the von stein legacies

June 26 1979

𝓣he Silver Stripe Inn was a shabby remnant of a once-charming retreat. The pale yellow walls, chipped and peeling, barely concealed the maroon bricks of the old estate. The inn was owned by an elderly woman whose eyes were as weary as the creaky doors to the small rooms. Inside, a single bed was covered with a navy plaid duvet, haphazardly tucked beneath a mattress as hard as stone, as if the innkeeper never expected guests. A faint scent of cigarettes and Firewhiskey lingered in the chilly air of their room, with the window stubbornly stuck a couple of inches open, refusing to close fully.

On the worn armchair in front of the dim fireplace sat Regulus Black, his head buried in his hands as the faint embers cast a golden halo over his weary features. His right leg was draped over the other, and his day-old robes were wrinkled and damp from the rain. The soft crackle of the dying fire filled the room, and shadows danced on the walls, as Seraphia von Stein curled underneath the plaid and soaked the paper-thin pillows with salty tears.

"We can never go back," Regulus said, breaking the silence they had been sitting in for long enough they watched the sun set and the moon peak over. "Do you understand that, Sera? We can never go back." She tugged the comforter closer to her chin, a heavy set of unrhytmic breaths leaving her lips. He continued, "We can never go back. They will kill us."

She reached her arms out to the small nightstand next to her and picked up the piece of parchment she had been writing on minutes before, knees chafing against the creaky wooden floor and body lowered to sit closer to the nightstand. "I think we should owl this, Reg," she said, eyes scanning over the four words.

Dear Montgomery,

It's Sera.

Regulus looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of apprehension and desperation. "Do you think he'll help us?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Seraphina nodded slowly, but she was filled with fear. "He has to. He's our only chance."

Regulus was quiet for a moment, and Seraphina truly began to believe they had nobody to turn to anymore. She sat in the silence with him, her eyes tracing the elegant curve of his neck, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the nape. She watched his fingers, pale and slender, tighten around the cushion of the armchair, the diamond ring on his finger catching the soft glow of the yellow lamp to his west, casting fleeting rainbows against the worn fabric. The fire's flicker danced across his weary features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the deep shadows beneath his eyes, each movement a testament to their shared exhaustion and the heavy weight of their circumstances.

"Maybe," he began, rising to his feet and walking over the bed. He continued only when he pulled up the duvet, climbing under, legs brushing against Seraphina's lightly, and she didn't care he hadn't bothered to use a drying spell. "Maybe we have another option," he said, and though his voice was firm—believable—there was a twitch in his eye that told her it took all of him to say that.

She had a suspicion who he was talking about, yet she asked, "Who?"

He shook his head, as though reconsidering. He grabbed the parchment from her hands, eyes boring into the words. "My brother," he said.

Seraphina gulped at the mention of her formerly-betrothed, but attempted to reason. She felt as though Regulus' brother was the best bet to help with their predicament, but he was also Regulus' brother—the one who estranged, abandoned, and openly defied his family. The one who had left the Black family home with a rebellion in his heart and never looked back. Sirius Black—in her eyes—was a wild card, unpredictable and untamed. The thought of reaching out to him filled her with a mix of hope and trepidation.

"Are you sure, Reg?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "Do you think he would help us?"

Regulus looked at her, his grey eyes filled with a desperate determination. "We have no other choice, Sera. He may have left us, but he despises the Dark Lord even more. If there's anyone who can understand what we're going through, it's him."

She shrugged. "He is in The Order."

Seraphina nodded slowly, her mind racing with memories of Sirius. She remembered the boy who had once been her betrothed, his laughter echoing through the grand halls of their childhood homes, and his defiant spirit that had always set him apart. She reached for the quill, her hand trembling slightly as she dipped it into the ink.

"Wait," she said, setting the quill in the inkpot. "We can't... talk."

He looked at her, confused. She raised her palm which was smooth to the touch but worked as a reminder of the Unbreakable Vow they made with the Dark Lord himself. She explained, "We have a Dark Mark. We're Death Eaters. We have killed his friends—"

"We didn't kill anybody," Regulus interrupted through gritted teeth.

The corners of her lips twitched downwards. "I'm not saying Sirius wouldn't believe us. I'm saying he can't help two Death Eaters without The Order's help and, as far as we know, it's run by Dumbledore."

Regulus's jaw tightened, his frustration evident. "We have to try, Sera. He's our only chance at survival."

Before Seraphina could respond, a sharp rap at the window startled them both. They turned to see a dark owl perched on the sill, an ominous letter clutched in its talons. Seraphina's heart sank as she recognized the owl—it belonged to Evan Rosier, fellow Death Eater and their former ally.

Regulus moved swiftly, opening the stubborn window just enough to let the owl inside. It hopped onto the nightstand, dropping the letter before flying back into the night. Seraphina hesitated, then reached for the letter, her hands trembling as she broke the seal.

"Well?" Regulus asked her, and she leaned into him, his arm wrapping around her and hanging off her shoulder as they read.

Dear Regulus and Seraphina,

That was where the note ended.

"It's empty," she said, confused.

Regulus frowned, taking the parchment from her. "There must be a way to reveal the message."

"Or it might be empty. Don't forget this is Evan's letter we are talking about," Sera replied, a light chuckle escaping her lips.

His lips quirked up in amusement. "You're right, but," he said, trailing off.

Seraphina's eyes widened slightly as a memory surfaced. "Wait... Evan and I once made a potion for fun that would reveal hidden messages. We used it as a prank during our sixth year. On your brother. Do you remember the ingredients?"

Regulus's face lit up with a glimmer of hope. "Yes, I think I do. It was a mixture of moonstone powder, essence of dittany, and crushed scarab beetles, right?"

"Exactly," Seraphina nodded. "We might be able to find those ingredients in the inn's small apothecary supply."

They rummaged through the inn's meager supplies, managing to find the necessary components. Seraphina quickly mixed the ingredients together, forming a shimmering liquid.

She dipped a quill into the potion and lightly brushed it over the parchment. Slowly, faint words began to appear, glowing softly before settling into the paper:

Slowly, faint words began to appear, glowing softly before settling into the paper:

Dear Regulus and Seraphina,

You two have really outdone yourselves this time. Disappearing without a trace, missing your own weddings—bold moves, even for you. We've been worried sick, and it took our owl ages to track you down. Poor thing nearly gave up after coming back so many times.

P.S: On a lighter note, happy belated birthdays to the both of you! We miss the days when we could celebrate together, away from all this madness. Honestly, I am a bit envious of your adventures if you aren't dead. But seriously, we want to help you. Once you both come back, things are going to be overwhelming. They already are for me. Regulus, your mother is about to burn your face off the wall, by the way. Anyway, meet us by the old boathouse by the river tomorrow at dusk. Come alone, and maybe bring some of that butterscotch birthday cake you two always have. We'll bring the drinks. Sera, I still remember that potion you made for my headaches in school—best one I've ever had. With the state of everything, maybe you can whip up some more? And Regulus, you still owe me for that last game of Wizard's Chess. Anyway, we've been trying to track you down for ages. The owl was about to quit and take a permanent vacation—wait, Barty's telling me I'm writing too long. He's giving me that look. You know that look Barty gives? So, I'll wrap it up. See you two soon! —Evan

P.P.S: Seriously, come alone. If we see anyone else with you, we're out. I have a feeling what you two have done, and I can't help if anyone else knows about it. You both are idiots about your weddings, by the way. Poor Elara had to be soothed by Walburga, of all people. Rokwood threw a temper tantrum that made all the children at the wedding cry. You two should've been there to see it. If you're thinking this is some kind of trap or test, I assure you, it's not. We genuinely want to help. Things are changing, and not just for us. The Dark Lord's plans are becoming more erratic, and there's talk among the ranks that not everyone is pleased with the direction things are heading. We need to stick together, and I believe you two can be a part of that change. We can't do this alone, and neither can you. Evan is right about the owl—it came back so many times, we thought it had decided to live with us permanently. The poor thing was on the verge of collapse. Anyway, you know the drill. Meet us at the boathouse, alone, and we'll talk more. And Regulus, don't forget that you promised to show me that new spell you were working on. This could be our chance to turn things around. —Barty

P.P.P.S. (Evan again) Just one more thing—Barty's annoyed that I'm adding another postscript, but Sera, if you have any of those enchanted chocolates left, bring them too. They were amazing last time!—Ev

P.P.P.P.S. And Evan, if you write another postscript, I swear I'll hex you. So, do not even think about touching this parchment again. But really, you two, stay safe. We'll be waiting. —Barty

Evan Rosier and Barty Crouch Jr.

Regulus and Seraphina exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of relief and amusement
Regulus and Seraphina exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of relief and amusement. The familiarity of Evan and Barty's antics brought a small measure of comfort, even amidst the gravity of their situation. The room, once heavy with dread, seemed to lighten just a fraction, the shadows flickering with a newfound hope.

Seraphina leaned back slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, that's Evan for you. Always finding a way to make light of even the darkest situations."

Regulus's lips quirked up in a rare smile, his usually stern features softening. "And Barty trying to rein him in. Some things never change."

The relief was palpable, a brief respite from the relentless fear that had gripped them. Yet, beneath the surface, the tension remained, coiled and ready to strike. They knew they couldn't afford to take this lightly. The fact that Evan and Barty had reached out at all meant there was still hope, but it also underscored the very real danger they faced. Barty merely saying it wasn't a trap didn't mean she should trust it, but she did. After all, she and Regulus almost died only a few hours ago—there wasn't anything else they could do but trust.

Seraphina traced the words on the parchment with her finger, the ink still shimmering faintly under the flickering light. "Do you think we can trust them?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Regulus's expression turned serious, his brows furrowing in thought. "We have to, right?" He paused, thinking over it. "They're our only allies left."

"You don't think we should write to Sirius?" she asked, bringing up the topic that was interrupted by the owl.

He shrugged. "I think it's in our best interest to hear Ev and Barty out. They did say to come alone." He leaned in closer, cheek pressed against her own, and read over the words again. "We can ask Sirius for help once we figure out what they think we should do."

Seraphina didn't reply, her mind flitting through the memories of everything the Dark Lord had said—pieces of information they could tell Regulus' brother without harming themselves. If Evan and Barty meant what they said in the letter—about forming a group to go rogue against the Dark Lord—they could discuss the possibilities with them.

Regulus brushed a piece of hair out of Seraphina's face and said, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sirius' friends—James and Lily," Seraphina said gravely.

Regulus frowned. "We can't tell them that. I don't know how we can get around it."

"We'll figure it out. Tomorrow."