Chapter Text
“Mr. Black, care for some licorice?”
Regulus didn’t dignify that with a response. Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head, deeply disappointed.
“Mr. Black, my answer remains the same as it was the year before and the year before that.”
“He turns eleven in five days. This has been procrastinated long enough. You cannot bring Harry into the wizarding world ignorant. He thinks he’s a Muggle.”
“He will fit in just fine, like how the Muggleborns find their way around, he will too. Just like his mother.”
Regulus clenched his fist. Dumbledore often cut short their conversations by naming the people they lost. Pandora, Evan.
James.
Regulus fiddled with the plain silver band around his ring finger, steeling himself. Reminding himself. Regulus reached into his coat pocket and placed a weighted object on Dumbledore’s desk.
The headmaster’s eyebrows rose in a subtle shift but Regulus caught it nevertheless.
“Where did you find that?”
Regulus leaned back in his chair. “I will be taking Harry to the Black Ancestral House the day he turns eleven.”
“You will do no such thing, Regulus.” Dumbledore dropped all pretenses, eyes intent on the gleaming red locket in front of him. “Where, did you find this?"
Regulus sipped his tea, pretending as though Dumbledore never spoke. “A month won’t be enough for him to be acclimatised, but I will make do with what I have,” he mused listlessly.
“Regulus.” The Headmaster raised his voice.
Regulus remained unfazed, running his finger along the rim of the teacup. “I ought to have Kreacher clean out the mansion. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.”
Dumbledore folded his hands, forcing himself to lean back in his chair. A picture of calmness. “Lily’s sacrifice mustn’t go in vain. Harry needs the protection—”
“He doesn’t know this one is missing,” Regulus interrupted Dumbledore’s rant.
Lord Black leaned back in his seat with the satisfaction of rendering Dumbledore speechless. Coal black eyes staring into Dumbledore’s as the Headmaster fruitlessly tried to probe into Regulus’ mind.
His Occlumency was ironclad. There were certainly some perks to being raised by Walburga Black.
Regulus set his teacup down and placed his palms over the armrest. “His form is too weak to realise a missing horcrux. And I know of more.”
The more than you , went unsaid.
Dumbledore blinked slowly. “Once he receives his letter, you will be granted sole custody of Harry Potter. The Ministry will be informed of the guardianship.”
“Was that so hard now, Albus?” Regulus let his lips stretch in a nefarious grin. “Now, have you ever fought off an Inferi?”
Harry winced as he bumped his head while trying to sit up, pulling out the cobwebs caught in his hair.
He ought to clean up in here.
Harry leaned against his makeshift pillow, his winter coat rolled up, shoulders jammed uncomfortably between wooden walls. He strained his ears for the midnight chime from the old grandfather clock in the living room.
It was his little tradition, ever since he learnt to keep track of the dates and times.
“Anytime now,” He spoke to himself.
The clock struck twelve and Harry sighed heavily, letting his head fall back with a dull thud.
“Happy birthday to me.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal. An ideal surburbian family. Enjoying their ideal Sunday morning with bacon and eggs.
“Where are my eggs, boy?!” A harsh voice barked, making Harry flinch and burn his finger.
Harry wordlessly scraped the sunny side up, placing it neatly on a tray for Vernon and proceeded to make Dudley’s breakfast, as was routine for a sunny Sunday morning.
Like every Sunday before.
And like how it will be every Sunday to come.
When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family.
“You know what the best part of Sundays is, Petunia?” Vernon asked his wife but the smug tone trained on Harry. “No post on Sundays!”
He laughed so hard his belly jiggled like custard wobbling on a plate. Petunia and Dudley joined in chiming, “No posts on Sundays,” with Vernon.
Harry clenched his jaw. He still remembered the smug grin on Vernon’s face as he ran a lawn mower over all the letters that came in for Harry. The man who was this close to melding with the couch had gone all the way to the garage himself to destroy the letters.
Harry was not the least bit interested in the contents of the letter. He only wanted to see the signature at the end.
Who thought to write him a letter?
Who knew to address the letters to his cupboard under the stairs? Who knew of his existence?
Before Harry could even break the seal, Vernon had snatched it with his sweaty fingers and shredded it into confetti. Dudley poured it all over Harry’s lunch, making it inedible.
He hadn’t been allowed to take a second serving.
The doorbell rang, like a shrill canary, breaking the Dursleys out of their merriment of reducing Harry to tears. Dudley threw a fit that he should be the one to fetch the door while Vernon barked out an order for another serving of eggs.
Dudley unlatched and yanked the door open to find himself staring at someone’s torso. The boy slowly let his head tip back to take in the visitor’s appearance.
Black coat, black shirt, black waistcoat and black tie. Black waves that were styled impeccably, shoulders squared straight and piercing grey eyes regarded Dudley. “Are your parents home, young man?”
Dudley liked being called ‘young man’. “Mum! Dad!” He howled until both his parents showed up by the front door.
“Yes, how can we help you?”
“Mr and Mrs. Dursley, I had some unresolved business with you.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Well you know what they say, ‘On Sundays, one shall not receive posts but unannounced visitors.’” And with that he welcomed himself into their house, striding down the hall, gauging every nook and cranny with a critical eye.
Making himself comfortable on a chair, the visitor sat with his legs crossed and arms resting on the armrests. “Not the decor I would have picked for the walls, but I suppose you’ve had to make do with what you have.”
“How dare you walk into my house like ya own the place huh?” Vernon looked like he was about to burst an artery.
“Oh yes, how impolite of me. I am Regulus Arcturus Black, Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”
Vernon’s face twisted like a juiced out half a lemon. “What?”
“Muggles,” the man, Regulus, muttered under his breath, exasperated. “I’m afraid I do not have the time to culture you. If you can call Harry, him and I will be on our way.”
On hearing his name, Harry peeked into the living room. Regulus noticed him instantly, making Harry shrink away and hide in the kitchen.
Vernon and Petunia’s faces lost their colour. “You!” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger in Regulus’s direction, Petunia hiding Dudley behind her. “You’re one of them aren’t you?!”
Regulus leaned back in the chair with a subtle smirk, almost a line at the corner of his lip. Regulus tilted his head, resting his chin against his knuckles. “Now might be a good time to come in, Hagrid.”
Harry’s unruly hair peeked out from the kitchen once more.
The photo frames on the walls rattled as heavy footsteps thumped towards them, an eight foot man ducking into the Dursley’s living room.
The Dursley’s shrank back, stuck between Lord Black and the giant.
“Hullo Harry. Happy birthday! Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby.” The giant, Hagrid, went straight to the little boy, ruffling his already messy hair. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mom's eyes. Doesn’t he Mr. Black?"
“Indeed he does.” Regulus’s voice softened for a moment, crossing his arms, daring Vernon or Petunia to interrupt. ”Alright, that's enough pleasantries that have been exchanged. We best get going. Harry, gather your things.”
“Go where?” Harry finally found his voice.
“Why Hogwarts of course,” Hagrid said.
“What’s that?” Harry peered at Hagrid through his dusty, cracked glasses.
Hagrid looked appalled, then furious. “They didn’t tell yeh anything?! About yeh parents and about our world? Yer world?”
“Hagrid, it’s alright. We can tell him.”
“But Mr. Black, after all these years? He didn’t know about his parents? About you—”
Regulus glared at him sharply, silencing Hagrid. Regulus, arms still crossed, dug his fingernail into his inner arm.
Harry remained quiet. If he learnt anything at the Dursleys, it was to remain quiet when the elders were talking.
Vernon was red as a tomato. Harry was worried he must just burst into flames at any point. Vernon finally managed to find his voice, Petunia and Dudley hiding behind him, the family backed into a corner. “No, that boy won’t be going anywhere with you lot. I forbid you!”
Regulus and Hagrid spared them a sideway glance, as though just remembering their presence.
“You are nobody to forbid me.” Regulus slithered out of his seat elegantly, towering over Vernon menacingly. “Your guardianship over Harry James Potter expired the moment his Hogwarts letter was sent out.”
His eyes flitted to Petunia. “You must be familiar with the letter, Mrs. Dursley, after all your sister received a similar one when she was Harry’s age.”
Petunia paled. Regulus raised his arm, materialising a letter out of thin air, Petunia gasping loudly as she staggered backwards. “Recognise this, Mrs. Dursley?”
“You’re like me.” The words slipped out as Harry watched, stunned. All the windows he cracked without touching, landing on the roof before he could realise what was happening, the snake at the zoo, Regulus could probably do that too.
Regulus turned and looked at Harry, beckoning him closer. Harry warily looked at Vernon but made his way near the stranger. Somehow Harry trusted him more than his blood relatives.
“I believe this belongs to you, Harry.”
There was a difference in the tone when Regulus spoke to him. Nobody had ever spoken to him that way.
Harry took the sealed envelope hesitantly, breaking open the seal.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
“What…what does this mean? They await my owl?”
Hagrid smiled at him. “Yer a wizard Harry. Just like yer parents. Just like Mr. Black right here.”
“Is this true?”
Regulus simply brandished a wand, similar to the ones on display at stores during Halloween, but more exquisite.
Elegant. Powerful.
With a flick of his wrist, Regulus muttered something under his breath. In the blink of an eye, Harry’s clothes flew out from under the cupboard, folding themselves neatly into a leather trunk that was most definitely not his or the Dursleys.
With another flick, the trunk shrunk to the size of a penny that Regulus pocketed.
Harry blinked, mouth agape. “Harry, close your mouth, please.” Regulus said. Harry’s mouth shut with a click. “Shall we now?”
“Oh he is going nowhere with you freaks!” Petunia found her voice, blasting out.
Regulus regarded her with a blank stare.
“You lot, just like Lily and the freak she went with—!”
Grey eyes darkened like smoke clouds emerging from a fire. “Call James Potter and Lily Evans a ‘freak’ one more time, I dare you, Mrs. Dursley.”
“Don’t you dare threaten my wife!” Vernon was starting to turn an alarming shade of red, fists clenched.
Regulus uncrossed his arms and fixed his cuff, not looking at anyone in particular. “Hagrid, why don’t you show Harry our ride while I tie up some loose ends with Mr. Dursley here?”
“Come on Harry.” Harry felt a warm, heavy hand slowly steer him out, not before he saw Regulus raising his wand. Harry craned his neck but Hagrid's huge frame shielded Harry's view, closing the door behind them. "We'll wait for Mr. Black outside, ye?"
Harry didn't argue, silently waiting for this mysterious man to finish talking with the Durselys.
Regulus waited till he heard the front door close and turned to the Dursleys. “Send your son upstairs.”
Vernon was sweating, warily eyeing the wand. With a sharp flick of the wand, the curtains and blinds slid shut, making the Dursleys jump out of their skin.
Regulus’ hair curled over his forehead, a lone grey eye that promised pain trained on the couple. “Did I have to repeat myself, Mr. Dursley?”
“Go Duddlykinns, go!” Petunia ushered him hurriedly, the boy not wasting a spare second. The couple had a death grip on each other, Vernon looked close to a cardiac arrest with the perspiration drenching his shirt.
“Have a seat, Dursleys,” Regulus said, finger poised at the tip of his wand as he paced leisurely around the living room.
Petunia clutched Vernon’s shirt, neither moving. Regulus’ back was turned to them.
Regulus extended his arm and with a theatrical crack, a fire sputtered to life under the mantle.
The resounding shrieks were like music that almost made Regulus homesick. Walburga would have been proud.
“I. Said. Have a seat.” Regulus looked over his shoulder. The exquisite piece of cedar wood was raised. “Do you know what this is, Mr. Dursley? A weapon of power. A conduit of forces beyond your understanding. Twelve inches, cedar wood inlaid with a dragon heartstring core. I killed my mother with this very wand.”
Regulus towered over the couple, eyes viciously blank and disinterested. “This is for making him sleep under the stairs. Muffliato. ”
Regulus didn’t need the neighbours hearing what he was about to do.
Harry sat beside Hagrid on the curb, the man awkwardly bending his knees to crouch and lean down to look Harry in the eye. “So I’m a wizard? I can do magic? Like in the movies?”
“Yes. Yes.” Hagrid nervously looked at his pocket watch and back at the house.
“And there’s a school where I’ll learn how?”
“Yes. The best school in Europe if I say so myself. I went to Hogwarts too. When I was yer age.”
“Even Mr. Black?”
“Yes.”
“Who is Mr. Black? Why come take me to this school?”
“Oh that’s because he’s your—” Hagrid paused, whipping his head to look at Harry’s expectant eyes. “Um…..He’ll tell you himself.”
“Why didn’t he come before? Why now?”
“Well….” Hagrid was sweating now. “It was complicated. There was a war.”
“A war?” Harry’s innocent voice echoed.
“Oh no. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Is….is that how my parents….”
“Yer parents were the bravest people I knew. James and Lily. They died protecting ye.”
“They died because of me?”
“Oh no no no Harry. For you. The love of a parent knows no bounds.” At that Hagrid glanced back at the Dursley’s house. “No bounds.”
“So now I’m gonna live with Mr. Black?”
“Huh? Yes, until school starts.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew your parents,” Regulus answered for Hagrid. Harry jumped at his sudden appearance. Regulus fixed the lapels of his blazer and the other hand in his slacks pocket. “Shall we?”
Hagrid stood up while Harry just looked up at the man, eyes trailing back to the house he somehow convinced himself was home for the past eleven years.
“What happened inside?”
Regulus waved his hands dismissively. “Just assuring them of your safety, that is all.”
Harry frowned. The Dursleys didn’t care for his safety. But he knew better than to question adults, much less strangers.
“Now Hagrid, I take it Harry will be riding with you? Side-Along would be too much for him today.”
Harry looked up at Regulus, a million questions racing through his mind.
Regulus seemed to see right through him. “I know you must be really confused, but you’ll get all the answers shortly. Once we’re away from this awful neighbourhood.”
“You knew my parents,” Harry blurted out, still crouched on the curb. He slouched, folding him on himself. “Before they died in the car acci— the war?”
“Yes, we went to Hogwarts together. In fact my elder brother was best mates with your father.”
Regulus stared at him, face expressionless. He hesitated, looking around and begrudgingly sat down beside Harry. “Harry, some things are…..complicated. And I will tell you all in due time. Can you please give me some time?”
“How much time?”
“Well, I’ll tell you whatever I can today, but the more difficult questions, can they wait till you’re older?”
Harry thought about it for a while. “I’m going to be with you till—? I thought I’ll go to school in a month.”
“Yes. But you’ll be coming over for the holidays. Christmas and summer. Maybe even Yule.”
“I— I don’t have to come back here?”
Hagrid’s eyes softened with sorrow at Harry’s expectant voice.
Regulus paused. “If you’ll have me.”
“Yes. But then—”
Regulus placed a hand on his shoulder. “All in good time. Now, go to Hagrid. You might enjoy this particular ride.”
Harry turned around, Hagrid proudly revving up a motorcycle. “Woah. Is that….”
“What do you say, Harry, wanna give it a little spin?”
“Hagrid.” Regulus arched an eyebrow, stern.
“I was just kidding Mr. Black, I won’t let Harry ride the bike.” Hagrid gave Harry a not so subtle wink.
Harry’s eyes shone with excitement. “But how will Mr. Black ride with us?” He swiveled around, blinking. “Um….Mr. Black?”
But the spot once Regulus occupied, was empty.
Harry wobbled as the world around him spun. Regulus watched him with mild amusement. “I take it, you enjoyed the ride?”
“I flew,” Harry said, dazed. Incredulous, as though not really believing himself. “On a motorcycle. A flying motorcycle.”
“That motorcycle used to belong to my brother, Sirius.” Regulus held the boy by his shoulder, steadying him.
“Where are we?”
“No. 12 Grimmauld Place. I hope Kreacher hasn’t been slacking off with the maintenance.”
Harry squinted. He took off his glasses, cleaned the lens with the edge of his shirt and checked again.
“Um, Mr. Black, there is no No. 12.”
“Try again.” Regulus crossed his arms, waiting patiently. “It will take time to get used to your magic, but this is a good start.”
Harry knitted his eyebrows together, eyes darting between No. 11 and No. 13.
“Um…..”
“Take your time. Focus on the divide between No. 11 and 13. Try to gently nudge the magic aside.”
Harry eased his frown and tried again, trying to follow Regulus' instructions. He didn't know what he was looking for but it seemed to come to him intuitively. He felt the air change, the distance between No. 11 and 13 and increasing, like ends of a curtain being pushed aside. Harry's eyes widened ans he took he watched a huge mansion materialise into view.
No. 12 Grimmauld Place. His new home.
“I can see it!”
“Well done,” Regulus said warmly as the three walked up to the front door. “Home sweet home,” Regulus muttered under his breath and flicked his wand, the dust jammed door swinging open.
Regulus coughed, fingers spasming over his chest. Six years and it still burnt the same.
“Mr. Black are yer pains acting up again?” Hagrid hovered over him, concerned.
“Are you sick, Mr. Black?” Harry asked.
“No, I’m perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about. Hagrid, please do come in for a cup of tea.”
“Some other time maybe, I need to get back and inform Dumbledore about the Dursleys.”
Harry noticed the way Regulus’ knuckles turned white at Dumbledore’s mention. He ignored his curiosity. Harry waved as Hagrid climbed onto the flying motorcycle and took off, zipping into the sky.
“Won’t the non magical people notice a man flying in the air?”
“They are called Muggles. And no, there is a Fidelius Charm around the property, they won’t be able to notice until Hagrid is high up in the air. I reckon it would look like a bird from that distance.” Regulus shrugged off his coat, taking Harry’s from him as well. “Kreacher.”
A tiny…..thing wearing a ragged cloth appeared, bowing before Regulus and taking their coats. “Master is home after so many years. Kreacher is happy.”
“Thank you Kreacher, I see you have been slacking off on the dusting.”
“Kreacher is be getting to it. And this be…..Harry Potter?”
“In the flesh.” Regulus fixed his waistcoat while Kreacher and Harry stared at each other, not sure how to interact with the other.
“Harry, this is Kreacher, the house elf of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Kreacher has been in the family for centuries now.”
“346 years,” Kreacher specified.
“An elf?”
Kreacher narrowed his eyes. “Mud— Muggleborn spawn.”
“Kreacher.” Regulus’ harsh tone made Kreacher recoil, shrinking away, but not before glaring at Harry.
“I guess he doesn’t like me?”
“That hardly matters. Kreacher has to learn to deal with it. Come along now, let me show you around.”
“Is this your house, Mr. Black?”
“Regulus is just fine.”
“Is this your house, Regulus?”
Regulus nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets as the two walked through the parlour. “I grew up here.”
And on cue to remind him of his childhood, they stopped in front of Walburga’s portrait.
Regulus eyed the portrait dryly. “Mother.”
“Disgrace.”
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin when the portrait spoke, the poor boy froze, eyes wide as he trembled at the sight.
“Six years since you’ve set foot in here. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Walburga asked sarcastically.
“I had listed out actions that would infuriate you beyond the grave and thought, what better than my very presence to make your blood boil? Hence, here I am.”
“With James Potter’s spawn?” Walburga sniffed haughtily, nose up in the air when her eyes landed on the boy, still terrified of the talking painting. “Don’t you dare— you dare bring this half blood filth into our ancestral home Regulus Black! Why I never—”
“And that’s quite about enough out of you for today, Mother.” Regulus flicked his wand and summoned a heavy blanket to cover the painting, muffling Walburga’s caterwauling. “I ought to find a way to strip that darned portrait.”
Regulus turned to Harry, the boy sticking to the wall like a lizard, face white as his expensive china. “Don’t worry Harry, she can’t come out of the portrait.”
Harry jerked when Regulus called out his name, shoulders raised all the way up to his ears. He slowly inched away from the portrait, still plastered against the wall, warily eyeing the frame.
“Let’s have a cup of tea, shall we?” Regulus led Harry to the parlour as the boy tried to steady his breathing. “I know my mother is….a handful. I will try my level best to get rid of her at the earliest, I assure you.
“The….the painting talked.”
“Yes they do that up here sometimes. Don’t worry, she’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“The painting is magical,” Regulus said as though that would explain everything and gestured to the table where a tray was already set with scones and finger sandwiches. Harry sat down in a chair opposite Regulus while the man poured out their tea.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
Regulus set his teacup on the saucer, urging Harry to help himself to the sandwiches. “I suppose you have questions?”
Harry mumbled with a mouthful of food. Regulus didn’t comment on the lack of table manners, watching the way Harry ate.
“Well Harry, as Hagrid explained, you’re a wizard. And here in the wizarding world, there are schools where you go and learn how to utilise your magic and perfect it. That is what the letter was for.”
Harry nodded, slowing down slightly as he realised he didn’t have to fight with Dudley for food. He sipped the tea, the warmth soothing him.
“Elbows off the table, please.”
Harry listened immediately. But there was a difference in the way Petunia corrected him and the way Regulus did. But then, Petunia never used her words whenever Harry made a mistake.
“And as to why me? Your godfather was Sirius Black. My brother. Since he’s rather preoccupied at the moment, your guardianship fell to the next of kin, that is me.”
Harry set the china down gingerly, looking up at Regulus with wide green eyes. He asked in a small voice, “What took you so long to come get me?”
Regulus answered in a strained voice. “For that, I profusely apologise, Harry. Believe me, I did not want to leave you with those awful Muggles. But some things were out of my control.”
“Like what?”
“Harry, you have to understand that some things are not meant for an eleven year old’s ears. But I will try my best to answer candidly. If I withhold any information it will be with the promise of answering those in due time, once you’re older.”
Harry nodded, watching Regulus carefully over his teacup. More specifically, Regulus’ fingers. A band of platinum gleamed on his ring finger.
“So….how did this letter reach me? They addressed it to the cupboard under the stairs.”
Regulus ran his finger tip along the rim of his teacup and hummed. “The Headmaster, Dumbledore - you heard Hagrid mention him - he knew about your whereabouts. Hence the address was literal.”
“Are you married?” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.
Regulus, who had a teacup raised to his lips, stiffened.
“I’m sorry…..your ring…..”
Regulus exhaled sharply and carefully placed the teacup back on the table.
Harry bowed his head. He had crossed a line. Now Regulus was going to return his back to the Dursleys, he was not going to go to Hogwarts and spend the rest of his life under the stairs. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s natural to ask questions at your age. But one must learn to be tactful while doing so,” Regulus said carefully. “You could earn multiple enemies with a wrong choice of words.”
Harry nodded like a kicked puppy. Regulus couldn’t help but stifle a gentle sigh.
“Don’t fret. You’ll learn before you’re off to Hogwarts. We have a month.” Harry kept quiet and noticed how the ring was the only question Regulus refused to answer.
“Wow.” Harry craned his neck up all the way to the ceiling, almost falling if it wasn’t for Regulus’ hand steadying him. “Have you read all these books?”
“Most of them, yes.” Regulus had spent a larger part of his youth in the Black House Library. He found himself spending hours in this part of the house after the war.
Kreacher had to remind him to eat at mealtimes. Books were faithful companions.
Sirius had his prison, Regulus had his.
“What is this about?” Harry reached out to touch the first book that caught his eye. A beautiful leather bound book with silver lettering.
Just as his finger almost touched the book spine— “Careful, all the books in here are laced with curses.”
Harry recoiled faster than a spring. “Cursed?”
Regulus shrugged. “It wouldn’t be an authentic Black Heirloom if it didn’t have a touch of dark magic.”
Regulus raised his wand, pulling out the book Harry wanted and levitated it over to the reference desk. “Here you go. I can teach you that charm once we get you your wand tomorrow.”
Harry peered into the book, squinting. “Black Family tree?”
Regulus nodded. “Step back please.” Regulus raised his wand once Harry was at a safe distance and flicked his wrist.
A band of silvery mist rose from the pages of the book, weaving into a majestic tree. Names glittered brightly, Regulus shining the brightest. Some of the names were faded, mostly the older generations. Some names were striked out, almost indecipherable and scratched out in black.
The name next to Regulus was in black.
Harry found it odd.
Regulus sensed his uneasiness and answered the silent question. “Historically, the Blacks have had a reputation of being…..cut-throat. The striked out names indicate the people who have been disinherited from the family.”
“Your brother was disinherited? Why?”
Regulus paused, unsure on how to answer it. “Our parents were complicated people. Remember my mother?”
Harry shuddered at the reminder of the shrieking portrait.
“Don’t worry, not all portraits are like her. My mother is one of a kind,” Regulus said wryly. “I’ll tell you about Sirius when the time comes.”
“You say that a lot,” Harry mumbled. Regulus bit back a smile. “Out of curiosity, when will the time come?”
Regulus smirked. “Let’s agree on…your fifteenth birthday?”
Harry thought about it for a while and then nodded in assent. “Fifteen it is.”
Regulus chuckled under his breath. “Glad we could reach an understanding.”
With a wave of his wand, the book went flying back into its spot. “There are a few books, uncursed ones, in my room, if you are interested?”
Harry nodded his head vigorously. Regulus pointed his wand to the door and murmured something. A book came flying in through the door, settling into Harry’s arms.
Regulus gave an encouraging nod as Harry flipped through the pages. “The….Potter Family Tree?” It was different from the Black Family tree, more branched out and sparkled, an odd warmth seeking him out, making Harry lean in.
“That is your family magic reaching out to you,” Regulus explained.
Harry let his eyes wander over the tree that materialised in front of him. This is where he came from. His roots.
Harry let his fingers trail over James’ name, dim and muted. Like a light that had been put out.
“Those are your grandparents. Monty—I mean Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.”
“Do you know anything about them?”
“They were wonderful people. Always welcoming. Sirius knew them longer than I did.” Regulus sat down in a chair beside Harry. “Your grandfather was Irish and he had a successful business that he sold after retirement. He created Sleekeazy’s Hair Potions that caused a riot in the forties. It’s still quite famous, we can find some tomorrow.”
“I’m half Irish?” Harry’s eyes sparkled in awe as he learnt more and more about where he truly came from. He never got satisfactory answers from his uncle and aunt, always shunned for asking questions.
“Close. You’re one-fourth Irish. Your grandmother was from India. I think I have her cookbook lying around among your father’s things. We can make Kreacher try out some of the recipes.”
“I’d like that. Do the Evans have a family tree too?” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked at Regulus.
“Ah, they do not. Because Evans is not a wizarding family. Your mother was what we wizards call a Muggleborn. A wizard or witch with Muggle parents.”
“Is that possible?”
Regulus nodded. “If they had a magical ancestor who married a Muggle, yes. It’s very common for magic to skip a few generations.”
“Your mother—” Harry gulped as he remembered Regulus’ mother, “She called me something. Half blood fi—”
“Don’t take her words to heart.” Regulus cut Harry short. “You needn’t concern yourself with that old bat’s words. I really ought to set that cursed portrait on fire,” Regulus muttered the last part under his breath. Harry pretended he didn’t hear that. “But I suppose you do need to be prepared to hear such words at Hogwarts. Once you reach there, dozens of articles will be printed.” Regulus stroked his stubble.
“Why would the newspapers print about me?”
“Well, you’re sort of a celebrity here in the Wizarding World.”
“Are you going to tell me why or do I have to wait?” Harry arched an eyebrow.
Regulus gave him a short smile. “You’re catching up, good. I will tell you before you get to Hogwarts of course. I wouldn’t want you to be blindsided. Just not on your first day here.”
“Hmm. So, what’s a half blood filth?”
Regulus sighed exasperated. “You’re not filth. She called you a Half-Blood. Which essentially means that one parent is Pureblood and the other is Muggleborn.”
“Pureblood?”
“Wizards who marry into traditional wizarding families are known as Pureblood. Technically a wizard or witch marrying another wizard or witch. Since Lily was born to non-magical parents, it makes you a half-blood.”
Harry recalled the way Kreacher and Walburga looked at him, very similar to the Dursleys. “I take it, it's not very common here?”
“Some traditional families have some trouble accepting this. It’s more of a prejudiced social construct. Most wizards don’t care about blood status these days.”
Harry nodded like he understood. “What is ‘prejudiced’?”
Regulus chuckled and pulled his chair closer to Harry’s. “It means…..”
They went back and forth like that, Harry firing questions one after the other that Regulus was more than happy to answer. He even conjured some parchment and taught him how to use a quill.
The two lost track of time, holed up in the library until Kreacher appeared in the library with a pop. Startled, Harry almost fell if it hadn’t been for Regulus catching the chair when it tipped backwards.
“Kreacher is be serving dinner soon. Masters should wash up.” And disappeared with another pop.
“Does he do that often? Appearing out of nowhere?”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Harry seriously questioned it. Harry felt small walking into the huge dining room. It looked like it could hold a party of thirty Vernon Dursleys without suffocating anyone.
Kreacher had set out two plates with an assortment of cutlery beside the plates. Barring that, the table was empty.
“Have a seat, Harry. Kreacher will be here with the first course shortly.”
Harry climbed into the seat opposite Regulus as Kreacher appeared with a ‘pop’ that made Harry jump again.
With a snap of Kreacher’s fingers, the first course appeared before them. A soup that smelt absolutely heavenly accompanied with a basket of bread rolls and butter at the centre.
Harry blinked at the cutlery. There were three spoons to choose from. Harry looked over at Regulus, following his actions as he chose the broad and hollowed spoon.
Harry waited for Regulus, imitating him to the tee— posture, the fingers he held the spoon with, even the knife he chose to spread the butter.
“Meals at Hogwarts will be less complicated,” Regulus said, watching fondly as Harry copied him. “But when we go to Ministry Balls, dinner etiquette is very important. You will be representing the House of Black and the House of Potter.”
Harry paled, stiff as a board, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
Regulus’ shoulders shook in a silent chuckle. “That’s a long time away Harry. If we practice now, it will be second nature to you soon.”
Harry gulped and nodded, eating his soup quickly, scalding his tongue in the process.
“Careful!” Regulus admonished, passing him a glass of water.
Harry folded in himself, eating his meal with a forced pace. Regulus didn’t eat much, watching Harry’s reaction as Kreacher brought in each course.
“Would you like seconds, Harry?” Regulus’ fears were confirmed when Harry nodded his head vigorously. “There is no hurry, have your fill.”
Regulus lost his appetite, watching Harry finally relax. The boy ate at a slower pace, knowing that he could have how much he wanted.
Any lingering guilt Regulus had for treating Lily’s sister the way he did in the morning dissipated.
I’m sorry it took me so long to bring you home, Harry. Regulus swallowed his guilt and watched with a sad smile as Harry ate.
“Let me show you your room,” Regulus said as Harry struggled to keep his eyes open. The two were sitting by the fireplace after dinner with a cup of chamomile tea. Harry got to his feet and let Regulus lead the way.
“Harry.”
Harry blinked blearily, realising Regulus had stopped on the first floor.
“You are free to explore any part of this house except for these two rooms.” Regulus pointed to the rooms at the far end of the corridor. “I have stowed away some dangerous artifacts in them. Until you learn some defensive spells, it’s best you avoid them.”
Harry nodded. He could do that. He was really good at following rules despite what Petunia said.
“This…is your room. It’s not much, we could pick out a couple of things tomorrow to personalise it a bit more.”
Harry peered into the room. It was scarcely decorated, with a double bed and a desk. Harry stood in the middle of the room and spread out his arms, moving around freely.
In his books, it was a lovely upgrade from his cupboard.
“Regulus?”
“Yes Harry?”
“I….” Harry looked around. “I’m grateful but I don’t need such a big room.”
Regulus gestured for Harry to sit down on the bed while he took his seat in the armchair near the bed. “Harry, this room is your own space in this house. Neither I nor Kreacher will enter without your permission. You deserve to have a space to yourself.”
Regulus handed him the Potter Family Book. “Don’t stay up too late reading.”
“By what time do you need me to be up tomorrow?”
Regulus knitted his eyebrows. “Well…. you’ve had a long day today so don’t hesitate to sleep in but an ideal time for a boy your age would be 7 in the morning. Just so you’ll get accustomed to the timings for Hogwarts.”
Harry nodded, not completely convinced. “And what are my chores?”
Regulus inhaled sharply and leaned forward. “Harry, look at me, you do not have to earn your keep here. You are my ward, my responsibility. Is that clear? I brought you here so it's my job to take care of you.”
Harry nodded as Regulus got up to leave. “Regulus?”
Regulus turned. Harry looked up at him with an innocently wide grin. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Regulus smiled. “Goodnight Harry.”
When Regulus peeked into Harry’s room a couple of hours later, he couldn’t help the fond chuckle escape him. The boy was fast asleep, book open and glasses crookedly perched over his nose.
Regulus slowly took the heavy book out of Harry’s grip and folded his glasses on his bedside table. It was odd to see this room occupied again after all these years.
The last time this room was used, there used to be a cradle and a litter of toys scattered across the floor.
Regulus reached out to brush the hair out of Harry’s eyes, the boy humming into the touch in his sleep.
“Happy birthday, little snitch.”