cherry

The man faintly lowers his wand, beginning to circle around you with an intrigued gaze. “Fascinating. You really have not done your research.” A derisive chuckle crackles into the stiff air as your eyes find him again. 

Even if you could, there was no use trying to convince the man, you couldn’t leave any witnesses anyway. Spinning on your heel, you frown and move across the room toward the bar, snatching a decanter containing amber liquid and a whiskey glass from the shelves. “How insulting.” 

Your musing has the man raising his eyebrow, wand dropping to his side as he cautiously watches you. “Insulting?” He echoes, voice tinted with unadulterated curiosity. The change in his demeanor has you sniffing into the air as you pour yourself a glass. 

“Yes. To be confronted by someone like you of all people.” You hum, taking a sip of the alcohol. Scotch. 

Tipping back the rest of the drink into your mouth, you slam the glass onto the polished bar and smile caustically at the man. Slipping your wand into your hand, and concealing your movements behind the wide bar, you tilt your head and hum out to him in your normal voice, “Who are you anyway?” 

“Henry Mulciber.” The man’s knuckles whiten as a triumphant grin mars his face, “Decent accent, by the way. Pity that you couldn’t fool me, hm?” 

“I’ll give credit where it’s due. How’d you know?” You ask with light curiosity, running your thumb along the handle of your wand. 

A chuckle slips past his lip, “Asking to move to private quarters? My dove could have cared less about being found out.” He twirls his wand and gives you a look of deep consideration. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you too bad. I’ll let Clyde decide what to do with you, you did break into his home after all.” 

“Charming,” you snark back, licking your lips as you discreetly cast a silencio over the room. “But apologies, you know how business can be.” You smile cryptically at him, momentarily relishing in the confused look that flashes across his gaze. Before he can retort, your hand flies over the counter and the words are streaming from your mouth in a flat mutter, “Petrificus Totalus.” 

To your dismay, Mulciber manages to duck quick enough to avoid your jinx, the spell missing him by a hair’s length. The man flies up from his crouch not a second later and has you taking cover as his arm snaps towards you, a reverberating Crucio spewing from his mouth cruelly. 

The red bolt crashes into the shelf behind you, splintering the mahogany wood and sprinkling the floor around you with pins of polished red. You grit your teeth and swiftly shuffle to the end of the bar, leaping up from your new spot as you throw a potent reducto at the glass coffee table beside him. The thick panes burst into the air in shimmering fragments before evanescing as they flee the light of the chandelier. Mulciber instinctively raises his arm to guard his face as his body tilts away from the destruction. 

“Incarcerous!” You grit out, rounding out of the bar as the spell knocks the man off his feet, his body crashing into the glass-strewn floor with a resounding thud. The binds around him tighten as he begins to wiggle and grunt, but just as you point your wand at him again, the door bursts open. 

Your head snaps up in shock as you peer at the intruder, breathing out a sigh of relief when you see Regulus with a deep purple tome tucked by his side. “Dear merlin. You’re finally here. I may have made an error in judgment.” 

Regulus goes to say something, eyes wide with disbelief as he takes in the scene, but he is interrupted by a strangled yell from Mulciber. “Diffindo!” 

The orange beam shoots toward your neck and you feel your entire soul evaporate away before a thundering stench of impending death wraps itself around your body. Throwing yourself away from the approaching cutting spell, you grunt out as it slices through the muscles of your shoulder. 

Molten pain erupts from the flowing laceration, warm blood pouring down your attire as you feel a biting chill drip down your spine and to your toes. Regulus flies from the doorway and toward Mulciber’s body just as a million tingling needles settle down your arm. Assessing your injury, you nearly reel back in shock as you see red everywhere. The spell probably severed a few ligaments—and Merlin, is that your bloody bone? 

You pay no mind as you hear a loud grunt from in front of you. Regulus could be kicking in the man’s face for all you know, but you are too enraptured by the sight of whatever was left of your shoulder. 

Another day at work, another injury. 

Huffing, you raise your eyes just in time to see Regulus releasing the binds from an unconscious Mulciber. “Thanks.” You mutter, moving your gaze to fixate on the artifact that was now lying on one of the lounge chairs. It was emitting a faint pulse of magic that whispered indecipherable promises through your head, causing you to step back in wonderment. 

Definitely not an ordinary artifact.

Regulus maneuvers Mulciber from the floor, propping him up on the opposite chair before turning to face you. “You’re bleeding.” 

“Astute observation.” You huff out, grunting when Regulus gently pushes you to sit down by the tome with your good shoulder. 

He lifts his wand up to the wound, muttering a quiet Vulnera Sanentur under his breath and only releasing a pleased hum when your wound begins to heal under the coat of your blood. “You handled it well.” He swiftly follows up his words by repairing the tear through your sleeve.

You smile wobbly at the man and sink into the cushions behind you. “I’m surprised as well. You’re good with healing spells, do you get hurt a lot?” Your curious eyes flicker from the tome beside you to Regulus as he holsters his wand. 

“Not too badly anymore.” He grunts, turning to face the unconscious man across from you. You both grimace as a trail of drool slides down his chin, hair now resembling disheveled foliage as his head tips awkwardly onto his shoulder. 

Gently rolling your newly healed shoulder, you get up and prop a hand on your hip, shaking your head in amusement at the sight. “Oh how the mighty have fallen so.” 

Regulus shakes his head, but you can see the inkling of a self-satisfied smirk on his face. You walk over to the obliterated shelves and search for any surviving bottles of alcohol, bringing your wand up to repair the mess. “Reg, can you undo his collar a bit?” 

You huff as you clear the mess of glass fragments and spilt alcohol, eyes frantically scouring over the never ending mess. 

“Aha.” You mutter to yourself, wrangling a hefty wine bottle from a lower cabinet. Regulus complies with your previous request wordlessly, only offering a look of bemusement when you wander back over with the bottle and a glass.  

“Oh. You fixed it.” You falter in your steps as you see the glass table sitting spotless in its original spot. 

“Are we toasting?” He quietly hums, standing back as you crack open the bottle. 

“Not quite, maybe later.” You reply, pouring the wine into the cup. Pushing the glass in front of Mulciber’s unconscious body, you pull your wand out and dispel the rest of the wine from the bottle. 

Putting the empty bottle in Mulciber’s slack hand, you turn to look at Regulus with a proud grin. “Do you want to do the honors of waking him up?” 

“Sure.” Regulus says, raising his eyebrows at your elaborate set up. The man shuffles by you before raising his wand up and casting a swift Rennervate. You ready your wand as Mulciber’s eyes fly open in panic, pupils darting from side-to-side before they settle on you both. 

You were sure that if he had the energy, he’d be frothing at the mouth. “You!—” 

Before he can continue, you point your wand at his sluggish figure, “Obliviate.” You channel all your magical energy into ensuring that any suspicion of your infiltration and duel is wiped clean from his memory. The man slumps back down in a daze and Regulus gives a low huff as Mulciber’s expression droops with a glassy-eyed look.

“Best we get going then.” You mumble, beginning to retreat from the room as Regulus strides after you with the file. “Does this place have a back door or something?” 

Regulus takes another once over of the room to check for missed damage before shutting the door behind him with a small exhale. “Yeah, we should hurry before the potion wears off.” 

“My joints are tingling a bit.” You quietly confirm, falling back to let Regulus lead you through the maze of hallways. 

The winding corridors eventually come to an end once Regulus locates a narrow entryway seemingly at the end of the west wing. The walls are noticeably less vibrant, with a haze of dust dimming the atmosphere around you. Regulus continues forward through the slim doorway, turning to peer at you once he steps through. “Watch your step, these stairs are a bit worn.” 

Mutely nodding, you both swiftly descend down the stairwell until you step onto a small landing between two sturdy green doors. Regulus deftly twists the right door open, cautiously peering through the crack before swinging it open for you. 

You have to squint as you make your way through, the bright light of the daytime sky stinging at your eyes as your shoes crunch against the verdant grass. “Where did the other door lead to?” You ask smally once Regulus falls into step beside you. 

“The kitchen.” Regulus mutters, sighing once you both near the wards, likely tired of the repetitive process. 

You pull out your wand and perform the interception charm again, feeling a shiver vibrate across your body as the Polyjuice Potion in your system nears the end of its life. Regulus waits for you to step through and into the edge of the forest before he continues behind you, “I’ll go fetch those two.” 

He hands you the file before disappearing into the dense forestry with one last glance toward you, beginning to undo his overcoat as his body starts to morph back. You clear your throat and make your way over to the tree hollow, relieved to see that your bag is still tucked away inside the inky pocket. 

As you haul the woven bag out, the sound of heavy footsteps echoes toward you, indicating that Regulus had arrived with the two stunned Italians. Turning around, you smile faintly as Regulus hurries over, the two bodies resting along his shoulders swaying as he carefully lowers them to the ground. 

You begin to pull out all of your clothes, remembering to be careful with Regulus’ mask as your fingers graze against its hard surface. The next few minutes are painted with a busy silence as you both work to tear off your outfits before you both completely transform back, a mutual understanding blossoming as you both turn away from each other to get situated. 

“Are you decent?” You ask awkwardly, relief sinking into your muscles as you adjust to your familiar robes. 

“Yeah.” Regulus replies back, his cadence indicating that he had already put his mask back into place. 

You turn around and step toward the two limp bodies between you both, placing the formal wear down beside their feet just as Regulus slowly spins on his heel. “I can do it.” His soft mutter has you agreeing easily, opting to instead move away to place the retrieved file into your bag. Just as you close the opening of the bag, Regulus’ wordless Rennervate has the body beside your feet twitching before you see his eyes slowly peel open, eyebrows furrowing from the light. Before he has the opportunity to regain awareness, you watch as Regulus raises his wand again. 

“Imperio,” He firmly commands, one hand tucked away inside his robe pocket, as if his actions were the most casual thing in the world. The man’s eyes glaze over immediately before a milky fog stirs across his iris and pupils as he awaits Regulus’ commands. “Get dressed, head back inside using the back door, and grab yourself a couple of drinks.” 

Like a doll being maneuvered by strings, the man silently complies with stiff movements and unwavering precision in his task. Regulus barely bats an eye before repeating the same process with the second victim, watching as they both slowly rise up and walk out of the small clearing and toward the door you both exited from. 

“One file down, two more to go.” You huff out with a tired smile, fiddling with the chain of the time turner. 

Regulus nods quietly and strides toward you, throwing the chain around him before releasing a patient hum as you continue to turn the handle of the device. Lifting your fingers away, the rings of the artifact begin to spin sporadically and you feel the ground beneath your feet rumble faintly. 

Your eyes squeeze shut as the spinning of time rapidly picks up speed, melding together days and nights and weeks to years. After a flurry of arbitrary thoughts to busy yourself, you feel Regulus’ gloved hand fall against your shoulder, “We’re here.” 

Nodding, you slowly open your eyes and roll your shoulders back. “Thank you.” 

The forest remained as lively as ever, the only decipherable change to your environment being the position of the sun in the sky. Tucking away the time turner, you turn your gaze to Regulus’ masked one as he offers up his arm again. 

“Do you think Gawdry will tell us why the files are so valuable?” You ask, looping your arm with his. 

“Not a chance.” Regulus muses, his words followed by the swift pull of apparition. 

Wind bats against your ears for a few moments before you feel smooth tile press against your feet, spurring you to fall back into reality. Blinking, you step back and survey the area Regulus brought you both to: a dim alcove in the Ministry atrium. The walk to the Department of Mysteries was a far one, but you both would be able to hug against the shadows nearby to avoid wandering eyes until you reach the elevator. 

“How do you navigate around the Ministry without being seen?” You hum out curiously, treading by the tall brick pillars. 

Regulus seems to slow his steps to match yours as he tugs his hood down further once your passage conjoins into the main chamber of the Ministry. “I don’t. Not usually, anyway. My assignments are delivered to my place of residence.” 

“Aside from work, you don’t get out much, do you?” You huff out in both consolation and worry. “We’ll have to change that.” You mutter under your breath, feeling Regulus’ eyes dart to your face. 

The buzzing of chatter and clicking of shoes against the polished floor grows in tandem with the illumination of your surroundings, thrusting you and Regulus into the milling clusters of Ministry workers. 

“Might want to keep your head down.” You sigh out, holding your elbow out once you are both near the elevators. 

Regulus wordlessly grabs onto your sleeve and drops his head, allowing his hood to fall over and veil the glow of his mask. You lead him to stand in line, keeping an eye out for any suspicious looks or double takes. 

By the time you both manage to clamber inside one of the lifts, you can feel the remnants of adrenaline in your body dissipate, leaving you feeling boneless in the cramped box. Regulus shuffles behind you, slotting himself into one of the back corners as an older man turns to you. 

“What floor?” He asks pleasantly, eyes never straying to look at your cloaked companion. 

“Ninth, please.” You nod at him, shooting a small smile in thanks. 

He simply nods back before punching the milky button just as the golden grille door slides across the aperture. A peaceful lull ensues as the lift jostles slowly from floor to floor, the faint creaking of the grille and the melodic announcement of each floor number occasionally flowing into the air. 

When the lift begins to ascend past the eighth floor, only you, Regulus, and the man at the button panel remain inside. You shift your weight from foot-to-foot as you can sense the man’s growing anticipation. The jangling of chains shoves itself into the peripheral of your mind as he finally turns to face you, a cryptic gleam casting over his eyes. 

You’re able to get a good look at him now that he’s fully facing you, eyes running across his worn expression and grey-streaked combover that evidently used to be tinted a deep tawny.

“Apologies for my frankness, but do you happen to be Auror L/N?” He asks, head tilting imperceptibly as your eyes widen at the unexpected question. 

Nodding slowly, you plaster on an uncertain smile. “Yes, I am. I don’t believe we’ve met before though?” 

“Ah, how rude of me, I am Lord Grey.” He clears his throat, just as the lift halts in its movements. “I just wanted to introduce myself to such an esteemed Auror. I’ve heard such high praises about your ability to find things.” 

You incline your head toward him and release a sheepish chortle, “That’s me. Just a little penchant for tracking is all… Well it’s nice to meet you, Lord Grey.” 

The grille doors are wrought aside not a moment later, and you turn to gesture for Regulus to exit first, much to his confusion. Just as Regulus steps out of the elevator, Lord Grey leans towards you and shoots you an indecipherable grin, “You are also renowned for your…  impartiality, Auror L/N, no?” 

“Yes?” You confirm lightly, masking your disconcertion with the sudden eerie atmosphere. Lord Grey simply nods before he slides something toward you, and one glance downward has you realizing it is a business card. 

“I hope you give it some thought.” He mutters equivocally. 

Raising an eyebrow, you take the card and slide it into your pocket before shuffling away. “Good day, Lord Grey.”

“Yes, good day.” 

The odd exchange imprints itself into your mind as Regulus shoots you a questioning look once you reach him. His eyes slowly move from you and over your shoulder, gaze narrowing and causing you to peek back around. You aren’t able to catch another glimpse of the man, but the lift continues to descend until the echo of chains fades away. 

“Are you okay?” Regulus asks once you trudge over to his side. 

You nod and fiddle with the card in your pocket before making up your mind. “Yeah, he just handed me this all ominously.” Regulus eyes you as you slip the card out of your pocket, remaining soundless as you bring the thick rectangle between you both. 

Your eyebrows slant further down as you realize that the card is blank save for a black emblem at the center. The symbol sends a shiver down your spine as you continue to stare at it; a thick black line curves uniformly into a soft, open triangle, the proud snake head at its end seeming to jitter against the ivory paper. 

“Bloody hell.” You murmur dryly, “Not creepy at all.”

Regulus looks just as confused as you feel, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to hide the mounting tension in your posture. 

“Let’s keep this between us for now.” Regulus mutters, straightening up to turn away, but even as he moves forward, you can still identify the calculative glint in his eyes. 

Tucking the card away again, you readjust your hold on the woven bag on your shoulder as you both pace through the looping corridors. You aren’t even aware of your proximity to your destination until you’re nearly pedaling into Regulus’ back as he waits for the imposing doors to flutter open. 

Gawdry’s office is a welcomed sight, the nebulous glow from the light beams enveloping your fatigued figure. The dour expression across his face lifts slightly once he takes in your approaching figures, eyes immediately connecting with yours as he gazes at you with heavy expectation.  

“Agents, what a surprise.” He grumbles out, leaning back against his chair as you both stop a few feet short of his desk. 

“Save the confetti and cake for later,” you hum out, beginning to dig in your bag. 

Gawdry remains unfazed as his attentive eyes lock on your movements. “If you wish,” his drawl is accompanied by a wry smile as you wrestle the thick purple tome out of your bag. Handing the sturdy object to the man, you suppress the chill that storms through your body as you feel the densely packed magic ingrained in the file.

“By the way, a warning would have been nice. A patrimony ball of that degree was hardly an ideal event to blindly jump into.” Your tone is light despite the visceral feeling of doom that still crawled around the cavity of your chest. 

“You’re both here in one piece, aren’t you?” Gawdry raises an eyebrow, bringing a hand up to wave you both off, “Nicely done, though. It seems that I chose wisely.” 

You hum out in agreement before you glance at Regulus’ indifferent gaze and nod your head toward the doors. “Right. Well we’ll be back tomorrow, boss.” 

Without waiting for a response from the preoccupied man, you and Regulus spin on your heels and retrace your steps toward the exit. As your badge’s magic tediously weaves through the locks of the doors, you bring your palm up to rest on your chest, feeling the imprint of the time turner jump against your skin. 

“Ten hours to cool down, I think.” 

Regulus glances at you and shoves his hands into his pant pockets. “Sounds good.” 

“Yeah.” You nod in agreement before releasing a small breath of exhaustion, “Right, well, see you later.” Your shoes beat against the tiles as you begin to make your way down the hallway. 

“What?” You slowly turn around at Regulus’ voice, watching as he blinks at you through his mask, eyes blank with blatant confusion. 

“Oh, well ten hours of downtime…” You trail off, hands awkwardly gesturing to your right.  

Regulus blinks at you before humming, “Yeah.” 

You clear your throat as you feel a flush of heat bloom across the blades of your shoulders. “Uh, but… Actually, I’ll go with you. It’ll be quicker that way, anyway. Y’know to get moving onto the next assignment.” 

“Yeah.” Regulus agrees plainly, eyes darting away as you shuffle back over to him. 

Somehow in the whirlwind of your lethargy and incessant thoughts, you and Regulus manage to make it back to the elevator and down toward the floo networks in record breaking speed. You tilt your head as Regulus juts out his elbow for you to take, and you wordlessly comply as he leads you to the farthest network all whilst keeping his head down. Once you both step into the wide space of the network, Regulus grabs a handful of floo powder before throwing it onto the ashy ground. “Abscondita terra.” His voice rumbles out lowly and the clear words spur green flames across your vision. 

When the lurid fire flees into nothingness, you’re left standing in front of a dim living room. Regulus shifts out of the network first and offers you an assessing look before gesturing for you to sit on the grey couch. You barely contain the gape threatening to materialize on your face as you swallow harshly, “Is this place yours?” 

The man merely nods and watches as you teeter toward the plush cushions, dropping down stiffly onto the firm seat. You clear your throat and look to Regulus as he moves to lean on the doorway to your left. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

He bats his hand in a show of casualness before cracking his neck. “You can only come here if I allow it, so.” 

“Right, witness protection and whatnot.” You say quietly, clasping your hands in your lap. 

Regulus nods jerkily and gazes at you for a moment before speaking up again, “You could have died earlier. With Mulciber’s attack.” He mutters, eyes sliding to look at your shoulder. 

You hum and hug one of his throw pillows to your chest, “I dodged in time. Luckily, he didn’t hurl the killing curse at me.” 

“Because he wanted you to die a slow, agonizing death in front of me.” He quickly retorts, clearing his throat as he kicks off from the doorway. “That spell would have severed through half of your neck.” 

A shiver blooms from the base of your spine as you envision the gory picture. “Ah… Well, that’s the risk of the job.” 

Regulus keeps his eyes on you for a few more seconds before he sighs and disappears somewhere off into the kitchen, momentarily leaving you to your devices. You hear distant clanking and the sound of cabinet doors being shut, lulling you to reminisce on the day’s events. 

He soon reemerges into the room with a glass of water, blinking sluggishly as he approaches you. Somehow, seeing him in his tired state eases the awkwardness in the air and you slouch back to get comfortable. 

“But are you okay?” You couldn’t help but prod, still remembering his tense demeanor during Clyde’s toast. 

“Yeah,” Regulus hums, gently placing the cup of water in front of you. He sits down on the opposite side of the couch as you quietly thank him, and you nearly break your neck when you see him slowly push his cloak off. 

Turning away with wide eyes, you swallow harshly before trying to distract yourself by breaking the silence. “So, Clyde’s toast was a bit…”

“Creepy?” Regulus supplies, tone lilted with amusement.

You shake your head and lean over to grab the cup, “Yeah, I thought I’d accidentally joined a cult.” Bringing the rim of the glass to your lips, you chance a side glance to your companion and see the glow of flesh in the dimming room, a stark contrast to the perpetual veil of black that always covered his skin. 

Sipping your water, you relax against the cushions behind you as Regulus clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “You remember my father, right?” His voice is level, growing serious as he departs from his previous amusement. 

You nod, it was unlikely you’d ever forget the stern man—and then realization dawns on you. “The man who stepped out during the toast… that was Orion?” 

“In the flesh.” Regulus says, cracking his knuckles as he leans his elbows on his knees. 

Frowning, you place your half-empty glass down on the table as you debate over what approach to take in the conversation. “I’m glad you got out.” You admit honestly, unable to suppress the images of twelve-year-old Regulus’ mischievous smiles and twinkling eyes from your mind. 

“Me too.” Regulus breathes out, “Only killed him in the process.” 

Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you lean back, turning to him and gesticulating slowly  with your hands, “Like, run out the door and throw an expulso behind you—kill, or…” 

Regulus’ shoulders shake as he muffles a laugh, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the toned muscles of his arms, webby veins trailing down from his forearm to his hands. Your mouth parts slightly at the sight, but you quickly dart your gaze back up, grateful that Regulus was still looking straight ahead and not toward your gawking face. 

However, it seemed that you couldn’t catch a break. 

As your eyes stray from his arms, they catch themselves on the raven tresses which were slightly disheveled from his hood. The flowing waves fall a bit past his ears, not unlike how he maintained it when you were both younger. 

Before you can fall into a mental tangent about the sight in front of you, Regulus’ head turns to you, eyes practically glowing behind his mask. “Not quite as exciting, I’m afraid. When he got the news that I helped Dumbledore take down the Dark Lord, his heart stopped on the spot.” Regulus breathes out harshly and pushes a hand through his hair, “At least that’s what I was told.” 

“Merlin.” You mutter, fully turning to Regulus now. Bringing one leg up onto the couch, you tilt your head as you and Regulus maintain eye contact, “Are you alright, though?” 

Regulus nods slowly and mirrors you by sitting up and tilting his body toward you. “I made peace with it. Seems he couldn’t handle two rebellious heirs.” 

“Inbreeding tends to promise a life with faulty organs.” You say offhandedly, only freezing when Regulus’ eyes light up in humor. Backtracking, you let out a small laugh, “Uh, no offense.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Regulus admits, throwing an arm across the back cushions. 

You flash a small smile as you lay your head against the pillowy surface, eyes falling to the single cushion of distance between you both. “Do you ever miss Hogwarts?” 

Regulus’ eyes close for a few moments before he opens them again and you’re greeted with a faraway look. “Sometimes. You?” He hums out, fingers aimlessly drawing patterns against the cushion. 

“Sometimes,” you intone quietly. “I miss all the Quidditch games and even the late hours in the library. Helga, studying for our N.E.W.T’s was so taxing.”

Regulus nods and blinks slowly, his silence prompting you to continue. “Anyway, I’m glad our paths crossed again.” Your words are firm with genuinity, but you can’t ignore the flutter of bashfulness that pulses through your veins at the admission. 

“I always thought you were going to be a Curse Breaker.” Regulus whispers, dropping his head back onto the couch cushion to rest. 

You muffle a yawn as you peer at the man in inquiry. “Maybe at first. How’d you know that?” 

Regulus fixes you with a light look, and you feel your breath leave your lungs as he pins you down with a warm gaze—one you haven’t seen in years. “It was hard not to be intrigued by someone who watched me from a distance so diligently.”

Your words get caught in your throat as you blink owlishly in surprise. “And now? Are you still intrigued by me?” You breathe out with searching eyes. 

Regulus holds your gaze before quietly replying, voice barely a whisper: “Even more so now.”

Looking to your side, you clear your throat as Regulus continues to peer at you. “Oh, uh, thanks.” 

Regulus merely grunts before deftly removing the thin chain from around his neck, head swiveling around to survey the environment as you recollect yourself. The absence of dark tiles startles you into following Regulus’ movements, vision thrumming with faint stars as you do so. 

Instead of the long tunnel-esque hallway you were familiar with, you were both greeted by clinically white walls and smooth concrete flooring. “I wasn’t aware this sector was a fairly new extension.” You hum, tucking the time turner under your robe collar. 

The bare hallway practically glows as it splinters toward an equally bare doorway, a thick black tarp draping across the wide aperture. 

“Can we apparate?” Regulus’ gruff voice draws your eyes toward him, blinking slowly as you unconsciously compare the shade of his mask to the snowy white of the walls. 

Nodding, you hum and quickly divert your gaze, “Since this was just recently constructed, I’m sure we can. Present day—no, but that’s due to its close proximity to the artifacts room.” 

Regulus draws his wand from his concealed wrist holster, microscopically swiveling it by his side as he turns to you, “You’re right.” Ward detection spell. You almost want to facepalm as you realize that you could have done the same. Clearly, the shock of Regulus’ existence above the grave was still wearing on your concentration. 

Shifting your weight to one foot, you hum absentmindedly, “The time turner has a cool down. Plus we’ll need to head back after we retrieve the file. No use in carrying such a valuable item with us the whole time.” 

“Cool down?” Regulus intones. 

“Should be about half a day after every round trip.” You confirm, keeping your eyes locked to the end of the hallway. 

Regulus nods in consideration before falling into silence again. 

“Ah, have you been to Rosier Estate by any chance?” You ask, dropping the folders in your hands into the woven bag slung over your shoulder. 

The masked man before you nods and juts his elbow out imperceptibly, eyes glazing over with an indecipherable sheen. You swiftly clasp his elbow, filing away your curiosity as your mind kicks into gear. 

The tug and spiraling of apparition tangles with your stomach as you’re graced with a familiar pit of anticipation. Once you land, you first hear the rustling of leaves, the bristling chimes fluttering through the air around you. 

Detaching yourself from Regulus, you take a step to the side as you admire the forest around you, the aroma of pine and soil lulling you into tranquility. 

“How nice.” You hum, throwing your head back as you gaze through the verdant curtains of dancing leaves and toward the stormy sky. 

“The manor is nearby. We’ll have to get a little closer to the wards.” Regulus says, poking your shoulder with the edge of the folder to get your full attention. 

Softly tugging the item into your hands, you splay the folder open for the both of you to look at. 

File 0100: Clyde Rosier. 06/18/1958. 

Brief: Retrieve the lost file of Archadiem inside Rosier Estate’s study during the patrimony ball. Leave no witnesses. 

Location: Rosier Estate. Bournemouth, England

“Shit.” You hiss out, a groan bubbling in your throat as you reread the curt note. “There’s going to be a fuck ton of people there. How inconvenient.” 

“It’ll be fine.” Regulus grunts, thumbing at the edge of the paper as he grips his wand tightly. 

You click your tongue before gently retracting the folder and tucking it away into your bag. “Right.  Nothing a few Obliviate’s and Imperio’s can’t fix.”

Regulus draws back a little and gazes at you with slightly widened eyes, as if he was really seeing you for the first time. You raise your eyebrows and grin lightly, “Should I be offended that you’re so shocked? We’re in the same line of work. Kind of.” 

“It’s just difficult.” He mumbles, eyes now sinking back to their usual blank look. 

“Hm?” You muse, spinning your wand around your fingers. 

Regulus looks away into the distance before he speaks again. “How does time travel work?” 

“Ah, it’s quite a convoluted concept.” You start, scratching your nails gently against your bicep as you attempt to articulate your next words, “We can go back to the past, obviously, but we aren’t able to jump forward to a time where we have yet to experience. In terms of avoiding a complete implosion of our timeline, we have to avoid people that either know us, or will come to know us in their future… er, our present?” You shoot a playful look at him at your next words, “And definitely no killing either.” 

“Shame.” Regulus breathes out lowly. 

You huff out in amusement and raise an eyebrow at him. “Alright, we should head on over now. I can disarm the security wards just long enough for us to cross.” 

“Someone might notice.” Regulus supplies, yet his tone indicated no stress over the matter. 

“It’s the house elves you should be worrying about. I’m sure they’ll notice us snooping around.” Your words are tinted with an edge of concentration as Regulus begins to pace through the forest floor with you on his tail. 

Regulus’ hood shifts side-to-side ever so slightly as he watches your surroundings. “The elves will be in the kitchen preparing the food.” 

“Oh?” Your echo is laden with curiosity as you silently prod him to explain. 

“Lord Rosier is not keen on having them wander while he has guests over.” Regulus mutters with firm certainty. 

Your inquisitive gaze only sharpens at his words, but you concede at the explanation, not wanting to push the man further and risk shattering any semblance of ease he held toward you. “Sounds good. Do you know where the office is then?” 

Regulus hums in confirmation before slowing in his tracks, slightly ducking behind one of the trees and reaching an arm back to gesture for you to do the same. Following the man’s lead, you step further into the shade and peer into the bright clearing. Somehow, your riveting conversation with Regulus lasted long enough for him to trace a path to the side of the lavish estate. 

There are a few people milling at the entrance of the manor, all layered with tailored formal wear that reeked of obscene wealth. You and Regulus are a few yards away from the edge of the luscious garden, the sway of tulip beds mottling the expanse of the view in front of you. 

Unfortunately, your initial plan of sneaking in seems to flush away as an increasing amount of people pour onto the property. The sudden twitch of Regulus’ fingers tells you that he agreed with your assessment. 

“Damn, I think I left my spare polyjuice potion vials back at home. I got too eager.” You curse yourself quietly, mentally kicking yourself for being so careless. Regulus glances over his shoulder at you before digging into the pocket of his cloak, the faint clacking of glass spurring a hum of disbelief to escape your mouth. “No way, Black.” 

“Stay here. Lift the wards on my cue.” Without another word, the man softly thrusts the two vials toward you and slinks away to Merlin knows where. 

“Wait, Regulus! What cue—” You fiddle with the glass cylinders as the man disappears from your sight. Shaking your head, you can only huff out an exasperated sigh. “Unbelievable.” 

Craning your head around, you try to pinpoint Regulus’ swift figure, only catching glimpses of his robe through the treeline. He rounds toward the back of the manor much to your confusion, but as you squint for a few moments, you see two figures slowly trekking toward Regulus’ direction. 

Regulus’ mask peeks from the side of a thick tree and darts in your direction, and you’re thrusted into high alert as you see him lift and shake his wand between two fingers. Suppressing an eyeroll, you deftly swing your wand out from your side and aim at the air above the garden, murmuring a complex interception charm at the intangible barrier. 

Your magic darts out in a sharp strike, permeating across the bubble of interwoven ward charms, gnawing away at the webs of magic and causing it to flicker before seemingly melting away. Luckily, the temporary dismantling of the wards lasts long enough for Regulus to enact his plan. 

Leaning your body weight against the tree beside you, you watch in wonder as a shadow shoots out from the treeline and stupefies both individuals back-to-back. Tapping your foot against a bulb of root beneath your shoe, you patiently wait as you see Regulus haul both of the figures over his shoulders like sacks of potatoes before exiting the scene just as quickly as he arrived. 

You feel your charm wane before dissipating, and it's enough for you to shoot a cautious look toward the arriving guests, none of whom seem to notice any changes. Just as you turn back around, you nearly feel your heart stop as Regulus’ masked face fills your vision. 

“Merlin almighty, Regulus!” You wheeze out. “A word of warning next time, please.” 

The man ignores your near fatal scare and drops both of the figures down onto the ground, crouching to pluck a strand of hair from them both. Approaching the crumpled figures, you uncork the vials before handing them to Regulus, already dreading having to change into their stuffy outfits. 

“Who the bloody hell are these two anyway?” You wonder aloud, watching as Regulus hands one of the vials back to you. 

Regulus blinks before glancing down at them. “They were speaking in Italian.” 

“Possible business partners of Rosier’s, then?” You offer, accepting the vial being extended to you. As you finish throwing back the concoction, a bright glimmer catches your eyes. “And a couple.” 

Regulus freezes at this and picks up the limp hand with the lustrous diamond ring in an almost disbelieving motion. You bite back a chuckle and shake your head, feeling your body curling and morphing to match the one by your feet. “I guess it could be worse.” Regulus peers up at this, and you smile down at him, “We could have been stuck with the Malfoy’s.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” A breathy sound tangles into the air, and at first you’re immediately put on guard as your eyes fly around to track the source of the sound, but as a few more moments pass, you’re struck with the realization that Regulus just laughed. 

You feel your lips part in shock. Except, they’re not your lips. They feel taut and unbearably foreign on your face. A sigh leaves your mouth as you realize that the transformation was complete, leaving you rooted to the ground in a haze of disorientation as you become acquainted with your new limbs.

Shaking your head to snap from your stupor, you raise an eyebrow at Regulus, “You just laughed.” 

“Hm.” Regulus’ gloved hand reaches up to cup the chin of his mask, his other hand bringing up the potion to his face. 

You spin around before Regulus can lift the mask off, opting to admire the colorful garden to occupy yourself. “You should laugh more, I’ve always liked your laugh.” 

Regulus does not dignify your comment with a response, not that you expected him to, but you feel him tap your knee to get you to turn back around. 

The man busies himself with stripping your victims of their clothing, pointedly not glancing at you when you drop to your knees to do the same. You both work quietly, only giving the occasional grunt or sigh when a button or zipper gets stuck. 

After you peel off the necessary articles of clothing from your… person, leaving them in their underdressings, you mutely trek behind a few trees to swap clothing, raising your eyes upward so as to not peek at your new body. 

By the time you make your way back to Regulus, clothes bundled haphazardously in your hands, he is already finished changing, deciding to throw his robe over one of the limp bodies. 

Regulus raises his gaze to you as you draw closer, moving to pick up the remainder of his clothes and his mask. You both shove the clothing into the woven bag, maintaining a comfortable silence all the while. After you both finish, you shove the bag into a dark hollow in one of the weighty trees. 

“I’ll move them farther out.” Regulus drones, voice still painfully stoic even in his new flesh disguise. You nod and clear your throat, tapping into your years of incognito experience to try and dredge up some semblance of a respectable Italian accent. 

Regulus hauls both of the bodies over his shoulders again, briskly pacing away as you smooth out your outfit, admiring the heavy satin fabric and intricate threading. 

“You ready?” Regulus’ voice rings into the small clearing, and you shoot him an assured smile. 

“Gotta work on the accent, Black. The voice doesn’t match the face very much.” Your accent slips off your tongue smoothly, causing Regulus to raise his eyebrow at you. 

The teasing spurs an oh-so-elegant eyeroll from him as he trudges toward you. “Like this?” The faint Italian lilt of his voice is admittedly, quite believable, and you’re left to mimic his eyeroll as you beckon him forward. 

“Let’s just hope that Rosier is too busy to approach us.” You mutter, lifting your wand to disable the wards again. 

Regulus remains behind you as you execute the task, humming when he senses the barrier flickering ever so slightly. “Let me do the talking if he does.” 

“Sure, boss.” You huff sarcastically, quickly passing into the garden before your charm disappears. “He’s going to be on his toes about the wards. Wavering twice in such a short period of time is no accident.” 

“Don’t worry. He’s not the observant type.” Regulus says, crouching down behind a dense patch of shrubs. 

You follow suit and turn to him, “Are you seriously implying that he’s an ignoramus?” 

“Yes.” He deadpans, a sliver of disdain melting into his tone. “Now, we’ll slip in and split up.” 

Nodding, you catch onto his plan. “Right, and we’ll both be too busy to stop for chats because we’ll be looking for each other.” 

“Good. Exactly.” He praises with a hum, stretching up from his position to survey the area. “Rosier will be making his toast soon. We need to be there so it won’t seem suspicious.” 

“How do you know?” You question quietly, walking by Regulus’ side as you both hurry toward the entrance. 

“I grew up going to these kinds of events.” He huffs, offering his arm as you both near the towering wooden doors. 

Hooking your arm in his, you plaster on a flat expression and square your shoulders, immediately reverting into work-mode. You both climb up the stone stairs, not even flinching when the doors swing open as you both reach the last step. 

The aroma of baked bread and pear wafts towards you as you both breach the threshold, the light chattering buzzing through the air gradually increasing in volume as you both drift into the clusters of milling wizards in the ballroom. 

“Look who made it.” An unctuous voice cuts over from your left, and you and Regulus swivel over to see an older couple approaching you both. “We were starting to worry.” The older woman muses, a thin smile stretching across her face. 

“We decided to get some air.” Regulus greets, an amicable lip turn twisting at his face. 

You nod along and tighten your hold on Regulus’ arm. “The tulips are wonderful this time of year, after all.” 

The woman hums in agreement, eyes glinting sharply under the light. Her husband chuckles softly and draws his flute of champagne closer to his chest as he finally speaks up, “You’re not wrong. Well, we’re glad you’re both here now. Such a shame that Pierre is no longer with us, but Clyde will do well.” 

Regulus hums and feigns dolefulness at his words, “Yes, what a shame. Pardon us, Lord Greengrass, Lady Greengrass, we were hoping to grab some refreshments ourselves before Lord Rosier’s appearance.” 

The older man—Lord Greengrass, gives a small ah of understanding before inclining his head. “Of course, Signor Pacelli. We must get together one of these days for dinner.” 

“It would be our pleasure.” Regulus agrees, offering a pleasant smile to the two before gently tugging you away. You shoot the couple a small smile before spinning on your heel to follow him, letting out a small sigh. 

“How’d you know?” You murmur, eyes slowing in their rapid survey. 

Regulus hums and his voice drops as he replies, “The perks of pureblood playdates. The Greengrass’ are familiar faces.” 

Luckily, neither of you are stopped again and you’re able to amble towards the champagne table without pause. Just as you pick up one of the glasses, a light ringing fills the air and draws your attention to the center of the room. 

The crowd disperses into a vague ring shape to surround the source of the noise: a copper-haired man tapping a spoon against his champagne flute. 

“Clyde.” Regulus mutters just loud enough for you to hear. You hum in understanding and turn fully to the man as he begins to speak. 

“Everyone, thank you for gathering here at my estate on this lovely day. I am grateful to not only be able to honor my late father alongside his most trusted acquaintances, but to also be given the privilege to inherit the title of Lord Rosier.” The lithe man runs his gaze over every occupant in the room as he pauses. “Trust that I will be diligent in my duty to protect our traditions and culture, we must never surrender our fight for the greater purpose.” 

His last statement seems to birth a quiet excitement amongst the crowd as people positively beam at his words, sharing small glances that oozed of complete assent and zealoustry. The topic of blood purity seemed to be the cream of the crop to everyone surrounding you. 

A stern looking man steps forward from his spot in the circle and raises his glass, eyes gleaming with approval as a wicked smile settles on his face. “To Lord Rosier.” His voice rumbles across the room followed by intonations of similar endorsement. 

You feel Regulus tense up beside you as he sees the man, arm snapping stiff for a few moments before you feel him forcefully relax his muscles. Biting your tongue, you suppress the urge to look at Regulus as you both mimic the crowd’s movements, a nauseating wave wracking through your body as you see the avaricious look on Rosier’s face. 

Bloody psycho. 

“I am truly honored. Now, please enjoy your time here!” Rosier inclines his head before motioning for the gettogether to resume, immediately moving to speak with who you recognized to be the Malfoy’s. Abraxas and… dear Merlin, a baby-faced Lucius. 

Biting back a snicker, you pat Regulus’ forearm as you bring your drink back to your side. “Lucius is quite adorable.” 

Regulus discreetly glances over and you see his eyes light up in mirth, quietly muttering into his drink as he tries to loosen up. “Merlin, who would have thought.” 

“Are you alright though?” You whisper before taking a sip from your own glass, refraining from looking toward the stern man as you frown. 

He nods quickly, before ducking down to your ear. “Later.” He carefully surveys your surroundings before continuing, “I’m going to go to the office. Second floor, west wing.” 

You nod smally and slowly slip your arm from his, “Be careful.” 

“Come up in five.” He mutters, grabbing another glass of champagne before slinking away into the crowd of people. 

You slowly down your glass before also grabbing another one, trying your best to hide your discomfort with the overwhelming environment. A few more seconds pass before you begin to weave through the crowd, intentionally wading around groups in rapt conversation in hopes of fading into the background. 

After pointedly ignoring straying eyes, you begin to adopt the composure of someone on a mission to find something, which you suppose works out since it was the literal dilemma you were facing. Your eyes feign search as they glide over people’s heads, a minute frown plastering itself on your lips as you pretend to seek Regulus out. 

The charade remains intact for a few minutes until you’re up the staircase and rounding the corner, your huff of contained relief finding residence in the desolate hallway. Muffling your footsteps, you arduously navigate through the maze of hallways and windows. 

Just as you go to reach for your wand, deciding to use a tracking spell, a pair of heavy footsteps echo from ahead of you. Slipping your hand away from your concealed holster, you compose yourself just in time to see a sinewy man turn the corner in front of you. 

Swallowing roughly, you relax your expression into one of light surprise as he makes eye contact with you. His cobalt eyes widen imperceptibly before a saccharine smile curls at his lips. 

Closing the distance between you, he hums as you smile back at him. “There you are, dove. I noticed you were gone earlier. I suppose now is an opportune time. My missus is with Clyde right now, but let’s be quick.” 

He goes to hug your body closer to his, and you instinctively tense up at the approach, mind whirling on overdrive as you stiffly reciprocate his movements. The embrace has your skin prickling while a suffocating air befalls on the hallway. Pulling back from the unknown man’s hold, you clear your throat as his face leans towards yours. “Not in the hallway. Anyone can walk by.” 

Your voice is even and poised, the complete antithesis to the panic stinging at your nerves. 

The man chuckles and runs a hand through his hair as he nods. “Sure. Let’s head to Clyde’s drinking parlor then. He won’t mind.” His eyes scan your face and the look is enough to spur the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. 

A—completely fake, coy smile dances on your lips as you nod back. “Well, lead the way then.” 

Fuck. An affair with some mystery man. You were beginning to wish that you had downed seven glasses of alcohol instead.

You both pass by a couple more doors before the man is deftly pushing one open, gesturing for you to go in first. The room was nothing if not exceedingly opulent. Suspended above the two plush lounge chairs is a glittering chandelier embellished with blinding crystals and ivory candles. The far wall stretched out into a makeshift bar with shelves stacked ceiling-high with decanters and waxed-dipped wine bottles. A sturdy glass table is sprouted in between the two lounge chairs, housing a single transparent ashtray. 

Before you can drown in your reverie of the room, you hear the mystery man clear his throat from behind you. 

Turning on your heel, your small grin washes away as your heart stutters to a stop as you see his wand pointed at your head. 

He gives you a flinty smile that flashes too many of his teeth, eyes wide with cold curiosity as he steps towards you. “Now that we have some privacy. Mind telling me who the hell you are?” 

“Welcome, Agent.”

The rumbling voice snaps you from your reverie as your eyes fall upon the stern face of your new boss, his staggering figure nearly washed away by the layers of black robes adorning him. 

“Unspeakable Gawdry,” you greet with a level tone, inclining your head to the side as you briskly make your way to him. “I’m afraid that it's now, former agent, sir.” 

Your light correction fails to faze him as his mouth remains in a firm line, gloved hands splaying themselves across his speckless desk as he moves to sit down on his leather chair. “Actually, agent, I believe such a title will be suitable for your duties here.”  

“Sir?” You trail off, standing across from him as your fingers itch to fiddle with your holstered wand. 

“Now, you didn’t think someone of your caliber would be a mere office assistant, did you? Your skillset on the field is the reason why I accepted you to be my new assistant, Agent.” Gawdry continues, pulling out one of his drawers without looking away. “It’s those skills that I intend to put to use.” 

Before you’re able to respond, the man slides a clipped folder toward you, eyebrows raising as he gestures for you to read through it. 

Tentatively grasping at the folder, you flip through the countless pages with a frown. 

Daily Prophet: Defected Death Eater Dies!

— September 8, 1979

Second son of Walburga and Orion Black and Heir of the Noble House of Black, Regulus Black, has unexpectedly died. Just two weeks since the fall of You-Know-Who, reports from Albus Dumbledore himself confirm the young Black’s prior involvement with aiding the Light side against Death Eater forces. The Hogwarts headmaster conveyed that the young Black’s help was integral to the armistice and defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  

Young Regulus Black, described as a profound force in the classroom by Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn, is said to have fallen into critical condition shortly after his defection. Before succumbing to his fate, the young wizard outlined crucial information that was imperative to concluding the miasma of carnage. 

“It is truly a deep tragedy to watch such a bright mind gradually wither away. With Mr.Black’s death, we must be vigilant in our future struggles against great darkness.” – Albus Dumbledore 

“The loss of such a capable wizard… It is unforgivable. Really, the loss of so many courageous wizards and witches, it is an insurmountable grief for many years to come.” – Minister Mangum

Dear readers, in times of celebration for the new era, we must also keep our fallen in our hearts. The fate of the House of Black remains uncertain, but Regulus Black’s tremendous sacrifice must not be forgotten. 

(Turn to page 5 for exclusive interviews with Arnold Vall)

You heave out a small sigh at the flimsy clipping, remembering the day you read the very same article at your dinner table. However, it is not the aged Daily Prophet snippet that renders you speechless, but the stack of papers underneath it– papers you recognize from the Auror Department: an agent’s composite mission profile. 

Regulus Arcturus Black (b.1961 – )

“Death’s Herald”  

Service: 1980 – Present

Status: Active 

Completed Assignments: 501

01.25.80 - 02.29.80: Recovery of Helena’s Trove. Calais, France. 

03.02.80 - 03.05.80: Rescue of Auror Tinsley. Birmingham, England. 

03.08.80 - 03.24.80: Capture of Antonin Dolohov & Augustus Rookwood. 

03.30.80 - 04.16.80: Capture & disposal of [redacted]. 

04.22.80 - 04.23.80: Disposal of Reginold Flint. 

04.26.80 - 04.29.80: Disposal of Pyrites Ingrim II. 

05.02.80 - 05.02.80: Disposal of Leon Wilkes. 

05.06.80 - 05.07.80: Disposal of [redacted] Org. 

05.11.80 - 05.14.80: Disposal of Henry Binns

. 

. 

. 

. 

.

07.15.90 - Pending: Retrieval of [redacted] 

Your eyes are practically bulging from their sockets as you peer up, the fine text of dates and the slew of disposal, disposal, disposal causing your eyes to dry. “Sir? I don’t understand… Regulus is–” 

“Alive and well, Agent.” He softly cuts you off, licking his lips as he awaits your onslaught of curiosity. 

Alive and well and the bloody Death Herald. The hottest topic of debate amongst all ranks of Aurors in your former department. Elusive, unforgiving—and apparently, actually a real person. 

You nearly huff out a disbelieving laugh, slowly shutting the folder in your hands as you persevere in your denial, “How is that possible?” 

“Agent Black was immediately enrolled into the Ministry’s witness protection program for high-profile individuals after his… death as per the request of Albus Dumbledore. He has been handling a number of top Auror missions since.” Gawdry explains, hands clasping together as his words slice through the air with a suffocating revelation. 

“Disposal missions.” Killing people. Though, you eschewed the unambiguous words, not eager to ruffle your boss’ feathers so early into your career. 

Gawdry cracks a wry smile at your comment— as if reading your mind, and hums in confirmation. “Ten years of it. An adept adversary, I pity anyone who finds themself at the end of his wand. He’s the Ministry’s greatest weapon. Such information is highly classified, only high ranking officials and leaders are aware of this fact, so it would be unwise for you to break your code of silence on this, Agent.” 

“Sure, right, no problem. And these redacted parts?” You cough out, a migraine beginning to bloom across your temples. 

The man clicks his tongue and leans back in his chair, “Above your pay grade, Agent.” 

“Right.” Your dejectedness weighs on your shoulders as you will your eyes to stay locked on him. 

He raises a finger and clears his throat, “With the exception of the last one.” 

Before you can press further, a familiar jingle of clicking locks reverberates across the room. Turning around, you narrow your eyes as a tall figure begins to strut into the room without a word. You swallow harshly as you survey the approaching individual, taking note of their dark hooded cloak and fitted apparel. A field agent. Clothes for mobility. Agile, controlled movements. Tense, cautious posture. It was all a dead giveaway—it was like looking at a reflection of yourself, really. 

As the person grows closer to you, you blink rapidly as you realize they’re wearing a mask that enshrouds their entire face. The white face covering is streaked with grey lines, enhancing the expressionless slant of its lips. A warm prickle on the back of your neck draws your attention away from the ivory ridges and toward the blazing green eyes that were now locked on your gobsmacked face. 

“Great timing, Agent Black.” Gawdry rises from his seat and nods toward the newcomer, ignoring your ticked jaw as you silently look back to him for an explanation. 

Your shoulders stiffen as Agent Black halts beside you, an aura of indifference radiating from him. You’re suddenly conscious of the way his body heat emanates toward you, how he vaguely nods at Gawdry’s words, and how he seems to be assessing you from the corner of his eye as well. 

The infamous Death Herald was beside you, and he also happened to be Regulus bloody Black. The very same Regulus who you silently mourned all those years ago, the Regulus Black who you admired from afar during your school days—

“As I was saying before, there is a new assignment. One that you will both complete together.” Gawdry’s eyes are dim, a few stress lines clinging to his forehead as he shuffles out a thick packet. 

Regulus crosses his arms and clears his throat, “It requires two of us? I am capable of doing it alone.” 

—the same Regulus that you wanted to hex at that very moment.

Your eyebrows fly into your hairline as you muffle a scoff, slightly tilting your head toward him as you bite out an acerbic retort. “Apparently not, seeing as we’re both standing here.” 

Regulus merely glances at you before peering at Gawdry for an answer, intent on dismissing your irritation. Your boss appraises you with clear amusement before his stern mask falls back into place as he swiftly slides the packet toward you both, “We are aware of your competence, Agent Black. However, your partner here is trained specifically for retrieval and infiltration assignments.” Gawdry pauses and glances at you, “As well as issues involving our time space.”

If you weren’t still reeling from your previous bristling thoughts, you would have preened a bit at your boss’ words, flattered that he seemed to be backing you. Though, this only encouraged the tiny pride-gremlin in your chest— because take that Black! You’re completely out of your depth at the Department of Mysteries.

You step forward first and pull the hefty envelope toward you, wasting no time in undoing the string tie. “No use dawdling.” You mutter, feeling two pairs of eyes burning into your head. 

As you reach inside the packet and grasp at the stack of papers, your eyebrows furrow once you realize there are three separate folders inside. Bringing the first folder under the light, you nearly roll your eyes as you practically feel Regulus craning to read it, stubbornly refusing to move closer to you. 

You wordlessly maneuver the contents in between you both, opting to return your attention to Gawdry as Regulus softly tugs out one of the folders from your hand. “A time travel assignment, boss?” 

Gawdry nods and cracks his knuckles, “An assignment our Department has been piecing together for years. A few spins of a time turner, in-and-out with the relics. Our recon crew finally cracked down on most of the significant information, so we’ve assigned the best of the best to complete it.” 

“Are you buttering us up because we’re marching toward imminent doom?” You ask, tone inflated with amusement. 

Regulus remains silent, but lifts his head up imperceptibly to look at Gawdry. The older man glances between you both before humming, “It is an urgent assignment and undoubtedly, a risky one.” 

“Well, interfering with time is never a simple matter.” You answer plainly, hands moving to hug the remaining two folders to your chest. 

“When do we start?” Regulus’ steely voice takes you by surprise, the rough tone still foreign to your ears. 

Gawdry leans back and fixes him with an unwavering stare, “Preferably now. It is a time sensitive case, so I expect you both to work together seamlessly.” 

Forbearance embraces you tightly as you nod, already mentally outlining how to work around Regulus’ one-note, detached attitude on the field. Despite that, you had to give him credit, a decade of solitude and bloodshed was bound to foster such apathy, and you weren’t sure you could survive what he did. 

Regulus spins on his heel without a word, beginning to make his way toward the towering doors as you remain rooted to your spot. Gawdry’s eyes remain on Regulus’ retreating figure as he acknowledges you, “Yes, Agent?” 

“Is this going to be a fixed partnership?” Your fingers twitch in anticipation as you hear the doors click shut behind you. 

“That remains to be seen. There is a lot on the line so I’ll be direct, Agent,” Gawdry pauses before finally looking at you, “this was supposed to be a solo assignment, but at the insistence of Head Auror Chao, I accepted her request to let Agent Black tag along.” 

“You mean that this was originally my assignment?” You gape in surprise, barely processing that your former boss was single handedly responsible for Regulus’ presence. 

“Yes. It is quite beneficial for me, don’t misconstrue. Such a case rightfully belongs to the Department of Mysteries, but without a qualified Unspeakable to carry out the brief…” Gawdry explains, nodding as your eyes light up in realization. 

“Then it would have been given to the Auror Department.” You finish with a hum, shuffling your weight to one foot, “So my unceremonious decision to transfer to the Department of Mysteries gave you a window of opportunity.” 

Gawdry nods again, and a sharp grin tugs at his mouth, “Precisely. You can imagine how unhappy Auror Chao was at the loss of such an adept field agent and an extraordinary case all in one go.” 

“That checks out. So, Agent Black is collateral.” You conclude, all semblance of firm professionalism flying out of the window. 

Gawdry does not deign you with an answer, but he shoots a pointed look at the doors with a good natured eyebrow raise, prompting you to swiftly depart from the cold room with a pleased grin. As you pace out of the office, you’re left to toy with your thoughts, still conflicted on how you would have to adapt to Regulus’ methods amidst such a precarious mission. 

Stepping away from the threshold of Gawdry’s office, you squint as your eyes adjust to the lifeless tiles of the hallway. Before you’re able to wander further, you’re stopped in your tracks at the sight of Regulus’ motionless figure ways off from you, his stormy eyes greeting you with glimmering impassivity. 

“Ah. You waited.” You sputter out quietly, striding towards him as he pivots and begins to walk away. 

Your eyes linger on the taut muscles of his shoulders, vaguely visible under the cloth of cloak as he continues walking. Awkward tension settles in the air as you take the lead toward the Atrium of Artifacts, not knowing how to breach conversation as you make way to retrieve a time turner. 

Clearing your throat lightly, you bite your cheek as you finally break the silence. “Oh, we went to school together. I don’t know if you remember, I was a year under you.” 

“I remember.” The answer is immediate and nearly robotic, a clear sign that he was either uncaring for pleasantries or inclined to work in silence. 

“Ah. Well, I’m glad that you’re okay.” I even lit a bloody candle for you. 

Regulus hums out lightly before swiftly segwaying back into work, “I read the brief. We’re retrieving lost files.” 

“Files?” You intone faintly, sifting through your memories for any information on file relics. 

As you round the corner towards the distribution center for time turners, Regulus throws you a small glance and continues, “1958. Clyde Rosier’s Estate.” 

“1958… Rosier? Evan’s father?” You mumble, remembering the blonde boy that often paraded around the halls with the other older Slytherins, most meeting the same untimely fate as him. 

Regulus is decisively mute about your revelation, possibly reminiscing on similar memories of the boy. You were quite positive that they were familiar with each other some eons ago, having been in Voldemort’s inner circle for a brief time together. 

Before you have time to stew further on your thoughts, you’re both crossing into the large hall of artifacts. The atrium stretches skyhigh, evaporating into a blanket of darkness that accompanies the biting chill permeating across the room. Suppressing a shiver, you survey the dark perimeter, appreciating the bulbs of floating lights at the heart of the room, the cluster of orbs pulsing with enough glow to dimly light up the surroundings. 

“Merlin, is the whole department cloaked in darkness? I don’t think I’ll ever get used to not being able to see 20 feet ahead of me.” You mumble, eyes darting toward an approaching figure wading through the shadows of the room. 

Regulus lets out a small huff, and you’re almost certain that it was one of amusement and not exasperation, but the cloaked Unspeakable approaching you leaves little time to ruminate on it. 

“Yes?” The raspy voice coils through the air. 

Fishing out your new badge, you quickly flash it to the Unspeakable with a dry smile, “We need a time turner, and perhaps a bag with an extension charm.” It is silent for a few moments before you clear your throat, “Please.” 

The cloaked figure gives a small nod before slinking away, leaving you and Regulus to observe the lusterless environment. 

“Have you ever worked with a partner on your assignments?” You ask, nerves buzzing like static as you drum your fingers against the folders in your hands. 

Regulus’ head tilts toward you, “No.” The hushed answer seems definitive, and just as you’re about to clamber back into your shell, his voice rings out again, “You?” 

“Ah, me neither.” You admit a bit sheepishly, yet still satisfied that he didn’t completely dismiss you. 

The air seems a bit warmer than before, driving you to face forward and continue waiting for the Unspeakable to reappear. 

As if summoned, a faint rustle emits near you before you see the cloaked figure trudge toward you, arms full of parchment and a woven bag. Furrowing your eyebrows, you step forward and reach over to assist them, slowly unfurling the parchment and raising it up to the light. 

Regulus steps forward to read it with you, clearly uncertain of the rules in your Department. 

‘TERMS OF USE: Time Turner.

As per regulations and codes of The Department of Mysteries, this contract constitutes a legally binding agreement. Rights and access to a Time Turner may only be permitted through signature, if you disagree with any of the terms listed in this contract, you are not permitted to use a Time Turner. By signing this document, you and any party involved hereby agree to the terms and conditions listed below. 

Rights to a Time Turner do not extend to distribution, abuse, or irresponsible handling of the object. Destruction or loss of property may be punishable by law or reasonable fine. The Department of Mysteries is not liable for subsequent injury or death as a result of Time Turner use.’ 

“Sign it.” Regulus’ flat words tear through your concentration, and you can feel his figure looming behind you, a flicker of impatience evidently buzzing through his veins. 

Clicking your tongue, you accept the quill that the Unspeakable passes to you, shaking your head all the while. “Don’t tell me you sign every document you get without reading it.” 

You quickly scribble your signature on the paper, admiring the neat streaks as you await Regulus’ response to your quip. When he remains silent, you quickly snap your head around and fix him with a disbelieving frown. “Merlin. Okay, I’m in charge of all the legal stuff from this day onward.” 

After you get sorted with the contracts and take the mandatory oath for the loan, you’re both sent off with a new bag and a polished time turner. Holding the chain up in the air, you fawn over the powerful object in your hands, quelling the adrenaline that was jittering around your nerves. 

“Okay. Date, please.” You hum, shooting Regulus a confident smile. 

His eyes flicker from you to the folder in his hand as he monotonously recites the information to you, “June 18th, 1958.” 

Handing part of the chain to him, you quickly throw it over your neck and steady your finger against the small knob of the charm. “Like Gawdry said, in and out. Simple.” Twisting the ringlets of the device, you watch in fascination as it begins to steadily spin on its own accord, a heavy pressure of magic blanketing you both in the process. 

And before you can blink again, you and Regulus are being thrown through the reel of time.