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Chapter Text

A final dinner.

Regulus moved the pasta on his plate, not feeling up to eating. He took a bite anyway when he caught his mother’s eye. They couldn’t know. He smiled at her, and she resumed her story about Narcissa announcing her pregnancy. A new Malfoy for the world, and a tether to tempt Lucius to spend more time at home than elsewhere. Closing his eyes, he specifically didn’t think about the last time he saw his cousin-in-law.

“Regulus, you’ve been rather silent today.” Mother added. “Have you nothing to say about your future relative?”

“I’ll write Narcissa, my congratulations.” Regulus gave his mother a tight smile, knowing it was a lie. Would this be the last time he saw his mother, spoke with her? He couldn’t let them know. They would be safe, and the Dark Lord would become mortal. Perhaps his future cousin could grow up in a world without death looming over their head. 

“See that you do.” Mother nodded stiffly and turned to Father, “What news did Lucretia have?”

“She found a new book for her collection,” Father answered as he closed his pocket watch. Regulus privately thought that Father was obsessed with the time as Aunt Lucretia was with her books. He particularly checked that clock every other minute. Mother never commented on it either, even if she furrowed her mouth in displeasure whenever he brought it out during meals. He hadn’t before the Fight. Now, it was always the watch or being holed up in his study. 

Would Father even notice when he was gone? 

Regulus wished he carried out his plan a week ago when they were both visiting Grandfather. This lingering over dinner would only fill his mind with doubts. He knew Mother would note his absence, but he had disappeared for a few days in the past. Despite his efforts, both of his parents had pieced together what happened nearly three years ago. 'Keep it secret.' Regulus snorted. At least Mother seemed to approve of his ‘hobby.’ Father was as silent about it as ever. 

He glanced down, a drop of red against his hand. He froze, then force himself to relax. It’s just sauce. He dabbed at it. Only for it remained. A speck against the paleness of his skin. For one moment, the plate seemed to shift, and he was staring down at a crimson puddle.

“Regulus?” Mother’s crisp voice broke through his concentration. 

“My apologies, Mother.” The plate resumed its appearance, a half-eaten dish of Bucatini all’amatricinan. Nothing more, nothing less. Not blood. “I am merely tired. I’ll turn in early,” He set his fork down, appetite wholly gone. It didn’t matter if he ate. “May I be excused?”

“Very well. I am to have Druella over for tea tomorrow morning, but you may sleep in.” Mother scooped up the last of her noodles. Father nodded and opened up his pocket watch once more, brow furrowed as if it told the wrong time.  

“Thank you, Mother.” Regulus pushed his plate away and stood. He gave both a quick nod, knowing it might be the last time he said it, “G’Night Mother, Father.”

A stupid part of him wanted to say ‘goodbye’, or something equally as trite like ‘I love you’ or ‘forgive me.’ He said none of it. They couldn’t know. Perhaps he should give some excuse for being out, but they already knew that sometimes he was called in the middle of the night when he disappeared from his bed. They would assume that. Everyone would unless they asked the Dark Lord, who carried a shredded soul and no future goals, just a mantra: ‘Power and those too weak to seek it.’  

“Good night, Regulus.” Mother echoed. 

Father studied his watch, and his expression turned stony, as if upset. Regulus hadn’t the slightest on why. Perhaps the pocket watch was broken, with the frequency Father had glanced at it. He shut it with a precise click. 

“Goodnight, my son.” Father’s voice sounded odd, almost affectionate though that was perhaps Regulus’s wishful thinking. 

Regulus nodded once again and turned away, making his way up the stairs. Past the heads of former house elves, ‘immortalized so that we may remember their noble service,’ his mother had told him and Sirius more than once. He paused when he reached the landing. Sirius’s door still shut, hadn’t been opened in over three years. His hand hovered over the handle, and he remembered all the times he ran to his brother after a bad dream, begging to sleep in his room. Sirius always let him. He wanted to go in, to find his brother there, and confess everything. In the wild hope that his brother would soothe this nightmare that he found himself in.

Sirius had left. He shouldn’t miss him like he did. Sirius was already a target for who he worked for. Regulus could not add to that, to pull his brother even more into the limelight. Despite how much he wanted his aid. 

It wouldn’t matter. Sirius didn’t care about Regulus, not anymore. He turned away into his room.

The emblem of their crest painted over the bed. It had taken him days and was his greatest artistic feat as a child. There were a few old clippings of the Dark Lord’s exploits. Something that he was expected to have. Regulus wanted to tear them from the walls, but that would be suspicious. His parents would likely go into his room once he was gone. 

He was going to go through with this. He wouldn’t allow himself to back out again. Regulus bent down and grabbed the box beneath the bed. He opened it, looking for any flaws. 

It was a masterpiece, an exquisite work of emerald and silver. And it was a fake. One that he created based on Kreacher’s description, the note neatly tucked into space a photo might take. He stood, surveying his room, the clippings he hung on the wall after he joined. The moment of the mark was a sharp point in his memory. Bellatrix’s grin as she hoisted him forward.

Was this his plan?

He couldn’t let Kreacher drink it again, not when he had spent a week nursing the elf back to health. He couldn’t put the elf through all that again. He wouldn’t hurt him. Kreacher, who always brought him hot chocolate without asking, always kept his rooms clean and never told his parents when he went out. Kreacher was not a sacrifice he was willing to make.

This was his mistake.

Joining hadn’t been what he wanted, what he even thought it would be. Not that he ever had much choice about it, to begin with. He had hoped it would just be a few riots, a few scare tactics, and some dark magic. But a man who would call himself lord over all others would not have been satisfied with such antics.

Tom Marvolo Riddle thought he was so clever. But Regulus was the one who found him out, found out what he had done to grant him his immortality. The wizard liked to brag far too much, ‘further than anyone else.’ Every pureblood knew horcruxes only grant madness and decay. Murder was one thing. But to tear apart a soul. 

They were doomed with Lord Voldemort as their leader.

He tortured his own men. 

Regulus’s hand clenched around the locket. This was the right thing to do. All he could do to fix some of what he had done. 

‘This will be the death of you!’ Sirius’s shouting still echoed in his head.

His last real conversation with his brother had ended in a screaming match on the top of the Astronomy Tower. Regulus snorted. Sirius was right after all. Regulus was a fool. A soft-headed fool. Of course, he had seen Sirius once after in the battle that broke out between the two groups. The Order of the Phoenix trying to stop the raids.

The memory still made him sick to his stomach. 

This was the least he could do. 

Even if it meant his death. He would drink the potion and destroy the one thing that made the Dark Lord immortal. If he couldn’t manage it,  then he’ll ask Kreacher. Elf magic was something the Dark Lord hadn’t taken into account. And Kreacher’s magic was fueled through his ties with his ancient family, blending in seamlessly with family magic. 

Family magic.

They would know. If he died, the tapestry would show it. 

Today might be the last time they ever saw him. He couldn’t say goodbye. His parents were safer in their ignorance, in their belief that the Blacks were higher than all others. That the Blacks bowed to no one. Soon, Father would attempt to lure Sirius back, to restore the eldest as the true heir. Regulus had only ever been the spare. Proud of his ancient family, of their lineage, he could even admit that Sirius was more talented and charming than him. Sirius was always meant to become Lord Black, even if it meant changing their pureblood ways.  

Regulus was nothing more than a collection piece, both to the Dark Lord and his parents. He tried to please them, but they both still yearn for Sirius to write, return, and apologize. And Regulus, Regulus hadn’t stopped missing his brother since he was eleven, and a train took him away, to a great adventure that Regulus couldn’t experience with him. By the time Regulus had gotten to Hogwarts, Sirius had already been stolen away, sorted into a different house, with someone who was already closer to him than Regulus had ever been. 

Now they fought on two separate sides of a war. Brother against brother. Those steel grey eyes colder than Father’s had been, burning with fury in the middle of that last battle. Regulus hadn’t been able to fight. Hadn’t managed to cast a single spell. Just stood there, numb to it all. Still unable to get over the way the moonlight reflected against the ground. Bright and nearly full. A silver disc was shining in a dark puddle that no rain had brought. A small torn stuff dog next to it. One foot in the puddle, the others gone. Missing, ripped neatly by a spell. A spot of cotton darkened to an almost black in the night. 

The echo of screaming he had been so deaf to then still rang in his ears, unable to let him forget.

When the battle was done, Regulus couldn’t tell them apart.

Muggle, Muggleborn, and Pureblood. They all looked the same dead. 

He wondered if he would look that way. 

A lake full of Inferi, no doubt it would be worse. A bloated corpse to be eaten by those already dead. 

He had to do this. Even if that was his fate. Regulus had already come to terms that he would likely die in this endeavor. Kreacher would destroy the locket. He couldn’t go against an order. The locket would be destroyed and Mother, Father, and Sirius would be safe. 

His family would be safe.

Regulus would do anything to guarantee that. 

He wondered if Sirius would miss him, or just be glad that one more Death Eater was gone. Not like Regulus was even a very good Black. ‘A Black bows down to no one.’ The only ones who had truly lived by that of his generation were Andromeda and Sirius. Was Sirius happy, laughing with his friends? Enjoying some bout of peace amidst all their current chaos? 

Regulus wanted to see him.

Just see him. Know that he was going to his death, but his family would be safe and happy. To say a quiet goodbye before he went. It wouldn’t hurt anything, for him to just see his brother, to remember why he was doing this, and to wish that Sirius and his lot would win this war. Would destroy the man who had branded Regulus as a slave.

“Kreacher!” Regulus called. A small glimpse wouldn’t hurt from a distance. Wherever Sirius lived, that location was attached to the Family magic, and Kreacher would be able to take him near it even if Sirius had wards. “Please take me where Sirius lives, and don’t tell Mother or Father about this.”

“Why would Master Regulus wish to see his brother?” Kreacher appeared. The elf looked fully recovered. As if he hadn’t nearly died a few months ago. Regulus would need him to take him to the lake, and not tell his family what happened.

“I just want to check something. So take me outside the wards. Then, in an hour,” Regulus decided at random, if he hadn’t caught sight of Sirius, he shouldn’t wait. The longer he dithered, the more likely he risked the Dark Lord calling upon his Death Eaters. He needed to do this now before he gave himself room to doubt. “I’ll need you to take me somewhere else. It’s important, Kreacher.”

“As you wish,” Kreacher gave a little bow, and Regulus offered his hand.

The world swirled, and Regulus stood on a street. Kreacher nodded at him, then disappeared. He stood across from one of those apartments, numbered, of all ironies, 12. It was such a muggle place. To live on top of one another, sharing a building. But Regulus could feel the wards humming, close enough that if he stepped forward, they would recognize him. Would they block his entrance? Either way, they would alert Sirius of his presence. And Regulus didn’t want that.

How did he expect to catch sight of Sirius? Through a window. Regulus sighed and turned around, searching for the stairs. Maybe he could just stand on the street and see. As if Sirius was even home. He might be with his friends. 

This was a stupid plan.

Regulus found the stairs, disgusted by some mysterious stain in one of the corners. He didn’t want to know what that was. He couldn’t believe that Sirius would prefer to live in this muggle squalor than in Grimmauld. Exiting the building, he caught sight of a sign, Lisson Grove. London, they were still in London. Sirius hadn’t gone very far after out. He could walk to Grimmauld from here.

What had he expected?

Sirius had always liked muggle London when they were kids, always scheming on another attempt at leaving the house, but never going through with it. Not after that first time they got ice cream. Not after Father had caught them, they limited their adventures to exploring around Manor Noir, safe in the ancient wards that surround their Grandfather’s country estate. 

Regulus closed his eyes, pulling his cloak tight against the chill. Those memories were all pre-Hogwarts. Before the constant rows, Sirius and Mother had, and the way they both brought Regulus in, where there was no right answer to give, no way to please both mother and brother. 

He stared up at the apartment. Lights showed from dozens of muggles muddling about the building, unaware of the silent civil war being fought. Regulus focused on where he could still almost feel the wards, that section was dark. No light was shining down, no one standing on the metal contraption that scaled the building’s wall. Just brick and empty windows. He could almost imagine Sirius sitting on that monteristy, a cigarette between his fingers, and gazing out at the stars. What did he think when he gazed upon the winter’s constellations? When he saw Orion watching down from above, barely seen amongst the haze of light ringing the city? Did Sirius even look out at the stars anymore? Or was the sky too filled with the namesakes of their family and everything he left behind? 

Regulus shouldn’t have come. Sirius wasn’t here, and there was no telling when he would be back. Turning on his heel, he startled. 

Sirius. 

Regulus just sort of stared at his brother, who was just there. Close enough that Regulus could reach out could almost touch him. He still looked like a prince even in muggle clothes, donned entirely in black leather with an absurd number of zippers, and a wand in his hand. Ears pierced with half a dozen loops of silver. At least, Sirius was clean-shaven. Though Regulus suspected, that was because Sirius still likely couldn’t grow facial hair that was more than just an uneven fuzz. 

How did Sirius know he was here? 

In one smooth motion, Sirius broke the stillness that had settled over the two of them. A hand reached out, grabbing Regulus’s wand arm, spinning him around. His other arm was seized. Both pulled behind him, accompanied by a metallic shink. The magic on the cuffs wrapped around him, neatly containing his own. Not even a wandless spell would be able to break him out. Quick hands, and a moment later, Sirius held both Regulus’s wand and the locket.

Bugger.

“Sirius, give it back.” He couldn’t let Sirius know what he was about to do. If the Dark Lord became aware that Sirius knew about the horcrux, he would kill him. Sirius couldn’t know. Shaking his head, Sirius slid both into his leather coat pocket. 

“Quiet, Death Eater.” Sirius growled into his ear. Grabbing Regulus by the elbow, Sirius dragged him up the stairs, past the wards that he had not crossed before, and into his squalor. Regulus needed to leave, needed to get his wand and the fake locket back, and go. He should have gone a week ago. Go with his original plan of leaving on November 3rd, and that last bit of petty revenge when he died. He had meant to. Only, he couldn’t convince himself to go. 

At least, Kreacher will come back for him in an hour. Regulus just had to wait.

The door to the apartment slammed open on its own. Sirius stirred Regulus to a small dingy table and wooden chair. A hand pressed him down onto the chair. Regulus sat. The rope came out and bound him to the chair. Sirius sat down across from him, pulling out his wand, and dropping the locket on the table. He was entirely at his brother’s mercy. His only hope of rescue was Kreacher. 

“Well?” Sirius tapped his long fingers against the table.

Regulus stared at his brother. 

His hair was longer, and he seemed taller than the last time he saw him. He looked like Father. Elegant despite what he wore. Though Regulus mused, Sirius would seem handsome even in a sack. Regulus had gotten his wish. His brother sat across from him, looking alive, vibrant, and well.  

“How did you know where I lived? And what are you doing here?”

Regulus hadn’t an idea of what to say. He hadn’t planned on encountering his brother. Him and his stupid idea to just give a silent goodbye. How could he convince Sirius to let him go, to forget he had even come here? Regulus should have used a disillusionment charm or some other way of being hidden. Instead, he stood out on the street staring up at his brother’s home like an idiot. 

“Regulus Arcturus, answer me.” Sirius snapped, sounding exactly like Mother. 

“Happy belated birthday,” Regulus blurted out. Maybe he could take a sentimental approach?

“That was a week ago. You did not come to wish me a happy birthday. Don’t take me for a fool.” Sirius leaned back, his foot thumping against the floor, fingers tapping on the table. “I can get access to veritaserum, so you would be wise to answer my questions. Why are you here?” 

“I made a mistake.”

“I’d say,” Sirius grinned, but his eyes were cold, “you took the Dark Mark.”

Regulus bit his lip. He wanted to scream that Sirius had left, had abandoned him to this fate. Regulus hadn’t even been given a chance to protest. Though it wouldn’t have done any good. If he had, then they would be after Sirius and Regulus would be dead. He knew what the Dark Lord had wanted, a collection of the families of the sacred twenty-eight, at least those who were deemed worthy, all bearing the Dark Mark, all bowing before one to lord above all. 

“I shouldn’t have come.” Regulus managed, after cooling his temper. “I’m sorry. Just give me my wand and the locket, and I’ll be on my way.”

Sirius snorted. “You are a Death Eater.”

“Fine. Keep my wand,” relinquishing it meant he would count on Kreacher to destroy the horcrux, but Regulus could manage without it, “please, just give me the locket and let me go.”

“You would give up your wand?” Sirius looked at him like he was crazy. Regulus could acknowledge that his plan involved some madness to it and the definite possibility of his death, but it was worth it. All he had to do was go through with it. He knew he could rely on Kreacher to destroy it and keep what he had done a secret. His family would be safe.

“Please, Sirius, I shouldn’t have come. I won’t ever bother you again. Just give me the locket and forget you ever saw me.”

“You care way too much about this,” Sirius dangled the locket between his fingers, then began to swing it, “it doesn’t have any magic signature or the like. It’s just plain gaudy Slytherin jewelry, complete with a little snake.”

What could he say? What would make Sirius let him go? Sirius probably didn’t care enough about him to be swayed by their childhood. “Yes. That locket is nothing.” It was just a decoy with a note. A final snub before Regulus was likely to be dragged into the lake to drown. And the locket to be destroyed. “Please, Sirius, there is something I must do. What vows do you want?”

“What is it that you would do without a wand,” the locket rocked back and forth between, “but would require this?” 

“Please.” Regulus tried, begging wasn’t beneath him, not about this. “Please, Siri.”

Sirius stilled. His foot stopped thumping against the floor, and the locket caught in one hand. Steel grey eyes locked with his. Despite raising his mental shields, he was pretty sure that Sirius wasn’t a Legimens. Regulus could feel his heart racing. This felt like too much like he had touched upon something he had swore not to. Their childhood.

“Regulus,” Sirius spoke softly, “why did you come?” Regulus swallowed. He shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have come. This was too important to be damned by his sentimentality. 

“The truth, please, and I’ll untie you.” Sirius kept his tone gentle and didn’t look away, showing a rare bout of patience.

“I hadn’t expected you to see me,” Regulus started, glancing away. Sirius could always read straight through him. There was no use hiding it and mumbled, “I came...I just wanted to say goodbye.”

The chair clattered to the ground. A hand gripped his shoulder. Glancing up, Regulus froze. Sirius was holding an opened locket. The note. 

“Don’t read it.” Regulus tried, knowing it was too late. It laid out his plan. Crystal clear.

“‘I know I’ll be dead,’” Sirius muttered, “‘say goodbye,’ ‘face death,’ ‘never see me again,’” his grip grew tighter with each phrase. “No.” The word started a whisper, accompanied by the disappearance of the rope tying Regulus to the chair. “No,” Sirius shook him, both hands on his shoulders. “No, no, no, no.” Each word louder and louder with eyes wild. “Do you understand, Reg? No.” 

“Pardon?” 

“I’m not going to let you go!” Sirius shouted.

“Why do you care!?” Regulus broke, rising to his feet, his hands still bound to his back. Sirius couldn’t care. He couldn’t, not after everything. “You abandoned me. Ignored every letter I wrote, every gift I sent. You left.”

“Letters.” A hand rose to his ear, twirling the earring, the other still on his shoulder. “I put up a mail directing ward. I hadn’t thought...”

“You never think.”

“I didn’t know.”

“It was for the better anyway. Look, Sirius, you didn’t want anything to do with us, with me. So just let me go-”

“No.” Arms wrapped around him. “No. Don’t you understand? You aren’t going to die. I won’t let you.”   

“He has a horcrux.” 

“We’ll tell the Order then.” Sirius held on tighter. 

“You can’t. There’s a spy.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Everyone wears a mask.” Regulus took an even breath. Sirius hadn’t let him go, and his wrists were still bound behind his back. “Sirius. I can do this. Just let me go.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Never that. Tell me where it is, and I’ll go.”

“I don’t want to put you at risk.” Regulus protested. Sirius laughed, loud and barking. Ignoring him, Regulus continued, “I need to do this. Let me make it right.”

“Alright, little brother.” He messed Regulus’s hair, then reached for the cuffs, tapping them with his wand. “We can go together. But first,” he handed back the locket, note safely tucked inside, “tell me what your plan was, and I’ll tell you how we prevent you from dying for it.”

“Would Master Regulus like some tea with his conversation?” asked Kreacher. A cup of tea slid in front of him. As Sirius let out a itinerary of curses, Regulus laughed. Half-surprised by the sound. For the first time in years, it felt like he had his brother back and maybe, just maybe everything would work out.

Chapter Text

“You have water bottles?” Sirius asked for the fifth time, digging into the bag that he made Regulus grabbed. Muggle water bottles and a basic wizarding first aid kit. Items that Regulus admittedly hadn’t thought of bringing. He planned to sacrifice his life and leave the destruction of the locket to Kreacher. “And you are sure one of us must drink. Why can’t Kreacher?”

“No. I’ll do it, Sirius. I don’t think transfiguring a rock will work. I think it has to be someone who is sentient.” And he wouldn’t put Kreacher through that again. Kreacher hadn’t done anything wrong. Had never hurt anyone. The image of the house-elf sick too weak to carry out any chores lingered in his mind. 

“I don’t like it.” Sirius added for the fifth time.

“I can go by myself-”

“No.” Letting out a breath, Sirius turned to the house-elf, “Kreacher,” gritting his teeth in a visible effort to be polite, “you are sure you can’t just teleport us directly to the island and then out again?”

“Kreacher could go, but the wards prevent Master Regulus from accompanying him.” Kreacher, of course, acted like Regulus had asked the question. After quizzing Regulus, Sirius had interrogated Kreacher, and the house-elf had refused to answer. Regulus supposed he shouldn’t have confined his agitation about his brother running away in the house-elf, and Mother’s crying had likely biased the elf against Sirius. 

“You are sure about this? I could contact James, he’s no spy, and having an extra person-”

“No.” Regulus ignored the flare of jealousy. A part of him still blamed Potter for stealing Sirius away, for being a better brother than Regulus ever could. He didn’t want that face to be the last he saw if this ended poorly. “I don’t want to wait. We’ve delayed long enough as it is.”

“Together?” Sirius raised an elbow towards him. Regulus grabbed it, feeling that he was clinging to a lifeline as if with Sirius there, he would manage to live through this endeavor he set out for himself. As long as Sirius agreed with the plan, as long as Sirius lived.

“Kreacher.” Regulus offered his hand. “We’re ready. If you don’t want to go-”

“Kreacher knows.” A small hand grasped his. “Kreacher will go.”

“You remember your orders if-”

“Kreacher will see this through, as Master Regulus orders.” The house-elf grabbed Sirius’s robes, wrinkling his nose. A loud crack. The world turned and resounded with the clash of waves and the pungent scent of salt and sea—a bitter cold wind wrapped around them, bringing them into the pitch-black entrance. 

“This the stone?” Sirius asked, lighting his wand, stepping towards it. Kreacher nodded, with one quick motion, he cut his palm and placed it on the stone.

“Sirius.” Regulus scolded. 

“You expect me to watch you drink poison. I can at least spare you this.” He grinned as he stepped through into the cavern. 

In the distance, an island glowed green, and the draught of despair awaited. The lake seemed far too still, reflecting the light of their wands like a black mirror. Regulus swallowed. Inferi, at least that’s what his best guess was from Kreacher’s description, were just under the surface. They were weak against fire. This should be fine. 

“The boat, Kreacher.” The house-elf nodded and led the way. Regulus had already decided he would order Kreacher to retreat if things became bad. A small ivory boat rose from the lake. Regulus stepped onto it, immediately sitting once it started rocking. Then deliberating for a moment, he finally said, “Meet us on the island, Kreacher, and don’t touch the water.”

“Kreacher knows.” The old elf’s face looked worn, and Regulus felt a fluttering of guilt for making him come back to this place. He needed help. If fiendfyre couldn’t destroy the locket, then he needed to get it away immediately and not risk losing it to the lake of Inferi. 

Expectantly, he looked up at Sirius, who muttered a spell and tossed the Lumos into the ceiling, lighting the whole cave. Then with a grin, Sirius morphed. A black dog stood before him—a grim. 

‘I knew it!’ Regulus thought, opening his mouth before closing it. He hadn’t believed that a silencing charm had gone astray, and Sirius couldn’t speak for a month. Not for one moment. 

After a great shake, Sirius jumped onto the boat, causing them to rock in the waves. Regulus froze. Glancing out, but the lake remained still. With one lick to his check, the dog settled down on Regulus’s lap. A moment later, the boat started to move. He was holding his wand high, as its light played across the water. A pale figure lurked beneath the surface, the rags it wore spread in the water like forgotten wings. Regulus’s hand clenched in Sirius’s fur.

Who knew how many Inferi there were?

Could they do this? If they didn’t, then the Dark Lord would never be stopped. He’ll just come back. Regulus had to see this through, for the protection of his family and everyone else. 

The boat bounced against the rocks of the small island. Sirius jumped off shifting forms in mid-jump, an impressive bit of maneuvering, and turn to offer Regulus his hand. Regulus took it. Behind them, glowing softly was the emerald potion and the Horcrux within. Kreacher stood next to, his skin an unusual paleness highlighted with green. 

“I can drink it, Reg.” Sirius eyes the potion.

“No,” Regulus stepped up to the pedestal and snatched the crystal goblet, “I am a poor duelist, and we both know it. If those things attack, you’re better equipped. Let me drink this,” then he turned to the house-elf, “Kreacher, make me drink this if you must until we’re able to make the switch, please.” Then he dipped the goblet in the basin, filling it with the emerald potion. He lifted the glass to his brother, “Cheers.”

He drained the glass. 

Fire burned his throat, making his throat dry and making him feel like he drank a mouthful of sand. His vision flickered for a moment. Another stood in front of him. Someone he hadn’t thought of, who he didn’t want to think of. Taller and wearing Slytherin robes.

‘You think I want anything to do with you,’ his voice a cold sneer. ‘That I ever cared about you. I’ve been given an opportunity and no longer need you.’

“No.” Regulus protested weakly. He hated this, hated everything to do with that person. All those moments together. It hadn’t meant anything. In a fit of effort, Regulus dunk the glass into the basin, drained it, and then without halting, did it again.

‘Go marry to the betterment of your blood. We may serve a common master, but that’s all that connects us.’ He turned away, before glancing back. ‘And remember all those experimental potions you help me develop. It would be unwise to cross me.’

“No,” Regulus muttered. Drink, he had to drink. He must drink. A potion, and wondered if it was he and not the Dark Lord that had brewed it. His hands shook as he dipped the cup back in, green glowing. Regulus titled the glass back and swallowed. He swayed an arm wrapped around him, guiding him down. Or up, dark hair, pale eyes. Instead of Sirius standing next to him was a shorter figure with long black hair. It wasn’t her. She couldn’t be here. 

‘And when we find that blood traitor brother of yours,’ Bella dragged him up, pulling him out of his aunts and uncle’s home. ‘If he will not join us, we will show him what the darkest of arts is truly capable of.’

 Sirius. He had to warn him. “Sirius.”

“Drink, Master Regulus.” Kreacher was suddenly in front of him. Why was he here? Where did Bella go? His throat felt dry, and he was so thirsty.

“No, I’ll drink it.” Sirius’s voice rumbled above him. No, that wasn't right. Sirius mustn't drink. Regulus grabbed the glass with shaking hands and drained it. Everything flickered once more. It was dark, and he was so thirsty.

The black lake looked like blood—a puddle reflecting a full moon. Bella stood beside him, kicking the back of his knees, so he knelt. Regulus had to take the mark, had to protect Sirius. Sirius, who was still heir, who couldn’t be made to follow, not like Regulus. 

‘Heir Black, I looked forward to your acquaintance.’ The words were a hiss and the memory of that power wrapped around him, insidious and beckoning him to raise his left arm. ‘Are you ready to swear service?’

“No. No. I don’t want-” A crystal chalice swirled with green liquid. He was thirsty, and everything was falling around him. Everything hurt, and his insides were starting to burn. 

“That’s it.” Bella hissed, no. It wasn’t her. Sirius. He swiped the chalice and drained it. His brother. What was his brother doing here? He couldn’t be here. Not when Regulus looked around wildly. A cave.

“You mustn’t. Master Sirius, you must not.” Kreacher was there, lightly hitting Sirius. “You must save Master Regulus.”

“Sirius.” Regulus clung to his brother, fisting his hands in the muggle clothes he wore. “Please. Please.” His cheeks felt wet, and his throat was dry. “I’m so thirsty.”

“I can’t.” Sirius hiccuped. The glass fell from his grasp, only to stop in mid-air. His arms wrapped tighter around Regulus, sliding down to sit next to him, “I can’t do this to you.”

“I must,” it was important. Why was it? What was it? It was hard to think. “Drink.” 

“Master Regulus,” the glass was held before him. Kreacher watched him with watery eyes. 

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Kreacher burst out into sobs. Regulus took it, draining the contents. Feeling the potion burned and the vision flowed back. Crimson eyes were watching him with glee, a wand against his left arm. The phantom echo of pain as his left wrist burned as he was branded. Regulus screamed. It hurt. Then the world shifted.

A puddle of blood. The echoing of screams. A stuffed bear, missing a limb, and a button eye hanging loose. And next to it-

“I’m sorry.” Regulus pleaded, seizing the person next to him. “I hadn’t.” He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t done anything. And that image. Everything within him burned, but not nearly as much as that image, “Please. It’s my fault. I couldn’t-”

“Reggie.” He was held tight, and some else was crying. Someone tugged on his hand. A house-elf, no Kreacher, holding a crystal full of an emerald potion.

“No,” Regulus moaned. Everything hurt. 

“You must drink.” Kreacher offered the potion, but his face was lined with tears. Regulus knew it to be true. There was something important. Something he needed to do. To repent, to stop all of this. Regulus attempted to grab the glass, but his hands were shaking as if he were to fall apart. Kreacher stepped forward and brought it to his lips, tilting the liquid back.

Regulus swallowed. 

His body burned, like a million lashes striking him all at once. The toy bear appeared once more, falling on the ground. Next to a gathering puddle full of moonlight. And before it.

“No.” He muttered the words he hadn’t then. “Don’t.” A red ribbon fluttered down, blonde curls bouncing free, and brown eyes shifting from horror to empty. Dead. “No!” His throat burned.

“Reg.” Sirius was there. His face swimming before him, blocking out the vision of the girl. Only, he was coated in blood. A red line ran across his neck, and Bella crackled in the background. 

‘Look what you’ve done to me.’ His brother accused him. Besides him stood a child. Golden curls, holding a white and red bear, missing a limb. Her light voice echoed, “to us.”

“No. Forgive me. Please.” His throat was dry, and he was so thirsty. Everything hurt. 

A crystal chalice full of emerald wine swirled in front of him. His punishment. It was too much, too much. Regulus turned away. Kreacher sobbed, bringing the potion to his lips and pouring the liquid into Regulus’s mouth. 

Fire beat in his chest, stealing the strength from his limbs, and around him. The image of the girl was joined by others, Sirius, him, Mother, Father, Kreacher. All had blank eyes, glazing down at him. Their accusations were echoing in his ears. A disappoint a disgrace: a child’s eyes, and the word ‘murder’. 

“It’s not real.” Sirius shifted, suddenly next to him, holding him. “Reg, it isn’t real.” His muggle clothes were soaked and crimson, blood falling like tears from his eyes. 

“Please,” Regulus clutched at his brother. Was he an illusion as well? Pain keeping pace with his heartbeat, and the knowledge of everything he’d done wrong. “Make it stop.” Living wasn’t worth this pain. Not if his family was already gone, doomed by his actions. His throat was so dry, and he was so thirsty, “Kill me.”

“No!” He was pulled tighter against him. Beneath the pulsing of pain and the increasing accusations of ‘disgrace’, ‘disappointment’, ‘tool’, he could barely make out the rest of what Sirius said, “No. Kreacher, let me drink the rest of the potion.’

“Master Sirius must not.” Kreacher dodged a reaching hand. “Drink this,” An emerald potion flowed into his mouth. 

Pure agony washed over him. A thousand blades. Regulus screamed. His throat was aching, tearing with the sound. Distant voices were speaking, but the words couldn’t reach him. It was all too much. Too much pain. Regulus collapsed.

“Reg. Reggie.” Someone was calling his name. 

His throat was impossibly dry, and he didn’t want to wake. 

“Reg, please wake up. If it’ll get you up. I promise I’ll talk to our parents again. Just, please, don’t be dead.”

With great effort, Regulus opened his eyes. With a laugh borderline hysterical, he was pulled into a tight embrace. Everything still hurt, and he was thirsty as if he hadn’t anything to drink in days lost in a desert. 

“You must be thirsty,” Sirius, was it Sirius?, laid him against a pedestal. Then he reached into a bag that Regulus forgot he had. A bottle of water was placed at his lips, titled back. Regulus drank. Even after the bottle was drained, his throat still felt dry. But he was starting to remember why they were here.

“The locket?”

“Nasty piece of work, isn’t it?” Sirius held it out. It looked almost exactly like the one Regulus had made, though some minor swirls of silver were missing. Though Sirius was right, at this proximity, and if he concentrated, Regulus could feel magic radiating from it. Who had died for it? Regulus’s stomach rolled. The specter of the girl existed behind his eyes. Unable to control it, his stomach protested, and he rapidly leaned away from Sirius. 

“Master Regulus.” Small arms wrapped around him. Kreacher looked up at him. “Kreacher tried to destroy it while,” the elf paused then added, “Master Sirius woke you. But nothing worked.”

“Which leaves us with Fiendfyre,” Sirius added, casting a quick scourgify and not saying a word. “You are lucky that our dear mother saw fit to teach it to me.”

“She did not.” Regulus weakly protested. He would have heard of it if she-

“Oh. She did.” There was an odd look in Sirius’s eyes. One Regulus had never noticed before. Horrifyingly, it reminded him of Bella. “For once, I find myself inclined to thank her. That spell ought to destroy this.”

Sirius then bent down and grabbed a pebble, his wand flick in his other hand. It grew in length until it stretched almost to the shore. “And here would be the best place to use it. Not much besides us and it to burn.”

“Would Fiendfyre…” Regulus panted, struggling with his words, “take the Inferi?” Regulus eyed the water nervously. There were flickers of waves. And flashes of pale white flesh. 

“If they go above the water.” Sirius followed his glance, a frown marring his face, “though, that lake may be enchanted against any type of flames. And I rather not chance it. Let’s be quick about this.” 

Regulus moved to stand up, swaying a moment into Sirius.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher protested, tugging at his robes. 

“Just stay seated, Reg,” Sirius scolded but ended up supporting him more than anything else. 

“I can hold it while you cast.” Regulus placed both hands on the stone hook, angling it up and away from them. It shook violently in his grasp, and his legs felt like he might fold under him. He would see this through, would destroy this horcrux. Voldemort would regret how he treated Kreacher, who had helped him in good faith. 

A stream of fire burst from the wand. With one precise flick, it transformed into a small dragon of flame. With a mighty scream, it attacked the necklace. A burst of black smoke and a shock wave of force threw him backward. As he flew in the air, he saw the fire divide into several dragons. Fire danced through the smoke like flares of lightning till not even smoke remained. Just pure burning fire. 

A burnt-out husk of the jewelry fell. And the flames turned back towards them. Sirius, mid-air, managed to dissipate the dragons.

Regulus was falling.

Beneath him, the water boiled in turmoil.

“Kreacher,” Regulus shouted, his throat still so dry, “save Sirius.” Then he clashed against the water. It felt like hitting ice. Cold wrapped around him, securing him tight. Only for Regulus realized that those were hands that clasp his ankles, pulling him down. Regulus didn’t have the strength even to fight them, to reach for his wand. He let them pull him down, turning his focus towards Sirius. His brother had managed to cast a bubblehead charm and sent out flashes of spells at the Inferi.

If there was one person who could face a hundred Inferi and come out an unlikely victor, it was Sirius.

His brother at least would live.

Only Sirius was turning to him, not even bothering to try and escape. A severing spell cut off the arms of those who held him, and Regulus was pulled towards his brother. Another Inferi launched out, colliding with him, to bring him down once more. Then he felt teeth tear into his calf. His mouth opened in a scream, inhaling water before he could stop. 

With a great show of force, his brother cast what had to be a blasting charm, flicking his wand, and Regulus was forced through the water till Sirius wrapped an arm around him and launched them to the surface.

Regulus let out a sputtering cough, unable to even find the strength to tread water. Sirius had to deal with his dead weight, on top of defending them. 

Kreacher appeared next to them in a thundering crack, moving to Regulus’ other side and helping them swim towards the distant shore. Sirius was firing spells beneath the turmoil of the black lake. They were in the middle of the black lake.

“It’s too far.” Regulus choked out, voice weak.

Sirius didn’t even respond, too busy attempting to shield them and swim at the same time. 

“Sirius, it’s too far.” Regulus struggled against the arm, holding him but barely even managed to bring his arms up. “We aren’t going to make it. Let me go.”

“Never.” Sirius snarled at him, grey eyes sparking with silver fire. Letting out a stream of curses, he fired more spells. The water boiled in turmoil, white caps, or white hands, Regulus couldn’t tell. All the while, Kreacher steadily swam at his side, preventing Regulus from sinking under once more.

They made it further than he thought.

Another body collided with his. Then another and another. Women, children, and men all bring him down, deeper and further into the dark. Nails were tearing into his flesh, into his skin, burning, burning. A bite on his shoulder and Regulus screamed once more. Bubbles fleeing his mouth, only to be replaced by water.

He tried to breathe and only inhaled more water. His chest burned. In the dim light, he could make out his brother thrashing, Inferi finally managing to catch him as well. Kreacher managed to throw them back. Till he was pulled down so far, he could only see darkness. Pitch black. Not a star in sight.

It hurt.

Everything hurt and he was so cold. Colder than he had ever been before. But at least, he wasn’t thirsty anymore.

Regulus closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Orion’s finger glazed over his watch. The familiar touch of magic rose from it. Pressing down on the diamonds that formed his constellation, contrasting sharply with the metal that swirled between dark blue, purple, and black, an accurate mimic of the night sky, he clicked it open. A glittering field of starlight surrounded the outside edge. Half a dozen constellations and a few symbols crafted by pinpricks of light took the place of numbers. In the center, two constellations, Leo and Canis Major took the place of minute and hour hands, small spheres onto themselves. The former was a shifting background of dark grey, purple, with sparks of white contrasted with Leo. Colors a constant swirl, mimicking his youngest son’s emotions. 

By his best guess, Regulus was an odd mix of anxiety and determination about something. As long as his constellation pointed towards Orion’s, he would wait. 

“Whatever is the matter with Regulus?” Walburga brushed her hair, sitting in her dressing gown. 

“I do not know.” Orion closed the watch once again, noting that Sirius hadn’t moved. The sphere pointed to Dorea’s boy, which Orion admitted in a fit of pique he used Gemini to represent. 

Walburga settled next to him on the bed, attempting to glance at his watch, Orion closed it. Turning to her, an eyebrow raised.

“And the other?”

“Hmm?” Orion tucked the watch in his breast pocket, next to his silken handkerchief. “I do not know what you mean, madame.” 

“My meaning is clear.” Walburga huffed. For a moment, Orion thought she might attempt to snatch the watch for herself. It would not open even if she did. “The other one. How is he?”

“I told you my knowledge of our son. Unless there is-”

“The other is still my child as well as yours.” Walburga’s gaze was trained on the watch. Orion was half tempted to pull it out of his pocket and wave it in front of her face. An acquaintance of his swore that a properly enchanted watch could hypnotize a person. Though he doubted it would have any impact at all on Burgie. 

“Never mind,” Burgie’s lips turned up. 

“Oh,” Orion met her gaze. Her steel eyes sparkled with mischief. A trait that he last saw reflected in his eldest. He could not deny that the watch was a poor substitute for seeing how Sirius was doing in person. Orion had hoped the boy would see sense and come home. Even if Dorea frequently wrote of how he was doing, her letters had lessened recently as she was feeling under the weather. 

“Yes. He must be well if you are unconcerned.” A full self-satisfied smirk covered her face, as she rose, placing her robe next to the chair and climbing into her side of the bed. 

“Burgie,” Orion leaned back against a down pillow, fingers tracing lightly over the face of his watch, considering. “His birthday was a week ago.”

“I am aware,” She paused, a frown marring her face, “and he is not home.” Burgie turned away from him. As if he were to be blamed. He was not the one who fought with the boy to the point he slunk off in the middle of the night like a thief. At the time, he thought Sirius would have a cooler temper and return for Yule. He did not. Though it was his first NEWT level year, perhaps he was studying, and Sirius had never been a great writer of letters. They barely received one from him when he was a first-year. Especially after the debacle that had been his sorting, the boy became even more willful and sullen. Still, he stayed away from that summer as well. Dorea wrote to him immediately, asking what it was Orion wanted to do. Given Walburga’s temperament at the time, he hesitated. It was just one summer. 

“I am not the one who-”

“Do not dare finish that sentence Orion Arcturus!” Walburga launched up, dark hair whirling around her face, eyes glinting with anger. “I know very well what I have done. You swore that you would bring him home. You gave him his full year of freedom to ‘work out his wilderness.’”

“I-” But Burgie was a rant and cut him off. 

“I doubt he even read the letter you had Regulus delivered to him. That stubborn child. He likely thinks he is free to do as he pleases. Are you even aware of the rumors of what he gets up to? Lucretia mentions her nephews and their set. She says he’s the worst of the lot, taking constant risks. I’ve half a mind to fetch him myself and let you lock them both in a tower.”

“The idea has merit.” He could probably manage it if he took control of Manor Noir’s wards. Any of Cyngus’s properties were out entirely. He would not permit either of his children to stay there. Not after what happened during that Yule three years ago. The memory of the watch burning hot, and finding that Regulus’s location was unknown. Only to return, silent and pale. Orion never told Walburga about the brand he found on their youngest’s arm, nor that the magic embedded in it was unlike anything he had ever seen. A cold fury burned in him, waiting for a chance to strike out at the man who dared mark his child. 

“If I can not lure him back by Yule, then you can take the more direct route.” Orion conceded. Burgie was a far better duelist then he was. He doubted Sirius could easily fend off his mother, not if they surprised him. 

“You will use that watch of yours to aid me?” Burgie paused, forming her own plans. His wife had such little faith in him.

“If you swear not to row so tremendously with him. Preferable no shouting or yelling at all. Kindness would make a much better weapon for keeping him.” Orion brushed back one of her curls that had fallen into her face. “Best not to even mention them to him.”

“As long as he refrains from dressing like a,” Burgie paused as if searching for a word that would adequately describe her indignation, “a trollop, I will manage. In turn, you must speak to Regulus in the morning, best to nip this sort of mood in the bud.”

“Very well. Good night, Brugie,” Orion pulled up his blankets, and a hand was hovering over his watch. Knowing it would wake him if anything were to happen.   

“Good night, Orion.” With a snap of her fingers, the bedroom lights turned off. 

Heat, blazing hot, and vibrating. Orion shot awake, pulling the watch out of his breast pocket. Both constellations swirled white, laced with an angry red, and one a horrid pale shade of green. What had his sons decided to do? If he found out the two had managed to get themselves in a duel with the other due to political sentiments, he would be most displeased. He checked their location. Both pointed to the void. 

No.

Lost. Location unknown. Void. 

He could not go through this again. Orion flung the bed covers off and tapped his wand to the watch. After the last time, Orion had revised some of the tracking spells on the pair of them. A drop of blood, a first tooth lost, a strand of hair, a bit of their magic. He would never lose them again. 

A map of the country appeared but lacked the glowing dots that would indicate his children. Unplottable wards. He made a counterclockwise motion with his wand. There, two dots along the seaside. Pinching the edges of the map, Orion tapped his wand, and a model of the location appeared. Too risky to apparate, not if he wanted directly. He would need a broom for the rest of the way. Grabbing his cloak, he stepped out of the rooms and summoned Regulus’s broom. 

With a flick of his wand, his stomach twisted, and he heard the faint call of his name. Perhaps he should have woken Walburga. 

The world compressed. 

He stood on the corner of a muggle seaside town. One he and Lucretia had visited during a more foolish youth. He studied the map once more, not far. Casting disillusionment on himself, he flew. When was the last time he traveled by broomstick?

Regulus’s was much faster than he expected. Orion pushed it to travel further, flying underneath a waning gibbous, enough light to make out the entrance of a cave. Conferring with the map, he shot straight for it. While keeping hold of the broom, he jumped, landing softly in a cave. His heart pounded in his ears. He checked the watch. The brightness of the star of Regulus was fainter. 

He wouldn’t be too late. 

Holding his wand out for light, he found the back of the cave. He could feel the wards radiating from it, strong, but with the feel of something, not even a year old. The magic was not fully settled. Easy to manipulate. He could shatter the whole thing. Just a few well placed runes, but there was likely to be several traps associated with collapsing it. His children were on the other side of those wards.

Casting a glow light, he ran ward diagnostic charms. It would be much easier to convince the wards to let him in or to find a small gap and sneak in. Studying the makeup of the wards, he glanced at the holder stone.

Beyond the layers of intrinsic barriers, the key was the simplest blood ward he had ever seen. Any blood of a wizard or witch would do. His watch burned in his pocket. He didn’t have time to dither, no matter how reluctant he was to let his blood feed into such wards. The stone shone in the light, a dark glint already smeared on it. Orion cut his thumb.

“Padfoot!”

He swirled on his foot, raising his wand to see who it was. Dorea’s son. Beside him, sat a redhead witch. Someone who looked vaguely familiar, but Orion didn’t have time to place them. He wasn’t even sure he was Potter. His watch burned hot in his pocket. They were running out of time. As he pressed his thumb against the rock, the wall vanished. Orion headed into the entrance, followed by Sirius’s friends. Eerie darkness, a faint green from an island in the distance. With a flick of his wand, he cast a powered lumos, tossing the light to pierce through the darkness. 

Where were they?

The black lack was in turmoil. Flashes of white flesh, the water was lapping back and forth, and a pale hand reached for the surface to sink.

Lead sank in his stomach.

“Sirius,” a hand landed on his shoulder, “mate, what’s going on?”

“The lake.” Orion didn’t turn to Sirius’s friend. How was he going to get them out? Diving in after them was foolish. Not when he didn’t know what was beneath the surface. 

“James.” The girl stepped towards the lake and picked up a stone. She tossed it in. A corpus leaped out, directly towards the rock. 

Inferi.

“You’re not Sirius,” the boy let go of his shoulder. 

“No,” Orion drawled. A plan was forming in his mind.

“He’s in the lake,” his face paled, and whispered, “why did he go off without me?” Eyes trained on the lake. The rapid movement was halting, stilling. As if the Inferi were successful in their endeavor. 

“Can the two of you cast mobilicorpus?” They must have dragged Sirius and Regulus into the lake. He couldn’t be too late. What were Inferi weak to?

“Yes.” The girl answered. “But I don’t see them.”

“It’s about intent,” Orion paused. He resisted the urge to check his watch, as it flashed between feeling burning hot and ice cold. He couldn’t think about what that meant. “Focus on Sirius. I’ll grab Regulus.” 

“James!” She raised her wand, nodding at Orion. 

“Now.” Orion was powering the spell nonverbally as he flicked his wand. It felt like pulling a stone buried in mud. He funneled more strength in the spell. Slowly far too slowly, one body rose from the lake, eerily pale in the light, a small creature clinging to it, while the dead held its limb. Sirius. Orion focused, not faltering, he stretched his magic and pulled. A dozen bodies rose, the Inferi clung to Regulus like spiders to their prey, scurrying over him, latching on to him. There were too many.

“Potter, can you grab Regulus?” A spell was coming into mind, but he couldn’t do both. “I’ll manage the Inferi.” 

“Yeah,” another pull, magic wrapping near his own. Orion carefully relinquished his hold.

Focusing his intent, he cast the one spell that might save them and muttered, ‘Protego Diabolica.’ Brilliant blue flames spread out encircling them. The darkness of the water seemed to swallow the light instead of reflecting it. 

“That spell…” Potter glanced at his eyes wide.

“The fire won’t burn them.” 

“Right,” the boy nodded. Orion launched a bout of the flames out from the circle. The cling Inferi disintegrated to ashes. With a synchronized flick of the pair’s wands, his sons were pulled through the ring of flames, to be set down on the cold ground. 

Orion pulled the circle in tight, flames surrounding them, and anchored the spell for a few minutes. Confident that the Inferi wouldn’t make it through. The watch kept oscillating between hot and cold. His sons were too pale, lips and fingertips tinged blue. He stepped towards them.

“Rennervate,” Potter cast on Sirius, who immediately spat out a mouthful of water. Expression dazed. Alive. Despite wanting to study his eldest, Orion focused on Regulus, watching as the girl cast the same spell. 

Nothing happened.

His watch was cold in his pocket.

Orion pulled it out. Fingers were trembling as he clicked the latch. The constellation of Leo was gone.

No.

The watch fell from his fingers, caught by the chain, dangling at his side. Orion sank to his knees next to Regulus. Too still. It had to be a trick. He reached for his hand. Cold, so cold. This wasn’t real. He couldn’t make sense of it. All the effort he put in keeping track of his sons and reassuring himself of their safety, couldn’t lead to this result. The flames around them grew. Ashes floated down.

“Reggie,” Sirius croaked, half-crawling to his brother, grasping the other hand. 

The girl placed two fingers on Regulus’s neck. Then the girl shifted and placed both in the center of his chest. Then she pushed. Over and over again. She paused for a moment. Cursed. Then he titled his head, leaned down and breathed. 

The process repeated.

“What are you doing to Master Regulus?” The small being raised a hand towards the girl. It took Orion far longer than he would like to admit to realize that it was Kreacher.

“Stop, Kreacher.” Sirius’s voice sounded raspy. 

“You were supposed to save him.” The elf turned his attention on his eldest, small fist lightly hitting against Sirius. 

Orion couldn’t focus. 

His gaze pinned on his youngest. Terrified that if he looked away, Regulus would just disappear. The girl stopped again—two fingers on his throat. The barest of movement as his chest rose on his own. Then Regulus started coughing.

“Anapeo.” The girl whispered. 

Orion snatched as his watch. The face still opened. The constellation of Leo was there. The star Regulus flickered faintly. Alive. How? How had she done this? Brought back his youngest from the grasp of death. 

“Thank Merlin,” Sirius whispered before rolling onto his back, staring blankly up.

“Mudblood saved Master Regulus,” Kreacher muttered, eyes watching. 

“CPR,” she nodded to the house-elf, then turned to Potter, “we need to get him to a Healer.” 

“No.” Sirius reached out for his friend, grabbing Potter’s pants. His hand was shaking, and his whole body shivered. This was the first time he had seen him this close in three years. Three years and they met in a cursed cave surrounded by the dead. 

Sirius was right there. 

His prodigal son, all he had to do was reach out. His eyes trailed over his appearance. Pale. Fingertips tinged with blue, clothing torn, half a dozen of half-healed scratches, and bite marks littered his skin. Orion gaze flickered between the two brothers. Regulus almost looked worse. The damp water puddled around them was tinged pink. How much blood had they shed? Fury danced in the back of his mind. Rage that those things had dared to harm both Regulus and Sirius to this extent. His own flesh and blood. Torn and bloodied.

The flames around them danced higher, lashing out.

This fire wouldn’t touch or hurt his children, but it wouldn’t warm them either. Orion cast a warm charm over both of them, unable to take how badly Sirius was shivering. He was so tempted to boil that lake, to incinerate every single Inferi. To hunt down and show real suffering to whoever had laid this trap. 

“Dad?” Sirius’s eyes were dazed, not properly focused. His face tinged an odd mix of green and blue, swaying as he sat up. 

“Sirius.” Orion’s hand curled around his wand, resisting the temptation to reach out for the boy. To pull him closer. His son scooted slightly away from him, eyes wide. 

“We need to take both of you to St. Mungos,” Potter spoke, dissipating a piece of parchment. Then conjured a cloak and bundled his eldest in it. “Inferi are venomous. And apparently, the two of you ingested an ‘unknown potion.’”

Orion stilled. Potions were more of Walburga’s strength than his own. Walburga, who may be asleep, or wide awake and waiting for some word. He checked his watch once more, aware that Sirius was still studying him. The metal no longer felt as hot, just warm. Despite the sickly green that swirled around their constellations, they weren’t in as dire straits. His gaze flickered back to watching Regulus breathe, labored, and stuttering. He wanted to gather both of them up, the way he had when they were children, and take them home.

“Not St. Mungos.” Sirius wheezed, “Ted’s a healer.” He broke out into a cough. It sounded wet and rattling. Orion’s fingers twitched. He should have learned more healing arts when Sirius was born. He should have prevented this from happening. Destroy those who dare harm either of them. Sirius glanced at Orion and hesitated, “he’s Andi’s husband.” Andromeda’s muggleborn husband was a healer, which meant Orion might be able to use family magic to command their aid, in return for protection. 

“Kreacher can get there.” The house-elf muttered. “Outside of wards. Can’t within.” 

“Right.” Sirius hummed, and attempted to rise, only to collapse onto Potter. Who let out a mighty sigh, and pulled Sirius up, carrying him against his side. Orion watched them for a moment, as they shuffled together towards the entrance of the cave. 

Orion turned to handle the fire. On the other side of the flames, dozens of Inferi stood just feet away. Blank eyes stared back at him. They were all twisted in shape, hair matted to such a degree, he couldn’t even tell if they were once a man, woman, or child. Someone had made these abominations. Designed and instructed them, laid them in a trap, just to harm his children. To drown them. 

They should all burn.

Brilliant blue flames danced at his call, lashing out and scouring the Inferi that stood on the banks. It wasn’t enough.

He needed to destroy them all. Boil the lake, scorch the island, tear down every aspect of this place. He would find him. The one who set this. Drown him in his own blood, making him feel every hurt that had been inflicted on his children a thousandfold, wrapped him in nightmares that he would never escape.

“Mr. Black!” Bright light flared, to show a woman in front of him and his flames. The redhead. “Regulus needs your help.” 

His son. Floated in front of him, each breath labored, and so pale. Orion shook his head, pushing back the rage. He needed to help his son. Then he could seek revenge. He placed a hand on his cheek, trying to ground himself. So cold. Orion wrapped his cloak around him, before gathering Regulus in his arms. 

“We need to get out of here.” The redhead reached out and grabbed his sleeve, tugging him forward. Orion caught sight of Sirius just staring at him. He looked as if he would collapse as soon as Dorea’s son let go.

Focus.

He needed to focus on the two of them first.

They stepped out of the chamber. The cold wind lashed around them. A tug on his robes, a moment later, they were gone. 

They stood in the middle of the wood. With only moonlight, he could make out the white paint of a cottage, surrounded by dozens of raised beds with numerous flora. Though it was blurry as if he couldn’t look at it straight on. Potter and Sirius hobbled towards the wooden front door.

“Andi!” Sirius shouted as Potter banged on the door. 

A light flickered on in the house.

“This better be an emergency,” Andromeda, for it must be her, opened the door. He was struck by how similar she and Bellatrix looked, only distinguished by Andromeda having brown hair where Bellatrix’s was raven black. “It’s one in the morning...” She had her wand raised, light shining from it, as she glanced over Sirius. Her expression froze, cold as she caught sight of him, “Uncle.”

“Andromeda.” Orion shifted Regulus in his grip. 

“Is he-” Andromeda inhaled sharply. Her fingers tighten around the wand. She took half a step forward. 

“He needs help.” Sirius swayed, voice hoarse, “And we need secrecy-” 

“Oh, that I can see. I take it that trouble isn’t going to follow you.”

“This wasn’t Death Eaters.”

Andromeda pushed the door open, “I’ll get Ted. You know where the guest room is, and you look like you are about to keel over yourself, cousin.” Andromeda gestured down the hall, “I’m expecting the full story. If this puts my child at risk...”

“It won’t.” Sirius interrupted.

“Then you are welcome here.”

Chapter Text

“They’re out of immediate danger.” The healer, Andromeda’s husband, collapsed onto a nearby chair, face a pale white. Potter and the girl were half ontop of each other in an undignified heap of relief in a transfigured chair. 

His two sons were tucked neatly into bed, their features still far too pale in their slumber. Orion casted his own diagnoses to confirm. For Sirius’s part, only the Inferi Venom would linger, preventing the wounds from being healed in a timely manner. Regulus, on the other hand, still had that unknown potion coursing through his veins along with the venom, on top of having died . Briefly, seconds, precious seconds where his heart had stopped beating and his lungs stopped moving. The healer had cast some breathing assistance charm Orion had never heard of, because Regulus couldn’t breath e well on his own. 

He almost lost him. Both of them. 

Rage pulsed in his chest turning into the cold anger that his family was known for. 

“Uncle Orion,” Andromeda’s voice was firm. Orion sharply glanced at her. Her hands clasped tight around a wand, trembled. Still a scared little girl in the face of her elders, running away from the Family in order to get what she wanted. A trait she shared with Sirius. “Please tell me what happened? Is anyone hunting them?”

“Your wards are paper thin.” Orion supplied instead, something he idly detected from the moment he stepped foot in the little house. Pathetic really, Andromeda should be capable of more powerful warding. In truth, he couldn’t answer her questions. All he knew were the two weren’t leaving his grasp again. The watch clearly hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough warning. He should have prevented this. 

“It’s not like I can back them with Family Magic.” Andromeda snapped. 

Orion raised an eyebrow, perhaps not the quivering girl of his memories. 

“Or the coin to afford better.” She added on, undeterred. 

“I do not recall Relinquishing you.” 

Andromeda blinked, all defiance wiped clean from her face. “I ran away before anyone could cast me out.”

“You are still a Black.” Orion intoned drily, truly as if running away would change that. Only Orion as Lord Black held the power to Cast Out the blemishes to the family name. No other, especially not Cygnus and not Walburga. “Not even your sisters can make that claim.” 

“They Relinquished?” Andromeda sounded surprised.

“They wanted access to the Family Magic of their husbands.” Orion glanced at his children, though half of his attention was on his niece. How had Andromeda forgotten her lessons so quickly? “You did marry your husband correctly?”

“I have a child , uncle.” A faint blush settled across her cheeks. She did need to work on her expressions.

“The proper rituals?” He eyed the Healer, considering. He could see advantages to this marriage now. Before he hadn’t cared enough to do anything about Andromeda’s ‘less than proper behavior’ as Walburga put it. 

“ Of course! ” She flustered, the height of being offended. 

“Very well, Healer-“ Orion directed his attention back to Andromeda’s husband who was watching the two of them with wide eyes and his own face was entirely red. “Do you swear to be a Black in magic as well as name, to share magic as magic is shared with you, abide by the Paterfamilias, and to do no intentional harm to your spouse and your new kin?” 

“What?” The healer looked like a particular strong confundus had hit him. He must be weary from tending his children. Orion couldn’t recall any of his ancestors or kin becoming healers. A truly useful addition to the family, someone who could heal his sons where Orion could not. 

Andromeda looked entirely gobsmacked. 

“I do not have all night. We need to relocate.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Andromeda smiled, as she grabbed her husband's wrist, dragging him towards the door, “please if you could give Ted and I a moment to pack as I explain a few things to him.” 

Orion nodded, shifting his focus back to his sons. Then he flipped his watch open once more, the pale green of sickness swirled around both constellations, along with the faint throb of heat. Still injured, vulnerable. They could not stay here. Not with such weak wards. 

Manor Noire would be the best place for them. The ancient seat of their Family magic, the place held wards that were fed by the nexus on the ley line and entirely keyed to both blood and Family magic. As Lord Black, the isle that Manor Noire resided on would bend to Orion’s will if he desired it. Only those bound by blood and Family magic could enter. Neither Narcissica or Bellatrix would be able to make it through the wards, having willingly left, and he could easily choose to revoke Cygnus’s rights. Cygnus who had failed to protect Regulus in his own home. Orion’s swirled his wand, considering. Was there anyone else in the Family who could pose a threat to his children? All were sworn by blood to never harm a Black. The moment they moved against them, the blood in their veins would boil and death would greet them. 

Sirius shuffled in his sleep, a half pain whimpered rose from his throat. Dorea’s child woke from his doze and moved to sit beside his son, grabbing his hand. Sirius’s face smoothed out. Manor Noire would be safe, but there was no guarantee that Sirius would stay. Not if he were separated from those two. Orion studied the couple as the girl sat besides Sirius as well, gently moving his hair out of his face. 

“I owe you a debt, Lady Potter.” Orion started, a plan already mostly formed. 

“For Regulus?” She stared at him. “Wouldn’t he be the one…”

“As his Paterfamilias, it falls to me.” Honestly, were they even teaching history in Hogwarts anymore? “In exchange, I would welcome you into the family, the both of you.” He nodded at James. 

“Would I have to swear to ‘abide by the paterfamilias’?” The girl quoted.

“Swear you will not harm your new kin and the rest can be waived.” As long as she never harmed Sirius and Regulus, Orion didn’t care about the rest. He scanned the wards again, wand ready in the hidden holster on his arm. 

“Would they be able to harm me?” 

“No,” Potter interrupted, before Orion could speak. “None of the Family can harm each other, because everyone is sworn not to. Sirius told me about it. It’s all blood magic.“ He paused a moment, turning fully to look at Orion. “You mean to take us to the Black Fortress?”

Orion blinked. He wasn’t aware they had a fortress. “Manor Noire. It is well protected.”

“So that’s a yes.” Potter grinned. “Impertiable to all but those with Family magic. Mother actually told me about it. It was part of the reason why she never cared about having control over Potter magic.”

“Your mother is a Black?” The girl swirled back to her husband.

“I thought we mentioned it? She’s from a side branch.” Potter ran a hand through his hair, sticking it up in an even more chaotic mess than before. “Lord Black’s offer of repayment is a good one.” A good one. People had killed to be a Black in the past. His offer was an honor beyond comparison. “And you do not want to have a life debt hanging over your head.” 

“Jim,” She placed her hand over his, both holding onto Sirius’s. “Alright,” She turned to Orion. “We both love Sirius and he’s already part of our family. What do we need to do to make it official?”

She admitted her love so freely, without hesitation. Orion nodded, stepping around the bed to both of them, summoning his official quill. “Hand.” Both of them offered their left hand freely. Orion pierced his pointer finger, before doing the same for both of them, their blood pooling together. He focused on taking a small branch of the Family magic, the warm darkness that always swirled somewhere deep within him, an ancient abyss ready for his call. If he faltered in his handling or ever misused the magic, it would readily consume him whole, adding his own soul and magic into the deep well. But he had never had that worry. His purpose and that of the Magic was one, protection of his family. He fed it into the quill, letting it go as it drew the Family crest on the back of both Potters’ hands.

“Do you swear to never harm your new kin?”

“I swear.” The two spoke in unison. The marking on their hands flared a purple fire before turning black and settling into their skin, into their veins. The magic took more quickly to Potter, who already held the seed from Dorea. Orion merely had to call it to blossom to reach back out towards the main branch. The magic flowed towards the girl, who already bonded herself to Potter once, twirling on that bond. Orion could feel the branch of Family magic wrapping around them, settling possessively into their skin, binding to their cores. A pair of stars added into the darkness of Family Magic. If he ever concentrated he could gain a sense of all the members of the family, could feel their magic pulse and shine, cocooned within the pool of Black. 

“It is done.” The vow settled between them.

“I feel a bit dizzy.” The girl, he should learn her name at some point, leaned into Potter. Her eyes closed a moment later. 

Moving back to Regulus’s side of the bed, Orion sat down besides his youngest son. Carefully, he picked up one hand, placing two fingers to trace his pulse as he watched Regulus slowly breath. Alive. His son was alive. Not fully safe yet, but he would be. By everything in Orion’s power, he would protect his children.

“We’re back,” Andromeda came into the room, holding a slumbering child wrapped up in a blanket, while the healer held two suitcases behind her. “Uncle, this is my child Nymphoradora,” a sensible name, “and my husband, Ted.” What sort of name was Ted? Regardless, Orion didn’t care.

“I am willing to join the Family.” The healer held out his hand. 

Standing, Orion pulled out the quill once more, and pierced his finger and then the healer’s. Focusing on his magic, as he once more cast the binding ritual. 

“Do you swear to…” He repeated the full vow, with Ted repeating the parts in agreement. Once more he pulled on a thread of family magic, letting it wind from his blood to that of the healer. Ignoring the tremor of exhaustion that echoed through him, two binding rituals, no matter how brief, would always take a toll. Taking a moment, he focused on Andromeda’s daughter. Without any competing Family Magic, she was a Black in full. He would ask for blood vows in the morning.

“Keacher,” Orion nudged the house elf, who was curled up beneath the foot of the bed. “Take Andromeda, Nymphadora, and Ted,” the name felt so peculiar, truly a characteristically odd name of a muggle, “to Manor Noire.” 

“Master Regulus?” the house elf muttered, as it rose, old bones creaking. 

“I will see him.” He paused, casting a quick tempus, blinking at the time. It was nearly 3 in the morning. “And do not wake my parents. Wait outside the manor for us.” At one point, Orion had set the wards for his home in London and the manor to ring if anyone entered that wasn’t himself or those who directly reside there, even house elfs.

“Yes, Master.” Keacher nodded, before grabbing the robes of Andromeda and her small family. Disappearing a moment later. 

Orion sat besides Regulus once more, both Potters were still seated on the bed next to Sirius, the girl still asleep. Placing a hand on the mattress, Orion focused on Manor Noire. 

“How are you-“ Potter started.

Darkness engulfed them, gentled and welcoming as space distorted around them, bringing him to his ancestral home. He could feel the wards rise up in welcome as he passed them. 

Safe. His sons would be safe. As soon as he moved them inside the manor. He could feel the wards, the grounds, already strengthening in response to his desire. Preventing anyone else from entering or leaving the isle where the manor resides. 

“Some warning would have been nice.” Potter mumbled, staggering to his feet as he shook his wife’s shoulder. “Come on Lils.”

“How’s Sirius?” She rubbed her eyes. 

“Sleeping like a babe.” Potter snorted, but he was watching Sirius before meeting Orion’s eyes. “What type of transportation was that? Did you turn the bed into a port key?”

Orion merely levitated the bed and headed towards the manor. Andromeda, her child, the healer, and Keacher were clustered together just before the great front doors. 

“Is that our guest bed?” Andromeda stepped in pace behind them. Orion merely raised an eyebrow in response. She rubbed at her eyes. “You know what? I do not mind.”

Raising a hand, the doors flung opened. A rush ran through him as he stepped into the ancestral home. A welcoming embrace, magic thrumming beneath his finger tips, giving him an absolute thrill. The manor always felt alive to him, a pulsing being of pure magic, given strength by the magic of ancestors paving the hallways for greater than two thousand years. 

Home. It whispered to him, picking up on his desires. Safe. Keep heirs safe. 

The entranceway shifted as he worked forward, a set of stairs forming before him. He waved his wand to move the bed in front of him, carefully watching over Regulus and Sirius.

The manor moving rooms around based on needs he didn’t even have to voice, have to focus on. His connection with the building was absolute. Here, he was lord. Paterfamilias, his father having passed the position to him when Regulus first started Hogwarts. In return, he could feel the manor radiate its pleasure to have so many Family coming to stay. He put a foot on the stairs, as they shifted beneath his feet, moving to carry him upwards.

Lucretia. Artucus. Melania. All those in current residence in the manor. 

He wasn’t aware that his sister had decided to visit their parents. Orion couldn’t help but be pleased. He was exhausted and he wanted someone awake to watch over Regulus. The healer clearly was in no condition, he was half leaning on Andromeda, who was attempting to support both her husband and her child. Keacher managed their suitcases behind them. 

“A room, Uncle, please.” As she spoke, a door immediately appeared to her right, just past the stairs. 

“I’ll have someone wake,” he paused, “Ted, if there is a change in Sirius’s or Regulus’s conditions.” Perhaps he could convince the man to be renamed. Ted was not a proper Black name. Walburga could think of one. He paused at the thought of his wife. Shuddered at the thought of the tongue lashing she would give. He would put off facing her till after he had some rest. 

“No need,” the healer yawned, “I’ve set a patient alarm on both of them. It’ll wake me up.” 

“Good night, Uncle.” Andromeda flung open the door, shifted the child and her arms, waved her suitcase through, before dragging her husband through. He let the curt tone go. It was rather late.

A door opened up, growing to accommodate the bed, as he entered. It was the room the boys always took residence in when they were here. An empty bed frame sprouted in place. Long post curled upwards. Orion gently set the bed down, not surprised in the slightest as the whole bed rippled before noticeable changing sheets to a smoother set and the bed itself becoming more plush. 

“I’m staying in the same room as Padfoot.” Potter’s eyes flashed defiance as he stepped in front of Orion. 

“Padfoot?” Orion had never heard that name before.

“Sirius.” Potter corrected hastily. “I meant Sirius.” 

The room stretched, expanding to accommodate another bed next to the one where his sons reside. The comforter turned from pure white fluff to a field of white lilies with a deer and a stag nestled in the center. A pair of matching pillows one adorn with a deer, the other a stag also popped into existence. 

“This is insane.” The girl whispered, swaying where she stood. “Absolutely insane. It’ll make sense in the morning.” She took a step forward, casted off her shoes, managed a decent Scourgify charm and climbed into bed. 

Potter sighed, muttered a spell that turned his clothes into pajamas and likely that of the girls, before sitting down on the bed next to her. He blinked twice, before the tug of exhaustion latched onto him as well. As he fell to the side into the pillow. Orion knew full well that it was the manor’s doing. Radiating a sense of safety, peace and comfort to the new members of the family. He was aware that the moment he sat down, it would likely try to lure him to gain some rest as well. Someone needed to watch over Regulus. To make sure his son was still breathing throughout the night.

Lucretia. He thought at the manor. Is she awake? Sometimes his sister would stay up all night reading. If she were here there was a high chance she had a new book from their library. A moment later the manor shifted once more.

Orion gave in and sat down on the far too soft chair next to Regulus. He casted quick diagnostic charm on both of them. The ailments were the same as before. No change for the worse. He focused on his connection with both the inner wards and outer wards of Manor Noire and the island. No one would be able enter or leave the manor. And only Blacks by Family and Blood could enter the island, all except Cygnus and his wife. It was their fault that Regulus had been branded . Orion had not forgotten that grudge. They would never be allowed on any of the Black lands save the ones that Cygnus directly owned. 

“Orion!” Lucretia’s voice disturbed him. Orion shifted, surprised at the blanket that had sunk into his lab and how the chair had transformed to be an entirely cushioned arm chair, complete with footrest and slanted backrest. “It’s three o’clock in the morning-“ She paused as she glanced around the room and then whispered, “Is that James Potter and his wife? And Sirius-“ her foot steps echoed as she approached him. “What is wrong with Regulus?”

“Could you watch over for him? He might be having trouble breathing.”

“What do you mean trouble breathing? ” Her voice picked up a note, despite her attempt at keeping quite. “Orion, what by Merlin’s name, happened?”

Exhaustion pulled at him, he moved the watch back to his breast pocket, only now realizing that the whole affair had been done while he wore pajamas. He didn’t even bother with a scourgify. Vaguely noticing that the house elf had managed it, before settling himself on the floor beneath Regulus’s side of the bed.

“He should be out of danger.” Orion mumbled as he closed his eyes. “I brought the healer just in case.”

“Is that Potter’s wife?” Lucretia asked and muttered the spell for a health scan. Orion could feel her familiar magic wash over him. Honestly, he asked her to keep on an eye on Regulus, not himself. 

“No. Andromeda’s husband.” He didn’t bother to open his eyes

“Wait. You brought them here as well? How many people did you kidnap, Orion?”

“‘S not kidnapping. They’re family.” 

“Well,” she tapped her foot as the sound of a scroll closed, “you are completely exhausted. I’m amazed you are even moving. I will watch over your children, brother, get some rest.” He heard the sound of her dropping into a chair next to him. “I was reading a book, anyway.” And then he heard her mutter, “should have expected you to kidnap a healer.”

He snorted, as he blindly reached out a hand to once more grasp Regulus’s, to reassure himself that his son was alive. He felt the embrace of Family magic soothing his frayed nerves, whispering safe, safe, safe .     

Chapter Text

“Bella…”

“It is wonderful cousin dear. Truly. Feeling the mark to be so close to him. It is a gift. A gift bestowed on the house of Black.” Bella dragged him out of the house, and Regulus. Regulus had forgotten his wand. It sat beneath his pillow. He hadn’t expected to be called upon in the middle of the night. He still wore his black silk pajamas.

“A future lord of our most noble house would only have an advantage from this connection.” He had heard the speech before, from her, Lucius and the Lestrange brothers. A Black bows before no one. But Bella had. She truly was no longer a Black.

“I would like more time-“

“But our lord wishes to meet with you now and we mustn’t displease him.” With a wild grin, Bella grabbed his arm and the world swirled with a crack.

Bella’s arm looped through his, a farce comadre of willingness, all the while speaking of honor of glory, of the success of their noble house. Only granted by the Dark Lord. 

It seems like it wouldn’t matter what he wanted. Regulus didn’t think he would survive saying no to the Dark Lord. Who by Bella’s account wanted the future lord Black. The Heir. Only they’ve gotten the wrong brother. Regulus was, as he had always been, the spare.

He would take the mark. If only to protect the true heir. Rather him, rather the spare perish, than the gifted wild heir of his house. Even his father was charmed with his eldest son. Three years to do as he pleased. A fact that Sirius wasn’t even aware of with his vehemence of hatred of their family. Sirius had left, abandoned them and still was their parent’s favorite.

“Ah, Heir Black, I looked forward to your acquaintance.”

Bella kicked his knees, Regulus fell forward in a mockery of the deepest bow. 

Regulus glanced up. Blood red eyes peered down at him. A part of him morbidly wondered, if this was what death looked like.

“Are you ready to swear your service?” A cold pale hand wrapped around his left wrist dragging Regulus up with it.

Regulus wanted to scream, to shout his defiance, to do anything but what he did. A Black bows before no one. Was he still even a Black? He wasn't like Sirius, and this was all he could do to protect his brother. The world faded around him, till nothing was left but those crimson eyes and the burning in his left arm.

He wanted to say he knew, knew what that thing was, what he did. 

“You think you could betray me.” The words echoed in his head, a low hiss of a noise. Then he was pushed down.

Falling back.

Only to keep falling as the ground gave out beneath him, a liquid mushed that felt like it was both crushing him and swallowing him whole. A thick compensating darkness that would never let him go, as hands reached out and pulled him down as he grasped for breath.

Regulus woke gasping, feeling like he couldn’t get enough air. Was he still falling? His head spun. Everything was too bright, so bright that he couldn’t see. His chest ached as if he were run over by an Erumpent. Shouldn’t he be dead? His memories were distorted shapes of blood, water, and sinking down. He inhaled, reassuring himself that he could just breathe. Everything hurt far too much for him to be dead. His throat felt scorched.

“Finally, my godson deigns to awake.” A familiar husky dry voice disturbed him. Aunt Lucretia? Regulus blinked a few times. 

“A-” Regulus started coughing, moving to sit up, only to fall back. Nausea rocked his stomach and he couldn’t focus. Lucretia helped him up, and held a goblet in front of him. The clear water swirled for a moment to emerald. He blinked. 

“It’s just water.” Lucretia was looking at him strangely. Wrapping shaking fingers around the goblet, the water slashed as soon as he had a hold of it. The cup nearly fell from his hands, only for his aunt to catch it. 

“Merlin, you’re as weak as a kitten.” But she helped him drink. Regulus tried not to think about the potion, tried to push down the nausea. He was not about to be sick in front of his aunt.

Why was she even here?

Where was he? He focused on the furnishings, unfamiliar, save for the silver silk walls. No portraits or artwork in the room. Tilting his head, he caught sight of Sirius sleeping next to him. A woman with red hair sprawled out sleeping on a chair by the other side of the bed, Evans. Regulus hadn’t seen her since she graduated Hogwarts, though he had heard she married Potter. 

“We’re in Manor Noire.” His aunt set down the goblet on the bedside table. “And I should go wake your healer so that he can assess your current state.” Leaning over, she fluffed his pillows. “But I rather get a word in about your father-”

“Did,” Regulus coughed again, pain flaring in his chest from the pressure, the words coming out more as a whisper,  “something happened?” Was Father injured? How had they been brought here? Had they been found out? He thought the plan was to go back to Sirius’s flat. How on earth had they ended up in Manor Noire of all places? He hadn’t breathed a word to his parents and he doubted Sirius would willingly contact them, or Grandfather for that matter. 

Lucretia eyed him for a moment, expression purely incredulous. 

“To Father,” Regulus weakly added. 

“Your father is physically well.” Her words were measured, calm. It was so unlike his aunt, who loved to chat a mile a minute and whose focus was more on books than anything else. 

Regulus waited.

“You are aware you almost died?” Lucretia’s expression had gone blank. He nodded. “And that your brother almost died?” Regulus winced, and glanced at Sirius. There were white bandages wrapped around his neck and forearm. How had they gotten here? The last thing he remembered was falling. Drowning. Was he drowning still? He blinked, trying to focus back on his aunt. Lucretia calmly watched him. Slowly, he nodded.

“Good.” She pulled out something that looked a little like a muggle cigarette, only it was mint green. “Don’t worry,” she waggled it, “I’ve expressed permission to smoke these. About the only thing the healer will let me smoke anymore. It’ll help you breathe.” She tapped her wand against it, the base lighting, “so before your father returns, I want to make something very clear to you.” She took an even drag and released. The smell of eucalyptus and mint swirled around him. “All of us hold a type of obsession. Mine of course is my library,” Regulus nodded. “What is your father’s?”

“Wards?” Regulus struggled. His head hurt and his thoughts were slow. He recalled Father waking Sirius and him early one morning, holding a glass vial, and requiring blood willingly given for a new type of ward he developed, or found. He couldn’t remember. There was always a neat stack of the books in his study. 

“No.” Lucretia picked up the goblet with her free hand, helping him take a sip. “Try again.”

“I do not know.” Regulus managed, after he swallowed. His chest burned and his head pounded. Even the light felt like it was piercing his skull. Why was Lucretia quizzing him now of all times? What did the Black’s fame madness have anything to do with this? “The watch?”

“Oh!” A soft exclamation. Regulus turned his head. Evans was awake. Wide green eyes watching him, and both hands covering her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Only,” she paused, “my acquaintance, Molly-”

Lucretia smiled, “she had asked me for ideas years ago. Got it to work?”

Evans nodded.

Regulus hadn’t the slightest what they were talking about. His head felt like it was stuff with cotton. He never actually gave his father’s obsession much thought, beyond assuming it was warding. Or his mother’s for that matter. Sirius’s, on the other hand, was as clear as day. Potter. Whose wife was here. In Manor Noire. When only Blacks, those accepted by the Family Magic, could be here. The Manor would reject anyone who wasn’t Family from entering.

What was she doing here? His head ached just thinking about it. Feeling as if he were going into circles. What did any of this have to do with his Father?

“Could you be a darling,” his aunt’s grin was as fierce as a shark, “and explain what it is that her clock does to dear Regulus here?” She took another inhale and exhaled more of that minty smoke. 

“Molly has six kids and wanted a way to keep track of them.” Evans spoke quickly. “The clock has hands signifying each child that points to their location or if they are in danger.” She paused, studying Regulus, “perhaps I should go wake Ted. He’ll want to see to you and you look rather pale.”

Evans stood and particularly fled out of the room.

“Watch?” Regulus asked, coughing slightly. “It’s-”

“A device of his making, but yes, it has a similar function.” Lucretia pursued her lips, tapping out her not-cigarette. The air tasted like mint. “Perhaps this is too much excitement for you.” 

Father checked that watch all of the time. Especially after Sirius left. It didn’t make sense. Though if the watch had shown them at the cave, in danger, then Father knew. 

“Father’s upset?” Regulus managed between pants, attempting to sit up. 

“Your father does care about you.” Lucretia nudged him back down. “Just don’t go pulling anymore reckless stunts-” Regulus gave her a look. He wasn’t the one who was known for his recklessness. “-and I know it was you and not your brother for once, and perhaps,” she glanced around the room, “just stay where he’s put you and everything will sort itself out.” 

“Where-” Another coughing fit, and his chest hurt. Where was Father? And why was Evans here? None of it made any sense. A part of him wondered if he was still drowning somewhere in a dark cave, hoping that Sirius would save himself and this was all a peculiar dream. One last reassurance before everything faded away.

“Regulus,” Aunt Lucretia put a hand on his shoulder, he flinched back, “rest.”

“I don’t-“ He struggled, letting himself rest back against the fluffed up pillows. He didn’t understand. How does this have anything to do with anything? Was Father upset? 

“Reg?” A voice muttered to his right. Sirius shuffled in the bed next to him, letting out a small groan. Then Sirius launched up, swirling on Regulus, half falling into a hug as his brother’s arms wrapped around him. Regulus had missed this. Missed Sirius fierce hugs, once that surrounded him and made him feel like he was important to someone. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” Sirius pulled away, slightly, still half clingy onto Regulus but his face was no longer buried into his shoulder. “You weren’t breathing. I’ve never felt so panic in my life. And Dad’s face-”

“Wait.” Lucretia held up a hand, stopping Sirius’s babbling, “Orion was there. When whatever it was took place. He saw both of you severely injured?”

Sirius nodded, half out of habit. Before he blinked several times, “Aunt Lucretia? What are you- wait. Reg. Where are we?”

“Where do you think you are after nearly dying? In. Front. Of. Your. Father.” She spoke the last few words entirely clipped. “At least tell me this whole mess wasn’t some risky endeavor the two of you decided to take part in as some brotherly adventure.”

Regulus couldn’t help but winced. This whole mess was his fault. Clearly, Father was upset. 

“It was a necessary risk.” Sirius defended, pulling Regulus closer to him. The mere movement made his whole body twinged, every part of him aching. He gave up on even trying to assert his decision. If Sirius wanted to help him with this, Regulus was too exhausted to do anything but let him.

“Oh Merlin,” Lucretia placed her mint cigarette in an crystal ashtray, and ran a hand through her hair, which was messier than Regulus had ever seen it before, “We’ve been trying for so long to reign this in and you’ve utterly destroyed our efforts.”

What?

“What?” Sirius voiced.

“Orion’s overprotectiveness.” She sighed, “You must have noticed that he is worse than a brooding dragon?” 

Regulus blinked. Overprotective? What his aunt was saying didn't make any sense. He had never noticed anything of the sort, and he always considered himself the more observant than Sirius. His brother definitely wouldn’t have a clue. This had to be some peculiar sort of dream. Though he never had such a pounding headache, and felt like something stomped on his chest in a dream before. Maybe he was still drowning. 

 This had to be a dream.

A dream where his father actually cared about both of his sons. Regulus leaned back against Sirius, and closed his eyes. Ignoring the way Sirius was sputtering at their aunt. He would bask in the warmth of this illusion, just a little while longer.  

Chapter Text

Going to the Potters hadn’t been what Orion had expected. First there was the kitten, which at a couple of months old had outsmarted his wizard owner more times than Orion had expected. It ended with an appearance from Dorea and a saucer full of tea. Orion had heard that she had just recovered from a recent bout of dragon pox. Her face was still pale and she still held the features of their family, though her grey eyes were a closer shade of blue than silver and still as keen as ever.

“What happened to Sirius?” Dorea rapidly glanced between Orion and James. 

“We’re going into hiding apparently,” James grumbled picking up the cat. “I’m not permitted to make contact with the outside world. But you’ll let Mum come won’t you?” James turned to Orion. “She’s a Black.”

Orion raised an eyebrow at the boy, but nodded anyway.

“Ah. That dire?” She finished the last of her tea. “Give me a moment to gather my things, and I’ll be ready to join you.” She turned on her foot and vanished.

“You allow apparitions from within your home?”

“Sirius helped us work it out. It’s just the family.” James started raiding the kitchen, holding a squirming cat in one hand. Purple wrapped chocolates were stuffed in bag, the words Cadbury written across the front. 

Orion felt odd hearing those words, learning some aspect of Sirius’s life that he hadn’t been privy to. It didn’t matter. Sirius was home now. Safe in Manor Noire, at their most ancestral home, the seat of their power. Sirius wouldn’t leave either, not with his friend and his friend’s mother residing in Manor Noire as well. His son would want for nothing, while recovering.

“What type of teas do you have in the Fortress? Lily is a bit picky. Though I just grabbed her favorite chocolate so it should be fine.” James continued to prattle on to himself as he packed away a few favored treats.

“What are Sirius’s favorite sweets?” Were they the same as when he was a child? Both of his sons had a peculiar love of ice mice and frozen treats. Had it changed in the time he hadn’t seen his son?

“These.” James held up a box labeled as dog biscuits and started to snicker before dropping them into the bag. “Definitely those.” 

 Orion raised an eyebrow. He would just have the house elves make the two fresh strawberry ice cream. He had hesitated on letting James come back to pack a few things, but knew that Dorea would likely wish to reside in Manor Noire when Orion locked the wards.

“I’ve returned.” Dorea held a small handbag. “Are stopping any where else or headed straight to the Manor?” 

“Grimmauld.” The true purpose of his venture out of Manor Noire. He couldn’t let a threat to his children lie. Orion grabbed James’s elbow, and offered a hand to Dorea. At contact, he whisked the two of them away. Family magic registered the wards as belonging to the Blacks now. He would worry about the mix of Potter and Black family magic later. 

“Well, I see you let Sirius decorate.” Dorea sat down on the bed, taking in the room that they had left untouched since Sirius had left. Posters of half nude muggle girls and charmed motorcycles flying on a poster took up one entire wall. Even a picture had managed to find its way to the ceiling. The echoes of Walburga’s shriek when she first saw the new decorations still resounded in his head. 

“He managed a sticking charm that Walburga couldn’t remove.” Orion shrugged.

“Why didn’t you remove them?” Dorea pulled at the edge of the poster closest to the bed. He knew what she meant. If he wanted something changed Grimuald would comply. 

“It made Sirius happy.” Orion kept his face straight. “Or perhaps annoying his mother did.” 

“Wait,” James placed the cat down on the bed, giving up on trying to maintain his hold. “You could remove this the entire time?” 

“It’s my house.”

“He’s the master of the house.” Dorea explained at the same time.

“Gather what items you think Sirius might want.” Orion turned, locking the door behind him. Now what had Regulus been up? Orion had gone through some of Regulus’s school work and knew his child kept meticulous notes. Whatever mess they got into, whatever trap that had been set for them, there should be some clue.

Placing a hand on the hallway, he pulled at the magic of Grimmauld place. This house could hold no secrets from him. 

Find what Regulus hid. The intent of his magic pulse through the walls, echoed within the furniture, crawled beneath floorboards and ceiling tiles. Even reaching to his shed that he kept locked. Finally, he felt a returning pulse from the floor beneath Regulus’s bed. A hidden compartment. No other locations rang out. 

Orion merely opened the door across the hall. 

The room was immaculate as Regulus always kept it. Waving a hand, the bed moved into the wall, combining once more with the magic of the house. Kneeling, he placed both hands on the floor board, focusing on the magic of the house. The wood vanished, and two boxes rose from within. 

Opening one, he found Regulus’s old art supplies. Tubes of paint half used, a dozen paintbrushes flecked with gold of the finest bristles. His fingers traced over the canvas buried beneath a palate. Glancing up at the wall, Orion let himself appreciate his son’s skill. The symbol of their house was done with a perfection that all others lack. 

Closing the box, he tapped it once with a finger, willing it to shrink down and neatly tucked it into a pocket, next to an old guitar.

The other box radiated a blood ward, with another ward of intent wrapped neatly around it. Ah. That’s why Regulus had borrowed some of his old ward books.

Orion shook his head. If he had just asked, Orion would have helped. Had Regulus ever asked him for help? 

Placing a hand over the box, he could feel the strength of the ward, sensing the intrancies of what manner of intent it wished to pass. Not specific, such as no harm or non magical, but  a complex array that would sense the opener’s own emotion and decide if it met preset circumstances. 

Orion smiled. Clever.

Regulus had worked hard on this set of protections. Orion should oblige him. With a prick on his finger, he let a drop of blood fall onto the lock. All the while letting the wrath he held back flood through. He would find the one who did this to his sons and destroy them piece by piece. 

The box opened.

“Wha-Orion!” 

A vase flew past his face, shattering against the wall in front of him. 

“I never did like that vase.” Orion drily commented as he pulled out a leather bound journal, ignoring the shards of broken glass that fell to the floor in a neat circle around him. By the magic of Walburga’s vow and the magic of the house, no physical harm could touch him. 

“He’s dead!” Walburga shrieked, another vase smashed into the wall. It shattered in the same spot as before. “Dead!” A third vase, she must have summoned it. 

Still the words resonated in his head bringing forth the fear that not even a calming draft could smooth, he flicked the watch open. Both constellations pointed to Manor Noire. A flicker of a swirl of green against black glowed behind Leo, Regulus must have fallen asleep again. Canis Major shone brightly against a background of light green and flickers of grey. Sirius was awake.

“And that brother of his, runaway, never to return.” A heaving breath and shrieked, “I am childless , Orion.”

Gently closing the watch, he tucked it neatly into his pocket. First he needed to know the why. Picking up the leather notebook from the box, he let the taste of whatever enchantment Regulus wrought on it lick at his fingers. The first page was a mix of symbols that Orion had never seen before. The swirls and flicks were stylelistic of Regulus’s handwriting. Ah. He made his own code. 

How had he let this house hold secrets from him for so long? Was he too content to monitor his children just through the watch? Closing his eyes, he pulled on the magic of the house. The symbol shifted to nonsensical letters. 

“Orion, are you listening?” Heels clicked against the floor. “Regulus Atticus Black is dead ! The tree showed his death date as today. ” Frantic hands gripped his shoulder as Walburga fell to the floor next to him. She shook at him. “Our son is dead. ” 

Orion snapped the journal closed. 

“Give it.” She reached out for his pocket, “Give me that useless bit of silver. That watch-“

Orion caught her wrist, placing enough pressure as a warning that wouldn't bruise. “Madame.” He met her eyes and waited, not looking away. “You tell me that he is dead ,” the memory of just that night of Regulus not breathing was still too vivid in his mind. Crystalline ices spreaded out from him, and the desire to freeze, to burn everything that had harmed Regulus, had put him in such a state. The house responded in turn spirals of frost ran along the walls, the air turned crisp. “But did you see it!? Did you see him lying on the ground, face far too pale, not breathing ?”

“Orion-“

“Did you see the dead reach out to drag him beneath? To tear into his flesh?” He released her, half pushing her away. 

“Stop!” Walburga placed both hands around her ears and sobbed, half curled on the ground. Loud gasping sobs as the tears fell from her face, crystallizing into ice. Chiming against the ground, orbs of ice rolling in the shards of broken glass. 

All Orion could feel was the ice cold rage consumed his body, tunneling family magic, mixing it with the magic of Grimmauld place. 

“Regulus died .” Orion forced himself to admit that awful truth, rising to stand. The image of Regulus so still, unmoving, skin tinged an eerie blue. How dare Walburga speak of Regulus’s death when she hadn’t been there. He could do it. Destroy the one who set those Inferi on his children, to take everything they held dear, everything they ever wanted and crush it before their eyes. For them to feel the agony that he felt when Regulus was not breathing. 

“His heart stopped beating. And why is that?” He held up Regulus’s journal. “Who would steal a son from us, would treat our children like fodder for their revolutions?” 

“My child,” Walburga wept and reached up, a hand clenching at his sleeve, “Why? Why did this happen ?”

Orion’s free hand clenched tight. “You can not mean that you are wholly ignorant. This is what your words have wrought.”

“I-“ She finally looked up at him, then at the newspaper clippings on the wall. “I didn’t know. ” Ice crept along the walls, coating the clippings into a crisp sheet. Turning colder and colder, till a wave of magic completely disintegrates them. The dust absorbed into the floor.

“That fiend marked him. I will tear that thing apart, piece by piece, agony after agony.” 

“Then you will die too. A grave right next to Regulus’s.” She collapsed entirely against the floor, lost to her wailing. Silence stretched between them. Something of her despair finally quenched the low steaming anger that Orion held for Walburga’s actions.

“Regulus is alive,” he softened his tone and pulled out a vial of pilfered calming potion.

“Alive?” Trembling hands reached out for the bottle, shaking as she uncorked it. After draining the bottle, she took one shuddering breath and wiped her eyes. “How? Do you speak true, Orion? He’s alive?”

“Would I lie about such a thing?” He drained his own vial, the third one this morning. The frost receded from the room, and his magic slowly sank back beneath the surface. At least, Dorea’s batch was more potent that what he found from raiding his father’s supplies. 

“Is he-“ she grasped at his sleeve, “Did you take him to Ravensmoor?” 

Orion shook his head, “We have a healer in the family now.”

“A new technique?” Walburga picked herself up from the ground, once more composed despite the red that rimmed her eyes. 

“One that made his heart beat again and forced air into his lungs.” Orion paused, “he isn’t fully recovered yet.” Gently placing the journal back into the box, he picked the last of his son’s secrets from his room. Would Regulus tell him what he had done? He wanted to return. To see that Regulus was breathing still.

“Did you wish to see him?” He offered a hand out to her.

“Yes-“ Walburga paused, her hand hovering over his. Their eyes met for a moment. “He is recovering?”

Orion pulled out the pocket watch. Leo and Canis Major lit by a dark background, still touched by that sickly green, but resting once more. What twisted trap had captured them? Tracing a finger across the constellations, he tried to think of something that would prevent this in the future. He needed to stop this from happening again.

“As well as can be expected.” Clicking the watch closed, he tucked it back into his chest pocket. “They both are.”

“The other one?” Walburga raised one eyebrow. Orion nodded. “You’ve locked them both up in a tower then.” A tentative smile crept across Walburga’s face.

“Everyone will think Regulus is dead,” Walburga tapped her chin, grey eyes lit with some new scheme. “Druella fire called after I saw the tree in the parlor. His death date. I was a bit beside myself at the time. Orion,” she clasped her hand in his, her eyes darted to the box Orion was holding. “We both can’t go after vengeance. You are strongest at Manor Noire. And I am the better dueler out of the two of us.”

“You can decipher Regulus’s notes.”

“Who do you think taught him cypher? We have the first set of mirrors that…” She paused, her eyes glinted, “that Sirius made. With your additional wards, we can use them to communicate. I doubt I’ll need aid. Let me see it.”

Orion handed the journal over to Walburga, glancing over her shoulder as she opened it. With a flick of her wand, the nonsensical arrangement of letters shifted. His eyes skimmed until he saw a name jump out at him. Orion read the section right before.

The Dark Lord couldn’t have been named Voldemort, nor does he even act like a French man. 

He thinks he’s clever. Going further than anyone had before in the search of immortality. Yet he doesn’t even touch the simple option of vampirism. It isn’t immortality that he seeks, no… Flight of Death. He must be afraid of dying. Everyone knows that the cost of vampirism is the mortal existence and mortal magic. To take the bite is to die and be reborn.

What is his true name? Abraxas Malfoy must know. Lucius mentioned that his father was an old friend of the Dark Lord and they had sheltered him upon his return to England.

After searching the school journals, I found that there is only one possibility. An unconnected Slytherin who shared Abraxas’s year. He would have been at school at the same time as Mother and Father. I dare not ask them.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The words rearrange themselves, transforming into I am Lord Voldemort.

Did he think no one would notice? That no one would realize the truth of Voldemort. I am amazed that Bella would bow before him, not with how ferociously she despises even half bloods. All the noble scions kow-towing before a half-blood Slytherin. Did they forget that their families pre-date the founder’s, of whom only Grynfindor held noble blood? 

I shall maintain my silence for now. Perhaps no one else cares about the Dark Lord’s secrets.

“Look for why he fell for the trap,” Orion tapped Walburga’s shoulder. Her hands clenched tighter against the journal. She had been closer to Riddle’s circle than Orion had ever been. Three years younger than the other, Orion had no interest in the politicking of the house of Slytherin, no need to even attempt to climb the ladder. At the time, his only interests were in Ancient Runes and Astronomy. 

Madness. The Dark Lord does not offer some renaissance of darker arts, of understanding the nature of magic. No.  The writing here was shaky, not the clear cursive loops of before. I can still hear Barty screaming. I don’t even know why he was punished. Hesitating? At the end of it, Barty thanked him.

With all the hints he’s given and by his own actions, it is clear what path he has chosen. Did he never go further into reading the journal of Herpo the Foul, or perhaps he never bothered to read the original Greek? Surprising, since the book was found in Malfoy’s study. To make a horcrux is to achieve a fate worse than death. 

Even Herpo failed prey to his own madness in the end.

To split a soul.

Walburga flipped forward, jumping over the information about horcruxes. They both were well aware of what such things were. Ravensmoor’s collection was second to none. 

I can not do this anymore. I can not stand idly by. Not after what happened to Keacher. Why did I let Bellatrix push me into volunteering? I saw the Dark Lord hand something to her after the meeting. Never knew that Bellatrix fancied golden goblets. Still she seemed delight, unheeding of the blood that covered her face nor the-

I can’t think of it. Of the battle that night.

I wish I had never gone. That I was never marked. That this had never happened to Keacher. Most of all, I wish that Sirius had stayed. At least Keacher had survived, though he has yet to speak.

 

I know the location. I have discovered his secret. I know this may be my last entry. I face death in the hope that it can be destroyed. That Tom Marvolo Riddle will once more be mortal and his reign of madness will end.  

R. A. B.

“It’s not just one.” Walburga closed the book, shaking her head. “Riddle was obsessed with the number seven. It was all he would speak about in arithmancy.”

“Do you think he’s managed to accomplish such a thing? Six horcruxes?” No Black had ever created such a thing, even those who researched the darker arts like Cassiopeia. It went against their blood vows. To swear never to harm a Black by blood and by magic included themselves. The only ones who hadn’t sworn such a vow were his children.

Something to think about. 

“That cup was likely one of them,” Walburga pointed to the passage. “Bellatrix would stash such a thing in her vault.”

“Lady Black has the right to inventory all Black Vaults, I can write a letter of permission.” Orion caught on to her intent. He could let Walburga handle her old year mate. His fingers traced over the watch in his pocket. He wanted to go back to Manor Noire, to see Regulus in person, to watch his son just breath, to know that he was alive, that Sirius was alive.

“Go, Orion,” closing the book, she clasped his hand, “I will enact our vengeance against those who dare to harm the Black heirs. Return to your sons, to Manor Noire.”

“I will raise the wards. Any Black who wishes to enter can manage to land near the property and I will let them in depending on their values.”

“Anyone who is not Cygnus, is what you mean.”

“Is he a Black? He’s more Rosier than anything else, marrying while still in school. Pollux never taught him the family secrets.” Orion offered Walburga the box the journal had been found in. There were a few scatter notes of Regulus and one relevant book. “Perhaps ask Cassiopea for her opinion. She might have something that is more fine-tuned to find such things from her research. Let me know if she doesn’t wish to share.”

“I will.” 

“A happy hunt, madame.” Orion focused, a moment later a pair of mirrors appeared in his hands. He offered one to Walburga. 

“Guard our domain well,” Walburga brushed a kiss against his cheek, as she took her mirror. She paused for a moment at the threshold, “Tell Regulus...Oh, never mind. I will see both of them once I return successful.” With that she turned and left the room, Orion listened as her footsteps echoed against the stairs.

It was time he returned to his sons.

With that he crossed the hallway, opening up the door to Sirius’s room, where he left Dorea and her son. He blinked at the sight. Sirius’s school trunk, which once was neatly packed away, was opened with clothes, papers, and random objects, there really wasn’t a better word for it than that, strewn about. James was holding his cat that was clinging on to one of the swimsuit model posters, neatly ripping it down the middle. For some reason, the boy was covered in glitter. Dorea had found the old arm chair Sirius had taken and was reading a book, seemingly oblivious to the chaos that had exploded in the room. 

“How was Burgie?” Dorea asked, turning the page in her book.

“She’ll be dealing with matters.” Orion did not comment on the mess to James. “Are you ready to depart?”

“Oh man, are we?” Potter grinned, glitter dusting his nose and somehow making the mop of hair even more of a dazzling mess. “I forgot that Sirius had stashed some of these pranks.”

As long as it made Sirius happy, Orion could manage.

Chapter Text

“And he’s out.” Lucretia shook her head, blowing out a puff of mint smoke. Sirius wondered if it impacted her thought process too. There’s no way what she said was true. “Just when the healer arrived too.”

“Sirius! You’re awake.” Ted bustled over, a healer’s bag slung across his shoulders.

“Barely,” Sirius mumbled half dazed with the pain as he kept his voice low as he shifted Regulus, who still made those near inaudible weasels-like snores. When was the last time he heard them?

“Any pain?” Ted sat down next to them, pulling out potion after potion onto the side table. 

“You’re kidding, right? Every inch of me aches.” If it wasn’t for the constant throbbing pain, and the blistering headache, he would think all of this was a half-mad dream. One derived from too much fire whisky and thinking too much about his family. Instead, he was here. In a place, he swore he would never return. A family he thought would rather toss him in a dump than drag him back. 

“That’s what happens when you raid a nest of Inferii.” Ted half grimaced as he checked Sirius's bandages. “Their bites are difficult to treat and you’ve overextended your core as well.”

“Well, give me a potion and patch me up.” Sirius was half willing to drink anything if it would stop the blasted hammering in his head. He could take the persistent pain that flared from various parts of him worse than that time he was hit by a muggle bullet. 

“It’s not that easy, Sirius.”

“Of course,” Sirius whined. 

“Inferi bites can’t be healed with magic. Something in what makes them corrodes at every potion or spell attempt.” Ted started rambling as he uncorked one suspiciously green bottle. “This can help alleviate the pain-”

“Great!” Sirius started to chug the whole thing, trying not to think about the color.

“-but it tends to knock people out instantly…”

“Ah.” As the pain receded, his eyes weighed heavy and he felt gentle hands pushed him back to laying on the pillows. 

“Oh good. I can go back to my book now.” Lucretia’s voice sounded distant as Sirius lost the battle to keep his eyes open.

Sirius dreamed.

Hot. Everything was too hot.

“Izzit done, yet?” A gruff voice echoed around him feeling in the black void. His body moved without his control, rolling from one way to another, skewing his sense of what was up and what was done. Frantically, he tried to open his eyes. 

He couldn’t.

“Not yet.” An eerily high voice responded.

Move. He thought. He could get out of this. His body refused to budge. Something pressed against his chest, holding him down, or holding him up. Move. He tried again. Tried to open his eyes but it felt like they were pasted shut. He attempted to open his mouth to call out. But he couldn’t make a sound. He was petrified. Dread settled like a stone in his stomach. He could feel it burn him from the inside out. 

“I don’t wanna wait.” The gruff voice sounded closer. As if someone was looming over him. The world kept spinning around him, black swirling on black. The fire grew hotter like flames licking up against his skin.

“Just a bite.” 

Something pressed down on his shoulder. Sharp points stabbed through him. A thunk thundered through him, followed by lightening fast pain. He tried to open his mouth. To scream, to call for help, to cast a spell. Nothing. A horrible tearing noise followed. Smack . Squelch. 

“Tasty.”

“Fine.” The eerie voice crept closer. 

Pain laced through his body. Radiating from his half, his shoulder, his side, tearing along his arms. 

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t even scream. 

His eyes snapped open. His heart thundered. His stomach turned, rolling and rolling. The dim room spun. The flickers of lights on the ceiling danced and flickered, becoming a vortex. Sirius rolled over. Falling, falling, still he hit the floor. Pain racked through him as his stomach rebelled. 

A hand rubbed against his back. Someone whispered, “Scougify” and the mess vanished. 

Sirius didn’t have time to try and figure out who as he rolled to his side, bracing himself against the pulse of pain. The location was the same as the dream. Had something really…? His stomach rebelled again. Sirius rolled, arms shaking as he heaved. Nothing came out. Hands supported him, holding him up. The pain brought tears to his eyes as he panted for breath. He tried to focus. Still too dim to see. At least, he was no longer as nauseated as before. He shivered, all of a sudden cold. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball. But his bladder had made itself known.

“Prongs,” he rasped. Who else could it be? James was the only one Sirius ever remembered helping him out after too rough of a night. “Help me to the loo.” 

A hand went under his leg, and Sirius whacked it away. “Don’t carry me. Can walk just fine.”

A snort was his only response. The world spun. He closed his eyes letting the other half drag and half carry him to the privy. His calf throbbed, till the pain raced along his entire leg. Too tight and sharp, with the sense that if he moved it a little more something would break. As the door opened, light nearly blinded him. He squinted against it and pushed the other away with a ‘can manage’. Luckily there was a wall he could lean against as he managed his business. 

Leaning against the sink, he splashed water on his face. Cold. Freezing almost, but at the same time, it was nice. He swayed. Pain radiated from too many places. His legs protesting supporting him, giving way. He stumbled backward, only to land on a chair. 

Weird. When did Prongs get a chair? Maybe Lily wanted it for a vanity? Something seemed off. He blinked blearily at his image in the mirror, trying to focus. What had happened last night? Were they drinking fire whiskey again…

No. 

Sirius finally focused on his reflection. His perfect completion was pale. Bandages peeked out under silver silk pajamas. He pulled his sleeve down, looking at his shoulder. The same place from the dream…

The flood of events came back to him. 

Sirius snapped his closed. Ignoring the pain and lingering dizziness, he needed to think. He was in Manor Noire. A place he swore never to return. 

He caved the moment he saw the look in Regulus’s eyes. He thought he understood his brother. The little idiot was swept up by all their family’s beliefs, wanting to make their parents proud. He knew this was war, had seen others die, but… With James at his side, he felt invincible as if nothing could touch them. Proud that he could incapacitate. He was convinced he was on the right path, that they would succeed in the lash of good versus evil. Black versus White. Sirius thought he was prepared to face a brother-turned-death eater. A family that would loathe him and spit in his face for the disgrace he had become. He hadn’t wanted to think of what would happen when he encountered Regulus, had carefully not thought about the disguises the Death Eaters wore. He didn’t want to wonder if one of them was his brother. He knew some of the Order members were all for lethal means. 

He had entertained several different scenarios for what he would do when he encountered Regulus. None of them had come close to what happened. He thought he was prepared to face his family again but…

He couldn’t let his little brother die.

Images of all the instances where Reggie would cry at his door for comfort, for all the bad dreams he had as a child flooded him. The look in his brother’s eyes and the knowledge that he came to say goodbye. How could he let him go? Perhaps it was a noble thing, to sacrifice himself for landing a blow against Voldemort. How could Sirius let that stand? How could he let his brother go like that? 

“Sirius?” Knuckles rasped against the door. A far too familiar voice and one that cement that he really had to deal with his family again.

The door crept open.

“Da?” Sirius mumbled. His head swam as he tried to capture his train of thought once more. “How’d you find us?”

“I have always known where you were.” Orion placed a hand on Sirius’s forehead. “Hm…a rather high fever. Back to bed.” 

Before Sirius could protest he was helped to the bed, blankets tucked around him, with pillows fluff to support him sitting up. His father sat on the bed beside him, shuffling through potion vials on the nightstand. “Here’s the fever reducer. Are you still feeling nauseous or in pain?” 

“Wait, what?”

“You are ill, Sirius.” Orion offered a crystal vial with a glinting silver liquid.

“No,” Sirius pushed the vial away, his fever minded latching onto what his father had just said. “What do you mean?” 

“About what?” Orion uncorked the vial and handed it back to his son. “The matter can be resolved later. Now take your potions or do I need to call our healer to have them spelled into your stomach like we did for Regulus.” 

“I just don’t get it.” Sirius sighed, his head pounding. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he would have thought that this too was a dream. His hands shook as he took the vial, tipped it back, and drained it.

“Here’s the pain reducer.” Orion offered another one, that pale shade of green sent a shudder against Sirius’s spine. “What do you not get?”

“Why’d you care so much?” Sirius slurred, forcing himself not to wince as he took the next potion. His mind swirling around the edges. The image of his father standing above him surrounded by flames and Regulus not breathing flashed in his mind. His brother deserving his father’s attention made sense but…

“I have always cared.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

Nymphadora, or Dora as her parents called her, woke up far too warm. Stretching, she smacked someone. Cracking an eye open, she saw her parents on either side of her. Her father mumbled as he turned over. Her mother snored next to her ear. It sounded the same as the roar of the lion in her dream. 

Sitting up, she looked around the room. What? She blinked. The artwork along the wallpaper was moving as if the whole wall was a black and white Telly. A forest scene surrounded them, and moving amongst the trees was a kitten! Dora rolled over her father, who snored in response and clambered off the bed. The kitten stared directly at her. Then a black and white butterfly fluttered on the wall, and the kitten was off.

Delighted, Dora followed, reaching out as if to catch the black and white kitten. Only for it to dash along the corner and pause at the door. The butterfly fluttered from the wallpaper to a wooden outline on the door. The door swung open as if pushed by the flaps of butterfly wings, and the kitten leaped. Disappearing from the wallpaper and reappearing on the wallpaper just past the door. 

Dora dashed after it. The kitten darted past paintings of sleeping people in stuffy clothes. The butterfly flitted around the portraits, even through some of the paintings.

“Wait up,” Dora called out, her nose unconsciously changing to that of the kitten’s, even with whiskers. Following the kitten’s twists and turns through so many hallways and passageways, she was barely aware of them.

Only for the hallway to come to a dead end, the kitten batting the butterfly from one of those stuffy lady’s laps.

Drawn, Dora reached out.

“Rather rude.” A cankerous voice echoed out.

Dora jumped backward.

“Ow.” She rubbed her back. She had somehow managed to end up with her butt on the floor with one of her socks missing.

“Back in my day, children showed respect, not running around with a cursed cat nose on their face.” The woman wagged a wrinkled finger at her.

“Oh, no-s.” Dora covered her face. She had done it again. Normal nose, Dora started the internal chant, normal nose.

“See.” She pointed at her face. “Normal nose.” Mother was going to be furious with her. “And you better not tell on me.”

The cranky old lady gapped at her.

Maybe she didn’t understand.

“See. Normal, not a thing odd about me.”

The portrait cackled, tossing her head back and letting out the loudest laugh Dora had ever heard, discomforted the kitten leaped from her lap, darting further into the meadow within the portrait.

“Oh, dear sweet child.” The lady peered at her, face morphing as she approached the portrait’s edge. “I suppose cat does give a certain look, eh.”

It was hard to tell with all the wrinkles…But Dora could make out the whiskers.

“You’re odd too!” Dora pointed, grinning as the kitten’s nose returned.

“That’s one way to put it.” The words sounded dry, like leaves crunching beneath her feet. “The proper term is metamorphmagus.”

“I’m not a Meta, whatever. My name is Nymph-a-Dora.” She slowly drawled out the word so the portrait could understand. It was, after all, just a picture, so that it couldn’t be very smart.

“At least that is a proper name; now, say it with me, Meta morph magus.”

“I don’t wanna.” Dora folded her arms. “I prefer odd.”

“Stubborn as one of us too.” The woman shook her head. “How much control do you have?”

“Mama said if I change too much, my face will get stuck.” She covered her nose again, eyeing the portrait. “I don’t want a pig nose.”

 “Ah, but you haven’t tried yet, now, have you? Child, what say you to a small competition? It’s been so long since I’ve last had the chance.”

“Is it a game?”

“Yes, the oldest game.” The lady explained some rules for morphing their faces into various animals that could defeat the others. It sounded wickedly fun.

“Fine, as long as I don’t get in trouble.”

“I’ll see to it and even let you start.”

They play, shifting from mouse to cat to lion to elephant. Dora flapped the wide elephant ears, arguing that an elephant would win against a lion. While stretching her arms out to help emphasize the size, her stomach let out a rumble as loud as a lion.

“Ah, yes. Growing wixen, I imagine you are rather hungry.” She nudged the black and white kitten from her lap. “Estelle, escort the young lady to the Solar.”

The kitten leaped straight from the portrait to the wall. Dora glanced between the kitten and the picture, the elephant’s ears flapping with her head.

“Hmm. Best to return your features…” she tapped her chin, “though Melanie will be quite amused if….” The lady leaned forward and whispered a suggestion.

Dora giggled.

As she made her way through a winding corridor, not once questioning the lack of doors or turns, the hallway opened to a room filled with all sorts of plants. Dora glanced up, seeing vines twist and turns with flowers sprouting off in a shade of blue she had never seen before. One flower bowed, fluttering off the vine and turning into a butterfly. Dora followed it as it descended toward her. Fluttering around her head before flying off towards some fancy garden tables and chairs.  

As she turned around a peculiarly large bush, stopping as the butterfly drifted off towards someone. The butterfly shifted back into that blue-black flower, landing just behind the lady’s ear.

“Phoebe?” The woman set her teacup, crisp words reminding her of her mother. Her face remarkably resembled a wrinkled goldfish. “Why are you-“ she cut herself off, “How?”

“I’m Nymph-a-Dora.” Dora chirped, climbing up to a seat opposite the lady. A full-tier tray with various fruit snacks and Danishes had her licking her lips. Forgetting about maintaining her features, she reached for the fluffiest pastry. The taste of butter was already coating her lips. She glanced back at the woman.

“Can I have some milk?” Dora reached across the table, knocking some jars. The cream pitcher was just out of reach. Wordlessly, the woman handed it to her. Dora fumbled, grabbing it. The pitcher rolled off the table, only to shatter on the ground.

“Oops.”

“It’s no matter.” The old lady waved her hand; the pitcher reassembled itself.

“You’ve got magic too!” Dora glanced up at the woman, meeting the other's gaze. Huh? She hadn’t moved from the last time Dora checked. Maybe she got her face stuck? Dora tapped her chin, not looking away. Should she ask-

“A metamorphmagus.”

That sounded familiar… Where had she heard it before? Oh well, it wasn’t important. “Umm? Can you get new milk? I’m not supposed to eat things off the ground.”

A bottle of glass milk popped into being in front of her.

“Yay!” Dora lifted the cap off, taking a sip. “This is good!”

 “Do help yourself,” the old lady chuckled, “about your earlier appearance-“

“The wrinkly portrait lady said too! Was I funny?” Dora started shifting her features again and recharged.

“Please don’t.” The old lady lifted both hands.

“Melly,” a deep voice called out. Dora twisted in her seat. Another old person, but his eyes seemed somewhat familiar, “do you know why-“ he stopped speaking when he saw her.

“Hi!” Dora waved, dollops of honey flying from her hand. “I’m Nymp-a-Dora! Do you want some milk too? It’s delicious.” She sounded out the last word, recalling how her mother said it.

“What?” He glanced at her before turning to the old lady.

“I haven’t the slightest, dearest. But she is Family.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dora shook her head.

“Looks like Andromeda.”

“Who’s that? Oh,” She shifted her features again. “The portrait lady?”

“Well, that decides it,” the old man huffed, sitting beside the lady, their legs touching. Dora swore that the chair hadn’t been there before. A teacup appeared in front of him.

“Child,” the woman began.

“Nymph-a-dora.” Dora insisted. She only recently learned how to say it, probably.

“Proper name that.” The old man nodded at her. The more she looked at him, the more he reminded her of Sirius. She squinted at him. He turned to her, “Nymphadora, do you know how you came to be here?”

“Huh?”

“When did you arrive?”

“Oh. You mean when I got here?”

They both nodded.

“Just now. I followed a kitten drawing. And a butterfly!”

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are your parent’s names?”

“Mama and Papa!” Dora said as she took an apple, crunching into it. They let out a big puff of breath.

“Do you know where your mother is?”

“Asleep!” Dora chirped.

“Honey, why don’t you check the tree?” The woman lifted a little jar and picked up a sugar cube with metal tongs.

“I would-”  the man huffed, “but the manor won’t listen to me-”

“Can I have one!?” Sugar was the best, but the jar was just out of reach.

“I don’t think-“ The sugar jar disappeared. “Wait,” the old lady turned to the old man, “What do you mean the manor won’t obey you?”

“Just what I said.” The man sipped his tea, grumbling a bit.

“Lucretia is asleep, and the manor wouldn’t-“ The woman glanced at Dora. Dora gulped down some more of her milk. Old adults were boring.

“Orion.” The two spoke at the same time.

“I wonder what-“

“Dora! Dora!” Mama’s voice rang through the little garden room.

“Mama!” Dora dashed from her chair, knocking it over. “You’re awake!”

“Dora!” Mama appeared. Dora was plucked up and held into a tight hug.

“I am terribly sorry for her behavior.”

“Mama, you’re squishing me!” Dora pushed.

“Dora, behave.” Mama hushed her, not letting go. “You shouldn’t have run off on your own.”

“But Mama, you slept for forever.” Dora opened her arms wide. “I saw a kitten. On. The. Wall. And it moved. I had to go after it!”

“Oh, you had to?”

Dora nodded. “And then I talked to a painting and,” she drawled out, “she’s odd too! We played a face game! Did you know paintings could change their faces, too?”

“A portrait-“

“Yeah, that thing!” Dora agreed and spoke rapidly, “Then my stomach grumbled like a lion! So, I followed the kitten. Then I got here!” Dora waved her arms, accidentally hitting the tip of her mother’s nose, “And there was this flower.” Dora pointed out the flower in the old lady’s hair, “And it became a butterfly! Then the old lady,” she pointed directly at the old lady, delighted to have everyone’s attention on her, “gave me milk and a snack.”

“Dora, what do we say to “

“Thank you, Old Lady.” Dora waved.

“Once again, my apologies.”

“Mama, your face is all red.” Dora poked her mother’s check. Her parents could only change into two colors.

“Don’t worry about it, Andromeda.” Another chair just appeared, and the other returned on its own.

“I thought you had run off to frolic with the Muggles.” The old man drawled out. His face was so stern. Dora wanted to poke it too. “You really should have sent a raven before visiting. Given the circumstances, I suppose you aren’t here to visit. Did Orion bring you here?”

“Yes, my dowager lord.” Mama sat them both in the chair, not letting Dora go. Higher up, Dora got a better look at the table.

“Stop speaking nonsense.”

“Are we having a tea party!?” She tugged her Mama’s shirt. “You’ve got to get Papa; he does the best voices and Mini.” Dora gasped. “I left Mini behind. I’ll go get Papa-“ She squirmed in her mother’s arms but wasn’t released.

“Papa’s working, Dora.”

“Nuh-uh.” Dora shook her hand, trying to lift her mother’s arm. “He’s sleeping.”

“He was sleeping. Now he’s working.”

“He didn’t say good morning! He’s sleeping.”

The old lady let out a chuckle. “Would you like another apple child?” A perfect red apple appeared in her hand. Dora glanced at it suspiciously. She knew this story.

“Is it poisoned?”

“Dora!” Mama fussed.

“Mama, it’s Snow White! We’re in Snow White’s castle!”

“Whatever is she referring to?” The lady moved to put the apple down before it was snatched by the old man, who took a big bite out of it.

“What I want to know,” the old man added, interrupting Dora before she could start talking again. She couldn’t believe someone would eat poison. “Is why Orion brought you here?”

“How did you know?” Mama asked softly, handing Dora a giant piece of bread.

“Because I can’t apparently find my own front door!” The old man huffed as Dora studied his face. Why hadn’t he fallen asleep yet?

“Pardon my asking, but Manor Noire isn’t listening to you?”

“If it were listening to me, I would be out in…” the old man hesitated, “Paris picking up a Whispering Wisteria I ordered and some other flowers. But the manor keeps stopping me from leaving.”

“But you have flowers here.” Dora interrupted, chewing her food. “Are you going to get even more flowers?”

“Dora, don’t chew with your mouth open. And um…” Mama hesitated, glancing between the two old people, then down at Dora. “Well, he brought my family here. As well as Sirius and Regulus.”

“Both of them?” The old asked, tea sloshing from her cup.

“Yes,” Mama nodded, “he…requested Ted’s-“

“That muggle you ran off with-“

“Wizard. Uncle Orion came to my home and requested aid.”

“For Sirius and Regulus?” The old lady slowly asked, her forehead especially wrinkled with her brows so far up.

“Yes.”

“He’s probably just in a mood. It’ll pass-“ grumbled the old man, putting a sugar cube into his tea.

“Hmph. Dearest, you haven’t any room to talk. Not after the trip to the Alps.”

A cold wind swirled around them. Unease crawled along Dora’s spine. The flower changed into a butterfly and fled.

“Scary.” She hid her face in her mother’s shoulder.

“All you are doing is proving my point.” The old lady soothed.

“Please be mindful of my child.” Mama’s tone was short. The voice she used when she was scolding Dora. Why was she using it now? Dora peered back at the old couple. The lady patted the man’s shoulder. And there was something about his eyes. The way the light reflected off of them. It reminded her of when she got into big trouble, and Mama scolded her for hours.

“Now,” the old lady smiled, “what trouble did my grandchildren get into?”

“Someone got in trouble?” Had she done something? Was she in trouble for following the kitten? “Mama, I’m sorry I chased the kitten.”

“Dora,” Mama patted her head, “she’s referring to Uncle Sirius.”

“Sirius got in trouble?” Dora hadn’t realized adults could get into trouble.

“Big trouble,” Mama expanded her hands wide, “and now he and his brother have a big ouchie.”

“Uncle Sirius has a brother? Wait…They got hurt?” Dora asked. Uncle Sirius always brought her sweets when he came to visit. He would have snuck her the sugar cube if she asked for it. Or make silly faces at her while her parents had grown up talk. "Is Papa giving them kisses to make it better?"

Mama chuckled. "He's helping bandage them. In fact,” Mama stood, still holding her, “why don’t we make Uncle Sirius and Uncle Regulus, that’s Sirius’s brother, a drawing. I’m sure they’ll cheer up if they get something from you.”

“Now?" Dora turned and glanced at the tea cups. The old couple spoke, but she couldn’t hear anything.

“It’s time to go.” Mama patted her head again. “But we can do tea again tomorrow,”

"Will Papa come?"

"Yes," Mama turned and stared at the old couple and continued, “My family will be staying at Manor Noire for now. My apologies for any inconvenience.”

Mama didn’t sound sorry, though.

Chapter Text

Was this real? Regulus stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been awake. Sirius’s snore had startled him awake, and the throb of pain coursing through his body had prevented him from falling back to sleep. He recalled the indignity of spoon-fed potions, but the rest was vague. How long had he been sick in this room?

            “Reg, are you awake?” Sirius muttered from his side. When had he woken? Regulus turned towards him. His head throbbed with the movement, and the room felt like it was spinning, but he was able to focus on Sirius in the dark. The other had an arm tossed over his face.

            “Hm.” Regulus hummed. His throat felt dry, and he couldn’t be moved to try to talk.

            “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

            “Hmm?”

            “With Dad,” Sirius turned to him, whispering, “he’s finally asleep in the chair next to you.”

            “Your guess is as good as mine.” Regulus’s voice was hoarser than he thought. He shifted slightly. Ignoring the nausea, he looked at his father, who was cocooned in a blanket in what looked like a cushioned muggle recliner. Was this the first time he ever saw his father sleeping? “Didn’t Aunt Lucretia say something?” Regulus mumbled, closing his eyes, hoping that would make the room stop spinning so much.

            “Some baloney about- I just don’t get it! How can he just suddenly care?” Sirius huffed and Regulus knew the start of a rant when he heard it. His stomach turned, and Sirius’s rising voice made his headache worse. “Mr. Stone Castle, Ye Old Lord, unfeeling to anything or anyone, bloody tucks me into bed.” Focus on Sirius’s voice, not the rising nausea that felt like it was about to creep up his throat. “Then he says this absolutely eerie line of always knowing where I was. There’s no way he can know that! And Reg, get this-” Sirius grasped his shoulder, giving him a slight shake. Regulus lost the battle with his stomach, turned to the side of the bed, and retched.

            Sirius leaned over, rubbing circles along Regulus’s back, “a pity you missed his shoes.”

            “Sirius!” Regulus scolded despite holding back a smile at Sirius’s comment. He felt slightly better now, but the sight of his sick disgusted him. He raised a hand determined to cast a wandless scourigfy only to feel his core start to twist at the same moment that Sirius drew him back. “Leave it Reg. He could always still step in it.”

            Regulus snorted.

            “I knew you found it funny, too.” Sirius grinned at him. Regulus couldn’t help but stare; when was the last time that Sirius even joked with him like this?

            A sharp trill rang out from the side table.

            “A phone-no-“ Sirius reached out past Regulus, grasping a compact mirror. “Hey. This is mine-” Sirius glanced down at the mirror. Then he made a noise somewhere between a shriek and squeak, the mirror falling from his hands.

Regulus caught it. What had given Sirius such a- No way. He glanced back at Sirius, who had flung the corvette over his head. Then he turned back to the mirror. Grey eyes met his own.

“Mother.” Regulus stared at the face in the mirror.

“Regulus.” Mother gazed intensely at him. Regulus shifted, not used to having her complete focus on him. “You’re alive,” Walburga whispered. I—“ she closed her eyes as if stealing herself to say something only to continue, “Never mind that. Is your father asleep?”

            “No.” Father gently grabbed the mirror from him. “There was an issue?”

            There was a pause, and then Mother spoke, “Apparently, there was a change in policies.”

            “You were unable to persuade them? The contract the Family signed had no such clauses, and any new policies regarding our vaults would need my approval. I never gave such.” Father leaned back in the armchair. “Burgie, you should know as much. What is this about in truth?”

            “It’s not there.”

            “There are ways to find them. Seek Cassiopeia.”

            Mother made a face at that. “I could consult the tomes of Ravensmoor instead.”

            “What are you searching for?” Regulus’s stomach twisted as he asked. Father had yet to speak of the night. But apparently, he had found them. They couldn’t know what it was he and Sirius did. It would put them at risk.

            “There’s more than one!” Sirius threw the blanket down, a stone settled in Regulus’s stomach. There could not be. It was pure madness just to make one. What had the Dark Lord done? “We got to do something,” Sirius continued, “I’ll-“ before he could even shift to get out of bed, the blankets wrapped around them.

            “And where,” Father’s voice was measured, “do you think you are going?”

            “I can’t just sit here.”

            “You are mistaken in that regard.” With a wave of his hand, the mirror floated as Father stood, reaching to gently push Sirius back to lie in bed. “You will lay down and rest. There is no need to bother yourself with this trivial matter.”

            “Trivial?” Sirius huffed, swatting away at their father. “There are lives at stake.”

            “And I will not have yours be one of them.” Father’s eyes flashed pure silver for a moment before he returned to the mirror. He stared down Sirius before the other huffed and turned away from them for a good sulk. “Neither of you are leaving this estate.” Father tucked the blanket tighter around Regulus before grasping the mirror and turning to face Mother again, “Walburga contact Cassiopeia. If need be, I can send an Order.”

            “Wait.” Regulus reached out to grab his Father’s sleeve, but the connection to their mother was already severed. If there were more than what- what did his plan sacrifice even mean? And- He had signed that bloody note with his initials. If Voldemort even suspected that someone was going after his Horcruxes- the mere thought of multiple- made him want to His initials. He would know. Would he go after his family? His mother who was so entangled in society. “Why,” Regulus’s hand shook, “Why are you doing this?”

            Sirius turned over, his gaze steel. “Please, Dad, you can’t mean that you plan to take Voldemort down yourself.”

            “No. Your mother is.”

            “You’re joking. Mum is a fan of him.”

            “Not after she found out his identity.”

            “Tom Riddle?” Regulus explained for Sirius. He knew their ages meant that they were at school together, but how did-

            “She is still bitter about that Incident.”

            “What-“ Sirius started.

            “Now the both of you are overwrought and need your potions.” Father ruffled at the nightstand, pulling out two vials that he held out for them. “It’s getting late and you need rest.”

            “We’re talking in the morning.” Sirius’s face had gotten paler. Perhaps his brother had gotten two much excitement. Regulus couldn’t believe he thought to even try and leave bed to go off after more of those cursed items. He watched the other down the potion.

            “Regulus.” The silvery potion was held out in front of him. The image of Kreacher and that emerald potion, and Bellatrix’s laugh. Regulus drained it only to put his hand over his mouth a moment later.

            “Reg?” He heard Sirius from his side, a hand rubbing at his back.

            Regulus lost the battle with his stomach, rapidly moving to the side.

            “Well,” Sirius muttered at his side. “At least you got the slippers this time.”