toujours pur

@regulusblacx​

Caitriona nodded slowly, processing Regulus’ logic. It made sense; her own mother thought Voldemort’s crusade was a mistake, and Chu-Hua was waiting for this period of fanaticism to die down so things could go back to normal. But if Voldemort himself couldn’t die, his cause was unlikely to. The idea that the man her father served might actually achieve his goals was deeply unsettling to Caitriona. “You’re not wrong,” she paused for a moment then added. “I confess I never expected Voldemort to actually succeed. The world he envisions is so nonsensical, it’s preposterous.” 

It felt like a risk to make such a confession; Caitriona had never come so close to discussing her true opinions about blood purity with anyone, other than Benjy. But Regulus was taking a risk, sharing all of this information with her, and she wanted to show him that she understood, that she was willing to meet him in the same spirit. It was a small thing, but so much of their lives were made up of small things that represented something larger. 

Caitriona pursed her lips, frowning slightly as Regulus continued. “If Dumbledore knows the truth of Voldemort’s heritage, why has he not made it public? Horcruxes or no, if he did not have the support of his followers, Voldemort would be much less of a threat.” Allies were important, that was another thing Eamonn Burke had taught his daughter, and her mother had taught Caitriona the effectiveness of isolating an opponent. She was confident her father, and probably a great many other pureblood Death Eaters, would abandon Voldemort if they knew the truth of his family history.

As they spoke, Caitriona continued to turn the locket over in her hand, and when she traced the curved row of green gems with the pad of her thumb, she realized why it had initially caught her attention. “This came from the shop. I mean the original. My father told me about it, a story he heard from his father. Great Great Grandfather Caractacus used to talk about it, it was his greatest triumph. He bought it for a song and then sold it for nearly forty times what he paid for it.” It was, to date, the greatest profit margin on a single sale in the shop’s history. 

More to the point at this moment, however, was the fact that Caitriona’s great great grandmother, Odilia, and Odilia’s best friend, Lucia Borgin, had always made sure the shop kept meticulous records. Caitriona’s heart beat faster as she slowly looked at her cousin and she was startled to realize it was from excitement. “Regulus, we could find the buyer.”

.

Regulus blinked at Caitriona, understanding the weight of her confession. The layers they had built to protect themselves from pureblood scrutiny meant they had never voiced aloud to each other their true thoughts on blood purity. Regulus had always sensed that Caitriona was far too intelligent to believe in any of the pureblood community’s extremist beliefs. She knew better than to go out and spout how she actually felt. Regulus had been the same until he’d gone and made the irreversible mistake of taking the Dark Mark, pulled into the world of a zealot where the consequences were far greater than he had ever imagined. “Of course it’s preposterous. But he is never going to stop until he achieves that vision-- he’ll kill anyone that gets in his way, and that’s why we need to make sure he can even be conquered.” Regulus paused, glancing across the desk at her. “I trust that you may speak your mind freely with me, cousin. Your secrets are always safest with me. You already know my biggest one,” he said with a wry smile.

Regulus leaned back in his chair, scratching his chin in thought. “I have considered that as well. Perhaps such an announcement would just be seen as Order propaganda. Or, even worse, the Dark Lord could use it to his advantage-- he’d make an example of how the lineage of Slytherin was tainted by muggle blood and how it could happen to other pureblood dynasties unless the problem is solved.”

“The shop?” Regulus repeated in surprise. “You mean-- this was once in Borgin & Burke’s possession?” He looked down at the duplicate locket, trying to picture it within the walls of the place he’d frequented for years, where he worked day in and day out. A tingle of excitement climbed his spine and he nodded at Caitriona. “That would be excellent. Who bought it, when it was sold, and how that owner ended up giving it to Voldemort.” He jotted down his thoughts into the nearest notebook he had, not wanting to miss any key details.

@regulusblacx​

Sirius took a moment to observe his brother, his smile faltering as he realized the depth of the question Regulus had just asked. The lighthearted atmosphere seemed to have subtly shifted. The question was much more than a simple inquiry; it represented the great divide that had been between them for years, one that Sirius had often wished he could bridge.

“I’ve… been around, yeah,” Sirius answered, deciding to respect Regulus’s request to keep the details to a minimum. The fact that Regulus was even asking such a question was a big step for him, Sirius knew. “Muggles, witches, wizards… as long as they’re decent people, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

Sirius turned his attention back to the crowd around them. Regulus had always been more reserved and cautious, traits that Sirius couldn’t relate to, but he wanted to respected them nonetheless. He wondered how much of that was due to their upbringing, and how much was simply Regulus being his own person.

Clinking their glasses together again, Sirius raised his own in a mock toast. “To the birthday boy, then. Welcome to the not-so-exclusive club of adults who still don’t have their shit together.” He laughed a bit, though the sound was somewhat hollow.

He looked at Regulus, a strange mix of emotions playing across his face. There was a sense of regret for the time lost between them, but also hope for what could be. Despite their differences and the long history of resentment, Regulus was his brother, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to mend their fractured relationship. “Happy birthday, Regulus,” he said, offering a genuine smile. “Here’s to hoping your twenty-first year treats you better than mine did. What do you wish for, for this upcoming year, if you could choose?” 

.

Regulus nodded slowly, coming to terms with what Sirius was saying and understanding this side of his brother he never got to see. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s um, what’s important.” It was a sentiment he never quite voiced up until now. How much Sirius’ joy meant to him, how important it was. It had taken years for Regulus to realize that Sirius had left all those years ago not out of selfishness, but out of survival. The pain he had felt from being abandoned was now overshadowed by the joy it brought Regulus to know that his brother was able to pursue his own happiness and lifestyle.

The grin on his face remained as they toasted, the glimmer of hope remaining mutual, and he didn’t want it to end just tonight. Sirius’ question brought on an onslaught of his wants and desires. I wish for our family to live, he wanted to say, I wish for them to remain untouched by the war. Instead, his eye caught sight of a group of people at a table nearby. They were all clinking tiny cups together and laughing, and before Regulus knew it he was exclaiming, “I wish to take a shot. I’ve never had one before!” 

The bartender was motioned for and two shots were placed in order, arriving shortly after. The small glasses hadn’t seemed so big from far away, but now that Regulus saw them up close and could smell the pure, unmixed alcohol in them, he could see why people cringed when they drank them. Regulus tapped his glass against Sirius’ and tipped it into his mouth with a sickening burn. “Salazar-- I’m going to regret that,” he remarked with a grimace.

“I’m sure that is not true, but your mother seemed to always had high standards.” he didn’t remember much, but he didn’t need to. Most pureblood mothers actually had expectations that were far too ridiculous to maintain, one just needed to remember how harsh most of them were at galas and parties, and in the case of the Blacks, how the older sibling didn’t love the idea of being the pureblood stuck up and just left. 

He was sure that there was more to that, but he wasn’t gossiping, nor prying. Everyone had their problems to deal with. Seemed that Regulus had quite a few by the looks of him.

“Yes, that’s me. I’m sure my dear brother Bob was easier to remember, he was in your class as well.” he pointed, not sure if Regulus even know Bob, even if everyone else seemed to know about the Quidditch star. “I’m a solicitor and junior member of the Wizengamot.” he pointed to the briefcase and the robes. “What about you? Running the family business?” Tiberius remembered that there were a few Black owned companies.

.

Regulus stiffened again at the mention of his mother. She was very opinionated on the other pureblood families, so it came to no surprise that she’d made comments on the Ogdens. New money, she referred to them disdainfully, with their whiskey empire and their hands off approach to other Sacred 28 matters. “Let’s not talk about her tonight, shall we? I wish to enjoy a drink and... pleasant company.” Regulus said carefully, taking his gin and nodding in Tiberius’ direction. 

“Ah, yes, he’s doing pretty well playing oversees. I’ve kept up with his stats,” Regulus explained, as it was no secret he was passionate about Quidditch. He glanced at the briefcase and the Wizengamot robes, which hugged the other man’s figure nicely. His gaze lingered for far too long on Tiberius’ body before he looked away, blushing into his glass. “The family business along with working at Borgin & Burke’s. I like to come here after a long day.”

Andromeda understood that whatever Regulus was feeling was exacerbated by Sirius leaving the family. She wasn’t sure what transpire in the family for him to leave but of course she sent the precedent for Regulus’ older brother to follow he path and she would have to take the blame for that. 

“Poppy is not coming back until tomorrow. Are you sure you want to wait until then to be treated?” she offered, because even if he was stubbornly pushing her away, she wanted to heal him and probably comfort him a bit after his team players left him alone in the Hospital Wing. 

She didn’t expect Regulus to sound so young, like when he had a cold and his mother would just send Kreacher or Andromeda to his room. “If you let me heal it it would be like that Bludger didn’t touch you.” she replied confidently, taking his hand to move the arm carefully making sure that it was in the right position for the spell. “This will hurt, but with the potion I gave you it should only be a dull pain, it will pass.” explaining things to him hoping to gain some of his trust, eve if it was just to heal him.

.

Regulus had never quite held the same disdain for Andromeda as the rest of his family did. Growing up, saying her name out loud was taboo and cause for a scolding or punishment. Certainly, he was confused by her actions, as Regulus never understood how somebody could choose friends or a lover over family. His sentiments had changed almost overnight, however– now he saw Andromeda with the same betrayal the other Blacks did. Not because of her marrying a muggleborn, no, but because her disownment was directly correlated with Sirius’. The pain he felt from his brother leaving over the past summer was still raw and real, and since he no longer spoke to Sirius or acknowledged him in any capacity, he took it out on his older cousin.

His adolescent mind struggled to cling to that resentment while also seeking relief from the pain of the injuries. Regulus clenched his jaw before he finally nodded. “I don’t want to cause it any more damage. Just– heal it. Please,” he pleaded quietly. His manners did not disappear completely despite the initial rudeness he had shown Andromeda.

.

A reason? If Gilderoy hadn’t secretly been so eager, he would have chuckled. As if he didn’t have it ready, as if he hadn’t been waiting for any sign of permission given, of returned interest. He caught Regulus’ lips in his with a sweep of his hand, neatly coming to caress the boy’s sharp jaw. He hummed against Regulus’ mouth, a low sound in his chest with intense satisfaction.

Slytherins were always good kissers. Always. Gilderoy’s own house was a mix, a 50/50 shot of someone who knew what they were doing and someone who thought their tongue was a fucking dart. Hufflepuffs were fine, usually a little vanilla to his taste. Gryffindors were the worst- not because they were bad necessarily, but just so… messy. His hair. Kissing a Gryffindor was also kissing goodbye to his curl pattern.

Gilderoy pulled away slightly, tracing Regulus’ lips with a smile. He let his hands fall to either side of Regulus’ hips, watching him with a softened gaze. “Are you going to run along, Prince?” Gilderoy’s head bowed to press his smile against Regulus’ neck.

.

The last time that Regulus’ lips had been against anyone else’s had been over two years ago. It had been in France during one of his family’s summer holidays, at a pureblood function where he had found himself conversing with an older boy who’d been impressed by his French. It was his first kiss and from what Regulus could recollect of it, had been terribly awkward. He hadn’t known what to do with his mouth or tongue or breathing, and his heart was pounding too loudly for him to even enjoy the moment. The French boy had most likely sensed his inexperience and had ended it shortly to spare the both of them.

Sirius chuckled, raising his hands in a mock surrender. “Alright, alright, Regulus. No need to turn violent,” he said, holding up the cushion that had served as his brother’s weapon. He gave an exaggerated wince, rubbing the ‘attacked’ arm for added effect.

He knew tradition mattered to Regulus, held a different kind of meaning than it did to him. Sirius was the rebel, the one who sought to break the chains. Regulus, in contrast, was the dutiful son, ever trying to find comfort in those same chains. Sirius sighed, a touch of fondness entering his gaze.

“You clean up well, Reg,” Sirius said when his younger brother emerged from his room. There was no denying that his brother carried the pureblood elegance well, looking every bit the aristocrat. But it was when Regulus opened his gift that Sirius felt a swell of affection.

Seeing his normally serious younger brother light up in excitement was a sight to behold. The hug took him by surprise, but he returned it with equal warmth, ruffling Regulus’ hair affectionately. “You’re welcome, little brother,” he said with a grin.

He laughed softly as Regulus retreated, the flush on his brother’s cheeks endearing. “Alright, Reg, let’s not keep the old man waiting,” he agreed, getting up from his spot. The two of them descended the grand staircase, side by side.

Their father, Orion Black, was waiting in the drawing room. He was a tall, austere man, every inch the Black family patriarch. His black hair was streaked with grey, and his stern gaze softened just a touch as his sons entered the room.

“Sirius. Regulus.” He greeted them, his voice deep and formal. “You look presentable,” he commented, nodding at Regulus’ attire. His gaze then shifted to Sirius, a silent question in his eyes as he took in his elder son’s less traditional appearance.

Sirius met his father’s gaze with a steady one of his own. “Happy Christmas, Father,” he greeted, his voice firm and his posture defiantly casual. Sirius might not share his family’s values, but he was a Black, nonetheless. And he was determined to remain true to himself, even in the face of his family’s expectations.

Orion observed his sons for a moment, the room falling into an uncomfortable silence. The study, an elegant room filled with leather-bound books, dark mahogany furniture, and a roaring fireplace, was his sanctuary. It was a place where he often retreated, and where Sirius and Regulus were rarely invited.

“Sit,” Orion instructed, motioning towards the leather chairs across his large, polished desk. He moved towards the small drinks cabinet, his back to them as he poured amber liquid into three glasses.

As he passed one glass to each of his sons, he regarded them with a look that bordered on pride. Orion might not have understood Sirius’ defiance or the depth of Regulus’ dedication to their traditions, but he loved his sons, albeit in his reserved, understated way.

“To Christmas,“ he said, raising his glass in a silent toast. He looked from Sirius, rebellious and passionate, to Regulus, dutiful and striving for approval, and felt an unfamiliar pang of sentimentality.

Orion’s gaze lingered on Sirius, acknowledging his resistance but also the undeniable strength of character that it demonstrated. His eyes softened slightly. "Your defiance isn’t always appreciated, Sirius, but your conviction… it is respected,” he said, his voice gruff. It was as close to an admittance of pride as Sirius would ever receive from his father.

He then turned his attention to Regulus, the dutiful son. “And Regulus, your dedication to our traditions is commendable,” he said, the pride more evident in his tone.

He glanced between them, a quiet solemnity in his eyes. “I hope, despite our differences, we remember what truly matters,” he added, his gaze warm. He rarely displayed his affections, but in this moment, with just his two sons, Orion allowed himself to express a bit more of the love he held for them.

.

Orion Black’s presence commanded you to sit up straight and fix your posture without him needing to tell you to. He’d always been the silent and serious type, with no frills to his fatherhood, always leading the boys with a firm hand. He only had to give instructions once for both brothers to follow, and soon Regulus was lowering himself into a chair across his father’s desk. The desk had seemed so expansive when he was a child and Sirius and him would sneak into the office to play. To Regulus, it had felt like Orion was in charge of the entire world back then, operating all of it from his armchair behind that desk. 

Regulus watched silently yet attentively as his father moved to the vintage drinks cabinet he kept in the study. To the younger boy’s surprise, he poured three glasses of an amber liquid, each poured meticulously yet equally. Regulus exchanged a look of disbelief with Sirius before he took the glass that his father offered. Regulus had never tried alcohol in his life before and he never would have thought that Orion, always the one to follow regulations and tradition, would be the first one to offer it to him. Even more shocking yet were the words that Orion uttered, and it took all Regulus had not to drop his jaw. His father’s statements were brief yet heavy with pride, and laced with an affection that felt both unfamiliar yet so long craved for.

Sirius let out a raucous laugh, slapping his brother on the back. “Oh, come on, Reggie, where’s your sense of adventure? I promise I won’t let you plummet to your death. Might give you a good scare, though,” he added with a devilish grin.

He turned to order the drinks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Two gins, neat,” he called to the bartender. As he turned back to Regulus, he shrugged nonchalantly. “My treat, birthday boy.”

When Regulus’ eyes darted away, Sirius followed his gaze, grinning broadly at the sight of the handsome Muggle man. "Well, well, well,” he teased, elbowing his brother gently. “Looks like you’ve caught someone’s eye, Reggie. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all, eh?”

Sirius leaned back, taking in the sight of his brother in this wildly out-of-place environment. This was a victory, not just for him, but for Regulus as well. Maybe there was hope for his little brother yet. Sirius decided to savour the moment, sipping his gin and watching the pub with keen interest. Tonight was about celebration, about freedom, and about finding joy in the most unexpected places.

“Happy birthday, Reggie,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. “To the best bloody year of your life. Let’s make it a night to remember.”

.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’d get a real kick out of that,” he shook his head.  There was something familiar and comforting about their banter. It was how they used to talk before everything went to absolute shit between them and they could hardly communicate. Looking over at Sirius, at the mirth in his eyes and the excitement in his movements, Regulus could allow himself to imagine that this was all normal. That he went out with his brother all of the time for drinks. Maybe for one night he could release a bit of his caution and let himself enjoy his brother’s company. 

That was until to his horror, Sirius had caught entire the interaction between him and the muggle man. “Stop it,” Regulus hissed, too embarrassed to even get angry. He self consciously tucked away a lock of dark hair behind his ear, wanting to sink down into his seat. Glancing around at the establishment, he saw all sorts of men and even some women enthralled with each other, having intimate discussions over drinks or even sharing passionate kisses. Regulus swallowed. “You’ve... been with muggles before, haven’t you?” He asked trepidatiously. “Spare me the details if you can.”

He offered a small smile at the cheers from his brother and clinked their glasses. Swallowing down his drink, he caught a glance of his watch on his wrist, where he saw the actual time of night. “Oh,” he remarked. “I’m officially twenty-one now.”

Tiberius understood that people needed their space when they were drinking, not everyone came to the bar to have a good time, some came to drown their sorrows, or like him and a long day of work. That was why he didn’t mind for the short, yet direct answer, leaving his coat on top of the chair next to him.

He proceed to order and then heard the man next to him apologise. He turned around and found Black, he remembered him from when he was a Head Boy, it was Regulus Black, who had been in his first year as a prefect on Tiberius’ last year of school.

“I was about to say that you lost your manners, I’m sure your mother would be disappointed.” he tried teasing, hoping to let the younger wizard know there was no ill feelings regarding the previous encounter. “I’m sure you have had a long day, Black, don’t worry about it.” he said with a smile.

.

“She’ll be disappointed regardless,” Regulus deadpanned. He was not one to speak ill of his mother as he tended to overlook her many faults out of his fondness for her. But today Regulus felt none of that-- instead he felt oddly betrayed by her. He thought that being her favorite would spare him the injustice and humiliation of a betrothal. He had foolishly believed that devoting herself to all her whims, that her loneliness of having a husband dead and another son disowned, would want her to keep him close and away from the clutches of some wife. What he was quickly realizing was that Regulus wasn’t enough. He never was. 

The other man’s easy smile temporarily wiped away his dark, bleak thoughts. He was surprised to hear the man know his name, but after a moment he placed the other man’s familiar features. “Ogden, is it?” He asked. “You were Head Boy.” Regulus took a sip of his drink, studying the handsome, clean cut fellow. “What are you spending your days doing now?”

✰ location: 12 grimmauld place

By all accounts, Regulus was a mummy’s boy. His father’s passing a few years ago and being the sole child (on paper) of Walburga Black had only intensified that notion. It didn’t matter that Regulus had moved out into his own home to create some separation from his mother, as that had only made her invitations to dinner practically law. He didn’t quite mind spending the evening in the company of his mother as he’d already been doing that for most of his life. What he did mind was the surprise she had sprung upon him as soon as she had greeted him at the door of his childhood home: they had guests. Not just any guests, either.--the Travers family, or what remained of them.

Regulus was dragged into the elegant dining room with a sinking feeling. Had it been just the senior Mr. and Mrs. Travers, he wouldn’t have minded. But the presence of their only daughter made it clear that this was no innocent dinner in the presence of friendly company. Regulus looked to his mother with a panicked expression as she pulled him towards their guests. “Um-- good evening,” he said awkwardly, shaking Mr. Travers’ hands as firmly as he could with a sweaty palm, kissing Mrs. Travers’ cheek with a profound blush, and finally landing on Celeste. He stared at her before he did the first thing he could think of, which was bow his head curtly. 

“Have a seat, Regulus. Dinner should be served soon,” his mother insisted. The only seat remaining was beside Celeste, where Regulus sat obligingly, pointedly looking everywhere except her way.

Andromeda was glad that even in spite the nasty fall Regulus still recognised her, it meant that even with all of the injuries the concussion didn’t made him confused. “Yes, Reg, it’s me. Poppy is on leave today.” she explained briefly, trying to move as fast as possible to fix his arm. 

She expected some distance from the younger Black, she didn’t stay long enough for him to remember much of her, even if she wanted to be part of his life even after running away. However, it was impossible to do so with Aunt Walburga and the rest of the elders watching over the young siblings. It wasn’t until she heard the rumours that Sirius ran away that she could actually contact the former Black heir without interruptions. 

“You fell from a broom, have a concussion and a broken arm. You are not fine, you are injured, and I need to know what else is hurting so I can try and fix it before it becomes more severe.” even if he didn’t want to talk or bond, or even try to ask the tough questions, she still needed his cooperation to treat him. 

She pushed him back down the bed, “You shouldn’t move until you are healed. It could make it worse.” she offered, waiting for him to settle back to fix his arm, and whatever else might have been broken. 

.

Perhaps a semester ago, he would have been secretly delighted to encounter Andromeda. He could count on one hand the occasions he had seen her since he was a small child. Regulus had been very young when Andromeda had been disowned, barely old enough to remember the bond they’d shared as cousins. From what he could recollect, it was her warm temperament that had stood out. so unlike the rest of the Blacks. She’d read him books and never minded playing whatever games he wanted, no matter how childish they were. 

But the events of the past summer had soured the teenager towards the very idea of Andromeda. He’d been too young to grasp the true impact of Andromeda running away, but he was plenty old enough now to feel the pain of Sirius leaving. The selfish, immature part of him wanted someone to blame for it, and that someone was tending to him right now. 

@regulusblacx​

Caitriona was a very confident person; she hadn’t been raised on false modesty, nor the idea that there was any great virtue in humility. She knew her skills and talents, and that they were greater than many peoples’, yet she was not blind to her faults. She knew she could be selfish and callous and she admired people who were more compassionate than she was, but she’d never realized that Regulus was one of them. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would have done in his place, but she doubted she would have taken it upon herself to right a wrong that didn’t directly affect her. Of course, now that Regulus had taken it upon himself, it did affect Caitriona. There weren’t many people that Caitriona would fight any battle for, but Regulus was one of the few.

When Regulus confessed that he’d confided in Albus Dumbledore before her, Caitriona tried not to dwell on it. Even though her cousin’s reasoning was sound, she was still hurt that he hadn’t trusted her and the fact that he had trusted someone else made it worse. There were bigger things to focus on, of course, but it wasn’t easy for her to ignore the sting. So it was good that ignoring her own pain was something Caitriona had an excess of experience in. She pursed her lips as she listened, occasionally asking clarifying questions. “I assume you have kept track of precisely what you’ve already tried?” It wouldn’t be efficient to try methods that had already proved futile for Regulus. 

At the mention of Voldemort’s ancestry, Caitriona looked up sharply. “Do you know who his ancestors were?” There had to be people who knew who Lord Voldemort was before he fashioned himself into Lord Voldemort, but Caitriona had never heard anyone speak of it. If they knew who Voldemort truly was, it could be helpful in uncovering where the rest of the horcruxes were hidden, or even what they might be. Caitriona had been taught that the smallest minutia of an object’s history could reveal hidden uses, and she was sure the same principle could be applied to their current endeavor.

.

Regulus did not consider himself to be selfless. He cringed at the idea of being some sort of martyr and all the ego that came attached with such a notion. But at some point, in between the horrific things he’d done in the service of the Dark Lord, his near death experience, and almost watching his older brother be blown apart at the Battle of Birmingham-- something in Regulus had solidified, had resolved in him to do something. He’d been meek all his life, pushed into things he didn’t have a backbone to say no to. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said after some pause. “Why do all this, why risk everything.” He met Caitriona’s eyes evenly. “The Dark Lord will never stop. Being pureblooded will not save us. Once the sacred families begin to disagree with him, or realize he is a halfblood, he will not hesitate to get rid of them also. My family and yours. He must be destroyed before he destroys us all.”

Regulus was relieved he no longer had to relay his terrifying experience and instead they could dive into what they had both come here for, something they were both comfortable with: research. “I have. Curses, potions, runes... you may find the records in here,” he said, pushing a leather bound book slightly towards Caitriona. “According to Dumbledore, his mother was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. His father was some muggle. Dumbledore found the ring in the home of the Dark Lord’s magical ancestors-- the Gaunt family, I believe.”