of the noble and most ancient

He had no recollection of the last time he had cried like this - not at a funeral or at a broken bone or anything like that. Even when Sirius had left them, in the face of his parents he’d remained stoic and strong. He’d saved his tears for the shower, where there was no risk of anyone ever seeing or hearing them as they washed down the drain. He’d almost certainly been a small child the last time he’d cried in front of either of his parents like this, and he certainly didn’t like that it was happening now either. He looked up only when Orion had said he wasn’t going to let him die, because there was no way he could know that.

He’d opened his mouth to say as such, but then Orion had continued before he could find the right words, because yet again - how was he supposed to tell him anything? He’d just come back from a month of what sounded like torture, and even still he had to question which ties were stronger. There was no way he could have possibly told him anything, but he did quickly cut in, “No, I don’t know-” before cutting himself off, watching as the lamp shattered against the wall.

He couldn’t quite place the look on Orion’s face, though it did render him back into silence, his gaze dropping to the floor at the sound of his disappointment. This was likely the closest they’d come to acknowledging Sirius in front of him since his departure, and Regulus found he was quite happy for the distraction that a simple glass of water provided, focussing on not eliminating it too quickly by drinking it all. 

It seemed quickly that whatever anger his father had was ebbing away, and it was his turn to speak now, though he still had no clue just what was going to come out of his mouth, “I couldn’t tell you.” His statement was simple. “I didn’t know - I still don’t know anything. I don’t know what a horcrux is or even if that is what Slytherin’s locket is. I don’t know what to do, but I know that whatever he’s done, he’s tried to kill Kreacher in order to hide it, and with all of the safeguards he’s put in place whoever does try to retrieve it is going to die in the process. I couldn’t tell you though - Dad you - You were hurt. If this is going to kill someone it might as well be me. The only way I’m ever going to fix any of my mistakes is dying anyways.”

He knew it was a tricky thing to promise. He knew he had no control over death no matter how much he pretended to, but Orion could not and would not let Regulus die. This wasn’t about the Black family legacy or who would be heir. This came down to family, to blood, to love. Was it horrible to wonder if your son knew that you loved him? Yes, it is, the bitter angel on his shoulder whispered, but you’re a horrible person, Orion. While he made this promise to his son, he made a promise to himself- Orion was going to make sure that Regulus lived, even if he himself died in the process. There wasn’t a better way to go out in his eyes.

As much as it pained him to agree, Orion understood why Regulus couldn’t trust him with this. All his life Orion has been putting the Dark Lord before his family, even before himself. It was such a righteous path or it had been until now. One Orion willingly put his son on and now it led them to here, in his study, where under the anger and concern for Regulus’ life, lied betrayal. Because that’s what this was, what it all pointed to in the end: betrayal. A bitter short-lived laugh bubbled up from his throat in between Regulus’ words; a horcrux of all things, and to go after one that belonged to the Dark Lord was certain death. Even if they lived, what would happen after? How would he keep his family safe?

There was much to process and Orion listened to his son carefully, occasionally looking at him when he said something that truly caught Orion off guard- the use of Kreacher, Slytherin’s locket, the mistakes of a 17 year old. Try 50, kid. Orion rubbed at his jaw with his hand, the mental strain growing the longer Regulus spoke. When he finished, Orion turned towards him, leaning against the arm of his chair.

It had taken him a moment to pull his gaze up to meet Orion’s when he’d told him to look and listen, fighting the way that he only seemed to be able to look at his lap for the time being. It was with great effort that he did as told, and he was happy that he did - apparently his father was the source of the information that he needed. The only issue was that he didn’t want to ask any further questions of him. He wanted to be allowed to leave - to run up to his room so that he could be spared the embarrassment of his feelings - to hide. 

He was sure that his father wouldn’t have cared if anything had happened to Kreacher - he’d stopped asking anyone else in the house to call the elves by their names years ago, “When I gave him the order to go - right after I walked with the Dark Lord after taking the mark - I also gave him the order to return.” he didn’t bother with his phrasing. He much preferred to think of things in a manner of having asked rather than ordered, but again - that was another issue entirely, and on the back burner for now. “It took days to get the potion out of his system, and I’m still not sure what exactly it was.” Of course, he didn’t need to tell his father any of this. He’d seen it all for himself. 

“Where are we even going Uncle Walden?” had been the start of it, no more than ten minutes into their trek. When it had started to rain on them, turning dirt into mud beneath his feet he’d complained some more - “My feet are wet - My boot is stuck- Uncle Walden you’re going too fast!” Truthfully, he wanted to stay home so that he could play with the older boys; Sirius and Benjy and Evan, but apparently everyone else had other plans. He wasn’t a fan of things like this. Sure he liked flying, and he did genuinely enjoy playing with the other boys, even if they were getting dirty but this was far from something that fell in his comfort zone. “Uncle Walden I’m tired and hungry, can we take a break? Did you bring snacks? Where are we going, are we there yet?” It was a pretty typical cacophony of complaints from the seven year old, but when Walden mentioned sleeping in the mud he bit down on his cheeks, deciding only then that it was best to listen and keep his thoughts to himself.

He didn’t make it into the clearing for a full minute after Walden had, and he found himself searching the small area for some reason they might have come here. Of course, he was left staring up at Walden when he announced that they were staying here. “But why? It’s all muddy and my bed is at home… Who’s gonna…” He wasn’t entirely sure what to say, because he was sure that his Uncle had some answer for whatever he could say. “I don’t want to. I want to go home…” 

“You’ll make a new bed here. That’s the point, Regulus. It’s important for you to know how to survive in nature,” He insisted. It crossed his mind that the boy was possibly too young for such an outing, but the concern was quickly dismissed when he reminded himself that he had been at least a year younger than Regulus when he was taught his first lesson of survival. “My father used to bring me out here every weekend to make sure I knew how to live off the land if I ever needed to, and since your father doesn’t intend to teach you anything, I’m going to teach you myself. Your mother was hardly willing to let me bring you out here for one weekend though, so I suppose we’ll have to skip to the basics…” In his own opinion, Walburga and Orion spoiled their children by allowing them to become accustomed to the pampering and privileges that were a part of their parents’ lifestyle.

“The sooner we set everything up, the sooner you can eat and rest. Now, are you going to listen to me?” He waited until he appeared to have the boy’s attention. “You always make your shelter first so you have protection against the weather. I’m going to set up the tent because it requires a wand. The next thing to do is to make a fire so we can eat and get warmed up. While I’m getting the tent ready, you walk around and try to find some dry sticks somewhere ― and make sure you don’t hurt yourself, yeah? Your mother will kill me if she finds out that you got so much as a scratch while I’m watching you.”

Nothing was happening, no progress was being made. Aversio and the Order were only just getting along on the best of days. They needed a win, some kind of meaningful win if things were going to keep going in the right direction. Something that could boost moral and keep things moving along. Xeno had had too much time of not managing to accomplish anything, one too many twarted hopes. 

They’d decided to attend that fundraiser, slipping in under disguise as a Pureblood Slytherin graduate would would certainly fit in at such an event. Xenophilius Lovegood showing up may have raised questions and certainly would have kept them from getting anywhere. Antoin Jameson? Well an event like this would fit him just fine. And Xen was going to use that to his advantage. Antoin was from a known Death Eater family, a familiar face among tonight’s company. Someone who would likely be trusted among the ranks of the very people Xeno hoped to take down. The kind of person who would fit in with the Blacks.

And really, where better to start than with them? So much of who they were and what they stood for churned his stomach. They could never understand a family like the Blacks. Sirus and Andromeda were the only ones who seemed to have much redeemable to them and even then, Xen had his hesitancy. Though like it or not, the Black family was strong–they knew what they were doing when it came to magic. Xen would take risks, sure, maybe even put his own life in danger, but not if not necessary. And he wouldn’t cause harm either unless he had to.

So he–Antoin–strolled casually toward the youngest of the Black family, only just graduated from Hogwarts. “Regulus, right?” he said in a slow draw as though the question bored him. “I remember the face from around the halls. Tonight seems rather boring though, doesn’t it? I’m looking for some good company to kick up a bit of fun. I may have brought something with me to brighten the party.” He took a flask out of his jacket pocket, shaking it with a smile. Sure, it held  vertiserum, but surely Regulus would assume he meant alcohol. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell. Come on,” he jerked his head toward a more secluded corner of the party. 

He'd noticed Antoin Jameson earlier in the night, while he'd been talking to Benjy, and had to wonder why this was the event that had brought him back to London. The last he'd heard anything about the older Slytherin he'd been living it up in America, and Regulus himself had been jealous. He'd never get to be that carefree. He knew he'd never escape his responsibilities here, and even if it was the champagne or the whiskey talking now, he wasn't sure that he didn't want just that. Freedom was a concept that had escaped him a long time ago, of course the thought of it was tempting.

visitation || reg & mum

July 13th, 1979

It was strange wasn’t It, a warning to dress to blend in with a slip of parchment in his hand with an address. An address that would lead him to his mother’s new flat. He’d actually had to leave home to see his own mother. He hadn’t asked what had prompted her to leave - whatever had happened was between his mother and father, even if there was always going to be a part of him that would blame himself. As though his being a better son would negate any other issues in their lives. As if there was anything he could possibly have done to prevent any of this. He’d thought that he would have been the next, and last, person to leave Number Twelve, having just finished school, yet here they were, and instead it was Walburga settling into a new home. Even if things felt strained between himself and his father, he couldn’t leave him alone. For some reason it felt as though she stood a better chance at surviving on her own than he did.

He didn’t know why she wanted him to visit so soon, sure she couldn’t possibly be settled in yet, but still here he was, as dressed down as he’d ever been in his life in a long sleeved cotton shirt and jeans. Even his hair seemed to help him blend in well with the other muggle boys, hanging down long over his shoulders was evidently the preferred style. He wasn’t sure how much he disliked the thought that he could so easily blend in with them now. It worked to his benefit here, waiting for the elevator in a muggle building, but in general… No matter how much he changed, he’d always think of himself as superior to them. He had to check the address again to get the right floor as he boarded with a few of them, aware of the way he tried to press himself into the wall to avoid contact, and how quickly he’d gotten off at the right floor. It had taken him a minute to find the right door, and even then he’d taken a moments pause before knocking, “Mother? It’s me.”

@walburgablak

Walburga was still struggling to breathe at times. She couldn’t believe she had done it. That she had left. It had just been too much. Orion had shoved it in her face time after time that she wasn’t what she wanted. Her hand went to her rib cage where the letters spelling his name still stood. She had thought about removing it so many times but she’d never been able to bring herself to give up hope, even now when she was living in an apartment having left him and their home she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it.

Walburga had sent an owl to Reg to have him come over. Despite how distant her son had grown, she knew he would try and blame himself for this and she needed him to know it wasn’t his fault. She needed him to know there would always be a place for him in her life no matter how things turned out. She needed him to know how much she loved him. She feared that he wouldn’t understand. Regulus had been shut down for so long. She didn’t know how to help him and it killed her. She was his mother she was supposed to be able to help him.

june 29th, 1979 12 grimmauld place - afternoon @natalicdupont @regulusb

The enchanted grandfather clock hovered behind an empty desk, even as the time for their meeting grew closer and closer. Instead of his usual spot at his desk, Orion decided to try something new: he sat on the couch at the seating area surrounding the fireplace in his study, a table in between with a pot of tea he personally just made. This wasn’t a regular business meeting where he needed to be in control of everything. Orion wanted two things out of this- to be able to keep an eye on Regulus and to give a grand speech for the first fundraiser dedicated to the rebuilding of St. Mungos. Even he was surprised at Rodolphus’ announcement, but the moment he had heard it Orion knew that he needed to help. He was no longer content to let their world burn just to achieve what Lord Voldemort wanted. This was the beginning of something new and, dare he say, good and he wanted to be a part of it. 

Kreacher hesitantly walked through the wide open door of Orion’s study. Hesitant because his Master’s office was never just open like this, welcoming any and all who needed to speak with him. So strange, he thought, as he asked his Master if he required anything else.

Orion shook his head, black reading glasses slid down his nose from the movement. He didn’t bother to glance up from the book he was reading as he answered. “No, elf. Fetch Regulus when Miss. Dupont arrives and bring them both here. That is all.”

Her choice had been a simple one, the moment Rodolphus Lestrange had announced the fundraiser: step up to orchestrate it. Her work with Rabastan and friendship to Emma had done enough to get her foot in the door of his good graces, but this would help. Of course this would help. Where the Dupont family stood as French wizard royalty, the Black family rose as London’s. And while the young witch would have been content to organize the event herself, having the help couldn’t hurt. Certainly not if it helped give a chance to prove herself.

The invitation had come as bit of a surprise, but one Natalie was taking to be a pleasant one. If someone so esteemed was offering help, it was a loaded offer that would be rude to ignore. Orion Black was among the Dark Lord’s strongest hands, and she remembered his son from school even if Regulus was younger. Because there was, of course, only one son now; a perverse corner of her mind spoke, saying she had that in common to the Black clan, the loss of one of their own. Not that she would dare ever breach such a thing. 

Ensuring herself that she was presentable, Natalie left the family state, soon arriving at Grimmauld Place. Seeing it in person was different than hearing the stories. Because of course there were stories, just as there were of her family’s land. Pureblood society was well known to their own kind. Positioning a polite smile on her face, she tapped against the door, stepping inside as the elf opened it, welcoming her into the hall.

Regulus looked up from his desk and the items on it to see Kreacher, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile drew itself across his features, “Kreacher how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? We are friends. My name alone is sufficient.”

“Regulus, your father has requested your presence. You have company.”

He hadn’t been aware of any expectant guests but still he rose, brushing off his slacks before following Kreacher downstairs. He was tired, having stayed up all night working on building a replica of the necklace. He could handle this level of tired and remain a good host though. He only had to wonder why his father wanted him; things had been strained between them lately - he far preferred spending what time he had to spend with anyone with his mother now. Seeing Natalie DuPont when he'd finished descending the stairs to join them was only a slight surprise.

Date: July 12, 1969

Location: Kingswood Forest

@regulusb

“If you stopped complaining, we would get there sooner,” Walden insisted. With a small bag slug over one shoulder and his Executioner’s axe in the opposing hand, he trudged expertly through the forest grounds. Though he could hear his nephew struggling to keep up behind him, he neither slowed his stride nor glanced over his shoulder to ensure that the young boy didn’t fall too far behind, as any other responsible adult may have done. “I recommend you speed up and shut up. If we don’t get there soon, there won’t be enough sunlight to build ourselves a shelter. Are you having a hard time walking through this mud? How would you like sleeping on it?” Despite his harsh words, the man would at least ensure that the two had a safe and sanitary shelter to sleep that night ( mainly for his own sake ), but of all the lessons he planned to teach Regulus that night, the first was the most important - the universe wouldn’t wait for anybody. The sun would set at its own pace and people would get where they were going with or without their intended company. 

After some time, the man finally came to a stop in a rather small clearing surrounded by trees. He looked around, nodding his approval. “Here,” He declared, setting his bag down. “This is the spot my father took me… I think. It’s changed a bit, but that’s alright.” For the first time since they had entered the forest, he turned to face the boy fully. “Alright, kid. We’re spending the next two nights here. We need food, fire, and shelter. What’s our first priority? It’s your call.”

There was one thing Orion knew: he was not, under any circumstance, going to turn his son in. He looked over at Regulus; the corner of his mouth twitched, he reached out towards him, but at the last second, before contact could be made or before Regulus would open his eyes, the hand retreated and Orion ran it through his hair anxiously. Looking down at his left arm, he pushed the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow to trace the black snake on his skin– a deep breath left barely parted lips. 

As much as it pained him to see Regulus like this, Orion wouldn’t let himself regret it. At least not now. There was too much to process for him to worry about the ramifications of assaulting his sons’ mind like that. It was necessary and Orion was a man who did what needed to be done no matter the costs. Maybe Regulus would understand one day, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter in the long run– Orion was already a terrible father. 

The only noise that filled up his study was the sobbing of his son. He’d never seen him like this before; he looked so tiny and vulnerable and young. Orion wanted to protect him, to pick him up and hold him tightly, but how was he suppose to protect Regulus when he was the cause of his anguish? Maybe there was something he could do now, but Orion didn’t know what that was. If he was a better father then maybe he would.

After some time, Orion leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and cleared his throat. “Regulus… son, I’m not going to turn you in. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, and I’m certainly not going to let you die,” he said, gently but just as sternly. Of all the things he saw, what angered him the most, was his son’s willingness to die, a genetic defect Orion didn’t doubt he passed down. He tried to keep his voice level, but he couldn’t stop the anger that seeped out through the cracks. “You should have told me. You should have told me the moment I returned home! A horocrux, Regulus? Really? Do you understand what kind of magic this is? What kind of man it takes to wield such power?”

Orion stood up and in a fit of rage, he launched a lamp across the room, throwing it into a wall. He turned around to face his son, but it wasn’t simple anger that was written on his face. It was a sad sort of angry, desperate and heartbreaking, something that stung the corners of his eyes. “And you! So eager to die! Do you have any idea what that would do to your mother? We already lost one son. I am not going to lose another!” Orion threw his hands up in a fit and walked over to his drink cart, completely bare except for a few crystal glasses and a pitcher of cold water. He filled up a glass and brought it over to Regulus, sitting back down right after with another heavy sigh. “You should have told me…”

He had no recollection of the last time he had cried like this - not at a funeral or at a broken bone or anything like that. Even when Sirius had left them, in the face of his parents he’d remained stoic and strong. He’d saved his tears for the shower, where there was no risk of anyone ever seeing or hearing them as they washed down the drain. He’d almost certainly been a small child the last time he’d cried in front of either of his parents like this, and he certainly didn’t like that it was happening now either. He looked up only when Orion had said he wasn’t going to let him die, because there was no way he could know that.

He’d opened his mouth to say as such, but then Orion had continued before he could find the right words, because yet again - how was he supposed to tell him anything? He’d just come back from a month of what sounded like torture, and even still he had to question which ties were stronger. There was no way he could have possibly told him anything, but he did quickly cut in, “No, I don’t know-” before cutting himself off, watching as the lamp shattered against the wall.

He couldn’t quite place the look on Orion’s face, though it did render him back into silence, his gaze dropping to the floor at the sound of his disappointment. This was likely the closest they’d come to acknowledging Sirius in front of him since his departure, and Regulus found he was quite happy for the distraction that a simple glass of water provided, focussing on not eliminating it too quickly by drinking it all. 

Kreacher had had good reason in begging Rabastan to quiet down. The house was quiet for a reason. Regulus was the only one home at the moment, and he’d fallen asleep a little over an hour ago after staying up all night with his books. He hadn’t been a heavy sleeper at any point in his life, but that had become even farther from the truth lately, Rabastan’s voice immediately pulling him back into wakefulness. He was only thankful that he’d begun keeping a few bottles of pepper-up potion at his desk, quickly drinking one before leaving his room, taking the stairs as quickly as he could. “Has something happened, Rabastan?” It was an easy assumption. He could only assume that he wasn’t here for some kind of social call, which left only business of some sort, either that or someone had sent him, and he wasn’t sure which was more likely. “What brings you here?”

In the midst of war, Rabastan had to make sure his alliances weren’t just facades, would fade once they saw a better opportunity to gain power. The Black’s has always been keeping to themselves, or so Rabastan thought. Rabastan wouldn’t ask Orion for support, but maybe his son would be more willing to align with their ideals and reign. “War,” he answered shortly to get straight to the point. “What are your intentions? We’re almost the same age, so I thought I could just go ahead and ask whose side are you on? Because my brother works for the Dark Lord, I work for me brother.” he created a ladder-like shape with his hands. “And so on, and so on. But you?” he pointed towards Regulus. “Are somewhere – and I need to know where exactly. Do you serve the Dark Lord, and therefore us, or not?”

If there was only one thing on the planet that Regulus was allowed to declare hatred for, it would absolutely be surprises. It didn’t matter that in this instance it was his own fault for being so entranced in his research, it only mattered that it had happened, and left him with that unsettled feeling in his stomach. The fact that it was Kingsley didn’t do him any justice either. He was well aware of the fact that the other man was an auror, and not someone he wanted to spend a lot of time with under any circumstances.

He was aware of what was on the table in front of him - a mixture of things that he was suddenly hyperaware of, closing a book or two as subtly as he could manage when Kingsley had joined him. He made a bit of a show of rearranging things in an effort to hide the fact that there were some things that he didn’t want Kingsley to see, shuffling them closer to himself to offer the other wizard part of the table. 

“Well you were a Hufflepuff and not a Ravenclaw. Why wouldn’t the department use people in roles that they actually enjoy? Wouldn’t it have been better for someone who actually enjoys research to be doing it?” It only made sense to him. “I know that I tend to do better when I get to work on things that I actually enjoy.” 

It seemed as though Kingsley wasn’t paying him very much mind, and Regulus was confident then that he hadn’t taken full note of the scrolls and books in front of him. He’d made sure by now that the spines of the books facing the other man were all things related to his studies, which by now had been brought up. “I’ll be taking eight of them; Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, and Transfiguration… I wanted to take Alchemy as well, but there wasn’t enough interest in the course this year,” it was only polite to maintain conversation, “Which NEWTs did you take?”

“That’s not exactly how the Auror department works, but that statement is true for most people I assume,” Kingsley commented thoughtfully, rapping his knuckles on the table in front of him. He could have gone into more detail about his position, but knowing Regulus, or anyone in the Black family, they wanted information and details and Kingsley wanted the kid as annoyed and thrown off as possible. Well, Kingsley wanted all his conversations to be like that, people always spilled the most secrets when they were uncomfortable. At this moment, any information was something for Kingsley.

Kingsley’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the mention of all his classes. Truly, he wasn’t all that surprised though considering the family he came from. Kingsley had much of the same pressures put on him during his years at school, but he’d done well enough to become an Auror obviously. “I took Charms, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Potions. Exceeds Expectations on all of them, much to my parents dismay. They expected O’s, but they got over it.” 

The schooling part of school had never been Kingsley’s favorite thing. He’d done his best to make his parents happy enough and be able to achieve his dreams of becoming an Auror. He did the bare minimum for an over-achiever and got by. 

It was a pointless conversation to be having, but it served it’s purpose as far as Regulus was concerned. If he was talking about this then there were a hundred other things that he wasn’t talking about, and that held far more purpose to him than making suggestions in making the auror office more effective. “Following my line of thinking, that if you and I were working together, it would be safe to assume that if an article were given to us as ‘evidence’,” he lifted his hands from the table, actually using air quotes as he used a foot to move the books further under the table, even less likely to draw Kingsley’s attention, “That I would be able to deduce more from it than you would? I wouldn’t dream of thinking that I’d be better at actually apprehending someone than you would be, or that I could even beat you in a duel,” that much he wasn’t entirely sure of - he knew many spells simply from virtue of the home he’d grown up in that someone who hadn’t had that same exposure couldn’t dream of countering, “and I certainly won’t pretend to know just what your fieldwork really is, but there just might be soemthing to using your people more effectively - since what you’re doing now isn’t working.” It was a little jab, though he made sure that he kept any smirk off of his face in letting it out.

when? may 23th

where? the leaky cauldron 

(( @regulusb ))

Usually Alecto preferred going to one of her regular pubs later in the evening, however her mood today required more alcoholic beverages than she had still stored back home. Mostly that was probably due to the fact that she had been in a foul mood for quite a while now, feeling not only restless but angry as well. While the rest of the Death Eaters seemed to be rather proud of themselves for taking over the ministry Alecto hadn’t even felt a bit of triumph over that success. She knew they were making plans now, plans nobody cared to involve her in. Until they had anybody they needed dead she’d probably be left out completely, something Alecto had never appreciated about being part of this group that allowed her to be herself, at least for a little while. Now it didn’t feel like this was really her place anymore. All the more reason to drink. 

Upon entering the pub she inspected the others in the pub, mostly small groups bowed over their butterbeers and muttering to each other. It wasn’t yet late enough for all the lonely souls to come out of their holes. Being here alone wasn’t what Aly would have preferred but on the other hand most people would probably annoy her more than do any good at the moment and Amycus had been nowhere to be found. Too bad, since he was really one of the only people she could still get herself to be interested in. Heading straight for the bar Aly ordered a firewhiskey. The days when she could have still been bothered by drinking anything but hard liquor were long gone. While waiting for her drink her gaze once more wandered over the tables, stopping on one of them for a moment, thinking she recognized the guy sitting there, bowed over a bunch of books. When her drink finally arrived she quickly took it and walked over to the table. 

Exams were quickly approaching, and he needed at least some of his focus to be on them, working tirelessly at his star charts, perfecting them before submission. Of course, now that Aurora was engaged to Uncle Walden, he might have held some sway with her... But then remembered their conversation at the end of his sixth year, when her position with him had been made clear. He wouldn’t want to pass on familial merit anyways. He knew that he was the best of his year, and he would never use that relationship as an excuse to slack off, even if his time might have been better spent on other things. 

Orion almost didn’t hear the words come out of his son’s mouth. Not because he spoke too quietly or not clearly enough, but because it wasn’t what Orion was expecting at all. In the simplest terms, Regulus was the good one. Orion honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had to send him to his room to ‘think about his actions’ or write a scathing letter to him while at Hogwarts. Regulus wasn’t Sirius and Orion never wanted him to be. But the book, the breaking in, and now this, the secrets and lies, almost made it feel like his once-son was standing in front of him.

He allowed a few seconds of silence to pass between them, hoping Regulus would come to his senses and tell him everything. If Orion was weak enough, he’d beg his son to tell the truth. If Regulus was weak enough, maybe he would have, and that thought alone almost made Orion proud. He searched his sons face almost desperately, his mind yelled at him to spit it out because Orion didn’t want to be left to discover the truth on his own. It was as if he was about to taint their relationship; Orion had thought things were getting better between them since his escape, but apparently not. 

When it was clear that Regulus wasn’t going to give in, Orion cleared his throat, stood up a little taller, and pushed aside all emotion. He wouldn’t allow himself to care. “Very well,” he said, almost spitting out the words to show he would not be the one to feel regret (even if an apology sat on the tip of his tongue), and then grabbed Regulus by the collar of his shirt with his left hand. His wand was already in the other, level with the middle of his forehead. “Don’t fight it.” 

And then Orion mumbled the incantation -legilimens- and what he saw made him choke on his breath, made him almost stumble back if it wasn’t for the hand tightening around his son’s shirt. Orion pulled out of his mind for half a second, eyes blown as he stared down at the young man who was suddenly a child, and then he dove back in with little care. Orion replayed what he saw two more times until he felt his eyes start to sting- he released Regulus, pushing him back into the chair behind him and then sat down himself.

Orion didn’t say anything. He held his wand in a limp hand, dangling between sweaty fingers, and stared at his son. His only visible reaction was the tick in his jaw as he struggled to understand not just Regulus, but the war in his own mind as well.

He’d never truly been in a situation where he had any reason to fear his father before, but for some reason when he’d gripped the collar of his shirt he felt his breath catch in his throat, and then caught himself trying to force a swallow. He’d invited him to do this, he had to remember. It was far better than dragging him in to it all willingly. At least in this manner his father could stop watching at any point. He didn’t know if he wanted him to or not. 

It was hard not to try and force him out at first, and if he was being totally honest he wasn’t sure if he’d been the one to push him out or if Orion had retreated, but he did his best now to pull forth what he wanted to see. He wasn’t typically an emotional person - he was much more likely to be described as lacking emotion completely, but for some reason he felt himself start to cry as Orion rifled through his mind.

He tried his best to control what he was seeing, though it was impossible to keep everything that bothered him at bay - memories of the night that Sirius had left home, or of nights that he’d practically forgotten about; waiting up for someone who wasn’t coming home - instead he tried to focus on the relevant things as they’d happened.

- A private moment between Regulus and the Dark Lord;

He cast a glance back over his shoulder at his parents, his heart hammering away at his throat as he walked beside the man he so looked up to. This was the right thing to do, even if it was also the most terrifying. How many other young men wished that they were able to go through this, and on his sixteenth birthday? It was the best gift he could have asked for. He didn’t know if the Dark Lord thought highly enough of him to bestow him with his mark, but he hoped for it. 

Voldemort spoke candidly, of his plans for a better future, and how Regulus himself had potential to be a leader. He could feel him probing at his mind and tried to leave him to see whatever it was that he wanted. At the very least he didn’t find any reason to stop talking to him. 

Things progressed quickly when he seemed satisfied, speaking calmly about his expectations of Regulus; that he would scout for potential recruits during his time at school, and without being obvious he would try to prime them, and then, much clearer in his memory than the rest - “Do you have a house elf, Regulus?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“I will require the use of a house elf at some point in the future. Would you be willing to lend yours to my cause?”

“Of course sir.”

---

Kreacher’s eyes went wide, the silver platter falling from his hands as he looked up at Regulus, seated behind a desk in the library of their home. It was practically where they’d holed up now, doing that which they could in order to find Orion. “Regulus I must go now.”

A loud pop resounded before Regulus could even process what had just happened. Who had summoned Kreacher away from him right now? He’d been practically alone with only Kreacher really taking the time to speak to him and now—

His heart fell. He knew, staring at the tea as it pooled out over the hardwood floor that Kreacher had been summoned by Lord Voldemort. Nobody else would have brought that tone out of his friend’s mouth, and now he was left to sit here and wait. He’d been doing an awful lot of that lately. He tapped his quill against the parchment in front of him, his foot bouncing up and down in a similar rhythm on the floor. Nerves wracked him, and he wasn’t sure how to handle them anymore. Part of him wondered if this was the feeling that drove so many to drink, and he idly wished he had some vice that he could partake in. It had only been seconds, and yet somehow it felt as though he’d been sitting in resolute silence for much longer already. ***

Surely the night would end with his father returning home, that the rest of the Death Eaters were out looking for him and that the Dark Lord had only summoned Kreacher because wherever he was, he needed a house elf for some aspect of his recovery. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong when Kreacher had returned to him seeming as though he was on the brink of death, and only because a year and a half ago Regulus had given him the order that when he was summoned he was also to return and tell him everything that had happened. It had taken him days to nurse Kreacher back to a point where he could even tell of what had happened, and things hadn’t been the same after that.

---

He’d focused on the locket as Kreacher had described it at first, researching it as much as he could. He learned quickly that it had belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself, but he couldn’t find anything that would lead the Dark Lord to hide it in a cave with a potion that had nearly killed his house elf - a potion that would have killed him were he not following orders that Regulus had barely remembered giving over a year and a half prior. 

---

He wasn’t sleeping, barely eating as he became consumed with a need to find answers to all of his problems. He needed his father home - he was nowhere near ready to take over the family if anything happened to him . He needed to figure out what importance the locket held. He needed to finish school - and hopefully at the top of his class. He needed to be the best - he had no other options. He was all that they had left - their good name depended on him.

---

Horcrux.

He saw the word in an old book and had no clue what it was - he had to buy it. He couldn’t help but feel like this was important - magic that he’d never even heard of before? Something like that was sure to pique his interest.

---

There wasn’t enough time in the day for everything he seemed to need to get done. Between school and the mystery that was figuring out if there even was a link between the locket and whatever a horcrux actually was he was wearing down. Mum had stopped him after coming home one day and practically begged him to take better care of himself.

---

The first assault was done, but his reprieve didn’t last long before Orion was at it again, going back to the beginning, and he struggled to think about what else he might have wanted to see.

---

He’d forged his father’s signature on a letter he’d penned to Cassandra Burke and invited her to their home. He’d asked her about the locket, and learned of several more items that she knew of that he sought. It was possible that whatever the locket was, it wasn’t the only one.

He’d been escorted to the ministry by an official who had questions that he felt he’d answered poorly. He’d yelled at the man and then practically run to Narcissa when he’d been let free.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had frightened him when he’d been looking in the library for information - he’d turned up with nothing.

He’d literally passed out surrounded by books at The Three Broomsticks. It was the first time he’d slept a full night in ages. Madam Rosmerta had been sitting at his table reading a book when he woke up.

He was struggling to find any relevant information at all. Any of the books he’d found outside of their home had all proven fruitless. He knew where the locket was but the search for what it meant was leading him nowhere fast. If he was going to find information anywhere it could very well be right under his nose. He had to get into his father’s study on the off chance there was something - anything - in there that could help him.

---

He could feel tears streaming down his face when he was granted another quick reprieve, barely managing to shake his head when Orion went in for a third time. His own thoughts were louder now, unable to keep his feelings at bay anymore. It had been hard enough living through the last few months once, let alone three more times in the span of a few minutes.

---

I’m going to die. Whether it’s at his hands or my own the only way I’m ever going to get out of this is death. All I can do is hope that mum and dad won’t be targeted for my cowardice and betrayal. All I can do is try and protect them from the fallout. I’ve got to figure it out before anyone else. I’ve got to figure it out before anyone else even knows I’m looking. I can’t talk to anyone else about this. I have to figure this out. Everything depends on it. Everythi---

---

“T.T”

You must understand that growing up in our family is quite different from any other, especially your own. While I make no assumptions, your parents are both muggles, which inherently means that you had quite the opposite upbringing to myself or Andromeda. You must also understand that it is quite difficult to grow up and question the things that you have known to be true your entire life thus far. I did not claim Andromeda insane - I claimed to have once questioned her sanity, and in my eyes these are two very different things. I am eight years younger than her, and was only young when she left. You can only imagine the kinds of things I was told about her by the rest of the family.

As much as I appreciate you talking to me for Andromeda, I really don’t want you to do this out of some sense of duty to her. I’m learning now that service to others can be quite misguided, even with the best intentions. I simply want to know more about you. Your people. I’m not entirely sure how else to phrase that, even if it doesn’t quite sound right as is. As much as I don’t like being indebted to anyone, I would prefer you do this as a favour to me personally, and should you ever need one, you can call on me for one in return.

As far as a location I must admit that I’m not going to be of much help. London itself is almost entirely out of the question. There is simply far too much chance that we will be seen here, and such an event would not end well for either of us. The last person I met under similar pretenses met with me in the forbidden forest between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, and while it may not have been the smartest thing for me to have done, I will offer you the same assurance that I mean you no harm - I will leave my wand at home. If this is unsuitable, feel free to suggest an alternative.

- R. A. B.

R. A. B.

I think I understand enough about your family although I will try not to judge you all too harshly even though few of you extended me that same consideration. We undoubtedly come from different backgrounds I guess that I can only be glad that you’re seeking answers from people outside of yours. I am not one who enjoys being told that they must do something but I will do my best to keep an open mind throughout this exchange, providing of course that you are willing to do the same. Although I suspect the very fact that you have written to be at all shows a willingness to hear other opinions on things. 

They’re not my people, they’re just people. The same as you and I just they don’t get the chance to use magic. Things make a lot more sense when you stop seeing a them and an us. If your intention simply is to get to know more about me then it truly is no favour - only what should have happened gradually over time were Andromeda and I allowed to be a part of your family. It’s nothing that I would hold over your head nor will I want anything in return for it as none of it is particularly sensitive information or at any great cost to me if I tell you. 

The Forbidden Forest would be fine by me but you can keep your wand. It seems foolish for the two of us to wander in unarmed when there’s no guarantee that we’ll remain undisturbed by its residents. For now I am choosing to trust that the wand will not be aimed my way and I hope that trust is not misplaced. Simple let me know a time and date and I will be willing to discuss this in person with you. 

What really struck him from the last letter was that he seemed to think that they were all the same. The thought that there was no difference in someone’s mind between himself - a proper pureblood - and a muggle from down the street... It was absurd, wasn’t it? That the only difference that Ted saw was that the muggle couldn’t use magic? Was it even possible that that was remotely the truth? He’d learned that they were dangerous - practically barbaric. They didn’t hold the same value in their ancestry as him - there were some who didn’t even know where they came from - and wasn’t that important in defining a sense of self? To his knowledge the only families that cared about lineage and heirs in the muggle world were those descended from royalty - but even then there were questions of whether or not the royal families were truly muggle or simply wizards who chose not to flaunt their magic publicly.

He hadn’t brought very much with him. A few books in his bag had served as enough promise that he was heading out with the intent to study, his broom shrunken down and hidden in the bag the only way he’d manage to sneak it out of the house. Hogsmeade was close enough to Hogwarts that he could fly over most of the forest to the place they’d designated as their meeting spot. It was no secret that Regulus wasn’t a fan of the forest, and never had been. Of course, that went back to being a small child, the smallest of their generation of pureblood boys, and if anything not really belonging to the group in age but rather in that there was no one closer to his own age to associate with. He’d heard all kinds of stories growing up, and had many irrational fears regarding things like werewolves and centaurs, all of which he knew to be in the forest.

Frank looked Regulus over. The kid looked so tired, Frank was sadly aware of the fact that under his sleeve hid a dark mark. Frank had seen it on the day he was supposed to aid in the torture of him. Frank hadn’t been able to do it however, it was one of the largest fights Frank and Dirk had ever had. Frank left the room before anything started.

“I’m fine. I’ve got to be tough being an auror and all.” Frank said with a half smile. “Don’t worry about the run it. I know it wasn’t on purpose.” His eyes softened as he thought of how to phrase his next question. “Are you doing alright, Regulus?” Frank was truly filled with concern. Sirius had often told him stories about the way he was raised and Frank couldn’t help but worry about the kid still trapped in that home. “I mean outside of us taking a spill and outside of school. Are you doing okay?”

Frank hoped Regulus didn’t just get offended and walk away. He knew it was a possibility especially with a Black. They were well known for their tempers. “It looks like you’re doing some heavy research. Is that for school or just recreational?” He asked hoping to not make Regulus too nervous around him. Frank hoped he could glean a few answers from the kid, but more than that he hoped to ensure he was okay.

He busied himself with continuing to straighten himself out - the dirt on his knees was brushed off quickly with a hand, the few strands of hair that had dared to fall from where he’d carefully tied it back were just as quickly pushed behind his ear. As his shoulder had lifted though, the strap on his bag had broken again, though at least this time his belongings were a bit more contained. He couldn’t hide his annoyance as he stooped down to pick up the broken bag and the couple of quills that had fallen out.

“Why?” He’d had to ask when Frank had asked him if he was doing okay - outside of the run in and outside of school - why would someone like Frank Longbottom even care to ask him a question like that? Did he know something that he shouldn’t have known? “I just mean why do you care? I’m fine. Would I even be here if I wasn’t?” It was a snap answer, and he found himself shaking his head. Wasn’t it a strange thing to ask? He didn’t like people prying into his life.

Walburga paced back and forth in the kitchen waiting for Regulus to get home. She had been worrying about him for days now. Orion thought it would pass but it hadn’t and Walburga was going to take matters into her own hands. The kitchen table was filled with food that Walburga had made as she tried to brainstorm anything Regulus could want to eat. Additionally tea sat ready and waiting with cream and sugar in matching containers next to the pot. 

Walburga turned as she heard the door open, coming face to face with her son. Her heart hurt for him. He had large circles under his young eyes, his face was gaunt and his already slender frame looked even bonier than before. Walburga walked to him wrapping him in an embrace. “Reg, baby, I need you to sit down and eat with me.” She said gesturing to the table. “We need to have a talk about how you’re taking care of yourself. I need you to sleep and eat more, baby.”