Chapter Text
Regulus could hear Harry lightly snoring in the bed. Personally, his sleep had been poor at best, but Harry seemed to be ignorant to the world around him. Regulus was letting him sleep. He’d had enough to deal with these past few months and deserved a lie in.
Tearing his eyes off Harry, Regulus turned his attention back to the tea at hand. It seemed the only tea Winky was able to manage, oolong with honey and milk. Winky had seemed taken aback when Regulus asked for it. Her hands shaking when she handed the cup over as Regulus whispered a small thank you before returning to bed. Cracking open the window further away from where Harry slept as he listened to the quiet rolling shores and felt the cold air across his face. He tried to remember what it had been like when he was Harry’s age. He wanted nostalgia to tell him it had been less complicated than now, but he knew he’d only be lying to himself.
Fourteen had been bad, just as thirteen, and twelve and eleven, though they all paled in comparison to fifteen, then sixteen, and then seventeen, but there were moments when it hadn’t seemed as awful. The tea reminded him of those times. Sitting up late at night, staring at stone ceilings, the scents of the tea surrounding him, nostalgia fighting to keep the memories untainted, but it was difficult as he leaned his head against the cold glass and closed his eyes feeling the strange sensation of the mind dragging itself back in time.
“Hey, Reg.” The voice broke through and it sounded so young, yet so broken. Naive, but not unknown.
“Barty.” His own voice called back in his mind, sounding heavier than he remembered.
“Do you think it’s going to happen? I mean, do you really think what they say is true, Malfoy and Mulicber, and the others, they are giddy at the idea, but I don’t know. It sounds too good to be true.”
“My parents–well–my mother says it is all true.”
“Walburga Black walks around like she knows all, as if she is in on a secret known to none of us because we are not smart enough to know. I find it hard to be a good judge of the climate.”
“What are you getting at, Barty?” His voice cut through, tired, not wanting to dwell on his parents, or his family, or whether or not his allegiance may have been chosen without his consent.
“Should we do it? Should we follow them?” Barty asked, and he remembers turning his head over to look into his eyes. They were captivating eyes, lined on the outside with a light grey, and the inside a blue so deep they seemed to swallow him whole.
“I don’t know, Barty.” Regulus said, shaking his head a bit, causing a curl to fall across his face. Even if deep down he knew he didn’t have a choice. Barty did though, and Regulus didn’t want to be the reason he threw his life away following a man with no name.
Barty’s hand reached out to lift the curl away, he was always warm. Slept without covers and walked into the snow with no jacket warm. Regulus was freezing. He thought it might have been a sign. A omen, like he read in books. Cold and hot, opposites attract.
It had been strange the first time’s Barty’s lips touched his. They’d been fifteen, and they had drunk too much firewhisky and stumbled back to their dorm while their dorm mates were passed out in the Common Room. Barty had been staring at him as he undressed, but Barty did strange actions without thinking of them. It wasn’t until he crossed the room and crashed their lips messily together that Regulus realised there had been ulterior motives to Barty’s actions for years. The touches on his waist, his hand, the leaning in too close to whisper in his ear, the winks he’d thought were friendly.
When he had kissed him that night under the stones, their future was hanging thick in the air around them. The hopelessness, the sadness all too oppressive, he had been grateful for the reprieve. To put his hands on another human, and feel like he wasn’t alone. In his mind, Barty felt the same. Maybe that was all they ever were. Two lost sad boys, who just needed to not feel alone for even a little while.
He had wondered what happened to Barty after he went missing, they had been arguing more than usual for a few months before Regulus went missing. Barty only showed up late at night and when Regulus wanted nothing to do with him, he’d throw a fit and say he’d find someone who didn’t act like it was a pain to be with him even when no one was looking. He hadn’t said goodbye. Hadn’t sent a letter like he did to Pandora, begging for her forgiveness in any capacity. Hadn’t gone on one more mission with him, like he did with Evan. No, all he did was a week before he was to leave, and likely never returned. He opened his door, he let Barty in, and led him to his bedroom and they spent one final night together, Regulus doing his best to be enthusiastic for Barty. He never had understood why he didn’t enjoy it, why it felt like a bear, a pain. He thought maybe it was another side effect of his childhood. Another experience his parents had stolen from him that he would never be allowed to enjoy. Except now he knew it was something different. Yet, somehow, it didn’t hurt any less.
“Reggie.” A voice jolted him from where he rested his head on the window. Harry had woken up and was sitting leaned against the pillows, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“Harry.” Regulus smiled, setting the tea aside, not taking a sip before it had gone cold. Maybe he just needed to hold it. To remember that people aren’t born evil.
“You could have got back in bed. You didn’t need to fall asleep on the window.” Harry said, cracking half a grin as he felt around for his glasses. Regulus crossed the room to pick them up and hand them to him.
“I wasn’t asleep, I was thinking.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed as Harry stretched his arms above his head, yawning.
“About Barty?” Harry asked, unabashedly. And though Regulus loved that Harry felt safe to ask him anything, it did shake him. He picked at the edge of his nail and shifted his weight back to the furthest edge of the bed.
“I can smell the tea.” Harry said, smaller than before. Regulus glanced at the abandoned tea cup in the windowsill.
“Yeah, Harry. About Barty, about us as kids. About how maybe his life is all my fault.” Regulus sighed, dropping his hands and shifting more comfortably on the bed.
“He made his choices, just like you did Reg. Maybe they weren’t all good, no–I know they weren’t all good, but then you made different choices and so did he.” Harry said, and it felt strange how it turned to him comforting Regulus, instead of the other way around.
“I know, but sometimes I think, if he had never met me, maybe he would have never become a Death Eater. Would have never done what he did, but he did meet me, and I introduced him to the Death Eaters, to The Da–Voldemort, and his morals got all twisted and somewhere along the way, the boy I knew turned into a man I didn’t.” Regulus sighed. Images flashing in his head of each little moment where he could have told Barty no, told him to run. Told him to get out of Great Britain, to travel, to spite his father in any other way.
“I know I didn’t know him, but what I’ve heard of him, Reg. I think he was going down the wrong path no matter what. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone. Who knows, maybe you were the only reason he kept his humanity for so long? Maybe that counts for something.” Harry replied, and Regulus turned his head over, and somehow once again a boy he knew was turning into a man. Only this man he knew would turn out good.
“You’re a good kid, Harry.” Regulus said, shaking his mess of hair, grazing the edge of his shoulder now. Harry grumbled as he pushed off the bed, probably nor appreciative of the kid remark.
“I brought the egg back. I was hoping to try and understand, we aren’t technically supposed to have help…” Harry said from the doorway before he went to brush his teeth.
“Harry, as the adult, I did not say this, but I can promise you, the other two schools are using every resource available to them to get through these challenges. Go get ready, we’ll take a look at the egg together, start working on a plan.” Regulus said, jutting his chin for Harry to take a shower and meet him down for breakfast.
An hour later and there was a spread of breakfast laid out for everyone to take what they pleased from the kitchen before finding a place at the dining table. A scattering of people sitting, enjoying their own conversations as Regulus sat down with his own plate after dressing himself for the day. It was a bit strange to be around so many people, who he knew and yet he wasn’t himself. A part of him wished he could sit there truthfully, but another part of him ached at the idea. More people who knew the truth, the likelihood of himself being revealed to Voldemort grew. Anonymity was his greatest security.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel the heat from a few eyes glancing over him as he set his plate down and tucked himself into a chair closer to those he felt most comfortable with. Which at present was only Ignatius and Lancelot, who were having a full conversation in Welsh with Tessie, so he felt a bit on the outside not being able to understand them, but at least Tessie’s eyes only lingered for a second when he lifted his fork to his mouth before turning back to her brother and cousin.
Harry came bumbling in a few moments later, his hair damp against his clothes, but at least his socks matched. He set his plate down next to Ron, but kept walking down to where Regulus was, him noting the golden egg tucked under his arm. The sparkle of it cast shining rays of light from the window across the table as he moved. Setting it just next to Regulus as the conversation beside him ceased.
“I need a body of water.” He declared confidently to the eyes that had fallen on him. “I thought about the ocean outside.”
“It is the middle of winter in Wales, you will do no such thing, I had to save this one from frostbite more times than I can count.” Lancelot replied instantly, jabbing a thumb at Ignatius who raised up his hands in defence, but not denying the claims.
“OK, a large bath? I need to understand what they are saying, and its merpeople, I can only understand them under water.” Harry said, jestering to the egg.
“You can use our bath, it’ll be large enough.” Ignatius agreed, mumbling the second part under his breath. “Wonder why they would use merpeople to convey a message?”
“The lake? Didn’t you say you swore there were merpeople in the Black Lake when you were at Hogwarts, always trying to swim far enough to get to them?” Tessie pointed out, a light teasing to her voice as her brother shook his head.
“Yes, but the merpeople are a private people, they don’t allow many wizarding kind into their homes. I’ve barely had success with them, and I’ve spent years understanding their customs and communication. To force them to participate in the Tournament…” Ignatius didn’t finish his thought but the twisted look on his face displayed his displeasure.
“Like the dragons.” Charlie said from where his head popped up on the other end, intrigued by the conversation. “It took us days to get the dragons to settle back down, and they kept trying to eat anybody who came near their eggs. Well expect me–none of them have tried to eat me since I got there, but it’s been brutal. It stirred up all kinds of trouble, McKenzie said he sent his brother a strongly worded letter to convey to the Ministry, doubt it’ll do much good. The Head of the Magical Creatures division is a laugh. Scared of them, you know? He came once and wouldn’t even leave the camp to see them. Thought they were too dangerous. Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and won’t get within twenty feet of a dragon. Pathetic.” Charlie said, stabbing at a piece of egg and chewing on it vigorously. Regulus kept in mind to never criticise a dragon in front of Charlie Weasley.
As they were talking, Lucretia entered with her arm holding onto her father. Their heads close together and faces relaxed as they spoke with one another. Regulus was a bit envious of their relationship, how their hardships had brought them together closer as parent and child, and yet he had always felt parentless. But he was glad that in all this darkness, some had been able to find happiness as he looked over the table where Cedrella and Cassiopeia laughed together, and where Molly was fretting over all her children, and Harry and Hermione, adding extra muffins to their plates to make sure they had enough to eat. It was warm here, not because of the weather which from the frosted windows was quite cold, but for the spirit.
“Bit of a lie in. It’s practically noon.” Lucretia said at two late arrivals. Sirius and Remus were the final ones to show up for breakfast, Remus appeared sheepish about it, but Sirius had a bounce to his step as he clattered his plate down next to Regulus, pulling out the chair with a scratch to the floor before plopping down.
“Aunt Lucy, do you have any spare beaters bats?” Sirius asked, ignoring her prior comment. Lucretia froze as she tucked her own seat underneath her, chewing on her lip.
“The only pairs we have were Gideon’s.” She answered after a moment. An iciness falling over the table. It was strange the way the dead lingered and could suck the air out of a roof. He doubted his name would carry so much weight, but he didn’t die a hero.
“Oh nevermind–I was just thinking of a Quidditch game like we used to do over the holidays, but it can be something else.” Sirius said, his face falling as he shook his head.
“You should use them.” A small voice said, only heard because everyone else had stopped speaking. Eyes turned to where Molly sat, her hands crossed in front of her. “You should use them. He would want you too.”
Sirius opened and closed his mouth. Unable to speak, surprisingly. Molly nodded her head, encouraging herself.
“He and Fabian loved the holiday Quidditch game, and I think he’d like it to live on.” Molly repeated.
“Efa can get them. She keeps their rooms cleaned.” Lucretia said quietly. The room picked back up into quiet conversation slowly after that. Sirius ducked his head close to his plate, eating a few bites before asking Remus and Regulus if they wanted to watch the game. Apparently he’d already gotten more than half the Weasleys and Harry roped into playing. Regulus smirked at the idea of Harry playing Seeker.
–
Overhead brooms flew by in a blur of colours. Arcturus kept his eyes turned to the sky, but caught the particular movement of one young person over the other. Harry doing lazy loops around the field, searching for a Snitch that had shot off into oblivion the moment it had been released. He was at least surrounded by good company, instead of how it had been when he’d seen Harry at school, plagued with suspicious eyes and wary smiles.
“Mister Black.” A voice said, one he hadn’t heard speak to him directly yet.
“Mistress Weasley, they're really is no need for such formalities. Arcturus will do.” he said, giving her a good glance before his eye was caught by the thud of a Bludger across the way.
“Well then just Molly will be fine.” She said, her hands smoothing out her skirt, standing with her empty seat at the other end of the line of chairs set out to watch the informal match. Her husband cheered as their daughter scored next to her place.
“Molly, do you wish a seat?” He said, raising his hand, but she shook her head.
“No, no bother, just a moment of your time.” She replied, and he turned over his shoulder to catch a better look at her. For someone who had known her, she didn’t look much different than the young girl he once knew. Same full cheeks, red hair, and diligent lips. A bit older, but the same young woman.
“I wanted to thank you. For inviting my family, for getting my children here. All of them. It is so rare for me to see them all anymore. I consider this a gift.” She said, her eyes going over her children, many of them flying above them. “After what my mother by law spoke of, I think I should also apologise.”
“Whatever for?” He said, though he had an inkling.
“I have not always been kind. I think it is a flaw I will fight for the rest of my life. This rashness, this spirit that lives inside me. I don’t know where it came from. My mother and father, they always were so collected, so calm. Nothing fretted them, and they never lost their tempers, no matter what my brothers and I did. But me? I can only dream of being like them. I fear it hurts my children, and yet I do it over and over, all this to say, I have not been kind to you. To your character, I have on several occasions spoken ill of your name, in private and public, now I see it was not warranted. That the impressions I had of you, of the tall man shrouded in dark clothes and dark secrets who always brought the chocolate I liked from France when he visited his daughter never deserved my mean-spirited words. I am sorry, Arcturus, for all I have said.” Molly said, her cheeks turning the same colour pink they would when he would reveal the dark coloured box that carried her favourite sweets. Mumbling her thanks before she’d run off with them. He hadn’t thought she’d remember.
“Molly, I won’t pretend I did not deserve some of those mean words, likely many of them. I have lived a complex life. I have vexed more than I have saved. Your mother by laws words were true, but she is only one story in thousands I have afflicted, but I will thank you for your words.” Arcturus said, and there was nothing else for them to say, though Arcturus was tempted to point out the older red head man not seated far from him where Molly could look to find her personality, but he knew when not to speak. She gravitated away and Arcturus watched as the game played above him. Clapping his hands together when by the skin of his teeth Harry managed to swipe the Snitch into his hands away from Charlie Weasley.
Harry was hoisted up like a hero before Lancelot yelled affectionately at them all to get in and get warm before he made them spend the rest of their holiday in St Mungo’s. There was a bustle of hot teas and chocolates to go around after that, but Arcturus found himself retiring to the quiet of the Prewett Library. Old books stacked on a small table besides a large chair that had been acquired for him to rest in. He wouldn’t dare take over the desk at the other end reserved for whomever ran Prewett Hall. He had saw many great men sit there. Old friends sat there, but it was not for him.
“Alright, you bloody bastards. Tell me something useful this time if you can.” He said cracking the spine to another journal, the painstaking translation process causing him to hunch over the books. It would be easier to decide what his ancestors hadn’t written down. Every scandalous detail, each morbid moment for hundreds, thousands of years dedicated to careful writings. The sad realisation when one script switched to another and Arcturus knew one service ended as another began. They ended in writings of a young boy. The bold imprint, the wild spacing, youth written in between each line. And then they ended, abruptly, a sentence left unfinished, and Arcturus knew how that story went. It was one that survived the war, originally as a warning and then as a tragedy. A young boy, dedicated his entire life no matter how long, or in his case short it would be, to serve their family. Keep their records, and preserve their history, and it ended as abrupt as the sentence he never finished. He must have been writing in a library long lost to time when boys not much older than himself, because it was always the boys who were forced into such actions, would have ripped him from his works and dragged him in front of his heir. An heir who would declare his allegiances wrong, and state if he did not reveal the identity and location of the High Council he would perish, but what Titan did not know was the first traces of the Unbreakable Vow had already been formed. Each page’s vow was not just words alone, but magic that tied their life to their service and if they ever betrayed their work, they would perish. Neo Black knew in his final moments there was only one end for him. Perish a loyal honest man, or die a traitor. He chose the former, and died with a knife to his throat.
“But what do you want me to see?” Arcturus mumbled as he closed the book, the light having faded outside as he worked. Regulus had returned with a highly selective field of books, there had to be a reason for them. Something had to be useful beside retellings of old history. He had figured through a painful process of reading between the lines and agonzing translations that Atlas had made a horcrux, and it appeared anyone who joined him in his position of power created one as well, it was a requirement to join. Those handpicked great and powerful witches and wizards had to show their willingness to be ruthless and their dedication to their name with the power it held.
“Papa? You shouldn’t shut yourself in here. Come we’re going to watch a movie before people have to begin returning home tomorrow. Something modern Bill and Charlie have picked out for everyone.” His daughter interrupted him, crossing the room to stand in front of him with a stern look on her face. She looked terribly like her mother when she did that.
“Well, it was a waste anyways, nothing useful in those pages. I’ve learned one hardly useful fact, and a lot of history.” Arcturus said, marking his place and jotting the last of his notes with the quill. Lucretia’s hand went to a book instinctively, opening a few pages to glance over the words.
“Anything scandalous?” Lucretia asked, her eyebrow raised. Some things never changed, and his daughter always wanting the most scandalous version of their history was one of them.
“Only one.” Arcturus said, rising from his chair and taking the arm she offered to return where the noises were growing below and the sweet smell of popcorn wafted.
“We almost never were.” He said, as they moved slowly. Lucretia paused at his revelation.
“What do you mean?” She inquired, and a small smile formed on his lips. “You’re enjoying this too much, Papa.”
“I mean to say, Atlas almost stopped. He had left the Black Forest with his brother after they had both learned and understood their powers better. The means was to create a place for their people. For wizarding kind to thrive and grow, and, unfortunately, to dispose of any Muggles who disagreed with their existence or stood in their way.” He began, shadows from below casting over the stairs where they had paused due to a fire being lit. “However, not long into their initial journey they came across a village. A small village, but full of people who were magic. It appears they stayed there for nearly three years. In that time, Atlas took a wife, and had a child, a daughter specifically.”
“But Atlas married the Red Witch, Aura Black, they had their children together after he established his domain, you mean to say he had another wife?” Lucretia said, her lips parting in surprise. He, himself, had been shocked by the records, but it appeared true, and Atlas had been young, only a teenager when this occurred. He did not have the rest of his children until almost thirty years later with a wife he married strategically for her power.
“This was before, when he was only a boy. It seems for a time Atlas may have been tempted to stay with them. To have a family and life in this village. To raise his daughter and have a home he no longer had with his mother dead and his father never known.” Arcturus explained, “Except there was one person he cared for more, one person he had sworn his vengeance to. It was his brother. His little brother who had watched their mother burn, and who had seen Atlas nearly ripped to pieces, the one who Atlas swore he would protect, and one day find their enemies, and serve his version of justice. So one night, when his wife and daughter were asleep. He and Polaris took their meagre belongings and disappeared into the night. Leaving them behind hence beginning their bloody, deadly journey until their names were etched into history.”
“But the wife and daughter? What became of them?” Lucretia said, her hand going to her chest. Arcturus was forced to shake his head.
“They are never mentioned again. It appears Atlas never went back for them, but I can’t imagine them not having heard of him. Not with the infamy he lived in.” Arcturus replied.
“Those poor women, they were abandoned.” Lucretia whispered, shaking it off a moment later.
Arcturus guiding them downstairs, where in another life none of this existed. Where Atlas chose to stay. Where the Black Family name did not live infamously generations later. But that was not this life. Arcturus had a family and a name to protect, and he would not abandon them.