Gratefully,
Harry was preoccupied.

“Grandfather Arcturus was invited by the Minister himself? He signed the letter and everything?”
Harry asked, as he collected the ink closer to him.

“Yes. Grandfather Arcturus believes the Minister is trying to make good with him. With Sirius
back in public life, they know there is a chance the line survives.” Regulus said, as Harry’s hand
never stopped moving. It appeared he and Hermione had been exchanging plans reverently back
and forth. Each of them adding more onto their plan. Regulus wondered if maybe she was the one
Harry fancied. He hadn’t asked. He didn’t want to invade, but he had sat down and given Harry a
talk that both of them ended up staring at the walls a bit more than usual. Regulus was awkward
and stumbled, but he knew if Harry truly needed it, he would come to him. Instead of dwelling, he
looked at some of Harry’s musings.

Ron wasn’t technically allowed to be anywhere near the Blacks, or his aunt and uncle, which
Regulus thought unfair. Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia had seemed rather distressed as of late.
Cedrella was going her best to reason with Molly. The Prewett spirit was infamously hardheaded
though. It is why everyone whispered about Uncle Ignatius. Once he and Aunt Lucy had been
introduced, there had been apparently no stopping them no matter what prior arrangements had
been made. He heard the rumours, but he asked no questions. As far as he was concerned, Uncle
Ignatius was one of the utmost respectable men he knew.

“Do you think it will?” Harry asked, not missing a single quill stroke as he spoke. Regulus sat next
to him, his tea gone cold by now and opened the edition of the Daily Prophet that had been left
behind by their grandfather earlier. Regulus always reads it late in the evenings. Today he could
see yet another article written about his family. It didn’t appear to be ceasing. Now there was
dissection on the commonalities between one Sirius Black and all prior heirs, touching on all recent
ones, beginning with their father and skipping over many generations until they struck Mars Black
and even further back to have a mention of Atlas. Regulus wrinkled his nose, but curiosity pleaded
to him as he read the first few lines.

“Sirius, I’m not certain he is one for children. Besides, he does have you. You are his godson.”
Regulus answered, as his eyes continued to glance. He didn’t think Sirius displayed the drops of
bloodlust in his eyes as Mars once did, but the author stated differently.

“It’s rubbish.” Harry said, finally putting down his quill and rubbing at his eyes. Regulus laid the
paper in front of him.
“The paper, it’s rubbish. They are trying to paint them all out as madmen. All of them. From Atlas
onward. Atlas was the one who created the first Wizarding community in Europe and they only
speak about how he killed any land he walked on to assert his power. He had great power without
needing to flaunt. Then of the Brothers, of Mars and Jupiter and Neptune and even their eldest
brother Saturn. It’s salacious. They don’t speak on how the sins of their father lead to the war.
Titan is to blame for the war, yet he is a footnote, a man who had his head cut off by his sons. A
rightful punishment to his crimes in my eyes, but how can I expect better. It’s Rita Skeeter.” Harry
said, putting his tired face into the palm of his hand. Regulus folded the paper in half and sighed.
Harry was right. It was rubbish. He knew better.

“Do we know any of his magic?” Harry pipped up, reaching for his cold tea. Regulus waved his
hand over it to warm it for him, for which Harry smiled happily.

“Whom? Atlas? His work, whatever was written down, was sadly destroyed in the war. Mars, his
work was chronicled extensively by his brother Neptune. Grandfather has been studying the words
in nearly all his spare time.” Regulus answered, not bothering to warm his own tea until Harry
reached out and tried to wave his hand over it to cause it to steam. He got it lukewarm, but Regulus
smiled and drank it like it was freshly poured.

“Titan’s work. Did anyone care to write it down?” Harry asked, his eyes cast down at his papers
for a moment before reaching Regulus.

“I believe most of his work was destroyed by his sons. Maybe by his son by law, the one that
married his only other daughter. He did hate him.” Regulus shrugged. The stories got so crossed
after so many generations. There used to be an appointed member of the family to keep the records
straight but the last one had died when Regulus’ great grandfather was only a child.

“He locked him in a cell did he not? He was the next best claim to the heirdom, but his sons both
died in the war and he sent his wife away and refused to take another even under threat of torture.”
Harry quoted the story as if he had heard it since childhood, and Regulus supposed he had.

“Indeed.” Regulus answered. “When Mars came about and took the heirdom, Janus was freed
finally and rebuked any claim he had, leaving Mars the rightful heir. As a tribute, Mars offered his
eldest son, who had recently become a widower, to Janus’ only daughter. Supposedly, Janus did
not wish to give away his daughter, Rhea, it took some convincing, it is said she came to her father
and spoke about how if they did not marry, if Mars son was not seen as having a legitimised role in
the family, there would only be more war. In the end the two married, and from them the line
continued.” Regulus repeated, having memorised the story before he could read. Harry was
watching with fantasied eyes.

“Why do you ask about Titan?” Regulus questioned when Harry spoke no more. At that Harry
turned down his eyes and Regulus reached out to touch his cheek. It was getting into the early
morning hours. Maybe Harry should sleep.

“I ask… well I ask because of some of the papers. Some of the less commercial ones, the ones from
Eastern Europe, France, even some of Ron’s letters, talking about what his brothers say. People are
whispering. And I’m worried— I… what if he returns Reg? Will I not be his first target? Will he
not want me dead?” Harry asked, his eyes wide and swollen. There it was. The pain, the worry, the
sickening feeling that stuck to his gut and refused to leave. The one thing he would give his own
life to avoid. Harry was in danger and even worse of it all, Harry knowing it was coming. Regulus
had to take a steadying breath, and Harry only leaned his face into his hand, nuzzling close to him.
Regulus brought him to his chest in one smooth move. He needed to feel him close. Hold him in
defence of the world outside. Maybe running would have been better, but no it wasn’t fair. They
would stay, they would fight. Harry would be safe.

“If he comes back, Harry, you will not need Titan Black’s magic. You have your own power, your
own strength. You come from a long line of powerful and intelligent witches and wizards. We
teach you in preparation for the worst, but Harry.” Regulus said, using his hand to turn Harry’s
chin gently up.

“We will do anything and everything to keep you safe. There are no lines we would not cross, but
that is ours to bear. You are only to resort to such measures if there is no other way. If you can run,
you run. You find one of us, anyone of us will lay down our wand for you. You need not raise your
wand unless absolutely necessary. We teach you this magic as precaution, but it takes from you,
Harry. Dark Magic as any powerful magic does, costs a price. A price I do not wish you to pay
unless absolutely necessary. We will pay it at any time.” Regulus said, his voice firm but caring.
Harry’s eyes did not wager once.

“I will fight for myself if I need to, Reg. I don’t want anyone to hurt because of me.” Harry replied.
His parents' spirit. It never left him.

“I know you don’t, Harry. You are too good. Too perfect for the world you’ve been given, but
please, do not be so Gryffindor you cause yourself harm. I would never be able to live with
myself.” Regulus said, and maybe the words were too intense but they were true. Harry’s cheeks
twitched in a move close to a smile.

“I couldn’t live if you were hurt, Reg.” Harry replied, plainly. Regulus could feel the tightness in
his chest as he kissed Harry’s head. They sat in a few moments of silence.

“Let’s go to bed, you can send the letter tomorrow. Hedwig needs a break, she bit my fingers last
time.” Regulus sighed, pulling them apart.

“She never bites me.” Harry said with a careful laugh, Regulus wished he could bottle.

“Well she likes you. At least I have Midnight.” Regulus said, as the half-kneazle awoke from the
corner she was curled in when they raised.

“Your room?” Harry asked, as he bounced up the steps. Midnight on his heels not letting him leave
her sight.

“Of course.” Regulus said, not letting a bit of judgement pass him. One day Harry wouldn’t sleep
in his room again, and it would be closing a chapter he would forever miss. For now, he’d soak in
every moment.

They passed the portraits without much of a glance. They were empty half the time anyways, but
as they disappeared upstairs, their voices dying the further they went, a couple painted figments of
people passed made their appearance.

“Tell me your brother is wrong?” Dorea asked, to the sullen figure in the corner.

“Tell your husband to remember what he knows of the Peverells.” Regulus the First snapped back.
He’d spent his days jumping from portrait to portrait, doing his brother's bidding once again.
Hoping to come across some ancient paintings with a slim margin of knowledge from their prior
life, but the older they got the harder to recall. Regulus himself was forgetting some of the best and
most carefree moments he had lived, his only reason for happiness.

“The Peverells were long dead before my Charlus was born.” Dorea sighed. It was little use. They
didn’t even have the other two components. Even Regulus the First thought it to be grasping at air.
 Better to find a way to remove it. He knew Lancelot was working on it but everyone had their
limits. He knew about limits. He himself had met his under a pile of rubble.

“He doesn’t deserve this.” Dorea whispered her eyes following longing towards the voices.

“Well, none of us deserve it, but that’s life innit?” Regulus the First scoffed and yet pushed off
where he was leaning and disappeared into the strange abyss that was between portraits. He’d
heard a rumour of knowledge in the far North. The Prewetts were good for more than one trait if
they held connection with the North. Even if his exterior was rough, he agreed with Dorea. The kid
didn’t deserve this, so if he must serve his brother again, he would. He’d done it his entire life as
such was the way of the spare. Nothing but to elevate the heir. Nothing but a tool.

Chapter End Notes

A bit of a calmer chapter before the impending World Cup affair. There will be at least
a pair of chapters to address as much!

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

 A Page of Unwelcomed History
Chapter Notes

CW: mentions of prior death, abuse, killing

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Remus laid on a plush sofa with blankets piled on top of him, watching with uneasiness as the sun
lowered in the sky. Soft smells of a boil pot wafted in from the kitchen. He found it pleasant though
pungent to him specifically. The warm smells of later summer fruits gently touched his elevated
senses. Everything felt sensitive and tiring.

“Aunt Lucy.” Sirius' voice came from behind him. He was returning with the cup of tea Remus had
requested, mainly to keep Sirius from hovering constantly.

“She does it sometimes, boiling old peels and herbs to make the house smell nice.” Sirius said,
handing the small cup gently into Remus’ hands assuring he had a grip before letting go, his
fingers lingering for a moment.

“I enjoy it.” Remus replied, his voice hoarse and dying. He’d gotten ill this time. Each time could
vary, but with all the changes and shocks to his system it seemed to have tired him more than usual
and caused a small illness to descend on him. It would make it all more uncomfortable tonight.

“I have been meaning to ask… did you–want Padfoot there? I know it isn’t the same as when we
were children, it will still be you there, but if Padfoot could help.” Sirius offered, turning his rosy
cheeks away. Remus’ head rolled to the side as he let a weak hand wrap around Sirius' wrist, so
delicate and fragile they had always seemed. Not like the calloused scarred skin he had covering
his arms.

“Padfoot can come.” Remus said. He didn’t know how the wolf would react, always shimmering in
the background. Sometimes roaring in his mind, but Padfoot was a friend, a member of his pack.
The only one left.

“Good. Ignatius says he’s warned the pack leader in Wales that you will be here. He’ll be watching
from the house just to confirm no one enters the perimeter, but otherwise it is just the two of us.”
Sirius explained, brushing some of Remus’ hair back. The sun was nearly to the horizon now, he
sipped the tea hurriedly. They would need to leave soon, otherwise he would destroy the priceless
couch he laid on.

“Your uncle. Does he wish to be there?” Remus asked, finishing the last sips as quickly as he
could. Sirius seemed shocked by the request, pausing his soothing movements for a moment.

“He’d never ask, but I’m sure the more curious part of him has wondered about it. He’s seen
transformations before, but I don’t think of anyone under Wolfsbane potion. Until recently there
hasn’t been a potioneer he knew that was talented enough.” Sirius answered, his eyes clouding with
thought.

“He could watch. For science.” Remus whispered. If there was anyone he could trust, he figured it
would be Ignatius Prewett, who had been one of the few sounding voices remaining for the ethical
treatment of werewolves.

“He doesn’t need to if you wish not. I know you are feeling worse than usual.” Sirius said, shaking
his head and leaning closer. Remus nodded as best he could in his state, feeble, but recognizable.

“It only gets worse with age. Let him come, take his notes. I trust him.” Remus whispered, looking
over Sirius' shoulder to see the sunlight dying on the browned grass of summer, a few weak blades
floating away in the gentle sea breeze. It was time to move, and the sad look on Sirius’ face would
need to be addressed later.

Sirius lifted him up and leaned him in the kitchen with the door thrown open, letting the final rays
of the sun wash over his face with a comforting warmth while he went to inform his uncle. Ignatius
came just a step behind Sirius with a notebook and quill. His robes remind Remus for just a
moment of his father when he was a child before everything took a turn for the worst. Elaborate
and stately, the marks of an old family name. The last Welsh purebloods, the words bitter, but
pushed down as Sirius took him under his shoulder. Remus gave one sure nod to Ignatius, who
nodded back understandingly. Like an old Professor with a student he knew would never be
appreciated as they appreciated them.

The transformation was awful. Bones clicking out of place, skin stretching unnaturally, the moon
mockingly hiding behind clouds, not even daring to show its face at the misery it created. Padfoot
was there though. He could feel him even as he turned, the tail thumping on the ground. The ears
turned to each awful sound and shriek. He could smell the human, him and the wolf, some strange
combination of the two of them that co-existed on these nights. He is present and forward, but the
growl of the wolf never being far away. Thankfully, he was able to convince the two of them to
work together, to rest as best they could. Laying down by the edge of the shore listening to the
waves with Padfoot curled next to him sharing warmth. It was as peaceful as he could be, waking
sometime past three in the morning, and wandering down the shoreline to watch Padfoot paddle in
the waves for sometime before they could feel the earth heating up and knew the sun would rise
soon. Arriving back to the cliff they found warm blankets and robes waiting for them. Remus was
thankful for the gesture. Ignatius was waiting again, sitting in the kitchen door with his quill and
parchment once more. He respectfully turned his head down after the transformation finished and
Sirius wrapped Remus in the robes and blankets and brought him to the chair Ignatius had dragged
to the kitchen doorway.

“I’ll make tea and a bath.” Sirius whispered, touching his lips to Remus’ forehead. He was too ill
and weak to reply.

Ignatius sat at the table compiling the last of his notes as Remus watched the sunrise over the
horizon. The sun amplified some of the age marks on the home, but also added an air of richness to
the grounds. Peaceful, he supposed, as peaceful as he could be. Until he noted a figure standing at
the edge of the ground staring at him with intensity that made his skin crawl. Someone had seen
him, and it caused his stomach to fill with worry. Ignatius clicked his tongue behind him and the
figure disappeared as suddenly as they had come, causing Remus’ instincts to be on high alert,
jumping when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

“Her name is Kira. I helped her come from the Soviet Union when it still existed, her country
dissolved now, cut into others. I met her when we were both younger. She was still a child. A child
in suffering. The packs there were fighting for their own survival, no one wanted to look after a
young werewolf. She had parents once, but when they saw what became of her, she effectively
became an orphan. They took her far away from home and left her aside near a forest. She said her
mother cried, but her father dragged her away. She had seven siblings. There was no feasible way
for a large family in poverty to provide, let alone even understand. So when I was there doing work
of my own and came across a lost sobbing child left alone in the woods, torn to shreds by her own
claws the night before, I did the only reasonable thing I could. I smuggled her back home, brought
her to the pack in Wales, the leader at the time, he and I were on speaking terms at least, another
mouth to feed wasn’t the most welcome, but he was sympathetic. She was a poor child, another
victim of the horror that is Fenrir Greyback. There were and still are too many children that fall
victim to him. She was taken in, and I offered further assistance for the pack, after a string of
attacks in Wales that left many children infected, I became even closer with them. Eventually when
Kira took over as their leader, she allowed me nearly unfettered access. I have asked, begged even
for the Ministry to consider a program, funding and employees to work on a better, more accessible
solution to their ailments. The ingredients for even one potion takes a decent portion of funds and
work and there are times we grabble to find them, but we do and we help you and I hope one day
we can assist them all. Allow them dignity, but I am overrun each time. I will not cease, I will go
again at the end of the next month to argue once more. I am surprised they have not barred me
from speaking yet, but I suppose my name carries some weight. For Kira, for her pack, I will try,
but she has said her suffering is nearly done. Now she is older, she is… tired and she has already
asked.” Ignatius said, them both overlooking the space she had just vacated. The leader of the pack
had come to take a look at the other werewolf. The one not under her guidance, he eased some.

A longing pounded in Remus to follow her, but he had never been a part of any werewolf pack.
Only his own, torn to shreds now and the meagre remains of one other left for his accompaniment.
Part of him wanted it put into words what Ignatius was implying, but another wanted the air to
remain unspoken. It was easier, he could avoid the truth for a bit longer.

“How old is she?” He asked instead. His heart drummed in his ears. Ignatius let out a long sigh and
for a moment Remus thought he would not speak, would not feed into his own panoria.

“Fifty-eight years old. Still a child to me.” Igantius whispered, with a small blessing in Welsh just
after his words. Words his mother used to whisper over him in his sleep before she grew ill. Maybe
it was better she was gone, she did not need to see her son suffer further.

“H–Have you done…it before?” Remus asked, the question heavy on his lips. He could understand
if Igantius did not answer for it would implicate him in some ways to a crime. Mercy killing was a
grey area, often reserved for wars. Though he doubted anyone would try Ignatius if he chose to
allow the death to come easy for a werewolf, people did not see them as human. It would be like
putting down a sick animal to them, more mercy than killing. Or maybe even riddance. One less of
such a creature in the world. The pause hung over them like a thick fog that blocked visions and
closed business with its heaviness. Remus nearly shrunk into himself for asking, wanting to turn
and retreat. His feet shuffled back under the chair he sat in when Ignatius’ voice, usually strong and
steady, came out worn and weak.

“I have, but she will hurt the worst.” He mumbled, and Remus knew their discussion had ended,
maybe to be picked up at another time. He left Ignatius to his thoughts, to the shore he had called
home to deal with his own demons. Sirius was waiting for him with a warm bath drawn and a cup
of tea made the way he preferred. He would forget for a little while the worries on his mind, sink
into the warmth as Sirius washed his hair with care and they go to lie in the large bed with fresh
sheets and hope his dreams were of the chipped black painted nails massaging his scalp and not of
the fate that awaited him. Maybe it would be different. Maybe he would have more time. Maybe
the wolfsbane did more than they knew, but nothing was promised and he would enjoy these
moments as they came.

“Gillyweed?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder for confirmation. His Uncle Marius was
leaning over the bubbling boiling potion in front of him.

“Indeed.” Marius replied, bringing the heat under the potion down carefully. It had to be lowered at
a specific pace otherwise the whole batch would be ruined and it had taken an entire lunar cycle to
brew

“Why Gillyweed?” Harry asked, pushing off from where he was eye level with the strange plant
doing its best to grow outside of its natural habit.

“Lucretia asked for it. Something about needing it on hand in case the merpeople change their
meeting to be underwater once again. They ordered a bad batch once and well I suppose it's better
to gather it from a trusted source.” Marius answered as he waved his hand over the steam waiting
for the potion to cool. It held no colour and no smell, but Harry leaned against the counter to watch
it cool either way.

“Veritaserum, it’s for Arcturus no?” Harry said, watching as Marius began to uncap the vials that
would hold it. Marius looked up at him half stern, half understanding.

“Yes, but this is not to be messed with, Harry. I doubt he will even use it, he’ll want to use magic,
Legilimency. He trusts it more, rightfully so. A powerful potion, but not without its limits.” Marius
said, the potion being handled carefully as Harry watched each movement with ease. There was
rustling outside, but Harry chuckled. It was Midnight, he could hear the patter of her paws, but she
had been rightfully banished from the potions room. Ever since she had dug up the prickleing
Mimbulus Mimbletonia and gotten spines over the floor and was found flicking her tail in
satisfaction on the table afterwards.

“Why does he need it?” Harry asked, hoping for some answers to the way everyone had been
dancing around some secret for the past few weeks. Except for Regulus, it seemed he may have
been left out as well. Possibly Sirius as well, but he was infatuated with the attention he could care
towards Remus and Harry hadn’t seen much else than the sunshine Sirius seemed to carry in his
demeanour. If anything he was the opposite of everyone else, hopeful and kind. Not wanting to be
bogged down by talks of war that hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Here, why don’t you take some to him?” Marius said, passing over three small vials. It was
another pivot, ones he’d been getting for some time now. Aunt Cassiepoia made him organise
books as she read to him lore of old, Aunt Helena having him recount how to check heart rates both
Muggle and magical. Best go to the source he assumed. Gathering the vials and jumping over
Midnight as she tried to spring at the opening to miss it by only a second, Harry paused to scratch
her ears and commend her for trying.

The house was awfully quiet for a weekday evening, usually quiet conversations or footsteps could
be heard between the old wood. Harry didn’t think much of it. Sometimes it was quiet. So he
followed up the steps. Slowing as he reached the room his grandfather would be in. There were
shadows under the door that caused him to pause. He couldn’t hear anything.

“Harry.” His Uncle Ignatius greeted when the door was thrown open. Inside were both his
grandfather and Uncle Lancelot as well. Harry stepped in with his eyes wide, whatever they had
seen speaking about he was clearly not meant to be privy too.

“Uncle Marius wanted me to give you these.” Harry said, holding up the vials, his eyes trying to
search for some hint of the conversation at hand but the three men were all too well at handling
their facial expression.

“Ah perfect, Ignatius I had those brewed for you. Take care with them and when you go about the
search you may find them useful.” Arcturus said from where he sat in a chair leaning over his
walking stick.

“Veritaserum, truly?” Ignatius said, his eyes rolling as he nodded his thanks to Harry.

“You’ve always been helpless with Legilimency.” Arcturus said, turning his attention to Harry.

“I thought you would like to know.” He said, fanning out a newspaper in his hand and turning it
around to Harry. He was worried. The papers had not been kind to those he called family as of late.
As he reached for it and he digested the news, he found it to be a speck of good news in the doom.

“Will I be able to see them?” Harry said, his mood lifted considerably from when he had first
arrived at the suspiciously shut door. Arcturus nodded.

“They will be in the Minister’s box as well. I believe there can be peace made for one night,
enough for you and your friends to spend time together.” Arcturus replied as Harry read the news
again, tucked behind a main article he chose to ignore. The Weasleys would be at the World Cup.
Mister Weasley had won a spot in the Minister’s box nonetheless.

“Lucretia has been writing with Cedrella. I’ll have her see if she can’t get more information.
Hopefully, at least for the time there, Molly can lower her guards.” Ignatius said with a dejected
nod. Harry smiled wide for the first time in weeks. Quidditch and his best friends, what more could
he ask for. His Uncle Ignatius offered to double check the packing he had done and Harry followed
with him, forgetting temporarily the seriousness that had been cast over the room and leaving the
two older men in the room alone.

“Can you do it?” Arcturus asked, waving his hand and having the door shut softly and locked with
a silenced click. There was a look of disapproval but he need not turn his eyes to feel it.

“You are asking if I can do something that I have no prior knowledge on, something that may be
impossible for it has never been done before.” Lancelot grumbled turning his back once more and
staring out the window at the dying summer’s end seen outside the window.

“It is not a complete one. It may not need total destruction.” Arcturus said, turning his head
halfway over his shoulder.

“But if it is as you suspect, if it is…” Lancelot paused, his thin lips pushed together for sometime
before the word could be uttered. “If it's some byproduct of a soul caught in Harry, an incomplete
part of a horcrux stuck in him. Removal without destruction? I don’t even know if it is feasible, I
don’t even know the details of horcrux’s magic after it has been created. To the greater people,
there has only ever been one created and it was never studied. Our knowledge is based on folklore
and theory.”

“What if I told you we may have further knowledge? Not perfect, but potentially useful.” Arcturus
replied, leaning back in the chair for further support. Lancelot’s sharp features turned to him.
Despite his age, the Prewett look shone through. Strong jawline, close set eyes, he looked like his
cousin Arcturus once called a mentor if his cousin had ever been afforded the honour to turn grey.

“What have you found?” Lancelot asked. Arcturus dug into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of
parchment with the location he hoped held the chance at answers. Lancelot reached out and
unfolded it with care. Lancelot’s eyebrows raised, emphasis the wrinkles across his forehead from
a life chronic with furrowed brows.

“What is there?” He asked. Arcturus cleared his throat for a moment, tapping on his chest. His
heart, he could feel it weakening and gasping for breath. Is this the fear that struck his son, or had
he been too drunk to ever understand his own pain?

“Secrets, lost and well hidden for generations. It would seem that Atlas’ story may not be lost to
history. His knowledge may offer answers.” Arcturus answered, switching the cane to the other
side to lift himself up slowly.

“Knowledge on horcruxes? We do not know if they even knew of the magic.” Lancelot asked, the
man of science and answers without fail.

“Come.” Arcturus said, motioning for Lancelot to follow, only down the hall and the time was long
for the journey yet. Inside he found the journal he was looking for, of a family member hardly
spoken of except as one story of war, tragic and painful. It had taken weeks of understanding and
research for a crumb of information. He opened it to the necessary page and passed over the dulled
words before finding a place to sit. Lancelot read over them several times and checked the name in
front of the journal scrippled in print of someone who had been very young when they began
writing in it.

“Atlas lived a long time, an abnormally long time even for wizard kind. Though not completely
unheard of. Merlin himself lived long as have others. Power people correlated to the long life
spans, but there was more for Atlas. He lived so long his life threatened his heirs' generations
down the line, never being able to take the power they deserved because everyone would look to
him. His solution was to retreat from the daily lives, forge his own life in solace. He had outlived
his brother, his wives, his children, grandchildren and further along. Solitude did not suit him for
long and the family had issues, issues they demanded be brought before Atlas for decision even if
he was not in sight. So another solution came, a high council of sorts. It was the greatest honour to
be accepted into those ranks and live out your days at Atlas' side, serving as his aide, many of them
having lives as long as he, once again living longer than most would consider common. There was
Caelus, a great seer, he was the first to join. There was Aries, a great warrior. Aethra, she was
otherworldly, intelligent and wise. Others joined him as time went on. The family would bite each
other's throats out to have a child on the high council. To keep the distance, Atlas only revealed
himself and his council when bringing into the fold a new member. Before the War they had not
been seen in decades. Some of the family members speculate that could be one of the causes of the
war, his lack of presence and control over them lead them down a path of unrighteous behaviour
even by our families standards. All this to say, to speak to the family, there was a member not
brought on as a council member but adjacent to them. Translations have been lost, but they are
often referred to as a page now. They had to swear allegiance to the council, abstain from marriage,
children, only serve the council and record the history as it occurred. It was a sacred position.
Never was harm to fall on the page. They were the only connection to the High Council, the only
one privy to their knowledge.” Arcturus explained, nodding at the journal.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but was Neo not the last named page in your family’s history?”
Lancelot asked, flipping forward a few pages.

“The only son of Titan’s closest brother, his trusted advisor for many years. And he had his son's
throat slit in the chambers of the family and forced his father to watch when he would not betray
the secrets of the council he was entrusted with. Caused his brother to betray him and go to the
other side of the war with Saturn’s other seven children. Messy business, the whole affair. A
disgrace, but we cannot change history. The reason it is important is Neo’s writings. There is to say
he may have preserved Atlas’ teachings. His studies. He may have made it look as if they were
destroyed when they were not.” Arcturus said. Lancelot skimmed the words with his head shaking.

“Your location is an educated guess then, this could be hidden anywhere. In France, in Germany
 and for hundreds of years, there is no guarantee they still exist.” He said, finally shutting the book
gently and placing it back in its spot. Arcturus knew the odds, but he also knew his family. They
were not to be failures. Neo would have guaranteed they could be retrieved even hundreds of years
later, but it would not be easy and he had an inkling only one of them, of the Black Family could
retrieve. Which meant there were limited options of who he could send into a perilous unknown
situation.

“Your cousin will need to go with them. His experience will be necessary. I trust only him and my
daughter to know these tricks, the curses long laid, the wards that may still hold, but I know age
comes to them as well, and I suspect only a Black will be able to enter. So I will send what remains
of the name and hope they are able to gather any assistance we can.” Arcturus replied. Lancelot
appeared wary.

“What will you tell Regulus and Sirius? You have kept them in the dark.” Lancelot asked. He
knew why. He understood the advantages and safety of secrets. Helena diagreed. Loudly and with
force and he heard each one and he knew it could not continue forever, but once they told them.
They would have to tell Harry. There was a part of him that selfishly did not want to tell the
innocent face of a boy that there may be no hope for him. He had done it once too many times in
his life.

“I can get them there and back with minimal questions, when they return we will have some time
before they begin to demand answers. I know we cannot withhold the information longer than so,
it has already been too long, but I had hoped to have answers prior to advising them of the
circumstances.” Arcturus answered, a sigh caught in his chest.

“They are intelligent young men. I suspect they already are expecting less than welcoming news.”
Lancelot said. “If you need any assistance, I have had the unpleasurable experience of giving
unwelcomed news my entire life. Contrary to public opinion, I am not a miracle worker, and not all
of my patients have been cured.”

“I will take the offer into consideration. For now, we enjoy the last of summer. Let Harry be a boy
a little longer, and if we must we inform them no later than next summer.” Arcturus agreed, and
Lancelot seemed satisfied with such an answer.

Next summer, it seemed both impossibly close and horridly far away. There was something
foreboding, something brewing that made it seem ill-fated to look ahead. But ahead he must look
for the current time did not offer any other solutions. Harry’s hope lied in the future even if the
answers lingered in the past.

Chapter End Notes

I am emerging from a migraine haze to post this chapter and hope you enjoy! Thank
you for all your comments I will get to them soon, and thank you for reading! Summer
is coming to an end, but there is still a few more chapters to comes!
 Nightmares
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of death, homophobia

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Lucretia stared at a single speck of dust at the end of the table. The house had been scrubbed from
top to bottom. Partially because she needed to keep busy, and partially because she had guests
coming, but the second was only a more rational reason to her first. Yet the single speck of dust,
balled into itself, mocked her. She could go and knock it off, but then it would be on the floor and
she’d have to clean it from there. Or she could leave it be, knowing once the door opened and
voices filled the Hall once more, there would be more than a speck of dust.

Shaking her head, she pulled the tea closer to her. Her husband, her dear husband, was waiting
outside, pacing from what she could see out the window. Muttering to himself as he had a habit to
do any more. She knew the world saw one man, an aged man, scandalous, misfortuned, and maybe
a bit pitiful despite his accomplishments. His hair streaked with grey and wrinkles bordering his
eyes. It had been fifty years they had been together. Fifty long eventful years and yet when she
looked at him, she could still see the bright young man she’d known with eyes that light up when
he spoke and a determination no one could break. The one that had managed to woo her so well,
she’d nearly given up everything to be with him. They both had been willing and ready to do so,
but sometimes in its miseries, life works.

“Mistress, have they arrived?” Efa came from around the corner carrying fresh warmed towels.
Lucretia shook her head. Her chipper attitude was a happy reprieve to the solemnity of the home
anymore. It had been weeks and nothing had broken Molly’s resolve. Their best chance was the
Quidditch World Cup, but she may just not attend. She never cared for Quidditch and now that she
would be hearing any moment that her two eldest sons were not returning to spend their holiday at
home, but instead at their aunt and uncle’s residence, it would only dig their grave deeper. Fifty
years was a long time, and though they may live another fifty, they may not and she knew that
weighed on her husband. Too many of his own family had been cursed with a short life. His own
mortality was constantly on his mind.

The sound of rumbling came from ahead. Another storm, she realised turning back to her tea. In the
seconds she turned away, they arrived and the noise was pleasant to her ears. The sounds of
joviality and youth.

“They are here!” Efa squeaked as she held the warmed towels under running water to give Bill and
Charlie something to clear their faces with when they walked through the door. It had been a long
journey. With the Quidditch Cup, securing a portkey had been nearly impossible. Charlie had to
travel by broom to his brother just to arrive in time. Still when they walked in the door with their
trunks being carried behind them and smiles plastered on their face, she assumed they didn’t mind
their travels.

“Aunt Lucy!” She heard as she stood and was enveloped in a wrap of arms around her, lifting her
heels off the ground to get close enough to them. They smelt like dust and travels as they laughed
when she said so and they took the towels thankfully.
“Been forever since I’ve been here. Looks the same though. Always lovely.” Bill said, scrubbing at
a mark on his neck that didn’t appear it was dirt, but she just let her eyes roll. They were all young
once.

“Flattery will get your far with the goblins, love.” She said with a nod, going to grab the kettle for
fresh tea. Bill’s laugh was always booming, much like his fathers. A rather Weasley trait.

“Never, they have a rather dry sense of humour the goblins. The excavation team I have been
working with has been rather friendly though. Great work it’s been, not easy though. The
government had been less than pleased. We've refused to go through certain spells, but it was clear
whoever lied those people to rest did not want them disturbed.” Bill said with eyebrows raised. She
found his work rather fascinating. A cursebreaker, trained by Gringotts, on loan to the Egyptian
government for several years now to help with archaeological sites left by ancient witches and
wizards to preserve history.

“Better to leave it be than go into a circumstance you cannot predict sometimes, we’ve learned that
the difficult way.” Ignatius added as he tapped both their trucks to send them to their respective
rooms.

“Almost makes my work sound boring.” Charlie scoffed from where he leaned over the sink
scrubbing at dirt under his nails the towel hadn’t been able to reach. Lucretia could see the splash
of dirt on her counter already and her stress over the speck of dust seemed folly now as she
chuckled and searched for the old teacups Bill and Charlie always used as children. They had
always insisted even as they outgrew them to use only those teacups. They had once belonged to
Fabian and Gideon, gifted to them from their parents when they were young. She’d let them use the
teacups until they were old and grey if they so wished.

“Boring? The boy who swears he will ride a dragon calls his work boring.” Bill laughed as he
reached over her towards the shelf; she couldn't bring the cups down even on her toes. He was the
tallest of all the children so far, being even taller than her husband, making her short frame rather
apparent.

“Speaking of work.” Charlie said, pushing his lips together while he dried his hands. There was a
seriousness in his tone that caught her attention.

“I’ve been hearing the whispers you asked me to lean into, nothing solid, but there was a rather
strange visit days before I left. I don’t believe I was supposed to hear it, but I was tending to Rysy,
he’s an older Welsh Green, probably doesn’t have much time left he is nearly a thousand, one of
the oldest we care for. McKenzie likes to take his business to the medic stables we have, he has a
perfectly good office that I don’t think he’s sat in once since he took over. The person he was
dragging about did mention it at least three times, but that’s not important. Most people just don’t
like getting their boots dirty.” Charlie said, shaking his hair out of the knot it had been tied in.

“What is important is that the person speaking was wanting dragons. Three dragons to be exact,
three of our fiercest ones. McKenzie nearly ripped his head off. If there is someone that cares for
the dragons more than anyone, it’s he. He won’t let anyone take them. Unfortunately, the law
doesn’t work his way. Part of the agreement for helping to fund the Romanian preserves was that
the British Ministry of Magic could call upon the temporary loan of the dragons for justifiable
reasons, which is left up to interpretation and given who was asking, well McKenzie doesn't have
much of a case.” Charlie said, his lips turning down and shrugging. She had a feeling he didn’t like
the idea of letting their dragons out of the safety of the reserve either. Most of them had been in
captivity their whole lives and couldn’t survive on their own. Whether from illness, or near
extinction of specific breeds of their kind, the dragon reserve was a place to allow them to thrive
with the help of wizards and witches.

“Who was it?” Ignatius asked, beating her to the questions.

“That’s the strangest part,” Charlie said, shaking his head even more. “It was Barty Crouch, the
Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

Lucretia twisted her lips and looked at her husband, who appeared even further in his confusion
than her. Ignatius knew a thing or two about the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
His father had been the head for many years preceding his death. She had a decent understanding
of the role, and none of it would require dragons.

“Even worse, when McKenzie kept pushing as McKenzie does, well Crouch said something I can’t
believe. He said it was for the Triwizard Tournament.” Charlie said, and even Bill sputtered on his
tea.

“That can’t be right.” Ignatius muttered, his hand rubbing on his chin.

“That’s what I thought, but honestly, Crouch was acting shifty. His voice kept cracking and he
couldn’t seem to be still.” Charlie shrugged, reaching up to twirl the earring secured to the top of
his ear.

Lucretia shared a look with her husband. Enough times being in tight situations without being able
to speak made talking with only their eyes a necessity. From his look, they both had an inkling of
suspicion. They knew Barty Crouch. Lucertia’s cousin was his mother, she’d known him since he
was young. He took after his parents, ruthless and determined. Him being appointed Head of
Magical Law Enforcement had never surprised her. He had a distaste for Dark Magic from his
distaste of his grandfather, Lucretia’s Uncle Arcturus for whom her father had been named. He was
an ill-tempered man, but handsome and persuasive so never once were any charges brought
towards him even as he’d bash mugs over people’s heads or when he’d played professional
Quidditch and one of his opponents succumbed to his injuries. No one had dared cross him, not
even his grandson, but he had determined to be absolutely nothing like him and somehow in doing
so, he began to resemble him. The knit in his brow, the smirk carried on his face, they all reminded
her of her late uncle. None of it in a fond way.

Grunting was the first noise he heard, half asleep and not worrying too heavily. Harry sometimes
made noise in his sleep. Regulus just turned over on his side and tried to fall back asleep, hoping
Harry would quiet in a moment. Only as his eyes fluttered close. Harry began to move more and
grow further agitated. His breathing came in rough puffs of hot air hitting Regulus’ back. He
flipped over and put his arms on Harry, gently shaking him.

“Harry, wake up. It’s a bad dream, Harry.” Regulus muttered, a bit too tired to do much else. Only
Harry started thrashing in his sleep. His body grew warm under his touch. The panic woke Regulus
up. His eyes wide as he shook a touch harder.

“Harry! Wake up! It is a bad dream Harry, come one. Harry, wake up!” Regulus said, frantic as his
voice rose and likely travelled down the levels of the home. Harry’s eyes didn’t budge besides to
twitch under his eyelids, his mouth wide as his breathing came in short. Regulus’ heart was
pumping too fast in his chest, but he ripped the sheets off the bed and off Harry, putting his bare
feet on the ground and coming to Harry’s side.

“Harry!” He screamed now, unable to help the way he panicked. Instinctively, he went for his
wand, but as he picked it up, he didn’t have the faintest idea what was wrong with Harry. Until he
got a glimpse of the sweat drenched hair stuck to his forehead, pushing it aside. He could nearly
feel the pulsing behind Harry’s scar. No visible signs besides a skin touched by fever, but he knew.
Something behind it was causing Harry pain and he needed it to end. Magic seemed risky, he
needed to wake Harry up and cool him off. He did the most reasonable thing an worried mind
could, he splashed Harry with cold water, which caused him to finally wake up with a piercing
scream on his lips and his limbs flailing in every direction.

“Harry, Harry.” Regulus said, dropping his wand and pulling Harry into his grasp as his eyes
adjusted to the room around them lit only from the pale streetlight outside. Harry panted, but rested
against his chest as the door to his room flung open.

Sirius was standing bewildered, half dressed with Remus over his shoulder tying a night robe
around his waist. Regulus and him locked eyes before he fell on Harry, who was trembling in his
arms.

“Get Arcturus.” Regulus said and for once Sirius did exactly as he was told without an utterance of
protest.

Within a minute, Arcturus appeared with his cane in hand, and Cassieopia holding his other arm for
support. In his arms, Harry finally caught his breath as Regulus petted his head. Arcturus sat down
slowly on the end of the bed putting his hand on Harry’s ankle gingerly. Harry looked up,
exhausted, slipping back into his gaze as Regulus held him close to his chest.

“What happened, Harry?” Arcturus asked in the quiet hours of night.

“I– it was just a nightmare, it… it had to be a nightmare.” Harry said, his voice hoarse. Arcturus
patted his ankle, looking thoughtful. Regulus knew better, it was no nightmare, but maybe now
was not the time to tell. Arcturus came to the same conclusion. Harry would know soon, but in the
drop after panic where emotions are sensitive, it can be best to be gentle.

“What did you see in this nightmare then?” Arcturus asked. Harry’s breath hitched, and Regulus
pushed his lips into the top of Harry’s head. The small crowd had grown further out the door. Harry
licked his lips nervously as he looked over, but Regulus grabbed his chin and made it to where he
could only see him and Arcturus. He was speaking only to them.

“There was a house. An old house, falling into disrepair. The vines had grown over and the
windows were boarded. It was dark, barely any stars in the sky. And there were voices, voices I
knew. An old door was cracked open, and suddenly I was leaning forward looking in. P-Peter was
there, talking to someone I couldn’t see in a chair. Then there was a snake, Nagini, that was her
name. I couldn’t, I couldn’t stop it—I wasn’t, I wasn’t really there, but it felt like I was. And he—
he turned around and he was—it was horrific.” Harry started shaking, burying his head in Regulus’
chest. Regulus put his hand on Harry’s head and began to shake his head. It was enough, but before
he could make eye contact with his grandfather, Harry lifted his head one more time.

“He killed him. It was Voldemort. He killed the man. Peter—Peter, Bertha Jorkins, Voldemort said
he killed her too, after he got information from her.” Harry said, an exhausted sigh escaping him.
He leaned into Regulus and within a minute his breathing evened out and he was asleep. Regulus
was stiff as a board not wanting to breathe too heavily and worry waking him. He only dared turn
his chin to see Arcturus with his jaw tensed but determined.

“First light, I need you to go to Lancelot, Helena. It needs to start now. Not a moment later.”
Arcturus instructed. Helena’s jaw was tight set.
“To hell with first light, I go now. He can wake.” She said, lifting the ends of her nightdress and
her slippers descending down the stairs. Regulus felt a tightness in his chest and in the air as he
looked over at Arcturus, needing answers.

“Let Harry sleep. He has a long day of travels soon. Enjoy the World Cup, and I will explain after.
There is no need to ruin what will be perfectly good memories for Harry.” Arcturus said, a mixture
of age and wisdom on his face as he stood slowly. It was late, or early, depending on one’s
opinion. Regulus did not want to have an unnecessary fight with him. He would wait and until he
knew more, hold Harry tightly to him.

“Reg.” Sirius said, still holding the doorway where everyone else had cleared out.

“He’s okay, Sirius. For right now, he’s okay.” Regulus said, rocking Harry slightly. How he had
down when he was a baby, only now it was a bit more difficult.

“We're just across the way, if you need us.” Sirius said, putting his hand on Remus’ whose face
etched with concern and that lingering confusion he’d carried with him all summer as he watched
Regulus hold Harry close to him.

He was certain for the time being whatever threat had been there, it was gone. Harry had no fever
and he breathed evenly. It did not ease the worry he felt.

“Tell me, my dear cousin. Why are we having a visit with a distant cousin I haven’t had the need
to speak to in nearly a decade?” Cygnus said, a bit of spite dripping into his words as he finished a
mid day drink.

“Have you had any need to speak to any of your cousins in a decade, Cygnus?” Lucretia snipped
back. It didn’t used to be this way, Cygnus used to be Orion’s closest friend. They were all caring
and cordial at one time.

The Black Manor was prestigious in size and cleanliness, Cyngus would have it no other way, but
it was lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. It did not carry the same weight it had when her uncle had
once owned it and filled it with nothing but his three daughters. Much like Cygnus had. She
remembers Orion muttering about some curse on the home, but her brother muttered much and half
of it was nonsense and the other vileness. She had to force herself to terms that her brother once
grown was no longer the boy she had known, not one who wanted to be redeemed. It had hurt her
worse than most pains, but he was gone. With their mother once more she hoped. The two of them
had been of one soul it seemed. Her death had shattered something in her younger brother even
worse than what had shattered in her. No boy should lose his mother as he did.

“They are here.” Cygnus muttered, but made no movement beside his hand to his drink again.

“Are you to greet them?” She asked. Cygnus’ lip curled.

“They come to me. Even with Sirius returned, this is my home, my inheritance until I pass. They
come to me in my home.” He grumbled. If she hadn’t needed his name to gather her cousin she
wouldn’t have bothered, but it stabbed the fork into the heart of two issues. Cygnus demanded an
audience to speak about Sirius being reinstated as heir and she needed to see Bartemius Crouch and
the easiest, least political way to get to him was through his mother.

Lucretia stood to greet them. Her cousin, Charis, had never been her biggest fan. She was the third
daughter of a third son. An audacious beauty like her mother, but with little to do other than to
marry well. Her son was her greatest accomplishment, and her two daughters knew as such. So
when she entered, it was no surprise her son was clung to her arm. With her nails still perfectly
painted and her makeup a second skin it lined her face with her few wrinkles and complimented the
beauty even as she aged. Lucretia placed a kiss on her cheek before showing her the chair.

“Cygnus.” Charis said, her voice cracking. It had once been a perfect sing-song tone.

“Charis.” Cygnus said, half heartedly.

“I was pleased to hear from you, it had been some time, but with all that is going on. Well the
family name may live on.” She said, her lips pulling back to reveal perfectly white straight teeth.
Her son grunted and finally took a seat, appearing agitated and pale in the face. Lucretia was
careful to keep her eye on him without drawing attention.

“Yes, that is why we have written.” Cygnus said, vaguely waving to Lucretia as an afterthought.

“Sirius, tut tut. Not the son of Orion’s I would have chosen. Regulus was a good son, silent, but
knew his place. Tell me, Lucretia, is Arcturus able to handle Sirius’ little… issue. Him returning is
only half the issue, we need sons. I’ve tried to convince this one to marry and have another son
after the incident with the last, but he is stubborn, like his father.” Charis said, leaning closer as her
son tried to speak, but she waved him down. From the way his cheeks went red, she figured it
would be one of the only people able to silence him. However, she also noticed the way he licked
his lips repeatedly and chewed on his inner cheek as she mentioned his son. His son who had died
in Azkaban, she thought as she narrowed her eyes.

“What issue would that be, Charis?” Lucretia said, her tongue clicking to the roof of her mouth.

“Oh Lucretia’s it’s improper to say, but goodness me does it run in your line. I mean with your aunt
and uncle, the way they were. Then Alphard—” Charis was cut off by Cygnus roughly clearing his
throat. She knitted her eyebrows, but wasn’t silenced.

“Then Sirius… all inverts. Shirt lifter, a fruitcake, whatever they chose to call themselves now.
You can’t believe you actually kept that hidden did you?” Charis said, a sly smile crossing her
face. Ever the same Charis.

“Quite an interesting proclamation from a woman who’s own husband was known to bite the
pillow.” Cygnus said without missing a single step. Charis huffed and puffed, turning red in the
face.

“How dare you, my departed husband!” She began, before her son stood up with purpose.

“We should go mother. I can’t be away from home for long you know.” He said, grabbing her arm
quite forcibly. Lucretia and Cygnus stood at the same time. Why couldn’t he be gone long, she
wondered.

“Sirius will be the heir.” Cygnus said with a type of finality. Charis rolled her eyes, and let Lucretia
kiss her cheek once more before they were rushed out. Lucretia watching to see the the back of
Mister Crouch’s shirt was untucked and his hat on loopside while he missed a step leaving the
house before vanishing.

“What is he hiding?” Cygnus asked, slipping back into his seat and lifting his glass before his face
falling at it being empty. She turned over her shoulder.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” She answered. Cygnus shrugged, crossing the room to fill
his glass again. Taking a sip before speaking.
 “So will he?” Cygnus said as she began to ready herself to leave. She paused before going for the
door. Raising her eyes at her younger cousin.

“I despise Charis. I do. She has a point though. Sirius is all we have. If he has no children to carry
on the name, well what was the point of releasing him. I know Alphard made it sound like the
worst crime to try and force him into bed with a woman, so we didn’t, Sirius doesn’t have that
option. His brother is…dead.” Cygnus said, a pop to his eyebrow she tried not to concern herself
with.

“Freeing Sirius was righting a wrong, Cygnus. And it is the nineties, children can come more than
one way. They always have, if you look at history. How many people pleaded with my own
husband to have a bastard to legitimise when our sons died. If Sirius wishes to continue the line, it
will be his decision. A decision no one before has gotten. Which is a travesty, but shouldn’t we
want better for those who come after us?” She asked, her voice steady as he downed his entire
drink before responding.

“I want the line to continue, by any means necessary and your father once understood that. Age has
changed him. You have changed him.” Cygnus said, clashing his glass down on the table and
turning without as much as a nod to acknowledge her. She gathered her things and left with the
door wide open for the wind to drag in the outdoors. If Cygnus wanted such perfection, he could
work for it himself.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for reading and all the lovely comments, I see them all even if I haven’t
had a chance to respond!

(Technically the little canon we have, Charis is dead by ‘73 but canon? Who is she?)
 Riddle
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of death, war

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Arcturus never could complain about Prewett Hall, it was a nice reprieve to the smog filled city of
London. The fresh ocean air and the soft breeze, especially anymore, were appreciative. So he
found his way there a few days earlier than they needed to leave for The World Cup, both to study
in the quiet and to dig into the Prewett Library. Ignatius had enough on his hands, he could manage
to rummage through old books looking for any further hints. He hated being resolved to searching
for answers in books, but from the advice of all those around him, it was the most he could
manage.

He stood in the kitchen, letting the warmth of the sun touch his skin for a moment before he would
enter. He had an appointment with one within the home he needed to attend to first before
resigning to his search of ancient words. Only before he could move further, he was soon to realise
he was no longer alone. He turned his attention to the entrance of the kitchen, where two young
men stood, clearly related from the similarities, but different enough to be their own persons. His
daughter’s nephews were speechless with their mouths agape.

“Ah yes… William, correct?” Arcturus said and there was that shifty glance as the older brother
looked at the younger, a long tooth earring hanging from a single ear and a leather strap trying his
hair back, small braids carefully placed throughout, from his daughter. He knew her careful hand.
She’d done much of her brother’s and cousins' hair when they were younger.

“Just Bill…sir.” He answered after a beat of silence. The note of respect falling flat.

“Then I suppose you would want to be called Charlie, no?” Arcturus said with a jut of the chin to
the shorter of the two, his shirt half open down his chest showing the flickerings of moving
magical ink. It made him chuckle. His brother had once been fond of inking and piercing himself,
not as extravagantly as the youth could now. A simple small tattoo with great meaning over his
heart and two diamond studs in his ear had been his rebellion. Their father had ripped the earrings
from his ears, tearing the skin and causing a bloody mess. He could only imagine if he found out
about the tattoo what he would have done. Instead, Arcturus had mended his brother’s ears and let
his sister push a needle through it once repaired to replace the studs.

“Correct, sir.” He said, his hands firm behind his back, muscles and scars of youth and a life being
well lived.

“A pleasure.” He said switching his cane to the other arm and reaching out with the open gesture.
There was the momentary shock and he’d be lying if he didn’t say there wasn’t still pleasure in it.
Eventually the both took his hand and shook firm with nods of their head. Arcturus dismissed
himself leaving the two boys, whispering among themselves at the incident once he was out of
earshot. He had a meeting to conduct. Once up the stairs, he found the room easily enough.
Lancelot was a creature of habit.

“Packed?” Arcturus said, nodding to the single small case on the floor. Lancelot waved his hand
dismissively.

“I learned to pack light in the war, the first one, mind you.” He said, his eyes casting over him as
Arcturus saw where his other hand rested on a stack of journals.

“Find anything?” He said, slowly lowering himself to the end of the bed. Digging his knuckles into
a pain in his side that would not cease.

“I’ve been reading them.” Lancelot replied, his thin lips pressed together.

“If you wish me to find anything interesting. Such a task is easy, I particularly find it very
stimulating that at the mention of a repeated name in Neptune’s journal the next few pages happen
to always be missing. But useful for us? No, I haven’t found anything.” He answered after a
moment’s thought. Arcturus sighed.

“So you’ve read of Coinneach, an interesting tale about him and Neptune.” Arcturus shrugged,
only to find it worsened his pain. Lancelot noted it even as he thought he hid it and from under the
chair he sat, he pulled the medical bag he always had within an arm’s reach and handed the potion
over without a word. Arcturus downed it without complaints.

“Do you carry it always?” Arcturus asked.

“Ever since the one time I did not have it by my side, my dearest cousin. The heir to our line died in
my hands.” Lancelot said, no bitterness to his words but it would be right if there had been. It
shouldn’t have happened. Alwyn shouldn’t have perished. Maybe things would have been different.
Maybe Arcturus wouldn’t have retreated. Alwyn was a steady force in his life. A mentor, a father
figure to a young man who had never once had one. Arcturus felt his loss more than he had when
his own father had perished.

“Well if you find nothing new, then will you agree?” Arcturus asked. He had agreed to allow
Lancelot his own look over the information before solidifying the plan that Arcturus had concluded
would be their best option.

“To send my dear cousin's only living son into danger for the idea of information that may not
exist?” Lancelot said, his chest moving up and down with the deep breaths he took. His eyes
slanted at Arcturus.

“I would say no, but Ignatius has never been one to listen.” Lancelot sighed. That he had not,
Arcturus could agree.

Regulus had unfolded and refolded, packed and unpacked. Yet it did not ease his anxiety. This
inkling of danger carried with him as he wrapped the Irish teams scarf Harry had purchased for the
event. Bulgaria and Ireland were playing at the Quidditch World Cup. It’s what he was trying to
focus on. Harry was thrilled, bouncing off the walls with energy. It took all of Regulus’ time and
patience to get him to focus on anything else, like his studies or practising magic he would need. At
times, he’d let be and sit back as Harry talked his ear off on every strategy he thought the two
teams could use, and the moves he hoped to see.

As he stared at the packed clothes for the long weekend holiday, he couldn’t find a single
imperfection to focus on. Instead, he was left alone with his thoughts. Regulus knew he didn’t do
well with his own thoughts. So when the door to his room opened and Harry bound in, it was a
welcomed relief.
“Is it done? We leave before sunrise tomorrow? Ron said they will all be there the day after. His
mum isn’t coming, she gave her ticket to Hermione. He’s been worried about writing lately, so I
don’t think I’ll hear from him until the Cup. His mum is in the right state because Bill and Charlie
went to stay with Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ig. I mean I suppose she’s right to be upset, but there is
more room at Prewett Hall. Ron says when Charlie and Bill come back he has to share with the
twins or Bill and Charlie have to share. They’ve offered before but his mum always makes him
room with the twins instead, saying Bill and Charlie are too old to be sharing a room.” Harry said,
rattling off as he stuck Vega onto the top of his clothes before going to the window, throwing open
the curtains to let in some sunlight. It gave Regulus an idea.

“Let’s go for a walk, Harry.” He suggested. Needing to get out into the fresh air and try to take his
mind off all that was occurring. Harry jumped at the idea and before long they were under the hot
sun, sharing the street with Muggles using the warm weather as an excuse to leave their own
homes. Regulus had been downing Polyjuice Potion most mornings to jog around his home.
Exploring nooks and crannies he hadn’t ever known existed. He found a decent teashop not too far
away and it was a long enough walk there to burn off a good amount of Harry’s feverish energy.
Harry chatted most of the way there, keeping the thoughts in Regulus’ head at bay. Then when the
young woman behind the counter who Regulus had grown acquainted with gave him a wink as she
passed him his tea, Harry wouldn’t let it go the entire time they sat with their tea. He found it the
most entertaining afternoon and Regulus went along with it just to see Harry’s bright emotions
across his face.

Only on their walk back did Harry go back to his favourite subject at the moment. The Quidditch
World Cup. For which he had read up more of than any of his studies in the past few weeks, but
Harry had been obedient on each of their lessons all holiday long and he deserved a few weeks to
be a teenage boy excited about sports.

“You know Krum is famous for the Wronksi Feint? I hope we get to see it, I want to see it done in
person by a professional, see if I can get any tips.” Harry said.

“You won’t be needing tips on that, Harry. The Hogwarts Quidditch Cup is not the place to risk
your life on an unnecessary move.” Regulus said, shaking his head in disapproval, but his lips
pulled at a smile. Harry’s head twisted towards Regulus' which had been tilted down. His finger
raises to point at Regulus.

“You're smiling! You don’t mean what you say when you do. You're trying to be responsible but
you know you hold the record for the most successful Wronski Feints in Hogwarts Quidditch
History. Charlie Weasley came close, but he forfeited the second half of his final term so it’s still in
your name. Don’t try and deny it, or I’ll have Hermione give me the exact page in Hogwarts
Quidditch Records where it is located.” Harry said, throwing his head back in a laugh. Regulus
chuckled along.

Rays of sun lowered in the sky offering the last of the warmth before the night's reprieve of
darkness and a light coolness took over. He needed to get Harry back home before dark so he could
wash off and cool down before dinner. They took the final turn and Harry’s head popped up.

“Race to the end? See if any of your running is doing good?” Harry suggested at the end of the
road before they reached Twelve Grimmauld Place. Regulus laughed out loud, but nodded in
agreement. They lined up behind one of the cracks in the cement and Harry counted them down.
Just before he got to one, Regulus felt an ache. Old and familiar, and slowly becoming searing in
his arm and spreading up to his shoulder. Harry pushed off, but Regulus was stuck in place.

He was going to be sick, he was going to be sick, he was going to be sick. His thoughts revolved
around the single idea that he would lose his stomach right then and there. His head felt
lightheaded while a cold sweat broke out on his back. Blurred vision told him Harry had nearly
made it to the door. Beating Regulus in his race forward. Harry looked over his shoulder likely
with triumphant victory on his face, but even without a clear line of sight, he could see his
shoulders slump and knew his face had fallen.

“Regulus?” The noise was garbled in his head, but he shook his head and forced one foot in front
of the other and made it to Harry’s side and put his hand on his head, ruffling his hair.

“Regulus?” Harry said, concern rising in his tone.

“Lightheaded, Harry. I just need some water.” Regulus said, his mouth feeling particularly
parched. He wasn’t going to let Harry know what he’d felt. Not until he could make sense of it
himself. He wouldn’t lie to him if it meant what he feared, but he wanted confirmation first.

Harry dragged Regulus to the kitchen and poured the glass of water himself. Putting on a good
face, Regulus drank it all as quick as he could and it helped soothe some of the panic in his body.
His skin looked ashen still though, paler than it usually was. Harry didn’t look convinced as his
eyes examined Regulus for some source of an ailment.

“I will be fine, Harry. Don’t worry about me. Why don’t you go double check the packing I did
and I’ll rest instead?” Regulus suggested, knowing Harry would do better with his hands busy.
Only half convinced, Harry poured Regulus another glass of water before hesitantly going to check
his trunk for all the essentials needed for the weekend away. With mustered strength. Regulus kept
his chin up, but the moment he heard Harry’s feet on the stairs, he crumbled. His head was
pounding in his skull and his skin felt itchy and irritated all over. All of it stemming from the ache
in his arm.

Nervously, his hand went to the edge of his sleeve, slipping two fingers under the linen to pull it
back. He had nearly revealed the Mark on his skin when he heard the sound of feet on the stairs.
Panicked, he pushed the cloth down and forced the glass of water to his lips to cover the trembling
they were doing. He expected Harry, making some excuse to check on him again. So he was
surprised that a nonchalant Sirius rounded the corner to the kitchen, bouncing his head and
humming a tune to an old Queen song he used to blast through the house in order to drive their
parents madder. When his head turned up and he found Regulus, he jumped out of his boots.

“Shite, Reg, announce yourself.” Sirius said. Maybe it was the irritation he felt, or the come down
from spiked panic, or maybe, just maybe Regulus was feeling safe with his brother once more. But
when he set the water down, his eyes watered without control and his chest heaved in a constrained
sob. Sirius froze with one foot lifted. There was a moment suspended in time where Regulus was
sitting, crying at the table like he had before when he was a child and Sirius was looking with
confusion across his face.

“Shite, Reg.” Sirius whispered, squeezing himself behind the table and as close to Regulus as he
could, putting his arm around him. Regulus appreciated the warmth of his brother at his side, but
something in the notion caused his emotions to betray him and he had to bury his face into his
hands as he cried and sniffled, attempting to muffle the sounds. Sirius rubbed his back. He used to
love when Sirius would rub his back as children. It was one of the few touches of comfort he’d
ever gotten as a child.

“Reg, shite. Is it Harry…I– I just saw him, he looked fine…I– are you hurt? What’s going on, Reg?
Tell me, I want to help. Tell me.” Sirius said, his teeth chattering in his mouth as he spoke. Regulus
hated to be an inconvenience, he hated to be emotional, and most of all he hated being vulnerable.
Not to his brother, but to a greater enemy.
“Reg, come on. You’re worrying me.” Sirius whispered, leaning close to Regulus’ ear and
speaking gentler than Regulus had known.

Words were difficult. Sirius fancied himself a poet, but Regulus himself a writer. And a writer’s
greatest task was to show, not tell. In this case, words would do no better, not in his state. Instead,
with shaking hands and harsh sniffles, Regulus reached for his sleeve and pulled it back to the
crook of his elbow.

Sirius' inhale was brutal. Unrestrained and sneering even if his brother didn’t intend it. There were
some choices that even forgiven could never take the sting away. Unfortunately for him, he held a
permanent reminder of his choice. A reminder he did his best to keep hidden from everyone, no
matter how warm it grew or how people said he didn’t need to cover it any longer. The Dark Mark
even dissolved into a scar would not see daylight if he could help it.

“Is–is it hurting? Could–d it be the sun? Did you roll up your sleeve or–?” Sirius questioned. Good,
decent Sirius trying to rationalise it. Trying to lessen the blow, but Regulus knew how this went.
He was the one who carried it with him.

“No, Sirius.” He said, his voice broken and croaking on each word. “It’s him. Peter–Peter must
have found him. If–If it is showing again, he’s gaining power and if he’s gaining power…”

“Harry is in danger.” Sirius finished where Regulus’ words had died in his throat. He nodded
weakly.

Then Sirius did something particular. He leaned Regulus into his chest and held him close, petting
his head not unlike how Regulus did with Harry. Regulus could feel the unsteady breaths from how
his ear pushed into Sirius’ chest. The life outside flowed by, undisturbed by the two brothers, but
for Regulus, everything froze for a few moments.

“Remus is going to be here any minute. I’ll tell him we will have to postpone. I’m staying here
tonight with you. To make sure you're alright.” Sirius declared, breaking the peaceful silence.
Regulus put his hand on Sirius' stomach.

“I will be fine, Sirius. Go spend time with Remus, it caught me off guard is all.” Regulus said, his
sobs sniffled as he composed himself once more, pushing off from his brother’s chest, but waking
from his state feeling more relieved than he had in the past few days.

“How about a compromise?” Sirius suggested. “I’ll see if Remus wants to stay in tonight, and you
can join us. Harry too if he wants. Maybe we can get that Muggle projector to work and Kreacher
was making sweets earlier, we could share those.”

He contemplated a moment, letting his eye slip to the burnish red colour his arm now took. It
wasn’t the dark black it had once been, but the time would come, sooner rather than later and when
it looked as it had years ago, there was no stopping it. Lord Voldermort would return.

“We don’t tell, Harry. Not yet. We wait until after the Cup, maybe even later than that. I–I won’t
worry him unnecessarily. Not until we have more confirmation.” Regulus said, and Sirius agreed
readily.

So when Remus arrived with flowers in his hand, there was a bit of guilt that Regulus was the
reason they weren’t spending the evening together, but Remus just smiled. Sirius put the flowers
into a vase and called Harry down. They did have to leave early tomorrow, but Regulus let Harry
stay up late that night, holding him close in his grasp and eventually the group of them falling
asleep away from their beds well into the night, the final scene of their second film playing without
any of them seeing the end. A hero had vanquished the enemy but only after great sacrifice
himself. Maybe it had been best if they did not see it, better to fill in their own ideas of the story.

“Please tell me what we are doing here.” Lancelot asked, looking around what comprised the main
part of Little Hangelton, which was a pub with a broken sign, a worn storefront with dirty
windows, and a petrol station on the corner.

“A dead gardener.” Ignatius replied. Lancelot only blinked as he followed Ignatius down the
uneven path that served as the walkway.

“Would this have anything to do with why I was woken in the early hours of the morning by a dear
colleague?” Lancelot continued to question as the curtains of a nearby flat pushed open a hair,
when he looked up they were shut astutely. Clearly, the town was unaccustomed to outsiders.

Ignatius entered into the pub, which was darkened with the grim build up from years past on the
window. Inside it was busier than expected for a small area. Several eyes turned to them when they
entered, wary eyes he noted. Ignatius let it roll off him without a second thought, he always had
been less caring to what others thought of him as he aged. What he had done, he had done and what
others thought did not carry much weight.

“Stout.” Ignatius ordered to a disgruntled barkeep, smudging a glass clean, though in his opinion it
was only growing dirty with each swipe of old cloth. Lancelot shook his head when the barkeep
jutted his chin at him. He had hardly ever drank. And now seemed the least opportune time.

“They’ll trust us more if we fit in.” Ignatius hushed under his breath before the barkeep pushed the
drink close to him, his eyes were heavily narrowed.

“Long way from Wales.” He commented. He was an older man, bald on the top of his head, but
with a scruffy grey beard. The weather worn on his face showed he’d been around a long time. His
ideas would carry differently, and as he looked around most of the faces were lined and sagging
from age. This was no town bustling with hope and vigour of the youth, at least not any longer. It
was a village ready to sink in oblivion. They should have some symphony, but people would prefer
to point elsewhere and see their own problems in others, rather than address them in themselves. It
may be the nineties, but the discontent of the seventies and eighties still clung in places like Little
Hangleton. Places that would never recover.

“Not terribly far.” Ignatius said, his lips in a straight line. The barkeep snorted. For a small country
stuck to another, one would think it wouldn’t cause much issues, but Lancelot was proven wrong
time and time again. And Ignatius was proud, his father had been proud, the Prewetts were proud.

“Sir, we’ve come at the notice of a departed colleague of mine.” Lancelot said, leaning forward.
His accent had faded over the years, too much time in London. Too much time in hiding. The
barkeep turned his attention to Lancelot with his chest puffed out, feeling of use and better at the
way he had been addressed.

“A colleagues, what work are you in?” The barkeep asked, his bushy grey eyebrow raised.

“We knew one another from the war, sir.” Lancelot replied. The barkeep righted himself and let his
chest fall down.

“Ah the war. Wanted to fight myself, but my heart, you see, never has been too good.” He said as
he turned around and reached for a paper stuffed behind the bar. He turned it around for them to
look.

“Frank Bryce. Poor ole bloke. Never was right after the war. The Riddles treated him well enough,
even if they treated no one else the same. Then when they died, well no one was going to force
Frank off. The rich bloke who owns the property now lives abroad, something of an investment for
him. I don’t understand it, never owned land myself. He paid Frank monthly and let him stay, the
property was just too big for him with his knee. They found him in the house, his own heart
probably failed.” He explained as he turned the paper around and pointed to a small notice of the
incident near the back pages. Ignatius’ ears turned up at the name.

“Riddle you say? Funny name.” Ignatius answered, and Lancelot could hear the reply before it
came.

“One to speak, aren't you lot? Well the Riddles were the wealthiest in these parts, bit of a scandal.
The son, Tom, rumour is he ran off with the daughter from the old family that lived out in the
woods. Strange people, always off with them. They never came into town, the father or the son,
only the daughter, looking stiff and scared like a shadow would spook her. Then we stopped seeing
her and besides the occasional weird noise or strange lights from the woods, well we all but forgot
about that family. Couldn’t forget the Riddles though, no when Tom came back. They paraded him
around town, spoiling him with new clothes and taking him on fancy trips. Frank was steady,
staying behind each time to take care of the house. I know the lot of people in this town didn’t
understand him, more than half of them believe he killed them. They were found in their finest
clothes laying side by side in their dining room, no cause of death ever determined. But I knew
Frank from before the war, we were boys together and I saw how the war changed men. Made
them a bit soft in the head. Needed help, maybe even a friend, but old Frank, he’d never admit it.
So he’d come here once a week when he knew few others would be and I never made him pay for
a drink. Pity he’s gone, it’s good of you to come you know? He has no family to speak of, his
parents gone, his sister died of a fever when she was an infant and all his cousins moved far away
and never spoke to him again.” The barkeep said, leaving the paper as he went to attend to a patron
who was nodding for him with an empty glass in hand.

Ignatius dragged the paper close to him, to read the small expert about the Riddles, but the barkeep
had told them more than enough. Lancelot let out a small sigh as he waited for Igantius to read.
Once he had finished he took a long sip of his drink before opening his mouth to speak.

“Tom Riddle… Lancelot if this is true… if this man is who I believe he is…” Lancelot said,
breathless.

“He’s the father of the infamous Lord Voldermort.” Lancelot said, noting the barkeep coming back
to their end.

“The Riddle House, where is it? I’d like to pay respect to where he lived.” Lancelot said. The
barkeep wiping his hands off on a worn towel.

“Over the hill, about a twenty minute walk with good knees. Don’t expect much, like I said, it was
too much for ole Frank.” He replied and Lancelot thanked him while Ignatius slipped a large
muggle bill on the sticky wooden bar which caused the barkeep’s eyes to grow and him to stammer
it was too much, but Lancelot shook his head and they made their way to the hill. Lancelot decided
to use the time to get further answers.

“What were you doing the other day that had you coming home panting for breath?” Lancelot
asked, as he realised the walk may take longer than twenty minutes for him nearly halfway to the
time and just over the hill.
“Breaking into Barty Crouch’s office while Lucretia had him at a tea. He left half way through and
forced me to run out of the Ministry without getting caught there.” Ignatius answered, his pace
steady.

“Oh is that all?” Lancelot replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Found a letter requesting a committee review reinstating the Triwizard Tournament for ‘magical
agreeability across nations’, but he didn’t write it.” Ignatius offered, his eyes taking in the view.

“How do you know?” Lancelot inquired, never ceased to be amazed at all Ignatius had learned,
both from his father and his father by law.

“Compared it to his journal which was written entirely in a different language, not one I knew
suspected it was a code. Copied as much as I could but haven’t cracked it yet.” He answered, and
Lancelot nodded.

“So Lucretia’s suspicions?” Lancelot asked, seeing the rising of a roof well passed age coming into
view.

“Before his current role, Crouch was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement under their purview is
Azkaban, if there was anyone who could do it. It would be him.” Ignatius answered with a sigh.

“Will you tell Regulus? It was my understanding the two boys were close and if it is as you think,
and the boy is now impersonating his father, well we need to consider it wasn’t Peter who helped
Tom Riddle.” Lancelot said, as the brush under foot grew thick and tangled with vines. The house
hardly seemed like it should be standing in its state, with smashed windows and doors off hinges,
but there it stood, once a great stately manor. If one looked at history long enough, one would
probably find the Riddles had once been even more notable. Lords and Ladies, or maybe perhaps
an old family of Dukes and Duchesses. They had clearly been surviving on old money because the
decay had begun even before the deaths, they had been running out of their funds, old money
replaced by the new.

“He ran off with a girl who lived in the woods.” Ignatius hummed. “Does it seem like something
someone who grew up here would do?”

“Perhaps, Lucretia took you.” Lancelot said, the old stub still holding on. Now Ignatius smiled
instead of growing defensive.

“She did, but we are better than a family residing out of the woods in a recluse. Tell me Lancelot,
how good is your history?” Ignatius asked, staring off into a break in the woods where it appeared
at one time there may have been a path beaten down by human feet, but had long been abandoned
and nature with its prickly vines and soft leaves was trying to reclaim.

“Better than I know my French, why do you ask?” Lancelot said, letting his eyes fall on a window,
marred with new black scorch marks freshly put. Less than a few days old he would say. They need
to be careful, particularly careful.

“Do you happen to remember the tale of a great family now extinguished that retreated to the old
cottage they had in the woods when they were forced to sell all of their other belongings and
possessions to survive?” Ignatius said, his feet already moving in the direction of the treeline.
Lancelot took one last look at the broken windows, not wanting to bring it to Ignatius' attention.
His vengeance ran deeper, and more foolishly. He would want to face Tom Riddle alone if it meant
he could feel some inkling of closure for the deaths of their nephews. Lancelot did not wish to burn
the body of another family member. So to the woods they went, following the hardly seen path that
 feet had once travelled.

“She would have wanted to see him.” Ignatius whispered to himself, pushing brush aside.

“It wouldn’t have been far, they wouldn’t let her go far. They would have wanted her to marry her
brother, he would have claimed her as his only letting her leave for his benefit.” He whispered,
bending down to look at the remains of what had once been a fruitful berry bush.

“This isn’t natural here. It’s why it has died, she was smart. Smarter than we gave credit for, she
planted it and used it as an excuse to leave, to come see him. The Muggle, the one she thought
would save her.” Ignatius said, painting a picture of a poor girl long gone, but once full of hope and
will. A few minutes farther, far enough away that the Riddle house was no longer visible, they
stumbled on what had once been a cabin. The earth had taken it. The roof bloomed in a mixture of
moss and weeds. The windows were pushed out to allow the vines to cling to the walls. And the
door hung by a single hinge, the grass brushing against its paint, chipping it away.

“The Gaunts.” Lancelot finally whispered, for there was something in the air that demanded
silence and respect. Something old and ancient.

“Do you hear that?” Ignatius said, leaning his head forward inching closer to the door. Lancelot’s
hearing never was as good as it had once been, but as he pressed forward he could hear it. The
slithering whispers, the taunts and threats. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t safe.

“Ignatius.” Lancelot whispered harshly, grabbing his cousin’s arm and forcing him back. A look of
fiery fury in his eye when he did.

“Come, Ignatius. Now.” Lancelot demanded as he pulled him back toward the path and under a
break of sunlight. The fiery look in his eye dimmed.

“What is in there?” Ignatius said, shaking his head, confusion clouding his face. “I thought– I was
hearing…”

“Nothing good. Nothing we are prepared to face today.” Lancelot said, and with the finality of his
tone Ignatius only dared look over his shoulder once more.

“Whatever that was has been there for many years, Ignatius. We will return at a later date.”
Lancelot commanded, and maybe it was the respect he had been taught, or his trust in Lancelot as
one of the few figures of authority left in his life, but Ignatius came with him back to the Riddle
house and when Lancelot kept walking, Ignatius jogged to follow him.

“Where are you going?” He inquired.

“To speak to the doctor, see if we can’t get Frank Bryce’s body to be buried and in a village like
this it’s likely the same doctor who handled the Riddles’ death. I won’t see if he’ll give me a few
more details than the public knows.” Lancelot said over his shoulder. Ignatius sighed, but followed
along. Lancelot wanted to leave it all behind, the darkness had never appealed to him. Not the way
it had taken his young cousin who was his companion now on their walk. But the darkness always
seemed to find him and it would only be a matter of time before he would have to face it directly.
The day was not today though and he was thankful for such.

Chapter End Notes

I had the worst writer's block trying to get this chapter just right, but I believe I like it
now! Thank you for reading and leaving all your nice comments!
 Rift
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, Mentions of minor injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

A truce had been made. For one single night, the night before they left for the Quidditch Cup.
They were arriving midweek to spend several days camping out, for the experience, since Harry
was so thrilled by the whole event. Arthur couldn’t afford as much time off of work, so they’d be
there only for three days. So the day before they left, Molly had written a short tense letter inviting
the four of them for dinner at The Burrow. She wanted to see Bill and Charlie, Lucretia knew it
was the only reason her defences were down. She missed her sons, and even though Ignatius and
Lucretia had encouraged them to go see her, once they admitted she wasn’t allowing them over, the
two boys were staunch in their views. If their aunt and uncle weren’t allowed, they wouldn’t go.
She hated being in the middle of it, the rift of a family. She’d been in the middle of it too many
times before.

So she made certain both boys were presentable and brought a basket of cheese, not too nice or
foreign, but never wanting to be empty handed and Lucretia had all four of them there ten minutes
early. Usually Blacks arrived just on time, never early, never eager, but she knew Molly knew that
and she hoped she could see how they, specifically her, were trying.

Molly accepted the gift without comment and before they could say anything Bill and Charlie were
swarmed by their siblings filling the small kitchen with noise. Lucretia quite liked the noise. It
reminded her of times past when Fabian, Gideon, and yes even Molly would all be too loud with
each other.

“Outside, set the table. Supper is nearly done.” Molly said, pushing plates and silverware into each
child’s hands and shooing them on. Lucretia grabbed her husband’s hand. Molly didn’t like anyone
hovering in her kitchen. It was best if they helped with the table. Once outside, they found more
friendly visitors.

“Lucy! Oh how good it is to see you.” Lucretia heard as she was enveloped in a hug. She had to
have learned such deeds once becoming a Weasley because after the meeting with her sister
refreshed her memory, Lucretia knew Cedrella hadn’t learned it from her family.

“Oh I am so glad Molly finally listened to reason. She won’t show it, but she’s been broken up
about it, but she is just so worried for the children, their safety, even though I told her the only
Arcturus that would have ever laid a hand on them would have been my father, and he’s long
dead.” Cedrella said with her soft blue eyes and grey streaked through her light hair.

“It is fine, Cedrella, you’ve done enough. I am just happy Ignatius gets to see his precious nephews
and niece. You know him and family. A soft spot.” Lucretia said, looking over her shoulder where
Ignatius was coaching Ginny through a trick she could pull on her broom.

“A sore spot too. He has always been defensive, even a bit rash with his family, ever since his
father died. I can’t blame him, traumatising it had to be, watching your father die in front of you.
Can’t say I had the same sympathies for my father, but I wouldn’t want to watch him die that way
either. No, my father went in the night. Quietly, just about the only thing he ever did quietly was
die.” Cedrella said, rubbing Lucretia’s back and bringing her to a table with a table cloth she
needed help adjusting.

Molly came out with a feast, and Lucretia noted she did set out a few of the cheese they brought
with the bread and fruit she had sliced. The table was set with Arthur on one end and his father,
Septimus on the other. Ignatius sat with him, talking animatedly about one subject or another with
Charlie huddled close to them. Likely dragons, men and their fascination with dragons, she
thought, shaking her head as she sat close to them. Ginny slid in to take the seat next to her,
striking up a conversation about her classes that she was planning to take the next term. Care of
Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies.

“I took Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy when I was in school, so if you ever need any
advice, I am only a letter away.” She offered. Her Arithmancy had gone rough with age, but Care
of Magical Creatures was her forte, her career revolved around them. A throat cleared as she
finished speaking to Ginny, and Molly was looking directly at her, cutting into a bit of the roast.

“You’re leaving for the Cup tomorrow, Aunt Lucretia?” Molly asked, Lucretia swallowing the pain
from her full name, for as long as she had been an aunt, it had always been Aunt Lucy.

“We will leave first thing in the morning.” She answered, trying to keep her voice light.

“You’ll be staying with your father I presume? I have heard the Minister invited him personally.”
Molly said, her lips twisted sourly.

“We have our own tent actually, but my father will be nearby.” She said, trying to keep tension
low.

“And the two of you? Staying with them, I presume, have gotten too big for your own family
now?” Molly said, not bothering to turn her head to her two sons, sitting side to side.

“Mum–” Bill started, but Molly wasn’t finished speaking.

“I knew I should have protested more, letting you go off to Egypt on the assignment, I was worried
about Gringotts alone. Never trusted goblins, and then you Charlie, running off to Romania half
way through your last term. The Ministry has a perfectly good department for magical creatures.
You know when I was young going off to Romania was reserved for trouble makers.” Molly said,
shaking her head.

“My cousin runs the dragon reserve in Romania.” Lucretia commented, her forehead creasing.

“Yes, and I’ve heard he was quite the troublemaker when he was younger, always drinking and
wooing young women away from their families.” Molly said. Lucretia had to bite her own tongue.
McKenzie had his own story, his own pain he carried. Romania had treated him well, giving him
purpose when he was lost and now he tried to do the same to the young witches and wizards who
ended up under one circumstance or another working for him.

“Well, I would say McKenzie has done quite well for himself. He worked his way to running it,
turned the whole place around and tripled its size. Not everyone needs to follow the conventional
route, Molly. Your sons are doing perfectly well for themselves in their careers. Charlie was just
telling us about a paper he's published about new innovations in dragon care, and Bill’s contract
was renewed for another two years to work on another excavation.” Lucretia said, trying to keep
her smile up and encourage the boys to speak about something more agreeable.
“Well, Percy has been working hard with the Ministry. Hasn’t even left home either! Gotten a big
role under Bartemius Crouch, he heads The Department of International Magical Cooperation.
They do plenty of good work there. No troublemakers either, they wouldn’t tolerate it with such a
reputation to maintain, oh well, wouldn’t know since neither of you found the work there you
pleased.” Molly said, tilting her chin down as she cut another piece of her dinner, turning her
attention to her aunt and uncle, likely wanting to squash whatever jobs her children had brought up
that weren’t Ministry or St. Mungo’s.

“I would know, Molly.” Ignatius said, quietly overspoken by her.

“Oh it’s a fascinating department, does all sorts of good and from right here in England. Tell them,
Percy. The project you’ve been working on about the poorly made potion cauldrons and the
authorization they’ve given you on the import trade.” Molly encouraged, using her fork to point at
Percy across from her.

“Oh mother…” Percy said, even him not wanting to join the conversation as he shook his head.

“I know about the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Molly.” Igantius said, his
voice raising more than he likely intended as his hand gripped onto the fork in his hand, bending it
slightly. Lucretia tried to wave him down, but Molly had done it. She’d brought up, inadvertently,
the one subject that caused Ignatius blood to boil.

“My father–your grandfather was the Head of International Magical Cooperation for years. I know
better than most the exact workings of those offices. I also know how much it took from us. My
father did the fair conventional route. Getting a Ministry job, working his way to the top, nearly the
very top of it all. After all those years of service and convention, how did it repay him? How did
the Ministry repay him?” He asked, but only silence responded as Molly breathed heavily. Lucretia
couldn’t discern if she had done it on purpose, or had a momentary lapse in judgement praising her
son. It wouldn’t matter to Ignatius. Not about his father, even Molly didn’t typically hit so low.

“A stipend for my mother’s grievance which she barely lived long enough to put to any use. And
his name etched into a plaque hardly anyone pauses to look at. All of that work, and hardly any
glory to hold to his name. So I’m sorry, Molly, if we cannot see the same advantageous to
conventional work as you. I understand it is a point of difference for us, and our own influences
sway our view, but we both have to look beyond that and know that your children, your precious
many children are doing their best to make their own way in this world, and we should support
them whether it be Ministry or not. I apologise Percy, I am certain your work has been wonderful,
even if others may think cauldrons regulations an oversight, you’ve taken it in steed. But I must
excuse myself.” Ignatius said, and he was up and gone within an instance.

“Molly.” Lucretia said softly, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it back before she could even
brush against her skin.

“I know, I shouldn’t have brought up Grandfather Alwyn, but goodness, do he and I know how to
get under each other’s skins.” Molly whispered, her shoulders tense, but Lucretia could see the
sadness in her face. The regret and remorse she held. She was just a mother trying to do her best.

“You are both Prewett, I believe it comes with the name.” Lucretia said, quietly leaning back in her
seat. Her husband would be at home, likely trying to find that old bottle of liquor. The one his
father only had for specific occasions. When he first became Head of International Magical
Cooperation, when Ignatius became Head Boy, even when they announced their engagement. He
had been begrudging to accept their relationship at first, but eventually, he poured them both a
glass the night before it was plastered over The Daily Prophet along with the slanderous gossip. It
had been Lucretia’s third engagement, and that alone was enough to whisper about but the rest of
the situation only kindled the fire. He’d have a glass, and then let the guilt of his words destroy
him, wanting to run back and apologise, but being too proud. She waited, quietly, hardly saying a
handful of words until tarts were served and she walked out with Bill and Charlie, after at least fifty
goodbyes from their siblings.

“You will see them in two days.” Lucretia laughed as Ginny clung onto Bill’s arm and the twins
boasted how they were taller than Charlie now.

“Maybe, Mum says we need to stay in the tent, but dad’s saying we can come over. Harry will be
there right?” Ron pipped up, a bit of tart on his cheek. Wiping it away with her thumb, he turned a
bit red.

“Harry cannot wait to see you, all of you really. Hermione too, she is coming in the morning for
breakfast right? It's about all he can talk about, well that and filling my head with Quidditch talk I
can’t wrap my head around.” She said. Ron nodded enthusiastically.

“Perfect. Merlin we have so much to catch up on, I’m quite shite at letters really, rather say it all in
person. I can’t wait to hear about Harry’s hols too. His holidays are always so much more
interesting.” Ron smiled.

“Don’t let your mother hear you using that language, Ron. She’ll wash your mouth out.” Lucretia
said, just as Molly called them all in.

“Behave you lot, and get plenty of rest! There will be enough late nights to come.” She called after
them with her hand raised as they raced each other back. Bill and Charlie laughing at them to her
side.

“They are good kids.” Bill said.

“Bloody good.” Charlie echoed. She had to agree. They were bloody good children. Perfect in all
their imperfections and by Merlin, she wouldn’t let Molly keep them away, so she just had to win
her niece, practically her daughter, over to her family. Slowly, piece by piece, until she could
understand they were no more imperfect than any other family. Well maybe a bit more, they had a
fair bit of killing and such swept under the rug, but nearly all of that had passed years ago. It was
time for a new page in their journey.

The rain battered the windows, having not let up since he had been having his morning tea. Any
hope of his jog he’d been determined to take to ease his mind was being washed away with the
sludge of weather outside. Regulus sat back in the plush chair in the library, nurturing his second
cup of tea. Inside it would be then, and maybe for the best. The next few days would be bustling
with activities and people. All the people from across the globe descending on England for the
Quidditch World Cup.

They were leaving in less than an hour for Prewett Hall to catch the mid-morning portkey from
their field. Then they would head to their tent based somewhere in the fields of southern England.
Regulus had woken up with the first crack of thunder overhead, only a few hours passed from the
middle of the night. Harry slept soundly next to him. He made tea and had hoped for that final jog,
but now it was nearing sunrise and they would need to Floo soon. The door creaked behind him
and Sirius peaked his head in, his pyjamas over his body and his feet bare.

“Dartmoor? Ever been?” Sirius asked as he crossed the room to pop open the window and pulled
out a cigarette.
“I thought you were quitting?” Regulus stated more than asked, Sirius had declared on more than
one occasion he would quit smoking. Yet he crossed the room and held out his hand, Sirius rolled
his eyes and lit his own cigarette before passing one to Regulus and using his wand to light his.

“If Arcturus can steal a smoke or two and the old geezer is still alive, what’s one or two
occasionally.” Sirius said with a shrug. Arguing was futile, so Regulus inhaled deeply. He never
had been a smoker. His mother abhorred the habit, while his father was a chronic partaker. The
scents of burnt rubber from his French cigarettes lingered in the house to the present day. Regulus
never understood the habit even as his friends picked up their first packs sometime in the mid-
seventies. Occasionally though, he found one in his mouth and then before he knew it a year would
pass before another would.

“Dartmoor?” Regulus asked, as he tried unsuccessfully to blow the smoke towards the window.

“The Quidditch World Cup, Uncle Ig wrote, is in Dartmoor.” Sirius said, looking much more suave
with his own cigarette.

“Can’t say I’ve been much further south than London, besides to pick Harry up a time or two from
the Weasleys.” Regulus said, and it was true. Most of his life had been spent in either London or
just outside of Paris.

“The Manor is in Wiltshire, a bit south from here.” Sirius pointed out.

“Never spent much time in the Manor, always been Uncle’s Cygnus’ place.” Regulus shrugged.

“Have you really spent any time in England anywhere besides London?” Sirius asked, an eyebrow
raising. Regulus shrugged.

“Spent half a summer holiday up in Birmingham with Barty once, but not much else.” Regulus
said. The Black Family was based in London, and when Sirius ran off and Regulus was the heir, it
was said to be better for him to remain in London, under his father. That was until his father’s heart
gave out and then there was no one to study under. Not that his father had taught him much besides
expensive liquors and pain.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior. Never did see what drew you to him. He was smart I suppose, not the
type of friend I expected you to have with his father and all.” Sirius said, his voice casual, but
Regulus felt the need to inhale even harsher on the cigarette.

“Well, he never got on with his father much, besides his grandmother was a Black. He was close
with the family.” Regulus tried to shrug it off, but he was much too tense. Sirius caught it.

“You know, Reg, you aren't responsible for what he did. You’d already gone into hiding when it
happened.” Sirius said, shifting his weight from one side to another.

“Aren’t I though? Aren’t I responsible for half of them becoming Death Eaters. That was my job,
the whole reason I got The Dark Mark so young. To recruit, to spy… I–” Regulus' voice failed him.
He had blocked those memories from his mind. Moved on from them as they sat locked away in a
neat little box in his mind. Now he was tapping the lock with the key and the ache in his arm only
pushed it further in.

“I–I didn’t realise that’s why… I never asked.” Sirius said, his eyes clouding and the cigarette
burning at the end of his hand. Regulus opened his mouth to speak, to try and advocate for himself
but all the words sounded weak in his head. So he only ended up closing his lips around the
cigarettes and inhaling deeper. Sirius’s eyes went back and forth as his head hung. It had been
easier before, to ignore what Regulus had done, what he had become. A Death Eater, what an awful
name. But now the past was being pulled up through thick dark mud, nearly tar and Regulus would
have to face it once more. Not this weekend, this weekend was for Harry.

Speaking of Harry, he should be awake. Regulus needed to wake him and get him washed up with
maybe some tea before they left. Aunt Lucretia said she'd have a quick bite waiting for them. He
couldn’t even think of the tension of taking Sirius over there, or out in such a published event for
the first time. Minus slipping out for dates with Remus, Sirius had kept a low profile all summer.
Even him not wanting to be splashed across The Daily Prophet with his movements constantly
tracked. Now they wouldn’t have the same luxury this weekend. Sirius had even talked about not
coming, but Cassiopiea had guaranteed she knew how to handle the papers. So they all trusted her
and Sirius was coming with Remus along by his side.

He finished his cigarette quickly, flicking it out the window, but making it disappear with a snap of
his fingers before it touched the ground. Sirius gave a snort of appreciation before he tried to do the
same, only his cigarette ended up on the other end of the street. Regulus chuckled before he
snapped it away with a click of his fingers.

“You were always better at it than me.” Sirius shook his head.

“Wandless magic? I suppose in some cases.” Regulus shrugged.

“No, magic in general.” Sirius said under breath. Regulus was going to protest, but there was a light
creaking noise. He thought maybe Harry was up and getting ready. The door to the library opened
a hair from where Sirius never closed it. He didn’t think much of it until there was a small spark
coming from the dark hall. Regulus thought he was seeing things and rubbed at his eyes. Then out
of nowhere, the room lights up in rushing colours and noises, causing him and Sirius to both hit the
floor. All around them books fell and sparks much like fireworks went off over and over, denting
old shelves and scorching papers as they died out in the sky. Eventually the deafening noise fell
quiet and the last of the sparks died out and Regulus, panting, slowly stood. In the door was a
flabbergasted looking Harry.

“Harry James Potter.” Regulus said, not angered, but shocked.

“That was bloody fantastic!” Sirius cried as he jumped up and scooped Harry into a tight hug.

“Sirius–” Regulus tried to say. He wasn’t mad at Harry, but he had a question where he got his
hand on fireworks as he stood in the mess of the library.

“I have to tell you about the great prank of nineteen seventy-eight.” Sirius said when he let Harry
out of his embrace. Regulus remembers nineteen seventy-eight. Sirius didn’t need to give Harry
any ideas.

“We’re late.” Regulus said, lifting his wand to put the room back the way it was and close the
window with the curtains snug over each. Some of the books would need to be mended, but he’d
have to tend to that later.

“And we will talk about where you got those fireworks later, Harry.” Regulus said, ruffling Harry’s
hair. “Kreacher has tea downstairs, drink a cuppa and wash up. Aunt Lucy won’t like it if no one is
there to eat her breakfast.”

Sirius looked deflated, but Regulus gave him a stern look. They could talk about Sirius' great prank
history later, but for now packing needed to happen and he reminded Sirius how long it usually
took to get Remus out of bed. With a sigh, Sirius grumbled on his way upstairs to change.
Regulus waited downstairs, Cassiopeia joined him next. Helena and Marius would pass on the
event. Marius didn’t exactly want questions on himself, plus neither of them quite had the fancy for
Quidditch. They said they take the opportunity to have some quiet to themselves and manage the
house. So with kisses from Helena and a hug from Marius to each of them, they went through the
Floo where Lucretia greeted them as they stepped out.

“Cassie, I need your help. I tore Ignatius’ Irish league jumper, and you're the best at mending
charms.” She said, after they greeted each other.

“One of the few charms of my mother was her work as a seamstress. Come let me see if I can’t fix
it.” She said, taking Lucertia’s arm.

“You three, head off and get something to eat. My father is finishing his tea in his room with
Lancelot then we need to leave, you know portkeys, they leave without you.” She said, shooing
them towards the kitchen. Harry whispered he wanted to check something outside, and Regulus let
him slip out the front door and Remus had repacking to do from his late rise so he bent over his
trunk, sleep drooping in his eyes.

“I’ll grab you some tea, maybe a bit of toast the way you like.” Sirius said as he pulled Regulus by
the arm.

Truthfully, none of them should have been surprised. Regulus and Sirius knew Aunt Lucy’s
nephews were staying with her and her nephews knew Sirius was coming. Regulus had even
downed the Polyjuice Potion in front of everyone, it should have served as a reminder. Yet when
they entered the kitchen they stopped short at the two boys slumped over tea and with hair loosely
tied to the top of their heads. Sirius and Regulus saw them first, but when the first of the redheads
raised his head, his eyes went wide and his hand slipped from his chin, knocking steaming tea over
and across his brother just next to him. Causing him to jump up and yelp in pain. Then he looked
up and let out another small noise in the back of his throat.

Of course, Sirius Black the infamous mass murderer was standing in their kitchen. Cleared of his
crimes and proven innocent didn’t quite matter when reputation had sat over him for so long.
Regulus grabbed his brother’s elbow and nodded at him.

“Ay, sorry.” Bill grumbled, both to Sirius and his brother as he tried to wipe up some of the tea. His
brother, the younger one, Charlie, Regulus recalled, grimaced at the state of himself. He’d seen
pictures of them before but in person it was different. They seemed even bigger characters with the
metal jewels and long red hair.

“Bloody fucking burns, Bill.” Charlie grumbled, swiping a towel off the counter trying fruitlessly
to clean himself.

“You work with dragons, Chars.” Bill pointed out. From the bags under their eyes and the faint
scent of alcohol that lingered around them. Regulus assumed the two brothers had spent a night out
too late for such an early morning and were snapping at each other for such.

“They don’t know better.” Tension was in the air as Charlie kept pulling at the tea stained clothes
with the kitchen towel, pulling his shirt up to reveal skin red as his hair.

“Here.” Regulus said, stepping forward and waving his hand over the bit of exposed skin. He was
no healer, but he knew burns, and cooling charms helped. Charlie’s skin eased some of the colour.

“Er thanks.” Charlie said, with a crooked smile, lowering his shirt again.
“Right great career, better than what I got.” Sirius said, trying to make conversation after a bit of
silence.

“Do you really need one mate?” Bill asked, his eyebrows raised. Regulus noted a small metal dot
above one of them. Sirius laughed it off.

“Suppose not, but I was going to be an Auror before… well before everything.” Sirius shrugged.

“There’s a Ministry career mum would protest.” Charlie snorted as he removed his jacket, brushing
it off, but there was little hope for the rest of his outfit. Tea stained his white shirt and light jeans.

“Molly? You know she fancied herself an entertainer when she was young. Wanted to be a star."
Sirius said. Both Charlie and Bill’s eyes looked ready to pop out their skulls.

“Bloody joking.” Charlie said, the tea long forgotten.

“Oh no, Fabian and Gideon told me all about it. Used to pick fun at her, but they were the loudest
ones in the crowd when she picked up a gig or two at the Three Broomsticks.” Sirius said, smiling.
Bill and Charlie got over their shock and apprehension quickly as they both asked Sirius to tell
them everything about this secret life their mum had hidden.

Regulus left the three be, and went outside to see what was holding Harry up from joining them
inside. Once outside, he found Harry close to the end of the cliff. Sitting with his feet over the
ledge dangling, causing worry in Regulus but he swallowed it. Harry was a teenager, he didn’t need
Regulus hovering over every move he made.

“Harry.” Regulus said, taking a seat next to him.

“Just wanted some fresh air.” Harry mumbled. Regulus nodded.

“Sorry about the fireworks. I was just trying to pack them for Ron, I dropped one and well, the
whole thing fell then.” Harry sighed. Regulus put his arm around Harry, pulling him close.

“It's alright, kid.” Regulus said, and it pulled a laugh from Harry.

“Hardly a kid anymore.” Harry said, kicking his ever growing lanky legs out causing a few loose
stones to stumble down the cliff to the shore below.

“Always be a kid to me.” Regulus said, nudging him. Harry shrugged, but his lips pulled up for a
moment before it fell.

“Reg.” He said, his face falling. Regulus squeezed tighter.

“Yes, Harry.” He answered.

“That nightmare… it wasn’t a nightmare was it? It… it was real. I really saw Voldemort kill
someone. He was small and deformed, but it was him.” Harry said. Regulus chewed on his lip,
breathing in the salt air.

“It wasn’t a nightmare, Harry. Uncle Ignatius and Uncle Lancelot found the man. In a village
called Little Hangleton, we believe it to be where The Dar– Voldemort’s family is from. They
didn’t find him when they went, but they found the gardener for the property he was on. We're
making sure he gets a proper burial.” Regulus explained. Harry nodded slowly.

“That day we got tea… you didn’t feel lightheaded did you?” Harry asked in a whisper. Regulus
felt gut punched and he’d been hit in the stomach more than once.

“No… No, Harry I wasn’t.” He said untangling his arm from Harry and bringing his arm in front of
him. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve as Harry watched, his eyes sad. The Dark Mark hadn’t gotten
any worse. Only stayed a deep pink colour with the outlines faintly seen. Harry put his hand on
Regulus’ wrist, lowering his arm.

“He’s back then. Really back.” Harry sighed.

“In some capacity. But we are not giving up Harry. After the World Cup, we are going back to
Little Hangleton. We will search for more information. He isn’t going to get away from us.”
Regulus reassured him, but Harry looked uneasy.

“Reg, the nightmare. There was something else. I didn’t really realise it at the moment, there was
just pain and fear, but thinking back on it.” He sighed, digging his hand into the ground as he
spoke. Regulus rubbed his back to try and comfort him.

“There was someone else there. I didn’t get a good look at him, he was in the shadows except for a
second after The Killing Curse went off, the light from it, showed his face for a blink of an eye.
You know, I had never seen it before. The Killing Curse, it’s what killed my parent’s isn’t it?”
Harry said, his eyes looking watery.

“Most likely, Harry. It happens in an instant. A flash of colour and that is it, but it’s a heavy curse.
A dark curse, not just anyone can cast it.” Regulus said, his throat feeling tight.

“And the other Unforgivables?” Harry asked. They had taught Harry plenty of dark magic over the
summer for educational purposes only, but Regulus had refrained from the Unforgivables.

“The Imperius Curse, it takes autonomy away from those on the other end. They are still there, but
it’s like you're shoved in the back of your own mind, watching your life play out on film while you
move and do as the caster directs with little chance to throw it off. Occlumency can help, but it
isn’t a guarantee. It is strong magic.” Regulus said, horrible memories creeping into his mind.

“You’ve been under it haven’t you?” Harry whispered. Regulus felt a ball in his throat as he
nodded.

“And the Cruciatus Curse?” Harry asked, his hand wrapping into Regulus’. He could only nod
again, closing his eyes as they began to fill with tears at the memory.

“Your parents were shite, Reg. Really shite.” Harry said, and something about it made Regulus
laugh even with a tear or two escaping his eye.

“They were, Harry. They were awful people, but they are long gone. And I have a new family now.
A better one.” Regulus said, leaning forward and Harry met him half way putting his forehead
against his. They sat there a minute, just being who they were, a father and son some would say,
but Regulus didn’t know if he would go that far. They were connected though. Intertwined for life,
he and Harry were. And he wouldn’t want to be so close to anyone else.

“Come let’s get you something to eat. You can tell us about the other man later once we’ve all
gotten a bit of food.” Regulus suggested. Harry sniffled, but he shook his head with their foreheads
touching still.

“Alright, come on. There’s toast, but Uncle Moony might eat it all if we don’t hurry.” Regulus
said, plastering a smile on his face. Harry jumped up and raced ahead to get his own piece in hand.
Regulus watched, letting the facade of his smile fall some. If there was someone else, if it wasn’t
 just Peter and there were others, it would be much more difficult to protect Harry. And there was
one thing Regulus wouldn’t stand for, and that was harm coming to Harry.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for reading and I hope you do enjoy it! We are nearly at the Quidditch
World Cup, and the next few chapters should be an event!
 Records
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, Mentions of alcoholism, General use of threats

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“No, no, you cannot look at me with a serious face and say you think ‘Under Pressure’ isn’t a
masterpiece? Bowie and Mercury on the same record? Unfathomable!” Sirius was saying as his
eyes knitted in concentration.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the serious one?” Bill replied, his face twisted. “Chars, are you sure
we're playing this right?”

“Can’t say my Romanian is shite.” Charlie answered as he studied the cards in front of him.

“Bloody hell, why’d I partner with you then?” Bill said, shoving his brother gently. It confused
Regulus sometimes, but other times it entertained, and others yet it filled him with warmth. The
little moments between Bill and Charlie, brothers raised without the competition that traditionally
would have forced a wedge between them. One being born to more than the other, only just over a
year apart, much like Sirius and Regulus. It gave him a glimpse of what he and his brother would
have been like had they lived different lives at different times. But as he looked over at Sirius
rolling his eyes and stretching his limbs out under a leather jacket no matter the humid weather that
creeped in even with the charms to keep it out, he thought they ended up at an alright place. He
was content with it.

“Let’s see who’s record box is this? Uh, Duran Duran, what is a Duran Duran, or The Clash? What
in the shite are these names?” Sirius asked as he bent over a box of records that had been brought
along for the journey.

“Oi, it’s mine, pull out the Tears for Fears record!” Charlie said, his head popping up so fast he
nearly lost his cards on the floor spoiling the whole game. Or at least Regulus thought it might, he
truly had not a clue what they were playing, some Romanian four card game Charlie had learned
from his fellow dragon keepers.

“Not Tears for Fear, Chars, I can’t do pop.” Bill grumbled, as he scratched his head and looked
over at Charlie’s card clearly as confused as Regulus was. They were playing in teams of two, Bill
and Charlie against Sirius and Regulus and to be frank, Regulus had not an idea of who was
winning, but Charlie and Sirius carried the confident air about them that it was a close game.

“Shite not this again Bill. Simple Minds? I’m not doing U2.” Charlie said, his head turning
dramatically to Bill.

“Bloody hell, next you’ll be asking for the Kate Bush record. Merlin, can’t we just put on the
Duran Duran record and get back to the bloody game, I think we're losing.” Bill said, squinting his
eyes at his cards and then Charlie’s again before glancing at Regulus, looking as if he was trying to
read through the backs of the cards Regulus held close to his chest.

“I liked the Kate Bush record, the Duran Duran record, not the new one. It was kind of shite, the
one from ‘81.” Charlie said, but Sirius was looking like a lost dog with four different records
juggled in his hand so Charlie passed his cards to Bill and went to assist.

“Did you have a preference?” Bill said and it took Regulus blinking several times to realise he was
speaking to him. He shook his head first before he could form words.

“Not really, I didn’t listen to many records growing up. My–my mother didn’t like the noise.”
Regulus answered, his lips twitching at the use of mother. He hadn’t said it in a long time, but in
the attempt to keep up with appearance, he knew he couldn’t say Walburga as he had been prone to
do. The rumour was the mysterious dark haired man sometimes seen with Arcturus and other Black
family members was a bastard of Orion Black. A bastard wouldn’t come from the heiress, he’d
come from some witch shoved away with her pockets lined. He imagined a woman, beautiful but
aged, strict but not cruel. Someone who wasn’t Walburga.

“Sorry, you don’t have to say any thing. I know it probably wasn’t easy growing up how you did.”
Bill said, shrugging it off and returning to look at his cards while Sirius and Charlie debated
between records. He knew Bill meant in the shadows, hidden away, but he hit on the truth closer
than he realised, as he leaned back and waited for the rifts of some rock album to eventually hit his
ears.

They had been at the campground for all of a few hours when the rain let loose above them,
dampening most spirits. Except Harry, who insisted he wanted to fly his broom in the rain. Regulus
hadn’t fancy being knee deep in water on a moor in southern England while an onslaught of rain
attacked them. He had been trying to think of a reasonable excuse when someone Harry knew
came trotting by the tent.

“Blaise?” Harry had asked, switching his face from the puppy eyes he’d use on Regulus to a more
appropriated carefree teenaged boy face. It was impressive. Also terrifying. Regulus had a full
teenager on his hands. One who relied on him for advice about changes, fancying girls, and who
argued that flying in the rain would have absolutely no impact on his health because he had the
best healer since St Mungo himself as an uncle. And the attention span of a moth.

“Potter.” The boy outside their tent under a wide deep purple umbrella and a collar around his neck
in the same colour which complimented the dark undertones of his skin tone.

“I thought you weren’t coming?” Harry asked, pulling the opening of their tent wider. Blaise eyes
rolled nearly to the back of his head.

“Wasn’t until mum’s new husband was.” He said.

“She married again? Oh shite, I didn’t mean it– I know you liked the last one.” Harry said,
wringing his hands. For all his effort to look stoic, Blaise took on the appearance of someone
fighting back plenty of emotions.

“Er, I was going to go flying, did you want to join?” Harry asked, trying to defuse the situation
from his prior stumble. With his perfectly pressed pants and pristine robes, Regulus didn’t think
Blaise would be one to join Harry out in the mud. His eyes searched Harry and then turning to the
side where his party had continued forward, he seemed to debate with his white teeth digging into
his lower lip.

“Usually I’d say you're bloody mad, Potter. But mum’s new husband, he’s a bit of nutter for
cleanliness. So I’d say getting covered in mud might just give me some satisfaction. I’ll get my
broom and come back.” Blaise said, and then turned with all the posture of a pureblood childhood,
beaten into someone and disappeared into the darkness even if it was the middle of the day.
So that’s how Regulus ended up letting Harry go flying in the rain and he got coaxed into a card
game that Charlie insisted needed four players. Turning over his shoulder, he could see the first of
daytime finally breaking through the dark clouds. He turned to his watch. Half past seven, he told
Harry to be back before eight. To clean up before dinner. The scratch of a record drew his attention
as he watched Charlie lower the needle onto one dark vinyl a bit worn from age, and a moment
later the sound of drums filled the air. Bill began to hum along to the words while his brother
finally took his seat in the plush chairs that had been put into the Black Family tent. Technically,
Bill and Charlie were staying across from them in the Prewett tent, but Lucretia and Ignatius had
wandered over for tea with Arcturus and Bill and Charlie had come with them shaking water out of
their hair, and suggesting a card game.

The flap to their tent opened and Aunt Cassiopiea came in bursting the well placed charm over her
head to keep her hair dry, though her feet fared worse as she kicked off muddied boots. Regulus
hadn’t even seen her leave, as Sirius sat next to him quietly singing words about girls and film that
Regulus couldn't decipher well enough. He was more interested in the sour look on his aunt’s face.

“The Malfoys have arrived.” Cassiopiea announced with a pointed look to Arcturus, who was cosy
in a chair under a thick blanket having been watching with a few carefully placed laughs at the four
young men trying to decipher a game of cards.

“Narcissa has requested an audience no doubt.” Arcturus said, not looking up from the copy of The
Evening Prophet. With the Quidditch World Cup there would likely be one every night leading up
to the game and even a few days after. The current one had a picture of the Black family splashed
across the front page, sans Regulus and Harry, who at the first flash of a camera had ducked behind
the sparse few tents that had been set up in the section unofficial reserved for the wealthiest, more
well known names of the wizarding world, and hidden while Cassiopeia spoke with the reporter, a
middle aged woman, with perky glass and full lips, who couldn’t seem to get her questions out
quick enough. She was nearly a match for Aunt Cassiopeia, but not quite. As she had waved off
questions of Sirius’ sanity, or Arcturus health, and whether the heirdom had been taken from
Cygnus, and instead pivoted into their hearty support of Ireland, albeit not as controversial, but still
an intriguing topic.

”Tonight, they’ll be here half past the hour.” Cassiopeia said, turning her gaze to Sirius. “And there
will be no punching Lucius Malfoy.”

“Couldn’t break his precious nose.” Sirius grumbled, but Cassiopeia only gave him a sterner look
and his lips shut astutely.

”Not much time to prepare, she did that quite purposefully, has Harry returned?” Arcturus said,
flipping to another page of his paper. As if called, Harry came running in breathless. Broom in his
hand and soaked absolutely to the bone. Regulus had once nearly drowned and he swore he was
drier than Harry was. Setting down his cards, he crossed the room to pull his broom from his hand
and try to work some magic on not letting the mud trek over the tent.

“We’re never finishing this game.” Bill grumbled, throwing his hands up after he sat the cards
down.

”That’s fine, Bill. We’re winning.” Charlie stated, his head bobbing along as a second song began
to hum out the record player.

“Charlie, I think you're bloody making the whole game up as you go, mate.” Bill snorted and he got
up to get tea. Regulus focused on Harry.

“I could have sunk you in a loch and you’d be drier, Harry.” Regulus laughed once they got most of
his wet clothes off of him and dried what remained enough for him to not ruin the plush carpets
laid out on the floor. Their tent had two levels, Regulus, Sirius, Remus and Harry on the top level
with the rest of the family and living space below. The sides of the tent were black inside and out
with the family crest flying high above, able to be seen from all sides. A Ministry official had
grumbled about not fitting in with the Muggle terrain, but Arcturus had passed something into his
hand and his disposition changed quite quickly as he bid them a good day with a bounce in his step.

“Can Blaise stay the night?” Harry asked from behind the changing curtain as Regulus passed him
a dry jumper and pair of soft trousers.

“The Malfoys are coming over.” Regulus informed.

“Well we were going to walk the camp. It could take a few hours.” Harry said, poking his head out,
his hair sticking helpless in all directions. Regulus sighed. There were thousands of wizards that
had already arrived. The idea of Harry alone wandering for hours he didn’t like it, but he knew
Harry needed some breath of freedom.

"Only if you swear to be back by eleven, Harry, no later!” Regulus said, and Harry jumped into his
arms. Causing them both to fall back onto the bed made up for Harry.

“And you're eating the soup and taking the potions from Uncle Lancelot and Blaise is staying in
your room.” Regulus continued and Harry snuggled his face into Regulus’ chest.

“Of course, of course, and of course. Merci beaucoup, Reg.” Harry said before bouncing up and
making his way down to eat the soup Aunt Lucetia had cooked to warm him up from his windy
rainy adventures. Regulus refreshed his Polyjuice Potion with a grimace. It never tasted better and
he couldn’t understand how anyone could be on it for long periods of time, the few days at the
Quidditch World Cup would exhaust him.

Harry had slurped down most of his soup and there were empty potions knocked over on the
counter when he had arrived back down. Regulus kissed his head when he jumped down and
reminded him of the time he needed to return or the whole camp would know his name and not for
his normal famous status. Harry rolled his eyes, but gave a hug before rushing out the flap on the
tent where Regulus could see Blaise with his signature uninterested look, strapped with a small bag
to his side and boots on his feet.

”Do I have to stay, I mean, Lucius and I hate each other. What else is there to say?” Sirius was
arguing when Regulus turned around. The table they had been playing at cleared away and the
record player was now playing strings of classical music. Bill and Charlie had made themselves
scarce and Regulus couldn’t blame them. If he could flee from the Malfoys, he would. Well,
specifically from Lucius Malfoy, he always had a soft spot for Narcissa, but it would be more
tender than caring tonight. She’d have no idea who he was, besides some forlorn half related
member of the family.

“I could join Bill and Charlie, they were going drinking with the Scottish families, I’d be much
more at home there.” Sirius tried bargaining instead when his pleas were not heard.

“While I am certain you’d have a better time with your cousins from the North. Affairs need to be
settled, the Malfoys are one of them, it is better to address it now.” Arcturus replied as his daughter
slowly put his more formal robes over his shoulders

“What affairs? They just want to poke and prod about the heirdom. They were expecting it to go to
Draco and suddenly,” Sirius paused and dramatically waved at himself. “I am the problem.”
“Sirius.” Arcturus said lowering his chin, but Sirius wasn’t done.

“But it doesn’t even matter, you’ve hardly said anything about the heirdom, not that I care, bloody
blow it all away I would. I never wanted it! I made myself clear on it, but the name, the name
everyone cries, the most ancient and noble of names hinges on me. But in case you haven’t
noticed, I’m gay! I have a partner! I am having no children that anyone could claim to be mine!”
Sirius said huffing around with his arms thrown up. Regulus checked his watch, fifteen minutes
until the Malfoys arrived and Sirius was putting on a one man theatre show.

“Are you finished?” Arcturus asked after a thoughtful silence. Sirius huffed and crossed his arms,
quite a Sirius answer. Regulus wondered if Remus was up from his nap. He handled Sirius best of
them all.

“Well for one, we have more funds than any one person could blow in one lifetime. Mainly
because the assets would be a pain to liquify.” Arcturus began as he lowered himself to the end of
the grand table that took over nearly an entire corner of the tent.

"Second, I have an heir. I declared one long ago in all the ways it mattered.” Arcturus said, pulling
his robes over his chest to a chill only he could feel. Sirius made an unflattering sputtering noise.

”Certainly, that will go over well. Aye, everyone, my long dead grandson is still the heir to my
name.” Sirius said, shooting at least half a sympathetic glance at Regulus. Regulus sighed. It would
be a difficult sell. It may be easier just to place Sirius back as heir. Despite his outburst, Sirius
would never let him starve. He might sell a few of his favourite paintings, but never leave him to
starve. Arcturus took a long moment to ponder, many thoughts going through his head. Likely
thinking along the same line as Regulus, or at least he had supposed.

“It isn’t Regulus.” Arcturus said, nearly under his breath and Regulus had to snap his head up.
Sirius was even speechless.

“Cygnus? You can’t bloody leave it to Cygnus.” Sirius finally found his voice to form a strong
opinion. Arcturus shook his head.

“No, not Cygnus.” Arcturus said, chewing on his thin lower lip. It was something he always
noticed about his grandfather that had never passed onto any of his children or grandchildren. The
upper lip that was fuller than his lower.

“I hadn’t wanted it to get out until after my death, but as it appears such will come sooner than I
had expected, it may be best you know.” Arcturus said, letting his chest deflate. Regulus and Sirius
exchanged a look of disbelief. Regulus racked his brain for any other relative it could be. A distant
cousin he’d forgotten, maybe?

“I named Harry as heir.” Arcturus said, and the air left Regulus’ lungs.

“You bloody did what?” Sirius exclaimed and more than one voice shushed him, but from the
shock on Lucretia and Cassiopeia’s face they hadn’t known yet. The only one with a different look
was Uncle Ignatius who seemed flooded with relief.

“Quiet, Sirius. I don’t want anyone to know. If people find out, if they know Harry Potter, the
Harry Potter is the heir to the House of Black, questions, favours, threats will flood him. Being
heir to this family is an important, and stressful responsibility, one I do not believe he needs to bear
at this time.” Arcturus hissed, leaning over the table motioning for them to come forward.

“I wish for him to be heir, for this line to be his. I know neither of you care to produce children,
and maybe it is for the best, maybe this line has outlived its productivity, but this name, our
history? I want to protect that, if for no other reason than history should not be lost to those of
feeble minds or they will be doomed to repeat it. May it please you or not, this family has more
than a few useful lessons for humanity to know, and Harry, raised on our history with our
knowledge, is perfectly set to continue it. I believe he will do me proud, do this family proud long
after our line is gone. But he does not need the pressure, not now, not when Lord Voldemort is
perched to make a resurgence, so I will need to ask of you what I know you do not want, Sirius.”
Arcturus said, gritting his teeth and shaking his head.

“To be heir.” Sirius breathed out, his anger replaced with something lower, softer, sadder.

“In name only, temporarily. Take the pressure off of Harry until he can manage it. I fear I will be
long gone, but you two, you will remain and ease him into the responsibilities because whether
either of you wishes to admit it, you were both groomed to be heirs. From the moment of your
birth, despite all their failings, your parents did the only thing they knew, they made heirs.”
Arcturus said. Regulus had a difficult time digesting it, but he knew Arcturus was right. Harry
didn’t need the added pressure, even if he simply knew and knew Sirius would take the reins for a
time. The responsibility he would feel, he studied the family line extensively, could name the heirs
from Atlas onward to Arcturus from memory. No, Harry with his dear passion and persistence
didn’t need it, not for now.

“I’ll do it.” Sirius whispered, his fist clenched to his side. “For Harry.”

“Good, then we start here with the Malfoys, the message will spread from them. I can assure you, I
expect we will see it in print in no more than three days.” Arcturus replied, folding his copy of The
Evening Prophet and hiding it away. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to change?

Regulus looked at Sirius and even though nearly two decades had past, his wardrobe was much the
same. Muggle band shirt, leather jacket, and dark washed jeans. Not a speck of wizard to be found.
Regulus had on trousers and an old button up, his robes thrown over the sofa. He debated
shrugging them on, but discarded the thought. Not for Lucius, he wouldn’t let Lucius control him.
Not anymore.

The Malfoys arrived on the second. Not a moment early, never eager, never early, Regulus recalled
his own training. The same Narcissa would have received. She hadn’t changed much, a bit more
mature, but never any less beautiful. Her hair was the same light blonde as her mother's. Her eyes
are soft blue like the early morning sky. Her chin and nose held high and proud as she kept her
hands on her son’s shoulders. His face was twisted rather unbecoming, likely wishing to be
anywhere but here at dinner with his grandfather and other relatives.

“Lucius, Narcissa, please.” Cassiopeia greeted them, offering a place at the table. Lucretia was
setting the food out on the table. Lucius tried to take the other end of the table, across from
Arcturus, but the clearing of Arcturus’ throat stopped him. Nodding to his son by law, Arcturus
passed the honour to Ignatius. Setting a less than comfortable air to the dinner as Regulus and
Sirius clung close to the seats near their aunt and uncle.

“Oh Aunt Lucy, isn’t your elf around to help you? I know a good place to get one, I know with the
activism they can hardly be found anymore, but we have a few connections.” Narcissa asked, her
face shocked as if setting a table was an offence of the greatest insult, instead of her husband
steaming as he took the seat in the middle instead, not far from Regulus though thankfully Narcissa
was across from him. Cassiopeia sat to the right of Arcturus, Draco in between his parents, and
Lucretia would sit beside her husband.

“Efa doesn’t quite like Quidditch, no I gave her some time. She actually went to visit an old friend
of mine, who lives alone on the Scottish Isles. I thought he could use the company.” Lucretia said,
her voice light, but her eyes threatening.

“You can’t mean Benedict Greengrass? The ole sod Alphard kept around.” Lucius said, tucking
his napkin into his lap with a crooked grin. Arcturus cleared his throat.

“You know it has long been considered poor taste and charm to speak ill of the dead and their
dearest.” Arcturus commented, his face not looking at Lucius. Letting it be a passing comment,
letting it be a warning that he stood thinly in the good graces of the Blacks. Lucius wrinkled his
nose and turned his attention to another subject he could make sore of. Which unfortunately for
Regulus, was he.

“What are you, a long lost bastard of Orion? Did he even bother to give you a proper name?”
Lucius sneered, and Regulus wanted Sirius to break his pretty nose.

“Would be an expert, wouldn’t you? You have, I believe, two bastard brothers?” Arcturus said
without hesitation. Lucius looked as ruffled as his peacocks.

“Why don’t we eat?” Lucretia suggested with all the food plated and her taking her seat next to her
husband, who looked as pleased as Sirius and Regulus to be there.

The conversation was mostly carried by the three women. News of marriages, births, the
occasional gossip exchanged between them like currency with the occasional comment thrown
about by Lucius. Draco tried to speak up, but was often hushed by his father which caused the
young boy to cross his arms and sulk. Regulus felt a bit poorly for him. It hurts to be dismissed by
one’s father, no matter who or how he may be. By some amazement, they made it to pudding
before Lucius cleared his throat as the dinner plates were cleared away and Aunt Lucretia sat her
famous rose cake in the middle.

“Did you read this evening’s Prophet, Arcturus? I thought the caption was interesting. Arcturus
Black and family, including his newly instated heir, Sirius Orion Black the Third, arrive for the
Quidditch World Cup.” Lucius said, try as he might to be casual, but his throat bobbed and he was
constantly smoothing at the napkin in his lap.

”Did it? I tend not to put much stock in the Prophet especially with who they hire anymore, Cassie
that reporter, what was her name? Oh, nonetheless, it seemed rather unreliable for the work, when
I was younger reporting had some respect to its name.” Arcturus said, not broaching the subject.
He’d make Lucius do that. He’d have to ask him outright.

“Rita Skeeter.” Cassiopeia said, hiding her eye roll behind a heavy sip of elderflower wine. Lucius
looked between the two, swallowing harshly. Narcissa let a sigh of frustration out.

”What we were wondering, Grandfather Arcturus, is if it is true? Do you intend to name Sirius
your heir? It is only right for us to know. It is our family as well.” Narcissa asked, her petite figure
seeming bigger as she spoke over her husband.

“I may, it will be for me and Sirius to decide.” Arcturus said, raising an eyebrow. Lucius huffed.

“It was to be Draco’s.” Lucius said, emotion seething in his voice. “Draco was to be your heir,
we’ve been quiet and compliant, letting you enjoy the role for as long as you may after the
untimely demise of both your son and grandson, but for this– him to be your heir. It is a disgrace,
and what comes after? When you are gone and it is only him with no other heirs to speak of?”
Lucius said. Sirius had been growing redder and redder with each word, Regulus reached under the
table and squeezed his brother’s knee quelling the outburst for a moment but it would come and
then they would all be beyond helping Sirius.

“I never once stated Draco would be my heir.” Arcturus replied, steady and unmoving. Lucius
tutted.

“Who else was it to be? Cygnus had no sons. Narcissa, she is the only one of them to produce a
child, a son for you to claim. She has done her duty, and this is how you repay her? By putting
some rebel in place, one that will never produce an heir of his own.” Lucius said, pointing the fork
for his pudding at Sirius’ chest. Regulus let his hand go, let Sirius punch him.

“Aye you bloody privileged wanker! What is that supposed to mean?” Sirius said, standing from
his seat with his chest puffed out. Lucius threw the napkin down and stood as well.

“We’ve all known! Even your bloody father who couldn’t be sober for a minute of his sorry life
knew. You were slagging off with that boy! That Welsh werewolf boy!” Lucius yelled, his red face
contrasted greatly by his nearly white hair.

“Do we really need to bring nationality into it?” Ignatius muttered as he rubbed at his forehead.

“Oi, and you think bringing that up is going to start me? Orion is dead! He can’t get under my skin
anymore, and neither can you. Draco was never the heir. My father was, I was, my brother was,
and my grandfather was once more. There was no other heir! You just want to sit on top of a pile of
riches so high to look down on everyone else! I won’t allow it! It is my name, and I will do as I
please, and I can guarantee the name will never fall to someone with the name Malfoy! I’d rather
leave it all to my Welsh werewolf boyfriend! Just to spite you all!” Sirius yelled and pushed the
table knocking over several glasses of wine before he stormed out of the tent and into the night that
had fallen. It had gone as well as it could.

“Well he didn’t say it quite as eloquently as I had hoped, but yes Lucius, Sirius will be my heir and
as to the children to carry the name, that issue can be dealt with in time. And it will be Sirius’
decision to make. As promised, Narcissa will be given her father’s inheritance, all but the Manor
which will transfer back to the estate at his passing and effectively to Sirius. There will be ample
funds for your needs and wants.” Arcturus concluded. Pudding effectively forgotten, but Regulus
wasn’t going to let his aunt’s rose cake go to waste as he dug his fork in, getting a nasty glance
from Narcissa, but he didn’t care much. There were wine stains on the linens and glass broken on
the floor, he would eat cake.

“It was never about funds, Arcturus, Malfoys have plenty nearly as much as yourself. It was about
allowing a name to die with dignity, but I should have known with your reputation, what dignity
does a man have that has allowed his family to go unchecked, who himself was found in a
disgraceful position and yet married the woman anyways for a daughter to be born!” Lucius
accused. His wife went red in the face at his shamelessness.

“Now listen son,” Arcturus said, rising to his full height, pulling his wand seamlessly from his cane
and letting the latter fall to the floor. “The one moment you ruin yourself is when you speak ill of
my wife, of my daughter. To do so crosses a line I do not let people come back from easily, and
you may think my line disgraced and forgotten, but let me remind you it was I on the cover of the
The Evening Prophet, not you. And people may have buried me yet, but I can assure I am as alive
as one can be and I have damage that can still be done. Narcissa, take your husband before his
mouth gets away from him.” Arcturus said, never needing his voice to be raised to threaten.
Narcissa pinched Draco’s elbow and nodded him to the exit before taking her husband’s arm and
twisting it and whispering in angered French, calling her husband every foolish name she could
think of. Regulus shoved another bite of cake into his mouth to hide his laughter.
 “Should I get Sirius?” Ignatius asked from the other end of the table, picking up one of the upright
wine glasses. Arcturus coughed as he waved his hand, lowering himself once more.

“Wrote Murdo, told him to expect an angry Sirius and to keep the reporters away. He’s
begrudging, but he agreed. Besides, I think even Rita Skeeter might find a bunch of drunk
Scotsmen preparing for a Quidditch match with whiskey too much for her to handle.” Arcturus
said, wiping at his mouth from the fit of coughs. Regulus shrugged and finished his cake. For once,
he was pleased with Sirius' outburst. Maybe his brother was rubbing off on him in more ways than
his music taste.

Chapter End Notes

The first of a few Quidditch Cup Chapters because I love the Quidditch World Cup
moments!

Thank you for reading and leaving any comments! <3

 Not Unmanageable
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior death, injury, liqour use

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus was sleeping soundly, having stayed up late, flipping through different records and
playing different ones as he sat on the ground, tapping his feet and humming along. Eventually
Blaise and Harry sauntered back in snickering under their breath, he likely should have asked
questions, but would let them be children; though he reminded them to brush their teeth as they
jumped up the stairs to Harry’s room, the light staying on for longer than it should, but they could
have a lie in tomorrow the Cup was still another two days away. Sirius came stumbling back in
after Regulus had fallen asleep on a pillow listening to the Kate Bush record Charlie had
mentioned. He was woken up nearly as Sirius stepped on him.

“Shite.” Sirius cried before laughing. Regulus’ vision took a moment to focus before he could see
his brother’s bloodshot eyes and warm face.

“You're bloody wrecked, Sirius.” Regulus mumbled pushing up on his forearms.

“No, no, Regulus! You should have heard it, the Scottish and the Irish got into it and then there
were drinking duels, like real duels, but with whiskey, and I couldn’t turn down a challenge.
Bloody Bill and Charlie, they can carry their liquor, but I nearly had them beat, but then there was
a leprechaun–” Sirius started before he dissolved into laughter never finishing his sentence as he
dug through the kitchen, pulling out bread and butter and other strange assortments of
combinations that sounded awful to a sober mind.

“Sirius.” Someone called from the corner and Regulus turned to see Remus standing at the bottom
of the stairs in a plush robe and slippers, finally awake from his rest, though the purple colour
under his eyes seemed permanent.

“Remus, Remus, Remus.” Sirius said, like it was poetry as he dropped his food choices on the
counter and crossed the room rather quickly for someone who should hardly be able to stand. His
hands went to Remus’ cheeks and he kissed him as many times as he had said his name. Remus
turned pink, but his face did light up a bit.

“Sirius, how much did you drink?” Remus asked, putting his hands on Sirius’ shoulders. Sirius
made a sputtering noise and waved it off.

“Want a sandwich, Moony? Remember when we used to sneak off and get a pair of sandwiches
then sit under that tree in the Forbidden Forest. You know the one? Where the brush covered us
just so and we’d have the old blanket and I’d be able to get just out of sight so I could get my lips
around your–” Sirius said, his smile cocky.

“Sirius!” Remus said, putting his hand over Sirius’ mouth, pinker than he had been before. Regulus
didn’t much care where they had shagged before, he just wanted to grab his blanket and find his
bed. So he wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and pushed up to his feet.
“Er, you look like you by the way.” Remus said, slowly letting his hand come off of Sirius' mouth,
but for some reason Sirius’ tongue was now hanging out and Regulus decided it would be best to
leave them alone.

“Thanks, enjoy your sandwiches.” Regulus said, touching his face and sighing. He’d down more
Polyjuice Potion when he woke up, he’d just securely lock his door and smush his face into his
pillow. Which was exactly how he woke up.

It took a moment to realise where he was or what had even disturbed his slumber. Until the noise
went off again. Banging and the cries of others being disturbed at the early hour. Regulus flew off
his bed and downed the potion, hardly letting himself feel the change as he threw open his door
and pushed his way into Harry’s room but he only found an empty bed with sheets thrown aside
and more sounds similar to explosions rang outside.

He was the first one outside and to his relief he found Harry and Blaise still in their pyjamas staring
up into the sky and laughing. Regulus heard more explosions and ducked his head and looked up.
Nearly collapsing on the ground, he realised the sounds were fireworks. A rather impressive, albeit
loud spectacle of green, white and orange fireworks exploding into different shapes across the sky.
Some clovers, others the Irish Flag, even one with a dancing pot of gold.

“Can’t believe it worked.” Harry muttered and Regulus turned his face to Harry who only now
realised he and Blaise were no longer alone. His face turned red as his eyes widened.

“Harry James Potter, don't tell me this is your doing?” Regulus asked, pointing to the sky in shock.
The show was dragging everyone out of their tents, as it went on people pointed to the sky and
eventually the distribution to their morning turning to laughter and chuckles as others made tea
while the fireworks rang out above.

“Er…” Harry began, turning pink in the face.

“Bloody brilliant isn't it? Harry’s idea to charm the different shapes. Just wait for the rest of it,
pain in the arse with the lack of supplies, but we managed it.” Blaise said, a toothless grin across
his face as he tucked his knees close to his chest. Regulus sighed and watched as the fireworks
went off for a few more minutes before the final display in wide letters called for Irish victory.
Cheers erupted across the campgrounds and children squealed even grumpy old people cracked a
grin over their early morning tea.

“Wonderful.” A voice said behind them, and stuff in the entrance of the tent was the whole group
and across the way was Uncle Ignatius and Aunt Lucretia, and even Bill and Charlie rubbing sleep
from their eyes.

“Brillant, Harry. Masterful!” Sirius said as he scooped Harry into a warm hug. Harry smiled, but
when Sirius let him go his eyes fell on Regulus. Regulus couldn’t be terribly upset. It was
impressive.

“Harry.” Regulus said as he pulled Harry into an embrace and whispered in his ear. “It was
impressive. You need to be careful though, Harry. Please tell me whatever else you did wasn’t
dangerous?”

Before Harry could respond there were a few noises of surprise. Regulus looked around and as far
as the eye could see where people were starting their morning fires, which were now lit with a
green hue instead of the typical orange and red licks of flame. His cheeks hurt from how much he
was smiling, unable to keep the stoic face even if he tried. People poked at the fires with sticks or
poles, but after observing nothing else wrong with them, they began to roast their food and boil
kettles as normal. Well as normal as wizards trying to be Muggle could be.

“Harry.” Regulus laughed, and Harry’s shoulders eased.

“It won’t be all we couldn’t make it across the whole campground. It was too large, but it will be
enough. And I figure if there was a big scene, well maybe the papers wouldn’t focus on us as
much, at least for the morning.” Harry said, his eyes wide behind his smudged glass. Regulus took
them off his face and cleared them with a wave of his hand before setting them back on the bridge
of his nose, pinching the tip of it gently.

“It is brillant, Harry. Come on, let us see if we can start the fire the Muggle way. Sirius looks like
he could use a cup of tea.” Regulus said the dewy grass dampened his socked feet as he went to the
small pile of wood and dried it out with his wand. He couldn’t be completely Muggle because from
the look on Sirius’ face he was half way between being sick on his shoes and falling over.

“Lancelot has sober up potions.” Harry said with a wary look over his shoulder.

“Well I think he needs a bit of a lesson first, then we will slip one into his second cuppa, how does
that sound?” Regulus said, bending down and trying to balance on his toes as he picked at the
matchbook left beside the fire. Harry’s crooked grin grew as he picked a few pieces of paper to
help kindle the fire.

“Perfectly grand idea.” Harry answered. And just as they got the fire going, pounding feet could be
heard coming towards them.

“Harry! Harry! Did you bloody see it? We landed just as it started going off. Brillant! I can’t
believe you managed it!” Ron said, running up to Harry pink in the face and panting for breath.

“Aye, er, good day, er Harry’s cousin. Blimey, is that really Arcturus Black right there? I didn’t
think he’d wear pinstripe pyjamas.” Ron said, easily distracted for the early morning.

“Ron a deaf dragon could hear you! Blimey calm down!” Bill called out from the flap in the
Prewett tent sipping on something much darker than tea with his hand rubbing at his temples.

“Oi, Bill’s never been good the day after drinking.” Ron muttered under breath before rattling off
on all the subjects he hadn’t covered in his letters over the summer. Regulus sat back on his hands
waiting for the tea to be ready, half-listening as Ron and Harry talked over one another and Harry
even forced a begrudging Blaise to sit on the end of a log, listening with his occasional eye roll. It
was good, this trip. Harry deserved the break after the last few years, but as the kettle began to
whistle, Regulus felt an itch. Lifting his hand up, his fingers began to twitch at the pain. He
couldn’t see it under the potion, but he knew. He knew The Dark Mark was growing heated,
stronger. There time was running out as he heard Harry’s voice humming in the background.
Harry, he worried. What would it all mean for Harry?

He was quite pleased with himself. After the success of his morning adventures, then spending
time with Ron and Hermione exchanging stories of their holidays. Ron had been cooped up in The
Burrow nearly the entire summer, but Hermione had spent a week in Brighton. After Harry had
eaten and the other two nibbled on a few bites, still full from their early morning breakfast from
Molly Weasley. They agreed to explore the campground.

Blaise parted from them, having to check in with his mother and her new husband, but Harry
invited him to dinner if he wanted to escape. There would be no Malfoys this time, they had gotten
their dose of Arcturus the night before. Harry could hear Lucius grumbling about it from several
tents away. Trying to bad mouth the line into The Daily Prophet newspapers, but even Rita Skeeter
seemed bored of the same lines being fed to her as she tried to poke around the tents of the most
infamous families.

“Oh Mister Prewett?” She asked, her quill raised high in the air and a short photograph running to
keep up with her.

“Oh Mistress Skeeter, have you not as we say, Tynnu Nyth Cacwn Am Dy Ben.” Ignatius said, and
Rita had been taking notes but paused as her eyes went back and forth, likely trying to decipher his
saying.

“Ah Welsh, well Penblwydd Hapus!” Rita said with an enthused smile.

“Miss Skeeter, you did just wish him a Happy Birthday, I can assure he was born in December. I
was there, helping with the delivery.” Lancelot said as he emerged from the Prewett tent, looking
rather unenthusiastic with the arrival of a guest.

“Well we're off to a better start than when I spoke to the MacMillans, apparently in my attempt at
Gaelic I did insult someone’s mother and happen to now be banned from the entire country
Scotland, not that I think they have that right, but anyways, it’ll make a good story. How about the
two of you, the last forlorn men of the Prewetts, a dear ancient line, any comment on an heir yet?”
Rita asked, her quill writing for her at record speed. Harry, Hermione and Ron used that as an
excuse to slip away. Harry seeing Regulus and Sirius scoot closer to Acrturus, who if Harry wasn’t
mistaken, almost looked entertained at the idea of Rita making her rounds to him next. If she had
gotten banned from Scotland for a poorly placed remark with the MacMillans, he could only
imagine what Arcturus could do.

“I don’t know what I imagined.” Ron said once they had ducked out of earshot. Harry tilted his
head towards him.

“Well with old Arcturus Black, I thought, I don’t know, he’d be scary? Like a giant or something,
don’t mistake me, I wouldn’t cross him for any amount of Galleons, but he seems rather normal…
not much different than my great-grandfather, sitting and reading the Prophet with his tea. Though
my great-grandfather doesn’t have his pyjamas personalised with his name embroidered.” Ron
said. Harry smirked, no Arcturus wasn’t much different, but different he still was, just not in the
ways people expected.

“Well of course Ron, he is just a wizard. Although over the summer I did some–” Hermione began,
picking up a book from her bag.

“Reading.” Harry and Ron said in unison and she huffed at them, but Harry saw the smile she
covered with her book.

“And here look, he actually fought against Grindelwald’s forces once. Apparently he and his
brother nearly single handedly fought back an attack on the Highlands. People say they had never
then or again seen the same amount of magic that Arcturus produced, he covered nearly the entire
Highlands in a magical smoke. Give the MacMillans time to return to their land, enforce the wards
and everyone was safe, look Ron it even mentions your great-grandfather, Alwyn Prewett.
Fascinating read truly on what his life has been, he lost his wife in the war, she was a healer,
helping with civilians, people not involved in the war and yet Grindelwald attacked, it’s said she
must have fought, but been killed in a duel. Then look here, his father and uncle died on the same
day only months prior, and his brother, he died in the rebellion attack on the Ministry. To think
he’s also buried his sister and his son, it is quite a tragedy.” Hermione skimmed through different
books to point at her different collections of knowledge.

“If you asked him, he’d tell you about them.” Harry said, as he waved at Ernie MacMillan who
was carrying wood with several of his cousins back to the encampment that made up the Scottish
families.

“You just ask him?” Ron said, like it unheard of.

“I mean maybe don’t start out with all the gloom and death, but if you ask what his brother’s
favourite possession was, he will tell it was a letter opener from an old lover, or about the time his
wife’s brother broke his nose, he can still recall the day exactly, even tell you how the weather
was.” Harry said with a shrug as they entered a thick forest of greenery, mainly clovers. Ron’s
mouth was hung open, but they were interrupted by a voice calling them.

“Harry, Hermione, Ron!” Seamus waved them over where he was decked out full in Irish colours,
hugging close to a fire with their schoolmate, Dean Thomas.

“See those bloody fireworks? Ireland is going to win no doubt! Look, even convinced Dean along,
mum was able to barter an extra ticket.” Seamus said as they all nodded to Dean.

“Aye, and you better all be rooting for the Irish.” Seamus’ mother cried out as she brought out meat
pies with her skirt swirling around her ankles and her long blond hair tied up with a bow in the Irish
colours.

“Of course, it will be a good game, the Irish are strong this year.” Harry said with a smile.

“England could have used your brother, Ron. Bloody mess that was.” Seamus said, knocking his
elbow into Ron’s side.

“Or even Wales, they nearly had it!” Dean added in.

“Aye, well there is no talking Charlie out of the dragons.” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Harry!” Someone yelled for him, and Harry turned over to find Oliver Wood waving
enthusiastically for him. Harry waved to his friends before walking over to Oliver who took him in
his arms and introduced him to every member of his family and anyone nearby with ears. Minding
them that he was the best Seeker he’d ever laid eyes on before going into the story of how he had
made Puddlemere United reserves teams. It was nearly half an hour before Harry managed to catch
his breath under a tree. Sinking to the ground growing warm with the day’s heat and pulling off his
glasses trying to use the same spell Regulus had. He only ended up smudging his glasses further.
Putting them back on his face with defeat, he heard a small giggle. Popping out from the other side
of the tree, he saw soft brown eyes and long straight black hair, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“I thought Oliver would never let you go.” Cho said, grasping onto the tree and she leaned over
looking down at Harry. Stammering he tried to stand, but he caught the edge of his trousers and
slipped before he was able to right himself, causing Cho to laugh even further. He rather liked the
sound, like birds chirping in the early morning with the dew soft on the leaves.

“Sorry, Cho.” He huffed, pulling back at his hair falling into his face, feeling his cheeks grow
warm.

“Don’t need to apologise, Harry.” She said, stepping out with her hands tucked behind her back.
She looked rather neat in her skirt and an Irish Quidditch shirt.

“Ireland?” He said, nodding as his glasses fell to the end of his nose. Sighing, he pushed them up
defeatedly.

“Who else? I haven’t been as captivated by Viktor Krum as others.” She said, her eyelashes
looking longer than usual as she blinked.

“Er, I think he’s neat, but not enough to turn away from Ireland. Will be nice to see him play
though, he’s a good Seeker.” Harry replied.

“Rather good.” She answered before a voice was calling out.

“Seo-Yeon.” Came from a woman who looked like an older Cho with dark hair and pale skin.

“Oh, that’s me. I better go then, but it was nice talking to you, Harry.” She said, her eyes going
down to her shoes, which looked new and had nice bows on the end.

“That’s you?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing. He’d only ever heard anyone call her Cho.

“Oh, yes. Seo-Yeon is my name, Cho is my family name.” She said with a shrug.

“Why does nobody call you by your name?” He asked, stepping closer.

“Someone said it was too difficult once, and Cho just stuck. I never really argued with it.” She said
with a shrug.

“It isn’t too hard to pronounce. I think it’s a nice name.” Harry said, tilting his head.

“Seo-Yeon!” The woman cried louder and Cho– Seo-Yeon shook her head and said something
back in a language Harry couldn’t understand, but he wanted to.

“I have to go, but thank you.” She said, waving a small goodbye, as her back turned Harry
instinctively followed a few steps.

“Seo-Yeon.” He said and she paused and turned over her shoulder.

“Enjoy the match.” He said, and she only laughed before running off to her mother.

Ron and Herimone found him not a moment later, staring at the tent flap shaking in the wind with
his eyes softened and his shoulders slacked. Hermione nudged him on while Ron picked fun at him
when he tripped over his shoes. Harry tried to shake it off, but he found himself looking over his
shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of the long hair being thrown over the shoulder of an Irish shirt, or
to the hear laughter floating in the wind. He was in no such luck, but running into her had been
lucky enough.

Arcturus sat contently with a fresh cup of tea filling his nose and warming his hands under the
thankfully dry conditions of the day after the slaughter of rain from the prior day. The rain made
his bones ache so he was thankful for the reprieve. A reporter of sorts dressed in lime green and
pink had tried to get him to comment to her, but Cygnus arrived just at the time she tired to weasel
her way into the arm of his chair and she had run off, rather impressively for her heels were taller
than average, to get a comment on how he felt being disowned. Was a rather harsh exaggeration.
Personally, he had never disowned anyone. Not Alphard, not Sirius, not Andromeda. If any one of
them went to the vault, they would have been given access to a separate one he set aside for all of
them.
He was enjoying his evening watching as his nephew came and dropped off fresh fish for his
daughter to make into a stew for everyone. Lucretia was asking him about his summer, and how
the harvesting had been. He was responding in Gaelic and she was nodding along, having to strain
her knowledge at times. He wished she hadn’t forgotten her mother’s language, but with no one to
whisper stories in her ears or hum it in the kitchen before anyone woke, time had not been fair to
her, but it was good to know she had others. Her cousin, albeit not always seeing eye to eye, would
be loyal to her.

“Murdo, did you bring the eggs?” Arcturus asked when there was a moment.

“Aye, finally have extra to give away after fifty years of giving them to the Notts.” Murdo said,
laughing at the old ways. Bartering for wives would seem archaic in this day and age, but there was
a time when Murdo had to offer whiskey and eggs in order to keep his wife from being shipped off
to France for another man.

“Arcturus Black! I have been looking for you!” A booming jolly voice called, and Arcturus turned
to see a less than welcomed face.

“Ludo.” Arcturus said, shifting his weight to one side.

“Had been hoping to run into you, been betting a few wagers on the match.” He said, his old
uniform across his chest a bit ridiculously and his rose coloured cheeks and a nose smashed with a
Bludger one too many times adding to a warped look of a man in charge of a Ministry department
even if it was for Magical Games.

“I don’t gamble, Ludo. That would have been my brother.” Arcturus said, crossing his arms over
his chest.

“Oi, what about you Ignatius, wish to make a wager?” Ludo said, tutting at Arcturus before turning
his attention to Ignatius, who was sitting over the stew while Lucretia had gone to chop up
vegetables in their tent.

“And cross my wife? I’d rather not, Ludo.” Ignatius responded, stirring the stew to avoid having to
converse more.

“I managed a bit out of your nephews. Arthur bet a Galleon too.” Ludo continued nonetheless.

“My nephews, which ones?” Ignatius asked.

“The twins, uncanny they are. Forgot to ask the older two, got too caught up trying to convince
Charlie how desperately England needs him. Dragons can wait, but he’s only got a few more years
of his prime Quidditch strength, gotten leaner on the muscles too, perfect Seeker shape.” Ludo
continued, babbling on for a few minutes and Arcturus began to wonder how Charlie had ever
gotten away. It wasn’t until a sharp snapped of air that Ludo finally went quiet.

“Mister Bagman, I’ve been looking for you. Our Bulgarian companions were found wandering
awfully close to the Irish camp. Could have been an international incident!” Mister Crouch said,
his face pale and the circles under his eyes deeper than usual. He’d be tired with this event, but he
looked aged, stressed in ways not only from work.

“Oh you know who I would have loved to see play? Your Uncle Arcturus, bloody good beater.
Saw him lead a team for a few years. Heard he was ruthless, aye if we had him now we would
have made it to the Finals I do know that.” Ludo said, redder than seemed possible in the face as he
ignored Crouch’s comments.
“Hm how interesting, I would think the fact that he killed a man once during a game would be of
more concern for the Head of Magical Games and Sports.” Arcturus said, his own voice lax, but
his gaze curious.

“Aye, tragic, tragic, but he was cleared. By-product of the game, not so deadly anymore with all
the rules and regulations, half of them put in because of your uncle, aye would have loved to see
him.” Ludo stammered as he tipped his head.

“I do hate being named after that man.” Arcturus said, underbreath, but no one could hear it.

“Oi Arthur, how good to see you again!” Ludo greeted as he put his arms around Arthur who
looked less than thrilled at the idea as he slowly tried to creep around the section of tents
unsuccessfully.

“Bagman we really must go, I left Bode and Croaker with the Bulgarians, what are they to speak
of? Their work? It's all classified.” Crouch said, shaking his head. Arcturus saw his daughter and
her cousin come out of the tent neither of them wanting to approach the situation, but he saw his
daughter narrow her eyes at Crouch, she had her suspicions.

“Molly’s parents were Unspeakables, you know.” Bagman said, to no one in particular it seemed
because everyone present would know.

Arcturus did know. Enaylius and Ann Prewett, Unspeakables, died 1961 tragically from their
work. Leaving behind three children, and his brother as the temporary heir to the name as his sons
were still only children and then twenty years later when his sons would die with no sons to carry
on their name, it was only Ignatius. He looked over his shoulder sensing his son by law’s change in
demeanour, but he found that his wife was already at his side, holding him close, whispering in his
ear. And then there was movement and Ignatius had slipped away. Good of her, the quick thinking.

“Aye, yes it was tragic, Molly doesn’t like to speak of it, I was actually trying to find Ali Bashair to
stop him from talking nonsense on flying carpets again.” Arthur said, shaking his head.

“My grandfather once had a flying carpet, an Axminster that could seat our whole family. Before
they were banned of course, he got rid of it afterwards.” Crouch said, and Arcturus thought it an
opportune time to see if he could test his daughter’s theory.

“He certainly did not. Arcturus the Second kept that carpet until he died, was caught with it no less
than two times after flying carpets were banished.” Arcturus said without interrupting his sip of
tea. Crouch turned a warm colour red. His beady eyes sticking out of his skull. Arcturus was
poking. He knew while Crouch had used the advantages of the Black name on his rise to
prominence, he did not enjoy being associated with the seedier side of their actions.

“It is in our vault now. No one had any use for it.” Arcturus said.

“You do realise it is a crime to even possess one?” Crouch replied, and Arcturus couldn’t help but
smile.

“What will you do? Raid the vault? The goblins will bury you in paperwork, I can assure you they
are very loyal to me.” Arcturus said.

“For being their wealthiest customer.” Crouch huffed, he was acting rather himself, just jittery and
nervous, no strange lick lipping that had been at the tea his daughter attended.

“For treating them with respect.” Arcturus retorted.

 Crouch wrinkled his nose as he always did. So this time it was clearly him, but his daughter hadn’t
imagined it. Arcturus looked over shoulder, Ignatius slipped back into view trying to disguise his
panting as he put a mug of water to his lips. Maybe he should start sending Sirius or Regulus, his
son by law wasn’t getting any younger himself.

“Bagman, let us go. Arthur, Ali was last seen trying to convince the Irish to preorder the magic
carpets for he is certain he will get legislation passed this time. They were dragging him along with
his questions as the Irish do. Good to see you, Uncle Arcturus.” Barty said before putting his thin
arm around Bagman and pulling him away with some strength.

“Father.” Lucretia said.

“That was him, but something is on his mind. Did you find anything, Ignatius?” Artcurus asked.

“Tent is locked tight, but I could hear voices. Sounded like an elf, but someone was replying to
her.” Ignatius said, refilling his mug of water.

“Risky to bring him here, but risky to leave him at home.” Arcturus muttered, and those out of the
know, kept their mouths sealed. They’d been around them all enough. Arthur invited Ignatius for
dinner that night before the Cup began tomorrow and he and Lucretia agreed, saying they could all
come to their tent if the Weasleys didn’t have enough room, Arthur was hesitant, but he agreed
mumbling about his wife after. Oh the qualms of family, Arcturus’ never did seem to leave well
enough alone. If it was true and Crouch had been hiding his son as Arcturus had been hiding his
grandson, it had been years. Dangerous years if his son had not changed his thoughts, he’d need to
ask Harry about the other man he saw in his dreams. Arcturus had a worrisome theory. Another
untamed Death Eater, loyal and believing, helping Lord Voldemort would only add to their pains.
But not unmanageable, not manageable yet, he thought.

Chapter End Notes

I refuse to believe one of the few Asian representations in HP to be named 'Cho

Chang', so it is the same character we know in canon, but she has a better name in my
opinion.
 Games Begin
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of previous abuse, injury

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Regulus double checked the buttons on his robes. His hands were shaking slightly. Breathing in
deep from his stomach, he unbuttoned and re-buttoned the top one, finally deciding it was better
unbuttoned. There was a small crowd outside and he could hear their murmurs like the icy breeze
that had slipped in overnight, cutting into his skin. It wasn’t unexpected, but he had forgotten what
the spotlight felt like.

When he reached the main level of the tent, he dared peer out a bit of the flap to see the
photographers and reporters lined up at the lantern lit path that led to the stadium. Waiting with
cameras over their necks and a few cigarettes lit between them as they conversed in bits of broken
languages that they could all understand. Rita Skeeter of The Daily Prophet front and centre with
her loyal short photograph next to her tapping his toes anxiously. A few regional papers were
present as well, he could note an Irish reporter, a Scottish photographer, and then even a few
foreign players as well, France and Italy the most notable, but there were a few from other
countries. All trying to get the perfect snippet and photo of the most notable families, but more
importantly, of the most important guests of the games. Sirius Black was worth a small fortune in
sales if one could get a good photograph.

“Like a siren to sailors, but at least half the sailors deserved it. Though the argument could be
made, we do as well.” A voice behind him said, and Regulus turned to see his grandfather
perfectly groomed and in stark freshly pressed black robes, too heavy for his smaller frame
anymore, but he wouldn’t be told so.

“You and Harry could slip away, there is a way around the back.” Arcturus reminded him once
more as he went for one final tea before they would have to make their grand exit.

“Harry doesn’t want to. Like we discussed, Peter likely already told Voldemort about the Shack
moment, and believes Harry is now in Sirius’ care. Harry wants to be with his family.” Regulus
sighed, as he closed the tent and could hear the small steps above them of last minute adjustments
in mirrors much like he had. Once he sat down with a tea cup, the tent flung open and shut quickly
with a few flashes of cameras before they died down when they realised it was not their intended
target.

“Reminds me of my youth, the crowd. People used to climb on top of one another to get my
photograph when I was younger, not my fondest memories at times and others it was my only
source of satisfaction.” Cassiopeia said as she wrung her hands. Regulus knew the feeling, though
maybe less so than his older family members. He often heard that his parents' generation was the
last of the obsessive glitz and glamour, and old ideas numbed and died out by the changing of time,
the lack of purebloods, and the wars. Not to say he didn’t have cameras shoved in his face in his
childhood, it had just been less frequent than in generation’s passed. Today would be different.

“Remus is with the Prewetts, it’ll be easier for him to get through with them. There might be a
small comment of the ancient connection between the two lines, or about them being Welsh, but
they’ll likely focus on Lucy until we emerge. Now where is Sirius?” Cassiopeia asked, clapping her
hands together.

“Up here, Aunt Cassie!” Harry’s voice cried from above. Regulus wrinkled his nose, but he
assumed Harry would be up with Sirius since neither of them had emerged. Aunt Cassiopeia
hummed and picked up her long skirt before stomping up the stairs to search for what was holding
them up.

“Harry’s stunt did distract the news for one cycle at least. Tonight it will be us, our only hope is if
the Cup ends tonight.” Arcturus hummed. Regulus chewed on his inner cheek but nodded.

“Il vaut mieux faire que dire.” Cassiopeia said, coming down shaking her head. Regulus ears
perked up.

“Pourquoi tu dis ça?” Arcturus responded quicker than Regulus could. He needed to use his French
more, his first instinct had been to respond in English.

“Voilà!” Harry called as he jumped down the stairs. After him came Sirius in the most extravagant
robes with his hair twisted and plaited in the most ornate fashion seen. Suddenly, he understood.
Sirius was making it known if they wanted a show, they would have a show.

“Ah bon! Even if the Cup ends we may still make the front page with this.” Arcturus said. Regulus
blinked a few times before finishing his tea and patting the container full of Polyjuice Potion held
close to his chest. Would be terribly awkward if half way through the match he morphed into
himself. Certainly then they would be on the front page.

After a few minutes fussying, it was time to emerge, the final ones from the string of tents.
Flashing blinded him for a moment and then the voices hit his ear as he kept his hand on Harry’s
shoulder. Arcturus was at the front, leaning on his cane as little as he could, Cassiopeia holding
onto his other arm for him to support himself straight back and head raised. Sirius was just over
Arcturus’ shoulder, his cheeks rosy, but his chest puffed out. Regulus and Harry in the rear,
Regulus’ hand never leaving Harry’s shoulder.

As they approached the wall of photographers and reporters, Regulus braced himself for the
onslaught of questions. He’d caught a peak of the articles written already. His presence has not
gone unnoticed, but neither had his father’s infidelity. People were quick to brush him off as a
bastard. He’d read a small article by the infamous Rita Skeeter that he was a bastard of Orion and
one of his many women, probably one of the French ones, and he’d been sent to Switzerland to be
raised by his great-aunt. He wouldn’t argue against it. Better to let the masses have their own
curiosities about certain matters. Cassiopeia had her lips puckered, poised to assault the first bidder
of questions, but she was cut through by a sharp clearing of throat that drew all the attention to the
side. Regulus inhaled through his teeth and clung Harry closer to him.

“Cygnus. I hadn’t been promised you’d attend.” Arcturus said, keeping his face blank of
expression. Uncle Cygnus, Regulus hadn’t seen him in some time. He’d gotten older as they all
had. Grey was sprinkled in his hair and clung near his temples and lines were beginning to show
on his face and neck. He was imposing though. His lax jaw contrasted with his stern eyes.

“Thought a united front would be receptive towards this barrage of news and criticism. So few men
of the House of Black remain.” Cygnus said under breathe to avoid peering ears, his eyes
narrowing as they passed over Regulus.

“Well enough, Sirius.” Arcturus nodded for Cygnus to join at his side. Bolstered as he was, Sirius
faltered for a moment, the heel of his boot dragging behind him a step. Uncle Cygnus had never
been the most comforting presence. He always seemed to despise the fact that his sister and cousin
had sons after he’d tried so diligently to take the heirdom in his name. Sirius and Regulus had been
constant reminders of his failures and he never seemed to let them forget it with pointed snaps and
strikes of spells and hands.

“You look like a pompous fool.” Cygnus said his understated black ensemble was dulled by Sirius’
rich fabrics and embellishments.

“Thank you.” Sirius said, his tongue curling over his words.

“Nobody will duel or I will have your nose and not give it back for a week at least.” Cassiopeia
hissed under breath as they broke into the hoard of hungry faces, dropping for some scandalous slip
of lips.

“Now now, don’t say that.” Cassiopeia said, peering over a page of notes and ripping it from the
owner with perfectly manicured hands.

“It would be better to say how the House of Black assumed an united and loyal front. Well, better if
you wish to be employed by the end of the week.” She said, a coy smile pulled over her teeth as the
reporter turned ashen and nodded, dotting down new words.

“Oh darlings, my good side is over here.” She said waving them to her free side, where Arcturus
cane would be less front and centre, the photographers for the most part parted ways to her wave as
of a moth to flame, not even thinking but to follow her guidance.

“Arcturus, what do you have to say to Lucius Malfoy’s remarks that Draco is a contender for your
place as heir?” Rita cries, unphased by the dominance in front of her. Green glasses poised to the
end of her sharp nose and quill writing faster than seemed possible.

“I say it is a shame he never lived up to his father’s name. Abraxas was a grand and powerful heir
that ushered the Malfoys wonderfully through a difficult transition of time. His son? Leaves some
to be desired.” Arcturus said, not pausing his step forcing her heels to click as she followed.

“Will you announce it then? Is Sirius Black, once infamous killer, to be reinstated as heir over his
deceased brother, Regulus Black?” Rita asked, impressively keeping up on the soft ground with her
thin tall heels.

“I believe the public is intelligent enough to know what the answer to your remark would be. In the
tragedy of losing both my son and grandson in the same year, I was left with one birthright heir.”
Arcturus answered without any directness. Leaving the air of mystery following them as the
photographers were half squeezed out by the crowds they joined up with. Rita didn’t give up and
neither did her stout photographer, snapping photos from all angles with an obnoxious flash and
click grating in Regulus’ ear.

“Cygnus do you have any comment? Draco is your only claim to the heirdom through your
youngest daughter?” Rita said, falling a step behind to catch additional comments.

“Arcturus is my heir, I will respect whatever decision he makes.” Cygnus said, short and reaching
his hand out to pull Sirius further away from her, effectively stepping in between Rita and Sirius.
Regulus didn’t miss how Sirius flinched at their uncle’s touch, but most would.

“Any comment, Sirius Black? Once a damned killer and now the most famous heir in all of Great
Britain, of Europe as a whole?” She asked, her eyes wide behind her frames. Everyone held their
breath, waiting for the words to form on Sirius’ lips which he licked a few times before replying in
a steady voice.

“I am grateful for my grandfather. Not only for my freedom, but for whatever honour he bestows
on me.” Sirius said. Regulus breathed a sigh of relief. Shocked, Sirius didn’t take the moment to
damn them all, but maybe he’d known it was not the moment and certainly not for Rita to write.

Thankfully, as her eyes fell on Regulus and Harry like prey, they reached the stairs of the wide
golden stage set for the Cup. Harry’s mouth agape at the size and grandeur. Regulus slipped them
around and up the steps first. Avoiding the teeth clenching into their side from the overzealous
reporter.

“Well Miss Skeeter, I hope to be pleased with your article.” Arcturus said, tucking his cane under
his arm as she finally bowed away and her photographer took one final flash of the family at the
base of the stairs.

“It’ll be embellished as heavily as Sirius’ robes.” Cassiopeia said, hushed.

“I’d expect nothing less. She’d be a great fiction writer if her lies ever catch up to her.” Arcturus
huffed looking up the long stairs.

“Here.” Cassiopia said, using the flick of her wand to have the stairs flatten into a small ramp, once
Arcturus' foot lifted it would turn back to steps, no one the wiser with the mass of people and
excitement filling the oversized stadium. Even Regulus was short of breath by the time they
reached the Minister’s box, at the very top and centre of the stadium. Flanked on either side by
walls that blocked some of the chattering noise of the people seated around them. The box was
large enough for the Minister and many guests with various rows of plush seats unlike the stadium
rows outside their walls. The names of each guest shining above in sparkling letters to direct them
to their section. The Blacks were directly to one side of where The Minister himself would sit. The
Weasleys were just behind, so Harry would be able to speak to them, maybe even sneak into a seat
shared with Ron to avoid some of the logistics of being under constant eye contact.

“Crouch is next to us and The Malfoys behind the Weasleys. Lucius will dislike not being at the
Minister's side and despise being behind the Weasleys. He’ll blame us of course. Say if Sirius
hadn’t been released, we wouldn’t even be here.” Arcturus noted as he lowered himself into the
comfortable seats. Behind them, Lucretia and Ignatius were counting out the Weasley seats to
assure there were enough.

“Well if Lucius had kept his nose where it belonged, no one would have even known Sirius had
escaped, so he did it to himself.” Lucretia whispered, her brow knitted.

“There’s three more seats than necessary.” She commented to a passing worker, who did stop, but
shrugged it off.

“It's the Weasleys, couldn’t they just produce another three children.” He grumbled before moving
on in a huff.

“Yes, but the MacMillans are in the final row and they have the perfect amount of seats and just as
many children, does no one see the hypocrisy?” Lucretia called, but the worker had already
disappeared.

“We can just have them pushed aside, Lucy. Arthur won’t mind.” Ignatius said, and in perfect
timing the Weasleys began to file out of the stairs, adding to the noise of the box quite significantly
as the children smiled large at the seats and began to argue for the best places. Regulus sat near the
end, where he noted the two seats reserved for Crouch had a small elf reserving the spot, her eyes
down and feet dangling over the edge. He didn’t think much of it, but he swore she was whispering
to herself in French.

“Reg?” Harry asked, his eyes growing wide.

“Go, sit next to Ron, Harry.” He said, jutting his chin to one of the open seats. Harry collected the
three Omnioculars he had purchased to view the game better, when he presented them to Ron and
Hermione, Hermione smiled but Ron turned a bit red, stumbling over his words as he accepted the
item. Harry began to show them how they operated and Regulus deemed him appropriately
occupied and turned to look over the stadium with his own eyes for the first time. Across were
flashing lights advertising different businesses and products that bored him as he looked down to
the bottom where the people were so small, he couldn’t tell one from another, they ebbed and
flowed en masse.

“I don’t like heights.” Sirius mumbled, and it took Regulus a moment to process he was speaking to
him as their grandfather had leaned back to speak to Arthur Weasley, who looked rather
dumbstruck as he conversed of the business of his work in the Muggle Offices.

“You played Quidditch?” Regulus said, though their games were nearly a quarter the size.

“Azkaban. Azkaban is high. They put the high security prisoners highest, so if you do manage out
your only options are The Kiss or jumping and with no use of magic for cushioning charms,
well…” Sirius said, his breath threaded as he cracked his knuckles over and over. Regulus put his
hand over Sirius’ hand.

“You aren’t in Azkaban, Sirius. You won’t be going back.” Regulus reassured him. There was
movement out of the corner of his eye. The elf had shuffled a bit and seemed to be shaking her
head. Regulus seemed to be the only one noticing. Sirius was too busy breathing and everyone was
speaking around him. Regulus leaned over, curious.

“Hello.” Regulus said. The elf jumped in her seat.

“What is your name?” He asked. The elf blew out small breaths as she wrung her hand.

“Winky, sir.” She said.

“Winky, is Mister Crouch joining us soon?” He asked, flickering to the empty seat next to her.
There wasn’t a placement for the feeling in his stomach, no cause for concern. Families sent elves
ahead plenty of times, but there was something nagging at his mind like a pixie, not letting him
ignore it.

“Oh soon, sir, I do hopes, Winky likes not the height.” She muttered before jumping and clamping
her hand over her mouth. Not wanting to even utter a small complaint, he forgot in their laxing of
treatment to elves, how they had once treated them. Despicably and lesser than.

“Keep your eyes up and don’t look down. Imagine you're somewhere else, close to the ground.” He
said, trying to calm the jumpy elf. Wishing he had Kreacher, but he was at home with Marius and
Helena likely humming as he dusted, or maybe relaxing with a book bigger than him. He deserved
the time in the relative quiet.

“Oh no, sir. Winky only wants to be in service to her family. That is all Winky knows.” She said,
shaking her head and grabbing at her ears and tugging them taunt. Regulus chewed on his lower
lip. He forgot how intoxicated elves were. Years of submission, brainwashing really. He was
surprised how Kreacher had shaken all of it off in only a few years. He needed to check on
Kreacher when they returned, see if there was anymore they could be doing for him.

“Well, do you like your home? You could imagine yourself there instead. Helping your family as
you do.” Regulus tried. Softening his voice and eyes flickering to the seat. He swore– no, he must
be seeing things. The seat was empty.

“Oh no, sir, Mister Crouch would be so disappointed in Winky. She must focus. He would want
her to focus, I just won’t look down, sir. Thank you, sir. You should enjoy the game, sir. Not to
worry about Winky.” She said, as she curled her knees close, pulling the tea towel used as a
makeshift dress. Regulus sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking over his shoulder where Harry
had caught his conversation, but Regulus loosely shook his head and Harry looked over at the elf
once before letting his face fall and turning back to where Ron was exclaiming at how closely he
could see the entire match.

“Oh here he comes.” Arcturus said, using his cane to lift himself to his feet. Regulus stood
automatically, pulling at Sirius’ elbow, who grumbled and looked over his shoulder where he
caught Remus’ eye who from a glance was shaking his head and smiling warmly at Sirius. After
the match started, Regulus didn’t doubt Sirius would slither back there one way or another and find
a way to be within touching distance of Remus. Regulus waved for Harry to step down and step in
between him and Sirius. Arcturus would only stand for one man’s arrival. The Minister as the guest
of honour to him, Arcturus would play the game for the cameras, but Regulus didn’t doubt there
would be whispers exchanged that would cause the red full cheeks of The Minister to grow pale.

“Arcturus Black, good to see you. Lovely the whole family is here, Mistress Black, beautiful as
always. Cygnus, out and about from the Manor, wonderful. Ah and the guest of most intrigue.
Mister Sirius Black.” The Minister said, his lips full and hat perfectly situated on to of his head,
pretending as if he hadn’t gotten into a match with all of them just over a year ago.

“I hate politics.” Regulus heard his uncle grumble above him, but his wife covered his remarks
with a small cough.

“Minister.” Sirius said, his lips tight over his teeth and the pulse in his neck throbbing.

“Lancelot, been watching out for the most notorious patient, have you? Wouldn’t trust anyone else
more. Best healer in the past three centuries, you’ll know Lancelot Prewett. He did work during the
war, yes, wand to wand with Grindelwald himself at one point. This is the Minister of Magic from
Bulgaria. Another honoured guest.” The Minister said, brushing the rest under the carpets that
weren’t allowed to fly as he quickly turned the attention to a more pleasant representative of
Britain. The Bulgarian Minister, for all his attention, looked rather bored. Though he did grunt at
that mention of Lancelot, giving an approving nod before turning back to the field looking over to
see if the match was nearing the beginning.

“No Crouch, I’ve been needing him. Never been great shakes at languages. Particularly
Bulgarian.” The Minister said, as he pulled a handkerchief to dap at his forehead. There was a
small chuckle before he heard his uncle begin in another language not familiar to him. The
Bulgarian Minster perked up instantly and began to respond enthusiastically for a few moments,
Ignatius chuckling under breath and responding shortly from time to time. Eventually, the
Bulgarian turned and pointed at Harry asking what appeared to be the obvious questions.

“Harry Potter.” The Bulgarian said in a thick accent, sticking out his hand which Harry shook with
ease, but kept his lips firmly together.

“Oh lovely, lovely, can you tell him his seat is just in the front, very centre, wonderful seats might I
add.” The Minister said, and Ignatius said a few short words and pointed to the palace and the
Bulgarian bowed out to get comfortable.

“Bloody awful that’s been, I didn’t know you spoke Bulgarian. Close to Welsh is it?” The Minister
said, patting at his pockets and dropping some of the facade as the photographers all began to turn
towards the field, lighting cigarettes and talking without their signature flashing.

“No, not quite. I’ve spent extensive time in Bulgaria though, and picked up on some.” Ignatius
explained, his lips twisted.

“Bet he was talking about the wonderful host he had.” The Minister hummed as he looked to the
stairs, waiting for someone to arrive. Now Ignatius muttered in Welsh, and Lucretia let out a small
gasp before squeezing her husband’s hand.

“Commenting on the weather is all Minster.” Ignatius said with a plastered smile and wrinkled
eyes. Regulus was not fluent in Welsh or Bulgarian, but he knew the weather had not been the
subject of conversation.

“The Malfoys!” The Minster said, waving the handkerchief he had just dapped his forehead with.
The photographs on their break hadn’t even noticed them. Lucius had to poke one with his walking
stick before they jumped to attention and began to flash a few photos for the ego stroke the
Malfoys required. Regulus sat back in his seat, using his hand to cover his rolling eyes. Lucius was
flanked by his wife and son.

“Splendid to see you, Lucius. Your wife and son, yes?” The Minister said, shaking Lucius hand
frantically.

“You know everyone of course, your by-laws, The Blacks, my guest of honour. The Prewetts of
course, Crouch will show up, and the MacMillans, well they will stumble in when they do. Then
Arthur of course, and his large brood.” The Minster said, raising his hand to several of the closest
families. Lucius cast an unpleasant look at all. And as The Minister bumbled over to greet a woman
with a wary face and two young sons who had joined the Bulgarian Minister. Lucius was careful to
speak softly so the winds at such high heights wouldn’t carry his words.

“Merlin Ignatius, must have cost you a fortune to purchase so many tickets. The rumours must be
true, you plan to let your pride become you and allow the line to die with yourself. No need to
leave funds if there is no heir I suppose.” Lucius scoffed, looking over the seats filled by all the
Weasleys, before Ignatius, who was turning rather red in the face, could respond. Lucius stumbled,
his walking cane hitting the side of a chair and causing a ringing noise that clambered over them
and drew attention from eyes even far away. Flamed in the eyes, Lucius turned to chastise whoever
had bumped into him but when he turned and met a chest and not a pair of eyes, he faltered for a
moment.

“Malfoy.” A voice said from the side, and Regulus’ eyes fell onto a large group making their way
to the final row of box seats. The MacMillans had stumbled in on their own time, and one of the
older ones had placed a careful shoulder into Lucius’ exposed back. Not hard enough for it to be
deemed purposeful.

“Morton. Seems your brother has lost all manners, spending more time with dragons than people.”
Malfoy said, nose flaring and his hands smoothing his pristine white robes with hand stitching,
looking down at the traditional, more Muggle attire of the MacMillans, with kilts and long flowing
shirts. The MacMillan who had fallen into him was smirking over his shoulder, not caring for the
glare his brother sent him. The infamous McKenzie MacMillan, Regulus knew enough about him
to have a vague opinion, one of which that McKenzie didn’t seem to care much of what anyone
thought of him.
“Maybe if you had been in your seat, Malfoy, instead of lingering on the stairs, you would have
avoided the situation entirely.” Morton responded, hardly reaching Lucius' eye as he began to
count on the excited children racing for the seats reserved for their family. People poked their fun
at the Weasleys, but the MacMillans easily had triple the children. Everyone of them seems to be
one of four to seven siblings and themselves nearly all having three or more children. Except for
McKenzie, he never did marry or have children that Regulus knew of. He had spunk though, to
take on Lucius even indirectly. Before Lucius could retort, Ludo Bagman came running in, slightly
out of breath.

“Minister Fudge! It’s time!” He called out and everyone hurried to their seats, Harry slipping back
up to in between Ron and Hemrione, the latter who was keeping a stern look at Lucius, Draco, and
Narcissa. Narcissa, who looked as lovely as ever even with her sour turned face. Regulus
swallowed harsh air as he brought the vial out of his robes and swallowed another does of
Polyjuice Potion, no matter how much he once adored Narcissa, he couldn’t let slip and he forced
his eyes to peel away just as the Minister stepped up with his voice amplified a hundred times
louder than normal.

“One and all, I welcome you to the four hundred and twenty second Quidditch World Cup.”

Harry’s arms were jostled a bit from the constant moving back and forth, but he could deal with it
tomorrow. Now, in front of him, was the Quidditch World Cup. He wasn’t going to miss a moment
of it. He’d purchased Omnioculars for him and his two best friends, but he was letting Fred and
George mess with his for a moment, one twin each having an eye pushed up to the rims. The
Minister’s echo had just died out when he heard the commotion below as the opening ceremonies
had begun. He’d read all about how each country brought a show of national display for a few
minutes before the games began. Bulgaria was up first, and Harry leaned forward and waited with
bated breath as slowly the field filled with the most beautiful, almost inhumanly, people he had
ever seen.

“Of course they would bring Veela.” Ignatius laughed next to him. Harry swallowed harshly as he
sank in his seat.

Veela, he racked his brain. He recalled his lessons, they were human-like beings. Unbelievably
beautiful and graceful, and once they begin to dance and sing, irresistible to nearly all who saw
them. Harry leaned back in his seat watching through slitted eyes as beautiful people with effortless
skill, flowing hair, and sparkling eyes danced and the entire stadium seemed to be in numb silence
as they did. All but one directly in his eyeline, Regulus was picking at his nails, seemingly immune
to the dance in front of him. It made Harry tilt his head in curiosity, but before he could ask the
stadium erupted in protest as the music died down and the Veela with their curtseys and their bows,
exited from the field. Next to him, Ron’s mouth was open as he leaned ready to fall out of his chair.

“Er, Ron.” Harry said, pushing him back gently on his shoulders.

“Ay Bulgaria will win this one won’t they.” Ron said wistfully, his hands clenched to the end of
his seat still.

“Oi, Ron put your tongue back in your mouth.” Charlie called from where he sat with his arms
crossed and his feet propped up on the seat in front of him. Harry noted, he hardly seemed phased,
in fact if anything, he seemed annoyed by the display. Harry watched as Charlie jabbed his older
brother, Bill in the side, shaking him from his trance as he grumbled about wanting to get to the
Quidditch. Nearly everyone was taken with Veela, but not all. Studies done had found some people
immune to the charm, and others easier to resist, but connections hadn’t been conclusively drawn.
 Hermione seemed to be noticing the same as Harry as she huffed at Ron and rolled her eyes as the
twins cupped their hands and cheered loudly for the Veela to come back for a second round.

“Harry, look!” She said when she turned back, pointing at the display being put on by Ireland.

A rainbow emerged across the stadium sky, before bursting into a grand shamrock shape, made of
small floating characters, Leprechauns holding lanterns to make the shape shimmer and shine,
finally in a grand ending display, a final burst and the entire stadium filled with raining gold coins.
Ron jumped out of his seat to collect as many as his hands could manage to hold.

“Look, Harry! I could pay you for the Omnioculars and then some!” Ron cried out. Harry shook
his head, but Arcturus leaned back in his seat, wiping a few gold coins from his lap.

“It’s Leprechaun's gold, son, will disappear in a few hours and no goblin worth their career will
take it. As well, there will be no need to pay Harry back. Consider it a gift, you don’t repay gifts.”
Arcturus said in an unassuming tone, but Ron still swallowed and dropped his coins before nodding
his head.

“Y–yes, sir.” Ron replied before getting back to his seat as quickly as he could.

“So did he–well I guess of course he did, but Arcturus Black paid for Omnioculars.” Ron said, his
face dumbfounded.

“Goodness, Ron. Just enjoy them, think nothing more of them. Harry doesn’t mean anything by
them, and Arcturus Black hardly seems he is going to hold them against you for your first born.”
Hermione said, bringing her own pair to her eyes. Ron was a bit sceptical, but as the field began to
call out the players, he forgot his own reservations and began to use them to watch as Viktor Krum
entered the field to rigorous and roaring applause. Harry was passed back his own pair, and as he
sat at the edge of his seat, breath held. He waited for the game to begin.

Chapter End Notes

Knocks on the imaginary mic is this thing on? Hello, I apologise for the great delay,
part of it was the site being down, but before then I did unfortunately catch COVID
once more and every time I do, I happen to get struck by the worst fatigue and it has
caused me to fall back on quite a few things, but I am finally pushing through and we
have one chapter left of the Cup to come! The most infamous chapter so far of this
little interlude if I do say, thank you for waiting and I will be back as quickly as I can!
 The Mark
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior abuse, Mentions of Injury, Mentions of an Attack

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry hadn’t seen a game quite like it, couldn’t have even imagined such grandeur. The teams
moving in such succession and ease while being faster than Harry could even hope, the screams of
the crowd deafening at every score or quick cornered turn, or the raise of a beater’s bat. The
Ominoculars spinning with names of different plays as Harry kept one eye close and another on the
field. There was too much to absorb at once and he was trying to capture the feeling as Ireland
continued to score causing the rambunctious crowd to grow louder and louder, making Harry
wonder if there was a limit to silencing charms because certainly nearby Muggles had to be close
enough to hear such a roar.

“Oh no.” Charlie whispered behind him, leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of him,
and ahead of him Harry saw Regulus straightened where he had been leaning over talking to their
grandfather. Harry put his Ominoculars and scanned the field, but the movement happened before
he could focus his lens and he shoved them aside and leaned forward himself, bated breath. Krum
was diving from well above the stadium in a spiral directly down towards the field with Lynch
trying to catch the broom’s trimmed ends, but never quite being in reach of him.

“It’s not there.” He heard Regulus whisper and it clicked in Harry’s overstimulated head, which he
wanted to knock for not noticing. Krum was executing a Wronksi’s Feint and he’d realised it just in
time to put his Ominoculars tight against his glasses, pushing them into his skin and witnessing the
glory of the moment Krum pulled up, the last possible breath, his broom skimming the ground as
he turned up, and Lynch digging a hole into the ground with how his failed attempt to turn up
crashed him evenly into the dirt. The disturbed grass and unconscious Seeker showed no sight of
the elusive Golden Snitch with lightly fluttering wings. Krum had done as intended as he did,
however now, half way between the ground and the top of the stadium he floated with his eyes
focused on scanning every possible location unperturbed.

“He’ll be alright, Ginny, though he’ll wake up with a bloody lot of pain tomorrow when those
potions wear off.” Charlie said, reaching over to where Ginny was turning blue in the face from
holding her breath.

“Here, I caught it if you want to see.” Harry said, holding out the Omnioculars. Ginny jumped at
the sound of his voice but was quick to scramble next to him as he slowed down the play for her to
take in each marvellous moment.

“Wow.” Ginny whispered as she watched over and over while the Irish Seeker was peeled off the
ground. A medi-wizard was quick to pour two final potions down his throat before he mounted his
broom against the roars of the crowd aching Harry’s ears as the game resumed.

The Irish were bloody good. Never had he seen a more in sync team of Chasers, or dedicated
Beaters. The Bulgarians had a better Seeker, and a on par Keeper, but the Irish out ran them and
before long the score was so high that even the Snitch would be futile if the Bulgarians couldn’t
score. While excited to watch Harry found some of it a bit bittersweet as he saw Bulgarian flags
slowly begin to fall and the Minister from Bulgaria shaking his head as he patted his children on
the shoulder.

“The Snitch!” Charlie yelled leaned far over the front of his seat pointing directly at the ground. At
the same time, Krum began to spiral down this time with purpose. Lynch tried to catch on, but he’d
been flying circles over the Pitch while Krum hung close to the edge flying over the crowds to
cheering children jumping trying to get a better glimpse and he’d occasionally throw a smile or
wave their way, but there was nothing stopping him now.

“Bloody good eye, are we certain we can’t recruit him to England.” The Minister said, leaning
forward with a spectacle layering several different lenses over back to back to zoom in. Harry gave
Ginny one half off the Omincular as they each pressed an eye in just to catch Krum’s thumb and
forefinger grasp the Snitch perfectly before shooting back up, his feet dragging in the grass.
Unfortunately for Lynch, he went too fast and too hard after Krum trying to catch him but never
making it past the neat trim of the end of his broom. He collided with such force to the ground his
broom snapped, causing Harry to flinch at the memory of his own broom shattered into pieces.

The eruption of the crowd was volcanic as the sky burst into green fireworks and the stunned Irish
players flooded to the ground, picking up their fallen teammate and began to cheer. They had won,
Krum had caught the elusive Snitch bringing the score close for the history books, but the Irish
were ahead by the end of a bottle. Harry jumped to his feet letting out a loud whoop and Ginny’s
feet were stomping along with her brothers beside him.

“Why’d he catch it though? He knew they wouldn’t win!” Ron cried over the crowds.

“The glory, Ron!” Charlie yelled.

“A Seeker’s pride!” Regulus added over his shoulder, causing Ron to stick out his lower lip but nod
along. And Harry understood, the touch of that Snitch to one’s palm as the wings deflated when
they knew they were caught and the relief that flooded one’s chest.

“Dad! Can we go celebrate with the Irish tonight?” Fred called, clapping Mister Weasley on the
back who had turned a bit pink in the cheeks.

“Oi, for a moment only, don’t tell your mother! And everyone is in bed by eleven no later!” He
said, wagging a finger but his smile couldn’t be contained.

“Urgh, how do you say? Bloody messy game?” The Bulgarian Minister said as he held out his
hand to Minister Fudge.

“You speak English! I’ve been stumbling all day!” The Minster said, shaking his hand nonetheless.

“As I told Mister Prewett, it was more fun this way.” The Bulgarian Minster grinned as he went to
greet his team as they entered with their chins held high. The Irish were less collected as they all
fell in one way or another off their brooms seemingly drunk on glory and adrenaline.

“Aye, Charlie! We might need a new Seeker if you need the job, it's yours!” One of them yelled as
Lynch stumbled in with his eyes crossed and feet pointed in two different directions.

“Merlin, a healer is never off the job, no—no Mister Lynch, don’t go that way you’ll fall at least a
hundred stories yes come this way let me get your eyes right.” Lancelot said, having to push
through the enthusiastic crowd with his thin frame. Harry deemed Lynch’s place safe from how
Charlie shook his head in good humour, but he’d caught the glimmer of The Snitch before even he
had.
“Harry.” Regulus said, as he slipped the flask of Polyjuice Potion back into his robes, likely
sneaking a sip when everyone was celebrating.

“Did you hear! The Weasley are going to celebrate tonight.” Harry said, preparing to bat his eyes
and hope Regulus understood.

“Yes, yes you can go, but stay with Bill and Charlie. Don’t get out of their sight.” He said as an
Irish player stumbled in front of him causing Regulus to lean back closer to the elf who squeaked
and battled her hands at nothing that Harry could see, but the seat next to her had never been filled,
there was a glimmer, but no Harry shook his head he had to be imagining things.

“Not getting off that easily, we’re going out with the Irish!” Sirius said, jumping down from the
level with Remus and clasping his hand on Regulus’ shoulder and with movement the elf seemed
to be shooing down the stairs as quickly as possible.

“Sirius.” Regulus said, his eyes already rolling.

“No excuses! Remus already says he can’t drink, so you're my partner now!” Sirius declared and
Harry laughed, there would be little talking Sirius out of such a declaration. It would be Regulus’
battle to fight as he turned back around and soaked in the glory of being surrounded by such
energy.

Regulus didn’t drink. Not really. His father drank so much he was hardly ever sober, and while
he’d been served wine every night since he was nine, he never sought out more than one drink at a
time. The bitter taste wasn’t only from the liquor but from the memories, the smell alone could
transport him back decades. Where he was helpless and young and the smell of liquor and smoke
was stifling, and the screaming never ended. Tonight didn’t change his resolve, though at times,
surrounded by the smell of liquor and smoke, only the screaming replaced by laughter instead, he
wished he did. At least then he wouldn’t feel a need to be so responsible. For not a single other
person around him was sober.

“Aye so you would think it wouldn’t work, but I promise you set the clock just right and–” Sirius'
voice boomed as he let his hands finish the rest of his sentence in the mimic of the fireworks that
were booming overhead. He’d been explaining one prank or another or reliving old glory days.
Any time anyone tried to bring up the closer present, he'd turn red in the face and he’d hate to hear
it, but he’d look awfully like their father. Not that he could say much, he’d taken on some of their
parent’s lesser qualities as well, but he accepted it as a by-product of his childhood. Sirius astutely
did not.

“Glad I’m not the only one not drinking.” A quiet voice came from behind and the warm presence
of another person sitting next to him on a carve out log as an Irish flag formed the outline in the
sky, one of various fireworks going off at odds and ends. They were pretty, but terribly loud.

“I lied to Sirius.” Regulus said, purposefully watching as Remus adjusted awkwardly in his place
before Regulus raised the tea cup in his hand. “Told him there was firewhiskey in it, he's been too
deep into his own drink to notice.”

“Oh.” Remus said, a chuckle of relief as he pulled a thicker robe over his shoulder, shaking his
head as it seemed a glimmer of an old look, a younger look crossed his face.

“Despite our history, Sirius and I don’t duel as often as we once did.” Regulus said with a wink and
a sip of tea. Remus bit on his lower lip to contain the laugh that crossed his lips, not that his
laughter wouldn’t meld with the other rambunctious sounds of joy around them.

“No, no anyone could see that.” Remus said, shaking his head and tugging at the thick fabric of his
robes. Clearly he wasn’t comfortable in them quite yet, and they had the vibrant colours of hardly
washed fabric. A gift, likely, from Sirius no doubt. One that made him uneasy, but appreciated.
Sirius wasn’t perfect at his affection, he didn’t always know the words to say or how to act, but he
wanted people to know he cared. He wanted Remus to know.

“Would you mind telling him I’ve gone to bed? I feel a bit boring, going to sleep at the same time
as your grandfather, but the moon–” Remus sighed as he stretched his neck in several different
directions.

“It’s tomorrow. I know. If you want to feel better, I personally find Arcturus one of the most
interesting people I know, no matter when he goes to sleep.” Regulus said with a full smile as he
pulled his knees closer to him. Remus nodded his head, his vertebrae already sharp along his neck.

“Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.” Remus said, standing slowly, uneasy on his own feet,
Regulus reached over and picked his cane off from where it leaned and passed it to him before he
had to bend down to reach it.

“Sleep well, Remus.” Regulus said, the warm fire accenting the thin lines already sprouting on his
face. Regulus watched as he made his way on his own back to where their tent was already
shrouded in darkness, ready to lull any of its inhabitants to sleep. Not that Regulus would be getting
much sleep, he didn’t quite know it yet, but his night was long from over.

Instead, Regulus set his tea cup aside and stretched his arms above. A bit further away, Sirius had
taken to dancing around with a new drink in his hand. Regulus deemed him occupied enough and
wandered further away from the rambunctious noise of the party and towards where another
smaller fire was. Gathered around were several teenaged witches and wizards with butterbeer and
pumpkin juice being shared between all of them. Harry sat in the centre with Ron on one side,
leaning into Hermione’s shoulder, and Blaise to the otherside leaning away from where Ernest
MacMillan the Third was spilling pumpkin juice recklessly as he spoke theatrically with Hannah
Abbott beside him. All remnants of families swaying further and further away from what they had
once been. They were the next generation and Regulus felt excited for their prospects.

A short lived hope, as Regulus felt his breath quicken. Pain was growing in his left arm. A distinct,
pulsing pain no longer like a rash or an overused muscle. No this burned down to the bone and
then beyond the excitement, came a piercing scream and Regulus knew. His hand went to his wand
and his mind went to Harry as the crowd of people first froze and then as green sparks began and
the scream pierced the air again, they all began to run at once.

“Harry.” He cried out, the crowd moving and flowing as one, some running towards the scene,
others away causing a cross section that caused him and Harry to be separated further. He shouldn’t
have let his hand go, he shouldn’t have let Harry be alone. He could see for a moment the bob of
dark hair next to a mass of dark curls and bright red hair.

“Harry!” He tried louder, but there was a shove and then his ankle went out under him as he felt the
breath escape his lungs causing a sharp pain and his eyes to blur, but he was on the ground. So
much he knew. The ground was useless to him, so pushing his shoulder out, he jostled several
grumbling wizards nearby but their feelings aside as he stretched over the crowd. Harry couldn’t be
seen, his heart began to race.

“Harry.” He breathed and forced his shoulder forward to shove through the frantic steps and quick
breaths of those around him, but before his boot could lift off slightly damp ground he felt an arm
slip around his elbow and pull him back. His teeth bared to snap, but when forced to face his
accused, there laid familiar eyes.

“Reg.” Sirius whispered, low enough to not be caught in the passing breeze. “It’s Death Eaters.”

The feeling was strange yet the odd sense of familiarity as his tired neck stretched again and he
could see it. Mask glittering in onyx and obsidian, robes flowing in old, but ornate fabrics. The
ghost of the silken fabric rubbing up against freshly irritated skin across his forearm had him
gripping at his wrist at the memory alone.

“You need to go.” Sirius said, his eyes bloodshot and his hair loose flowing around his eyes. The
wand in his dominant arm sparking with the idea of spells already, but he had held. Sirius had held
his instincts to run into the fight to find him, warn him, allow him to escape. Regulus appreciated
it, looking over his shoulder, he noticed a pair of fleeing red heads dashing to the woods nearby,
one of them holding a smaller girl on their back. The twins, his eyes whipped forward and he
caught the bright hair of the eldest three tied back and their wands already engaged in battle as their
father rushed forward. He must have sent the twins away with their daughter to safety, would
Harry follow?

“No.” Regulus said, shaking himself free and shifting his wand to a better position.

“No, we go.” Regulus repeated at his brother’s crossed complexion.

“I need to see them, I’ll know who they are.” Regulus added, one last look behind as the twins and
their sister disappeared into the darkness. Find Harry he thought, hoping, trusting Harry would be
astute enough to remove himself from the fight.

“Bloody hell, alright, I lost the MacMillans in the crowd, but Ignatius ran to the fight and Aunt
Lucy wouldn’t be far behind. Reg, are you certain you can… they won’t know?” Sirius asked,
glancing at the damned forearm. Regulus shook his head and with gritted teeth pushed to the edge
of the crowd, much of which was fleeing with young children and the elderly in hand. The noises
of cries, and the crack of spells closer and closer as the ground grew softer and less stable under
foot. Above the Muggle family that lived nearby was suspended, but the antics on them had been
paused by the clash of duelling and bright lights.

“It doesn’t work like that… they won’t– only if he tries to call me directly, it fades, the pain faded
as time went on when I didn’t answer, I think– I think they believe me dead, actually dead.”
Regulus said, his breath heavy in his chest as they approached the first Death Eaters engaged in a
duel with the three eldest Weasley sons.

“Nott… that’s Nott.” Regulus said as a flash of an ornate, but crude mask caught his sight. Sirius
grunted and bent at the knees looking like a dog ready to pounce before his feet could leave the
ground though a flash of bright blue light went in between the sliver of space between the two of
them causing Regulus to jump back, not a few paces away was the looming figure of one he knew.

“Lucius.” Regulus hissed as he raised his wand and the spell Lucius set off rebounded back
towards him forcing him to duck and roll into the dirt, messing his rather pristine robes, like they
had been taken out and pressed weekly even after The Dark Lord fell.

“I got him, help the Weasleys.” Sirius said, running boots heavy in the ground at a retreating
Lucius, who was ducking behind other Death Eaters barking commands and running back to where
the Muggles floated above.

Regulus wanted to ignore his brother and rush after him, but then he heard the grunting beside him.
Turning to his side, he saw that another Death Eater had joined the duel, and it would have only
evened the numbers if it wasn’t for the one brother on the floor. Squinting his eyes, he noted the
short cut hair and pinched nose, Percy Weasley, had gotten struck by some curse that was causing
his left side to swell double and then triple it’s normal size and his brothers were alone fighting
three against two while trying to use their bodies to protect their younger brother. It was working
well enough until a spell cut across Charlie’s leg, slicing the calf open and causing a gush of blood.
To his credit, Charlie gritted and remained standing casting off back to back spells, and knocking
one of the Death Eaters to his feet, but it couldn’t feel well to stand on a bleeding leg and as he
looked back, Sirius and Lucius were caught in a game of cat and mouse, casting a spell and then
dodging the myriad of casting coming from the mixture of Death Eaters, Aurors, and bystanders.

“Shite.” Regulus cursed and put his best duelling to use. He had the momentary element of
surprise. The first spells that came to mind were neither kind nor caring. Nott was older, a
disarming spell would take him out of the fight, but his other opponent was younger, healthier from
how he moved, but Regulus couldn’t place him with the shadows that lured off his mask. Aiming
carefully, he struck the younger one across the ankles, taking out the bone causing him to fall with
a cry and then Regulus knew who he was, Avery Junior, he could never take a hit. Nott stumbled
back and Regulus was quick to disarm him before he could catch up to the incidents occurring
around him.

Taken aback, the Weasleys nearly cast a spell towards him, but Regulus threw one hand up in
defence and they dropped their wands. The raging of noise behind them began to ease as the Death
Eaters realised they were outnumbered. Regulus could see Lucius sprinting across the field with
Sirius on his heels and they needed to be handled before a picture of Sirius tackling Lucius ended
up in The Daily Prophet.

“Your brothers went towards the woods with your sister! Get that look at.” Regulus shouted,
waving his wand at the cut and Percy’s half inflated self before turning on heel and moving as
quickly across the field as he could. Noting that the Muggles were still floating with concerned
looks across their faces and a few tears, he knew the spell, and he knew what reversed it. Pausing
behind a few Ministry officials scratching their head, he released them of their hold and dropped
them gently on the ground darting way before anyone could turn their head and connect him to the
act, he doesn't want to end up stuck in an interview room for hours feeling time tick down as the
Polyjuice potion weighed in his pocket unable to sip it.

Running through muddied boots up to his ankle he brushed his way past trees, hearing the painting
of the other two but unable to see them. He heard a crack of a stick behind him and raised his wand
with vigour. Instead he turned his wand onto three confused scared children.

“Bloody hell.” Ron said and once the shock wore off, Harry was throwing himself into Regulus’
arms squeezing tight.

“Reg, I was worried about you.” He whispered.

“Harry, I was terrified for you, how did you end up here?” He asked looking around the matted
fields surrounding the moor.

“The crowd, we got tossed around and conceded to the woods, we–we came across Draco, he was
leaning on, watching like it was a show.” Harry grumbled his upper lip curling as he spoke.
Regulus shook his head, for the time being Draco was a harmless menace. A son raised by his
father and knowing little different. Instead, his ears perked to the muffled crying that hit his ears,
he shushed the three and made certain they were behind him as he lifted up brush and found a
small familiar elf hiding away.
 “Winky?” He asked, confused. The elf jumped and her eyes grew double the size as she scouted
away, dragging the cloth over her body through the mud.

“Winky has failed her master, oh Winky is a bad elf!” She cried out before she started to hit her
head rather hard and Regulus reached out to stop her but Harry’s hand touched his forearm first and
suddenly Regulus realised it was oddly quiet around them, like the ruckus at the campground had
ended, but as he listened more intently he could hear the crunch of ground under boot and panting.
Turning carefully, Regulus could feel the frozen children beside him as he tried to focus in the
darkness. Someone with dark hair and fair complexion had stepped into the opening not far from
them, but clearly hadn’t seen them yet. Their chest moved up and down in the outline of the
moonlight, but his features blurred by the darkness as his hand raised up.

“Morsmordre!” They cried, voices cracked and hoarse, hardly human as if it hadn’t been used in
some time. Regulus’ eyebrows raised. Only Death Eaters knew that spell, and he did his best to
nonverbally calm the three teenagers with him as the sky lit up bright green and the ugly mark of a
skull illuminated the cloudy sky. The figure only had a moment to relish his work before
something unknown to Regulus spooked them and they snuck away with their head hung low, but
for a brief moment the profile was illuminated by the reflection of the sparkling green light, and…
no– Regulus wasn’t thinking straight as Harry dug his nails in his arm.

“That was him, that was who I saw in the dream.” Harry whispered and the lump in Regulus’
throat swelled even further.

“Did… Did he have a Dark Mark, Harry?” Did you see…” Regulus was choking on his own
words. It couldn’t be, he was dead. He died in Azkaban, no one had– then his head turned to the
side where rustling came about and Sirius emerged from the brush staring with his jaw rippling at
the bright Dark Mark illuminating the field with its sneering green colour. No one had escaped
Azkaban, his mind weakly finished the thought.

“Harry, go back to the tent take your friends, we need to leave here–” Regulus was cut off by the
sounds of apparition surrounding them and Regulus did his best to throw his body over all three
children, but they were hardly small children anymore and he never was very built.

“Wand down! We’ve caught you in the act!” Someone screamed and Regulus wiped his head
around.

“Sirius, dropped the wand!” He yelled, twisting his body around to keep the three children with his
grasp while making certain his brother didn’t get blasted to pieces by the Ministry officials and
Aurors that had surrounded them. The lines on their forehead were apparent. Out of the fold steps
the Minister, the cast of the shadow from his hat distorting his features menacingly.

“We’ve got you now, Sirius Black.” He said sinisterly.

Chapter End Notes

My greatest apologies for the delay, I have been caught up in life and any spare energy
I have had has been dedicated to it, and I have very little else to give, but I have been
feeling more myself as of late and I do believe I can get back to normal updates once
more! So thank you SO kindly for the patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter, the
next one is practically written because I had to actually split this one in two to make
the wood count in line with prior chapters, so I will return soon!
 Winky
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of an Attack, Injury, Mentions of Blood

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The sickening feeling in his stomach was new. He’d felt nervous before, even anxious. However
this was neither, or maybe it was a mix of both colliding together in his gut and twisting his insides
tightly. So these were Death Eaters and this is what they did, or do it would seem as he looked
around at the destroyed remnants of the edges of the campground and the muddied padded down
ground caused by boots and shoes running over the ground in a hurry. He could see an abandoned
teddy with one button eye falling loose covered in dirt not far from them. Some child, having
dropped it in the rush as a parent or guardian swept them up into the safety of their arms, and ran as
fast as they could away from the danger. Regulus made more sense now. Those early years,
hovering, jumping at every noise and constantly keeping Harry in an arm’s reach at all times. He
was a product of his environment, a product of war.

“That couldn’t be–” He heard Regulus repeat, shaking his head. He must have seen something
Harry didn’t because he didn’t know the man besides his dreams and he didn’t look much different
than any other man, gaunt, maybe from lack of food and from the glowing green light shining
down on them, once a Death Eater.

“Reg.” Harry whispered, careful of any wandering ears nearby. It took a moment for Regulus to
shake himself out of his shock but as he did another noise caught in his ear and from not far away
Harry noticed Sirius emerging from the woods with his wand out to his side, his hair fluttering and
flush with silver moonlight. Serenity in the chaos, until it wasn’t. The Minister and his Aurors and
several other stuffy looking employees had them surrounded in a moment. There was yelling,
Regulus yelling for Sirius to drop his wand, to not give them a reason. The Aurors yelled at
Regulus and sent out warning shots as he tried to step forward to Sirius. Harry’s hair on his arm
stood up from how electric the magic was. Unforgivables, Aurors had been authorised to use them
in the later years of the war. He remembers Uncles Ignatius muttering about it one time over a
photo of his deceased nephews. About how such magic takes and takes and he hated to see them
turn to such methods. Some of them may not have forgotten yet, so Harry clung onto Regulus' arm,
begging him silently to remain still. Miraculously, both him and Sirius complied. Dropping their
wands and standing perfectly unmoving as the Aurors began to circle like animals at hunt.

“Harry.” Ron asked from behind him. He’d nearly forgotten his friends were there. His memories
were in a whirlwind after the past few moments.

At first, it had been strangely numb. He was sitting around a fire listening to Ernie MacMillan try
to scare them with old Scottish lore stories and then the next moment Hannah Abbot was jumping
up, screaming, on the verge of tears. Harry didn’t understand, not even as he turned over and saw
the source of the commotion. It didn’t register in his head, not as it should have. Before long
though, his feet were moving with the masses of the crowd, his hand interlocked with Hermione’s.
Looking over his shoulder, he felt as if he had heard his name called, but couldn’t see anything
besides panic drawn into the lines of faces, or hear over the screeches of worry that echoed off the
thick forest he was being pulled too. The brooms flying low overhead as people in dark suits with
shining masks cast spells into the crowd. None of them looked particularly menacing, but people
fell down nonetheless.

“Harry.” Ron said, winded and his hands moving up and down to catch up to them.

“Fred and George, I think I saw them go that way–with Ginny.” He nodded towards a gap in the
trees with low hanging branches and overgrown brush, but he didn’t know where else to go. His
tent was on the other side and there were Aurors and Death Eaters blocking his way. So with the
thorns cutting into his ankles as he and Ron let Hermione slip in between them to keep her away
from the brush as she pushed her head down to keep from tangling her curls. There were footprints
in the muddy grounds, but a light rain began and it was starting to wash them away. Harry was
growing more panicked and it reached a peak when Ron let out a yelp and tumbled to the ground
just as the trees broke free into a wide clearing. Harry went for his wand first then to his complete
disbelief and horror, found it wasn’t where it should be. It must have fallen somewhere in the mess.
But Hermione was quick with her wand, lighting the ground around them.

“Root.” Ron mumbled as he rubbed a fresh cut on his kneecap. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He
could handle roots. Now where could he wand be? He said looking around at their feet, but it was
hard to see outside of their small ball of light.

“Surely it wasn’t the shoes two sizes too big? Couldn’t find another pair in the rubbish could you
or let me guess, they are one of your brothers old pairs?” A cackling type of voice called out and
Harry’s nose wrinkled at the sound.

“Malfoy.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“Granger, you don’t want to be around here. What with only a half-blood and a blood traitor?
Hardly enough protection from that lot for a mudblood.” Malfoy said, his lips pursing towards the
commotion riling behind them still.

“Your lot.” Harry growled back, the knuckles on his hand cracking as he formed a fist on either
side, but Draco sucked all the air in around him to puff up his chest.

“Just as much mine as they are yours, Potter. Don’t think it has gone unnoticed how you’ve been
in and out of the Black Family tent, like a little pet.” Draco said, his lips pulling back cruelly over
his white teeth. Harry wanted to hit him. Wipe the smug look off his face and mar the dashing
good looks he depended on to further himself with purple and blue, even if only for a moment
before the best magic could be found to correct it. To see it just once would be enough, but
Hermonie seemed to read his mind and jumped to grab his twitching fist with two cold small
hands.

“He isn’t worth it, Harry.” She said, her dark eyes searching around constantly, hypervigilant.

Harry would have argued further but crashing and a flare of fire went up not far from them and
another round of loud screams accompanied by uncanny laughter caused them all to jump, even
Draco, who slithered away out of the corner of his eye. He was jumping on his toes, adrenaline
pumping through his body, but the edge was beginning to creep in. The exhaustion, the inevitable
crash. He was scared, not afraid to admit it but unable to show it. He knew spells bounds and leaps
over his classmates, but actual battle, or even a skirmish as this was, he’d never know. It was
disorienting, the blurred vision at the edges, the burnt smells inflaming his nose, the sounds ringing
in his eardrums. When another person burst out of the woods frantically and with a wand to his
side, his first instinct was to hex them, but after blinking away some of the worry, he recognised
the face. Not quite as comforting as it would have been to see Regulus’ true likeness, but despite
himself he was throwing himself into Regulus’ arms. Safe. Secure once more.
That’s how they got here. The knocking in his knees returned as Regulus was forced to drop his
wand and raise his hands, barking at the Aurors who approached Sirius. Reminding him he was a
freed man, an innocent. It only made the pupils of those approaching him dilated further, like a
hunter going for the kill. Harry didn’t know what to do, his feet moved first and his mouth
followed not far behind.

“Stop, stop!” He yelled, stepping front with his hands put out in front of him. It had to be a bit
comical. He was one teenager to what appeared to be at least seven Aurors for each brother, yelling
for them to stop, but it worked.

“Is that Harry Potter?”

“I ken the scar.”

“Oi, what do we do?”

Harry breathed out. It was enough for a reprieve, but he could see Regulus shaking his head, trying
to motion without moving for Harry to step back. To get out of range of so many wands shaking
with the waiting spells.

“Mister Potter.” Came a voice louder than most, though it took several of the other witches and
wizards parting before he could see the neat little bowler hat appearing one size too small, and the
shoes once perfectly shining now speckled with mud.

“Mister Potter, I can’t imagine how you’ve got yourself involved in this, but let me assure you.
That man–” The Minister of Magic said, but there was a ringing sound. A cane hitting hard ground,
which felt it had to be hard to find on the soften ground surrounding the moor. Harry’s hands
dropped slightly as all eyes turned to the source of the noise.

“Now Minister, we’ve been down this road once before.” Arcturus’ voice raised carrying over the
slippery ground and Harry noticed a few flinches and wand hands shivering, wondering if the
orders were worth the repercussions.

“Arcturus, he was caught at the scene of the crime! With this–what is this a bastard of somebody?”
The Minister said, pushing his lips out towards where Harry stood in front of Regulus.

“Minister.” Arcturus said, once in warning.

Harry dug his teeth into his lower lip. His brow in a sweat from the running and the mugginess in
the air causing his shirt to cling to his back while no one made a move except for a single one of
the Minister’s bushy grey eyebrows raising. Rustling distracted him, distracted all of them. Who
else dared impose on such a party? Several sets of feet carried on until through the woods, not far
from where the mysterious man had disappeared moments, a lifetime, before.

“Mister Minister.” A voice Harry didn’t recognise spoke as the shadows peeled away from an older
man’s face, lined with years and hair thinned from time. The accent is thick and unforgiving even
in the simplest of phrases.

“Micheal.” The Minister said his hands were shaking as he shoved them into his robes holding
onto a tight waist coat.

“It wisnae the lad.” Micheal MacMillan said, nodding to Sirius, surrounded by what must have
been all his sons and then some, maybe grandchildren, Harry noted.

“He was wi us, fighting when er Mark went up.” Micheal said, a formality to his words that quieted
others around him, but differently than Arcturus’ voice did. Respect, Harry noted. It was a long
built respect for him as head of his own House.

“We should believe you?” The Minster said, his breath catching in his throat as he said it, a blush
across his nose and cheeks. He couldn’t see well, but he thought Micheal’s frown went up a hair,
nearly a smirk.

“I would not vouch for any Black for any reason except the truth. Sirius was fighting and he was
the first to run towards it, not as one runs to a familiar, but how one runs to fight.” Micheal said.

“On what authority do you say that?” The Minster had to muster some courage from how his
tongue licked dry lips.

“Because before we were farmers, we were warriors. Warriors respect warriors.” Micheal said and
with no other warning he turned, and he left behind into the shadows before anyone could think of
further questions.

Harry blinked a few times before he heard a quiet whimper close to him. He'd nearly forgotten
about Winky. Unfortunately he wasn’t the only one to notice. One of the Minister officials nearby
behind the Aurors, Amos Diggory, Harry remembering from many of the introductions of the last
few days, looked into the bush nearby.

“There’s an elf here! And she has a wand.” Amos said, his hands diving into the bush causing
Winky to start and run out, clinging to a wand.

“That’s Crouch’s elf. Crouch!” The Minister said turning around and the man himself popped up
nearly from nowhere over his shoulder with a scowl over his face. Appearing first to be in disbelief
and then covered in anger darkening his features.

“Where did you get that wand!” He yelled, and Winky cowered, dropping the wand.

“This is in violation of clause three of the Code of Wand Use.” Diggory added, shaking his head.

“Let me see it, we can see the last spell used.” Crouch said, snatching in one swoop. His hands
curling around the ends in disdain, the fading light above them casting a look at it where Harry
recognised it.

“That’s mine!” Harry cried out instinctively only to see Regulus’ eyes widen.

“Did you cast the Dark Mark?” Amos Diggory cried out with a finger pointed at him. A single
voice of reason came approaching in the dark huffing heavily and bending over at his knees. Harry
was pleased to see Arthur Weasley, one more friendly face was better than none.

“Amos mate, that is Harry Potter.” Arthur said between breaths shaking his head. Amos turned red
in the face, chewing on his cheek.

“Oi right.” He whispered as Crouch examined his wand with one eye on him as he did. Before he
pulled out his own wand and whispered the spell, Prior Incantato. Indiscriminately, the ghost of
The Dark Mark looming over them came to life at the end of the spell.

“It was the elf!” Diggory cried out.

“Sir, if we may!” Hermione said, stepping up with her hands on either side of her hips. Everyone’s
attention turned to the young girl with the firm voice.
“We saw who did it! It was a man, a tall thin man at the other end of the clearing, and he spoke in a
deep voice. It couldn’t have been Winky, she must have stumbled on the wand, intending to return
it to its owner.” She explained waving at Winky for a moment.

“Is didn’t do it, I swears” Winky said, tears threatening in the corner of her eyes.

“Amos, I know protocol would be to take her in for questioning, but I can assure you in my
household no one would know how to cast this spell. I have made a record of my distaste for The
Dark Arts apparent in my history no one would doubt such.” Crouch stated and Amos began to
stammer.

“No–no sir–of course.”

“So if you don’t mind, I will handle this personally.” Crouch said, turning to face his elf, and the
glint in his eye looked menacing making Harry want to stand in front of the shivering Winky.

“I have no use for a disobedient elf.” He said, his voice coming from deep in his throat. “This will
mean clothes.”

“No, please sir.” Winky said, bursting into full blown tears and falling to her knees. Crouch pulled
off one of his gloves and handed it across the way towards her and for her effort she shook her
head over and over, sobbing into the rags she wore, but eventually Crouch cleared his throat and
there was a way she straighten that told Harry it had to be a cue he used before. Before his
temperament was pushed over the edge. Her small hands closed in on the glove, putting it over her
small hand and using it to stifle her tears. Harry’s stomach turned.

“Well seeing as she is no longer under your care, Bartemius.” Arcturus said, the name coming out
venomous as he knelt down with some care to the shivering, whimpering elf. “We could use the
additional hand at the House of Black.”

Winky shrunk into herself further, recoiling from the words with wide glossy eyes. Arcturus
offered out his hand, she whimpered more, but after a moment her rather small hand was in his and
he pulled her gently closer, and then behind him where she stood wringing her hands in his shadow
looking mystified.

“Winky doesn’t deserve it, Winky isn’t a good elf.” She whispered.

“Hush now, none of that nonsense. I think you will do quite well.” He said, quietly hardly able to
be heard. Mister Crouch seemed to grow redder and redder by the second.

“Uncle Arcturus, I don’t know what you plot at–” Mister Crouch began, but he was cut short.

“Plotting, why would you think such, unless of course there is more for us to know than your elf
misbehaving.” Arcturus said, and there was a moment, a flicker, where it seemed Mister Crouch
would defy all logic and launch himself at Arcturus, but instead his tense muscles spasmed once
and his lips were swallowed by his mouth. There was more there. Harry could feel it.

“The wand, it belongs to Mister Potter.” Arcturus said, one hand jutting out waiting. Crouch
scowled further, but he dropped Harry’s wand into Arcturus’ hand.

“Well gentlemen and gentlewomen if that is all. I believe it is best to get the children to bed. It has
been a long tiring evening.” Arcturus said, his hand swooping out in one motion for everyone to
head down the path to his side.
Regulus’ hand went to his shoulder urging him forward as his head nodded at his brother, who slit
his eyes but picked up his boots from where they had sunken into the ground. Harry reached back
to grab Hermione's hand, only to find Ron already holding onto her wrist to make certain she
wasn’t out of anyone’s view. The words of Draco echoing in his head from earlier.

None of the Minister officials stopped him, though it felt like they wanted to. Arcturus turned at
the last moment his robes taunt and his cane sinking into the ground as he hobbled along until half
way down they were greeted by a breathless Lucretia and Ignatius, both who took one side of him
to help him down the path. He made silent protests, but they went unheard as they warned their
small group of the wreckage forward. Tents had fallen, completely abandoned by witches and
wizards who seemed to have fled for the remainder of the night, old fires stomped out by running
feet had ashes floating about daring to burn skin, he couldn’t imagine only hours ago it had been
the site of such celebration and jubilation.

“We have a new elf, I’ll explain later. Crouch– there is something wrong with Crouch.” Arcturus
said, his face grimacing as he was half carried back to the site.

“Oh– yes I see, hello. I do apologise miss, we will have to sort you out in the morning but don’t
you worry we will get you set up with a place tonight.” Lucretia said, looking towards her feet
where Winky was shivering as she followed along her feet dragging slightly. She didn’t seem to
hear Lucretia, or perhaps she was in a bit of shock.

“We have another issue at hand. Lucius. He’s angered, running about the camp, yelling outrageous
accusations.” Lucretia whispered to her father, hardly loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Sirius. He went off fighting him. No doubt he likely lost. I’ll handle it, let me get my footing, this
ground is unforgiving.” He said back pausing to get his feet steady underneath him and move on
his own. Harry wanted to hang further back, but everyone else kept moving. He gave half a glance
back where the three of them were whispering but kicked his feet off the ground to catch up on the
others. Part of him wanted to see Lucius having a temper, until he was on it and the shouting was
all he could hear.

“Bloody righteous nonsense. You hear me, Sirius? What will you do when it’s just you? Arcturus
looks half dead as it is, then it’ll be me you’re having to answer to.” Lucius' voice cut through
clear as a blue sky.

“You pretentious git. I should have swiped that mask right off your face, wouldn’t last one day in
Azkaban, and I would know! No, those Dementors would have fun with such a pretty little face.”
Sirius shouted back and once Harry slipped around where Ron and Hermione had stopped short he
could see they were chest to chest, staring directly into one another’s eyes with their wands drawn
tight to their side. Behind Lucius trying to speak reason to him was his wife, pulling at his
shoulder, but he shrugged her off. Regulus had stepped forward trying to do the same to Sirius, but
to no avail as Sirius hardly even acknowledged he was there.

“You useless mudblood-sympathiser. I ought to–” Lucius said, raising his wand as Sirius did the
same, but he never got it high enough for any spell. No, Lucius crumbled onto the ground seconds
later clutching at the back of his head and eyes bulging out of his skull. In his spot looming above
him with a cane raised and chest stuck out was Arcturus.

“Not bad for a half dead man, right?” He said, his lips twisted tightly. Harry hadn’t even seen it
happen, but his cane must have knocked Lucius behind the head causing him to fall.

“Narcissa, take your son, go.” Lucretia said from her father’s side, domineering. Narcissa needn’t
be told twice as she grabbed Draco’s shoulders and disappeared into their tent.
As Lucius Malfoy reached for his wand, there was a crunch of boots, nearly taking his smallest
finger off as he flinched back. Above was an old man, having to have been Arcturus age, maybe
even older. His hair grey and cropped close to his head with thinning spots and aged skin thick with
years of work. Harry had never met him until moments ago, but he knew plenty of him.

“Michael. See the recent years have made two recluses reappear.” Lucius said, his lip curling with
a spot of blood from the impact on the ground, covering his white teeth with blood stains as he
rubbed at the back of his head, eyes never leaving from where his wand was crunched under old
sturdy boots.

“Aye, and I see no matter the years you obtain you ne’er less a fool.” Micheal said, forcing his leg
further down and crunching the wand into pieces. Shadows from the burning fires yet to be put out
made it hard to decipher, but Harry swore he saw a flicker of pain on Lucius' face.

“Arcturus.” Micheal said, and there was a dark longing look of ancient proportions. Years of
conflict and uneasy peace between the two families broiled to the surface, and to Harry’s shock,
Arcturus bowed his head.

“Much of your family impacted?” He asked, his voice restrained. Michael’s nose wrinkled and
forces of the MacMillan clan came into blurry view behind, looking for him likely.

“Nae, I dinna need to say it, but I did not speak on your name with ease.” He replied, but the
volatility in his voice wavered none as he stared between Lucius and Sirius, clearly wanting
whatever disagreement to be extinguished, quickly. Arcturus' nose sniffed the air, but he did not
falter.

“He’ll be handled.” He replied, short.

“Aye, as you’ve handled others.” Michael said before kicking off his boot brushing the pieces into
the dirt and the breeze carrying off specks of crushed wood lost to never be found among the dusty
grounds. Michael disappeared as easily as he appeared once more and Harry wondered if it was a
talent or a learned skill. He had his cloak, but being able to take one's presence from place to place
without being seen intrigued him.

“He’ll pay for that. They all will.” Lucius scoffed, whipping off his robes and patting, instinctively
where his wand would have been, but he grimaced when he realised it had been crushed to pieces.

“You’re foolish, Lucius.” Arcturus said, his eyes sunken into the place where boot marks remained.

“There's just the Scottish, they bark like dogs but cower when you go for the bite.” Lucius huffed,
fluttering his robes.

“I wouldn’t wander into the Highlands anytime soon, you likely would never return. They know
ways of making people disappear better than us.” Arcturus said, bringing his cane down to lean on
once more as his face contorted. Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but Arcturus was quicker.

“You wish to lose your only daughter to this imbecile?” Arcturus said, to brooding Cygnus who
had been content in the shadows. With a sharp jerk of his limbs, he yanked Lucius forward and
into the tent which shut like the flaps had been sewn together and the lights extinguished from the
outside. Once the place fell quiet once more, Arcturus leaned on the first object he could, his
daughter by his side.

“Erm, Mister Black.” Someone said, stepping into the scene, having clearly overheard more than
he should.
 “Oh yes, Mister Weasley your son and Miss Hermione.” Arcturus said, waving Ron and Hermione
forward and they did so tentatively.

“Thank you, Mister Black, for–well for quite a bit I suppose.” Arthur said, putting one hand on
each child in his care, both Ron and Hermione giving him glances that they would need to speak to
Harry more later. About his wand, the elf, and most importantly. About Arcturus Black. Harry
wanted to lie down first, Regulus’ arms wrapped around him as his eyes began to flutter. Safe, he
was safe.

Chapter End Notes

I forgot how much happened after the Death Eater attack, it was a whirl wind, but
please enjoy!
 Rains
Chapter Notes

CW: Mentions of prior injury, death, and abuse

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"Dress Robes,” Regulus said, passing over the folded robes to Harry to place in his trunk. Harry
picked at a bit of lint on the collar, his eyes glassy and far off. It had been a long few days between
the Quidditch World Cup and returning to Hogwarts.

“Why dress robes?” Harry asked, a line forming between his eyes as he squinted.

“They had us bring them one year, a ball, something to bring up spirits. I was just about your age–
well it was an event.” Regulus said, his breathing leaving his lips heavier than usual. Harry caught
it, an eyebrow raising but shaking his head a moment later. Regulus disliked the strange aura of
them the last few weeks. Sitting at the end of his bed, he patted for Harry to join him. There was a
moment of hesitation, the pain in his chest greater than he thought, but the weight eventually
leaned down on one side as Harry sat.

“I went with friends. I– having a date was a whole political statement for me. Not that Walburga
didn’t try. Every eligible woman from year one to year seven, she tried. I think a lot of people
thought Pandora was a date, she was close the whole night. But I had other friends with us, Evan
Rosier, Bartemius Crouch.” Regulus reached around for the photo he had pulled out to stare out the
first night back, trying to make sense of what he saw. After hours staring and listening to rain
pattering on the window mix with Harry’s snoring, swirling around and around, picking apart the
photo. The cheekbones weren’t right, the nose looked different, the shoulders too slender, anything
to justify that he had a momentary lapse in judgement. The Black madness everyone snickered
behind, making him see things that weren’t there.

“We had a relatively good time, well until Sirius and I got into it. We–we brought down a wall.
Hurt a few people while trying to hurt ourselves. Didn’t end quite how I wanted it too.” Regulus
said, nervously picking at a bent edge of the photo before passing it over to Harry. It was strange
looking at himself. He looked so much younger than he had ever felt. The faint circles under his
eyes, the gaunt cheekbones from so many nights without dinner, or scurrying away from breakfast
over the holidays. The pout to his lips and the way his eyes never met the camera. If he didn’t
know himself, he’d feel pity for whatever teenager carried such a weight on their shoulders.

“A whole wall? How’d you manage that?” Harry asked, a breathless laugh hidden behind his
words.

“Oh you know Sirius. Never one to do anything halfway. Orion came though, they wrote him and–
that was pretty awful.” Regulus said, shrugging to hide the wince from the memory of the pain.
Harry’s face dropped as he turned towards the photos. Everyone else looked more normally like
teenagers. Pandora with her dewy makeup on and her eyes wide and smile gentle. He missed that
smile, he didn’t see it much after Hogwarts. Hardly saw her at all in fact. Evan was there holding
his cousin's shoulders with a cocky grin. Rosiers. One of the last other pure-bloods his mother
would have accepted. She never liked Pandora, said she was too free thinking, too untraditional,
but if Regulus had said he would have married her, they all would have danced in celebration that
the family was staying close, staying pure. Then there was Barty… he– Regulus couldn’t look at
him any longer so he turned his face away to where a storm threatened to down the city in a fresh
deluge of water and smog.

“Um– Reg.” Harry said, his voice strain.

“Harry?” He replied, peeling his eyes away.

“That’s him. He’s– he’s older but, it’s the eyes. Those are the same eyes.” Harry said, a shaking
hand pointing to the one face he had begged he wouldn’t. Regulus had felt his heart stop before.
For a second, or maybe a few, in the lake when his lungs filled with water and the burn in his chest
felt like a fire ran through his entire body. He felt that last panicked pump of his heart and then the
stillness, the darkness took him over. It was as close to how he could explain how he felt. The
darkness took over again, and he acted outside of his thoughts. Snatching the picture from Harry,
frantically asking for confirmation which wide eyed worried Harry gave again and again. Then he
tore open the door and his feet moved in a blur until his hand was laying on old wood and he was
pushed into the study where he knew his grandfather was. He wasn’t alone. He never seemed to be
alone anymore. And Regulus knew, he knew he hardly ever didn’t know a piece of information
before anyone else.

“How long have you known?” Regulus said, holding up the picture hearing the quick breaths and
pattering feet of Harry following behind him, but he was focused intently on his grandfather, the
knot in his eyebrow as he stared back at him. He’d seen that look before. When he came after Sirius
had been disowned, when he sat Regulus down after his father had died, when he knew what was
going to happen and had accepted it before anyone else was even aware of their surroundings. He
had that power, not magic, not even training, it had to be instinctive, born into him and perfected by
circumstance.

“A few weeks. Though we didn’t have exact confirmation until the Cup.” Arcturus answered,
lowering the teacup he’d been raising to his lips without taking a sip. Regulus knew others were
there, but it was like his vision had blackened. There was a circle of vision only staring at his
grandfather.

“When were you going to tell us– tell me? How? He died. He died in Azkaban. It can’t be
possible.” Regulus said, his eyes beginning to sting with his words as he crinkled the photo in his
hand, hearing vague voices around him dampened by his own thoughts. Arcturus took a long
breath, Regulus watching each rise and fall of his chest, wondering if it was painful, breathing,
holding the weight, lying, the deceit, he had been doing it for well over eight decades.

“We were going to tell you after the Cup. You interrupted us discussing it in fact.” Arcturus began,
that stern, haughty sound to his voice. Regulus had seen it year after year, the transformation
before his eyes from grandfather to heir. No one did it better, his father never tried, Regulus was
too intimidated. Sirius didn’t care. No, he realised. None of them shined as brightly as Arcturus.

“As for how, we’ve come to a viable conclusion. Bartemius' wife, Matilda. She supposedly died
around the same time. A broken heart. Lancelot never saw her, nor did any healer he knew.
Meaning it is likely she died in Azkaban. A mother’s final sacrifice. She gave her life for her son to
live on, but his father– Barty Senior never was quite as good as he led people on. He never loved
his wife as he made the papers think, he never cared for his son. He never was that good at leading
either, just always in the right place with the right word at the right time.” Arcturus said. Regulus
could feel it, the heat rising in his face, the twitch in his eye. He wouldn’t, not here. Questions
relatively answered, he turned on heel and began to move with no particular destination in mind.

Voices bounced off old wooden walls mixed with his feet, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his
feet turned to the far end of the house to the door leading to an exit. His hands touched cool metal
and when his bare feet touched the ground he felt himself sink into it and raindrops falling onto his
face. The picture had fallen from his grasp somewhere in between the levels of the home leaving
him free to drag his hands through his quickly soaking hair. The cold of the rain brought a chill to
his already unnerved system. His knees went out from under him.

None of it should surprise him, if there was anyone of them, anyone of all of them to survive. He’d
have put his money on Barty. He was convincing from a young age, constantly seeking fame and
fortune and recognition. For his father’s affection, Regulus had realised early on in their
relationship. Regulus could see it, the descent. Even the little time he was around after Barty
committed to the Death Eaters. After he took The Mark, he was different from anyone else because
for the first time in his life, he didn’t want his father’s approval anymore. It made him dangerous,
it killed a part of him. When he read what he did, what they all did. He’d known everyone had
done twisted awful acts, he was no innocent child he had once been, but there was no rationalising
what Barty had done. He wasn’t the boy he knew if after all these years he ended up back with the
same man. There was no Barty anymore to him.

“Regulus.” Someone called and he was prepared to turn around and face his grandfather looming
in the open door frame. Except when he looked over his shoulder, he found a kinder face, closer to
him, his own hair drenched from the rain rolling off a leather jacket.

“Sirius.” His voice whispered. Sirius greeted him with a sad smile.

“Pretty shite when the person you thought was dead comes back to life. At least you didn’t strangle
anymore.” He said, shrugging and half attempting a joke, a dry chuckle hardly passed his lips.

“I would if he was here.” Regulus replied, the thunder cracking above before the sky exploded in
light. It made the face Sirius contorted worse.

“I told you, Reg. You aren’t responsible for Barty, anymore than I’m responsible for Peter.” Sirius
said, his tongue rolling over the words with a flick.

“You blame yourself for Peter every day, Sirius.” Regulus said, his vision blurred by the rain.

“I do. Every damn day. Maybe for the rest of my life. I don’t even think killing him would give me
the satisfaction I hope for, but I’m not responsible for him. I didn’t create a monster anymore than
you did, they did that themselves, Reg.” Sirius answered, a strange sageness taking over him.
Regulus felt his lip tremble. Except Sirius didn’t know. He didn’t know that Regulus likely did
create that monster.

“Sirius–” Regulus tried, the rain beginning to blur his vision.

“Shite– look if you're going to have a crisis can we at least do it indoors. My jacket is getting
ruined.” Sirius said, shaking his hair off from where it plastered on the sides of his face and
reaching a hand with skin already beginning to show fine lines of wrinkles. His own hand was
covered with pruning as he pulled himself up with his brother's help and trotted back into the
empty kitchen. Sirius lighting everything that would burn to fight the chill and putting on tea.

“Here.” He said, passing over a steaming cup into his hands, and it did feel nice to have the warmth
in his hands as he felt the hollowness in his middle slowly break apart and be filled with a slight
contentedness. Sirius slipped close to him to where the coldness on his body seemed to radiate
from him. Regulus wondered if it was genetic, the coldness that spread through their bodies. If
generations of Blacks had felt the cold nip at their toes and ends of their fingers, causing them to
search for warmth in cups, in fire, in bodies. All the way back to Atlas Black, had he felt the
restless exhaustion of the cold in his hands while he wandered the Black Forest searching for
reason and revenge. Had that been why he burned the ground he walked on?

“Sirius.” Regulus said, lips numb and words hard to form on the end of his tongue.

“Regulus.” Sirius replied, his name feeling like a full sentence.

“It is my fault.” He said, eyes reflecting in the muddy water of tea. It reminded him of the waters
he’d once been dragged into, his eyes, wild and uncontained, brimming with tears of pain as he
leaned forward, hoping for relief, only to find his wrist yanked from it’s socket and his face
inflamed with the brutish cold of the water. This felt more difficult than his lungs pleading for air
when there was only water.

“I– do you remember, some time ago when I told you there had been someone, when I confessed I
wanted no one, not in the way people typically want the company of others.” Regulus said, staring
into his own eyes.

“I remember.” Sirius whispered, and it always sounded strange. Hearing Sirius whisper, Sirius
didn’t whisper. He’d always taken up space with his voice, screaming at their parents, yelling in
the Quidditch stands, voices rebounding off stone walls.

“It was him, Sirius. It was only ever him.” Regulus sighed, letting his eyes fall from his reflection
to his lap, where he picked at the corner of a nail, peeling skin away and revealing angered flesh
underneath.

“I figured.” Sirius replied, “I didn’t think it couldn’t be anyone else, I had wondered– even back
then– if there was more to your friendship. Think I mentioned it to James once, he shrugged it off.
Told me if it was what you wanted, but I worried, I worried he would be too much for you. It
would be too much for you.”

Regulus dug his teeth into his bottom lip, twisting it back and forth, irritating the skin, but never
breaking it. He’d gotten perfect at never breaking the skin unless he intended too. Too often had he
felt cold hands grab his jaw and spit in his face for how he marred his face, a face that had been
bred to perfection.

“I didn’t want Walburga to find out. Orion knew about me, he was always more astute to such
things.” Sirius said, his voice sounding far away.

“He hid Uncle Alphard as best he could, his Uncle and Aunt had rumours swirling for decades.”
Regulus chimed in.

“Bad lineage. What was it those old batty aunts and cousins used to say?” Sirius huffed out.

“Bad blood from the North.” A voice came causing them both to turn.

“Bad blood from the North, a curse from the MacMillans. My curse brought onto this family. My
father reminded me constantly. Said I abandoned the family values, if I had just married my cousin
as intended, we would have never fallen into such disrepair. I wonder sometimes, in passing, what
he would say of us now.” Arcturus said from the doorway, clearly having been listening for some
time unashamedly. His cane clicked across the floor as he took the seat across the two of them.

“Now we could sit here and play this game endlessly. Each of us finds fault in ourselves, but it will
get us nowhere. We must accept that some of life is out of our grasp, but we must never let others
know that we are subject to the same unpredictability and misfortune as them. They will assume,
underneath their skin they will assume, we are just witches and wizards, just humans. But as long
as when they see us, and when they catch a glimpse of dark hair, and piercing eyes and jawlines
still thinned from the years of starvation our ancestors faced during the war and they feel that chill,
the coldness felt for generations, passed from parent to child, then we still hold the upper hand, we
are still the kings, the gods, the devils they claim us to be. Until the day never a Black walks on
this earth again. We will be whatever they deem us and it is our greatest asset. We have a problem
and we’re going to need a solution.” Arcturus said, his hands crossing over each other and him
rubbing instinctively on the wedding band he’d never removed. Not in Regulus’ entire life had he
seen him without it. Wedding bands were not common in the Wizarding World, but Arcturus wore
one. He could only imagine the hell it had given him.

“Mister Petigrew was but one man, but now there are two and I don’t doubt more will come to his
side as he finds a way to rise again. We need to find a way to prevent that or if not, to stop his
power before he gains it all again. His power is hidden in these.” Arcturus said, pulling out of his
pocket the long chain of a locket. One that made the hollowness in his stomach gnaw at him once
more.

“How many can one man have?” Sirius snorted, crossing his arms but his eyes nervously darted to
where the locket dangled a breath away from the surface of the scratched old table. Near a mark
Harry had left when only a child and experimented with his magic and caused a dark scorch mark
that had caused Regulus to panic, but young Harry to only clap in joy.

“Prior to recent years, I had thought only one, a man could possess. We know differently now. I
can’t say exactly how many he has, but I can say we may have access to further information on
such magic.” Arcturus replied, causing Regulus’ infatuated eye contact with the locket to break.

“We– like the Blacks, as in someone in our history, they created a horcrux?” Regulus asked, unsure
why such measures shocked him. It was not outside the realm of possibilities. Arcturus’ brow bent.

“I will need you to go, both of you, with your aunt and uncle. In my place, I am not a man who can
make such a perilous journey any longer, but you must swear to look after one another.” Arcturus
said, side stepping the question with ease. Regulus turned to Sirius, who was already looking at
him. Silent agreement ensued.

“Where do we go?” Sirius asked, tongue running across his lip again and again.

“Home.” Arcturus said, pulling again from his seemingly endless robes a charred yellowed book
with thin pages and age scribbled into its binding. Regulus could feel a pull instinctively to the
book, an unexplainable but intense feeling. His hand reaching out and turning the book towards
him without hesitation, as his fingers graced the edges of the delicate paper.

“Who is this?” He asked, not looking up, but able to feel the eyes burning into the sides of his face,
but the words, a language he knew not drawn into the lines, were calling to him in their confusion.

“His name was Neo Black, he was–” Arcturus began.

“The last page for the High Council.” Regulus breathed as if he’d known the man, boy really,
hardly even an adult when he perished, his whole life.

“You okay, Reg?” Sirius asked, his hand weighing on his shoulder bringing him back some.

“Yeah–Yeah I’m fine, just want something to do. Something to help.” He said, casually pushing
the back some. His grandfather didn’t believe him, such was apparent on his face, but he didn’t
speak of it.
“You were always good with history. Neo was the last page, betrayed by his own family for their
selfishness, and now maybe our only hope. No one could find the documents, the portraits, the
journals passed from page to page for generations, the recordings from as far back as Atlas’ first
rise. A casualty of war was declared later when extensive search by the Three Brothers returned
nothing. No one thought much of it, our history had effectively been rewritten when Mars became
heir. Better to leave the rest behind, exalt Atlas, his brother Polaris, but those after them needn’t be
reminded of where the line lay. From Neo’s writing I believe all may not have been lost, I believe
he moved it to a secure location, tucked away for finding when needed. Back to where Atlas would
have first come, the place where we garner our name.” Arcturus answered, eyes darkened.

“The Black Forest. Germany. Before Atlas crossed to modern day France and created his
kingdom.” Sirius said, nose wrinkling never being one for history. Regulus had heard him call it a
load of rubbish time and time again, believing it to be exaggerated to reinforce the greatness of
their family name, and maybe it was. But Atlas had survived the test of time, as had his
descendants. There had to be some truth.

“Find what you can, bring it back if you are able. If not, memorise it, memorise all of it, copy it if
you can. We will need every hint we can get.” Arcturus said, half cut off by the sound of feet
travelling down the stairs.

From the corner, Harry poked his head into the kitchen. Eyes wide behind his glasses, and lips
unsure of where to speak. Regulus felt a weak smile pull at his lips as he moved aside and
motioned for Harry to come. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as he slipped in and tucked under
Regulus’ arm.

“I didn’t mean to worry you earlier.” Regulus said gently.

“I know.” Harry answered and Regulus could see the early lines of maturity in his character
already. The firm stance, the confidence, even the way he could handle the differing situations
around him in stride, but he was still a child.

“Harry, Crouch he’s–” Regulus began, his eyes shifting around secretly hoping for help.

“Dangerous. I know, I’ve read what he’s done.” Harry said, his eyelashes batting as he fiddled with
his hands, cracking a few knuckles. There was a glint in his eye, a curiosity, but he wasn’t saying it
and Regulus had a feeling he may not want to ask. It wasn’t a time to probe.

“If Crouch Senior is compromised, do you think they have any other pull in the Ministry?” Sirius
asked in the void that followed.

“The Ministry can always be compromised.” Arcturus replied, shaking his hand and putting his
hand atop his cane. Regulus reached for Harry’s hand and with a flex of muscle he let him take it.
Gingerly holding it close to him.

“Lucius will be the biggest threat. If he returns to this Voldemort, they can buy half the Ministry on
his funds alone. There is a meeting next week, I’ll make my presence known, see if he is aware of
what is happening–” Arcturus stopped and turned to look down at Regulus’ left arm.

“He knows. They all know. It is a matter if they do anything about it or if the plead ignorance as
long as they can.” Regulus said, even and steady for once. Arcturus nodded.

“I’ll ask Cassiopeia to accompany me. Many of them prefer her. You two will prepare for your
journey, and you, Harry, will focus on school and school alone.” Arcturus said, pointing a finger
for emphasis as Harry’s chest filled with air to voice his complaints on such. After a moment, he
 deflated and redirected to Regulus.

“Where are you going?” He said, the green eyes shining even as the kitchen darkened from the
clouds outside.

“Germany, there may be information we need there.” He answered.

“Will it be dangerous?” Harry asked, his eyes blinking several times. Regulus swallowed and
caught a glance of Sirius in his peripheral.

“It likely will, but we will be careful, and it will be for you, Harry. If we can end this here and
now, everything will be easier. It can all be final.” Regulus said, squeezing the hand he held onto.
Harry’s eyes clouded again as they had before but he shook it away as fast as it came.

“Please be careful, Reg. I don’t know what to do without you. Or you, Sirius, you haven’t even told
me about the balloon prank yet.” Harry said, trying to cheer them all up with the little snip at the
end, but they could all feel it as heavy as the weather outside. Darkness was coming and they may
be the only way to hold it at bay.

Chapter End Notes

Hello out there!

Here I am again with an apology for my longest delay as of late, I will say without
saying too much, I had a death in the family, quite unexpectedly, and honestly when it
comes to my family there is a lot of trauma. (I connect to the Blacks for many reasons,
not all good) and it brought up a lot of stuff I thought I was over and to be frank, I ran
away for a bit. To the mountains, where I did a lot of thinking, crying, and a lot of
plotting, but not so much writing. But I am back and with a plan! I hardly ever have
this heavy of an outline for a fic ever so maybe some good came from it.

I hope you all enjoy and (bearing anything extreme) I will be back soon!

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!