A lot of Pain
“I’m assuming you managed to survive this long in the lake due to your inheritance,” Bianca begins. “The magic that surrounded the lake was old and foul,” Her fangs reflected the minimal light they had, indicating her disgust and anger, glinting with a primal intensity that mirrored her emotions. Bianca's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable weighed down by the gravity of the situation.
Her student was battered and bruised. He bore not the physical remnants of his harrowing ordeal, but the emotional ones. As his inheritance had stolen away all his scars, all his battle wounds, Bianca could very clearly see the remnants of the war he’d waged in those dark eyes of his.
Regulus listened intently, his gaze fixed on Bianca as she spoke, his mind whirling with the possibilities now that she’d opened the Pandora’s box so to speak.
“Your inheritance kicked in just when you needed it most, however due to your-” She pauses, her eyes growing pained, “-your predicament, your magic sensed the danger and suspended you in a time lapse until you were strong enough to inherit fully." She concludes, her words trailing off into the silence of the cave they were in.
Regulus felt a surge of mixed emotions welling within him. Relief mingled with uncertainty, hope intertwined with apprehension, as he grappled with the enormity of what it all meant. The weight of Bianca's revelations settling upon him like a heavy cloak.
The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place.
“How long do you believe I was suspended for?” He asks softly, almost dreading to hear the answer.
Bianca cringes a little at the question, pursing her lips. “If I’m reading the magic correctly…” And she was. Dragels tended to be incredibly tuned to the magic around them. “-It’s been close to four years,” She finally admits to him and Regulus sucks in a pained breath.
Regulus's heart sank at Bianca's admission, the weight of her words pressing down upon him like a leaden weight. Four years. Four years suspended in a time lapse, unaware of the passage of time, while the world outside moved on without him.
The enormity of it all washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in a sea of disbelief and despair. Four years lost to the depths of the inferi lake, four years robbed from him by the foul magic that surrounded it and the despicable man he’d been forced to follow as a child.
He felt as though he had been punched in the gut, the air knocked from his lungs as he struggled to process the staggering revelation. Four years of his life, vanished in an instant, leaving him adrift in a world that had marched forward without him.
Bianca watched him carefully, her expression filled with empathy and concern. She knew the weight of her words had hit him hard, knew the pain he must be feeling at the loss of so much time.
"I'm sorry, Regulus," She murmurs softly, her voice a soothing balm in the midst of his turmoil. "But you're here now, and we'll figure this out together. Whatever lies ahead, you won't face it alone."
“I- I’m twenty-one,” He croaks out, “I still feel seventeen,” He admits to his mentor, his eyes wide with panic and his fingers twitching with nerves.
Bianca hums at his words, nodding slowly. “Time magic is finicky like that. Personally I despise the branch. It causes more problems than necessary,” She huffs, “You might have a Nameless talent related to time magicks, however, given this irregular situation,” His mentor muses and Regulus is frozen in a state of stunned shock as his Oretta summons a towel out of nowhere and starts to dry his hair.
She was rather short and her affectionate actions were causing Regulus to feel things much to his disgust.
But Regulus bends down a bit so his mentor is easily more able to reach the top of his head.
His mentor’s mouth curves upwards into an amused smile, her eyes nearing a more violet colour in her humour.
Bianca’s heart ached at Regulus's situation, the depth of his anguish evident in his trembling voice and wide-eyed panic. And she wanted to kill the people who had caused her student to be so shocked at being on the receiving end of a tender hand.
"It's disorienting to suddenly find yourself thrust into a time that has moved on without you, to feel as though you've been robbed of the time that should have been yours." She tells her student who was listening to her with rapt attention. “But I’ll be taking you to Nevarah with me. You are a Dragel. You are to learn your heritage and culture.” She instructs him soundly.
Regulus appreciated that she was giving him some semblance of structure in his life.
And his whole soul ached to leave with her to Nevarah.
But not yet.
Not when he wasn’t sure what had happened with the Horcrux.
Not when he wasn’t sure who was alive or dead.
“I have people I need to check up on. Things I need to do before I am able to leave.” Regulus admits with a wince.
His mentor hums again like this was an expected outcome and she begins to dry his shoulders and arms.
“Why not use magic?” Regulus blurts out, unable to help himself. He wasn’t used to someone caring.
Bianca pauses, “Some things are better done by hand.” She finishes drying him, expanding the towel so it loomed over his shoulders, effortlessly bypassing his new wings, in a semblance to a blanket with the warmth of a sauna. “More personal that way,” Her face was relaxed and open and it caused his own shoulders to untense and unwind.
The warmth sinks deep into his bones. He’d been unaware just of how cold he’d been before his Oretta had warmed him up.
“Is there anything else you need from here?” She asks and Regulus watched entranced and in awe as she proceeds to banish every hint of their presence from the cave; from their hair to his blood and even their magical presence.
“No,” He swallows, looking around and grabbing his wand from where it had fallen before his trip to the bottom of the lake.
“You won’t really need that focus stick anymore,” Bianca huffs out a chuckle, “After all you seem more than proficient in your magic without it,”
Regulus blinks realizing that she was indeed correct… again.
He’d cast Fiendfyre without a wand.
That was- That was unbelievable.
No wonder the ministry had hunted Dragels to extinction if this was the amount of power they had when they inherited.
“That’s definitely a plus to this whole inheritance,” Regulus admits, allowing her to gesture him into her arms like he was a wayward child and she was his mother.
She scoffs, a large grin forming on her face, “Oh believe me child, there are a lot more pluses than just that,” Her voice was filled with laughter and it made his own lips twitch upwards slightly.
“Where are we headed, child?” Bianca muses, one of her hands outstretched as if preparing herself to cast a spell.
“What do you need exactly?” Regulus was a bit confused, “And are you able to break through the wards here? They don’t allow for us to apparate,”
Regulus's question prompted Bianca to pause, her hand hovering in the air as she considered his words. "Ah, the wards," She muses, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. It was like she hadn’t even registered their presence.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Those are wixen wards. They have no impact on Dragel kind.” She shared a smile with him, full of pride at that fact. “And I’ll need a name of where we are going. Maybe even some coordinates,” She tells him.
Regulus swallows harshly, thinking hard on what he wanted to do.
He wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with the Blacks at this moment.
And for all his family knew, he’d been dead for four years.
“Kreacher,” Regulus calls out into the air.
The second Regulus called out for Kreacher, the air beside him seemed to shimmer with anticipation, and within moments, the loyal house-elf materialized before them.
The shift in magic that had happened and the fact that Regulus had sensed it, made him almost giddy at the new amounts of utter magic Regulus had at his fingertips.
Kreacher stumbles forward, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief at the sight of Regulus, the elf’s thin frame trembling with emotion.
"Master Regulus!" Kreacher exclaims, his voice choking with tears as he trips forward, his wrinkled hands reaching out as if to touch a ghost made flesh. "Kreacher thought Master was dead!” The poor elf was wailing and Regulus sinks to his knees, gently holding his most precious friend in an embrace.
Regulus's heart clenches at the sight of Kreacher's anguish, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
"I'm here, Kreacher," Regulus said softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "I'm alive.” He murmurs, just letting the elf clutch onto him, nails digging into his clothes.
Kreacher's tears flowed freely now, his cries echoing through the cave as he clung to Regulus with a mixture of relief and joy.
Bianca relaxes from her tense state due to the surprise, and her expression softens with empathy.
Regulus gently disengaged from Kreacher's embrace, allowing the elf to regain his composure as he wiped away his tears with a trembling hand. Once Kreacher had collected himself, Regulus turned to him with a serious expression.
"Kreacher," he began, his voice firm yet gentle, "I need to know if there's been any activity here at Grimmauld Place. My parents? Sirius?”
Regulus's inquiry hung heavy in the air, the silence stretching taut as Kreacher contemplated his response. Finally, the elderly elf spoke, his voice gravelly with age and emotion.
"No, Master Regulus," Kreacher began, his eyes downcast in sorrow. "There has been no activity here at Grimmauld Place. Mistress Walburga and Master Orion... they are no longer with us. And Sirius..." He trailed off, his voice thick with sadness. “The Ministry imprisoned him in Azkaban,”
Regulus's heart clenched at Kreacher's words, a surge of grief washing over him at the confirmation of his family's fate. His parents, gone. His brother, imprisoned. The weight of it all threatened to crush him beneath its unbearable burden.
"Sirius..." Regulus repeated, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to process the enormity of the revelation. "-in Azkaban?"
Kreacher nodded solemnly, his eyes brimming with tears. "Yes, Master Regulus," He confirms, his voice barely audible. "Master Sirius... was sent to Azkaban,”
“What happened? How could grandfather have let this happen?”
“Master Black is very sick right now. After the death of his wife and children, he has taken ill,”
Regulus closed his eyes, his mind reeling with the implications of Kreacher's words. The rift that had torn his family apart, the pain and betrayal that had driven them apart... it was all too much to bear.
“What did Sirius even do?” Regulus croaks out, his heart twitching uncomfortably in his chest,
Kreacher scowls at the floor, “He was wrongly accused of having been the one to betray the Potters,”
Regulus felt like Kreacher has just stabbed him in the chest.
“The Potters?” He whispers in horror, feeling like he was a parrot just reiterating the words he was hearing.
Sirius would have never betrayed James.
James was the brother he chose after all.
Regulus fell back heavily onto the floor at the words. His heart was hammering in his chest and all he could think was, ‘No. Not James. Anyone but James,’
Kreacher's gaze softened as he witnessed the turmoil in Regulus's eyes, a flicker of sympathy crossing his weathered features. With a heavy sigh, the ancient house-elf began to recount the tale, his voice low and filled with sorrow.
"Master Regulus," Kreacher began, his tone solemn, “Before the Dark Lord's downfall-”
Regulus’ brain froze at that. The Dark Lord had died? Had Kreacher managed to destroy the Horcrux?
“James Potter, and his wife, Lily Evans, were attacked. They both passed away protecting their child, Harry Potter.” Kreacher says softly and Regulus feels himself grow cold.
“James is dead?” Regulus wheezes. Each thud of his heart like a heart attack. Married, married, married. James had gotten married.
The man he loved had gotten married.
Regulus was struggling very much to breathe so he looks up at his Oretta, asking for help with the pain in his gaze.
Bianca falls to her knees beside her student and at the attention turning to short, yet imposing Dragel, Kreacher starts looking back and forth between them, his eyes continuously widening.
“Master Regulus has inherited as an honourable Dragel,” Kreacher was muttering under his breath, looking astonished but Regulus was kind of out of it at the moment.
Regulus's world was seeming to shatter around him at Kreacher's words, the weight of the truth crashing down upon him like an avalanche. James, his James, married. The realization hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving him gasping for air.
"James… dead?" Regulus chokes out again, his voice strained with disbelief and anguish, and his words being forced out of him.
Married. The word echoed in his mind, a bitter pill to swallow. James had moved on, found happiness with someone else, while Regulus had remained frozen in time, trapped in a world that no longer existed.
Bianca’s presence was steady anchor in the storm of his emotions.
His mentor’s hand reached out to grasp his own, her touch a fleeting comfort against the jagged edges of his fractured heart. "You'll get through this, Regulus," She murmurs, her voice a gentle whisper in the suffocating silence of their shared grief. "Was James, yours?"
The words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the love that had once bloomed between the two men, now withered and lost to the cruel hands of fate. Regulus felt the weight of his mentor's question pressing down upon him, squeezing the air from his lungs as he struggled to find the strength to respond.
"Was," He managed to choke out, each syllable a dagger to his wounded soul. The past tense echoed in his ears like a mournful lament, a testament to the love that had slipped through his fingers, leaving behind only the bitter sting of regret.
Tears welled in Regulus's eyes, blurring his vision as he gazed at Bianca with haunted eyes. "He was mine," he whispered, his voice trembling with anguish. "But I lost him. I lost everything."
Bianca's heart ached at the pain in Regulus's voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before her like an open wound. She squeezed his hand gently, offering what little solace she could in the face of his overwhelming sorrow.
"We'll find a way through this, Regulus," She vows, her voice filled with determination.
But even as she spoke the words, Bianca knew that some wounds ran too deep, some losses too profound to ever truly heal. And as she knelt beside her shattered student, she couldn't help but wonder if the scars of his past would ever fade, or if they would haunt him forever, a constant reminder of the love he had lost. She knew what scars of that type felt like.
“If no one is in Grimmauld Place right now, shall we continue our discussion there?” Bianca asks, arms wound protectively around her student.
She looks to Kreacher for confirmation and Kreacher nods quickly.
“Master Regulus, you must order me to silence the portraits, so your return remains a secret,” Kreacher says much to Regulus's dismay.
Regulus nods, his throat tight with emotion. "Yes, Kreacher," He agrees, his voice barely above a whisper. "Silence the portraits." He gives the order.
Kreacher bows his head in acknowledgment before popping off to carry out his master's command.
Bianca squeezes Regulus's hand reassuringly, her eyes reflecting the empathy and understanding that flowed between them. “Portus Grimmauld Place,” Bianca commands, her voice steady and authoritative. With a flick of her wrist, the air crackled with latent magic, responding eagerly to her directive. A kaleidoscope of colors danced before them, coalescing into a shimmering portal that seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy.
“Come on, child,” Bianca smiles, heaving Regulus up on his feet with little effort and helped him through the portal.
As they stepped through the portal, a rush of magic enveloped them, swirling and dancing around their bodies like a gentle caress. It was as if they were being embraced by a warm, comforting embrace, the tendrils of magic weaving through their senses with a soothing touch.
Regulus felt every speck of magic touching his skin. It was incredible and he’d never expected to become so magic sensitive ever in his life.
They were spat on the side of the street and Regulus, after inhaling some fresh air, felt his fuzzy mind clear.
The desperation and despair were still pressing on his lungs and Regulus felt like he couldn’t really breathe…. but his mind was clearer than it had been in the cave.
Regulus, blinked rapidly, adjusting to the sudden change in surroundings. The world outside the portal was bustling with life, the sounds of the city filling the air with a vibrant energy.
“This way Oretta,” Regulus tells his mentor who smiles at him.
“Lead the way, my child,” She was smiling, her dimples showing in her radiant smile as they began to navigate the bustling streets of Grimmauld.
Regulus found himself in front of number 12, his magic allowing him entry inside of the fiercely dangerous Black wards.
The wards part instantly and then it felt like they were pressing against him in a welcoming hug.
He felt so loved and welcomed by his family magic, it made him get even more chocked up than he already was.
The doors slam open immediately at his presence and a wave of just home just fills him and sinks into his bones.
Kreacher was there waiting for him with wide, happy eyes.
“Kreacher! Who is it!? Who is there?” A shrill voice demands and Regulus’ eyes snap in the direction of the his mother’s voice.
And there was a portrait of his mother, Walburga Black, which hung prominently in the entryway.
For a moment, there was silence as Walburga's painted eyes locked onto Regulus's, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. And then, without warning, her portrait erupted into a flurry of motion, her mouth opening and closing in shock.
“Regulus?” She breathes, a hand going to clutch her chest and Regulus swallows hard.
“Hello mother,” He manages a shaky smile and his mother looked so pained for a moment before her classic pureblood mask descends on her features.
“How is this possible? You were lost to us,” She croaks out the last sentence.
Regulus held his breath as he faced his mother's portrait, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. His mentor stood to his side, a constant support system for him that he appreciated with his whole heart.
He could see the pain etched into his mother’s features, a reflection of the turmoil raging within her.
"I don't have all the answers, Mother," He replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm here now. Oretta saved me,” He points to his mentor and Bianca smiles at the portrait in greeting.
Walburga's eyes bore into him, searching for some semblance of truth in his words. For a moment, the mask of pureblood superiority wavered, revealing the vulnerability hidden beneath.
"You were lost to us," She repeats, her voice trembling with emotion. It was a statement, not a question, but Regulus could hear the uncertainty lurking beneath the surface.
Regulus took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "I was caught in a tricky bit of magic, Mother," He admits, his voice catching in his throat. "But I found my way back. I didn’t die,”
There was a flicker of something in Walburga's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. For a brief moment, mother and son stood locked in a silent exchange, each searching the other for a sign of understanding.
And then, without warning, Walburga's expression hardened once more, the mask of pureblood pride firmly in place. "You will explain yourself, Regulus," she declared, her voice cold and commanding. "But not here. Come inside from the entryway.”
Walburga pauses for a second, “Thank you for saving my son, ma’am,” She tells Bianca who simply nods.
“He is my chosen student, Lady Black,” She explains like it was the only explanation she needed and maybe it was, seeing as Regulus’ mother wasn’t surprised at the wings on their backs.
Walburga Black nods firmly, her lips twitching upwards. “It’s good to see you safe at home, Regulus,” His mother tells him with a small smile and then she disappears, probably to reappear in another frame inside the house.
Bianca surges forward, gesturing him up the stairs. “You will be taking a shower to warm up, while I get some potions for you,” She tells him and Regulus goes to complain but thinks better of it when both his mentor and Kreacher give him similar looks.
He ends up upstairs in his old room, finally alone after hours.
The air felt heavy with memories as Regulus entered the familiar space, the walls echoing with the whispers of his past. It had been years since he had last set foot in this room, yet it felt as though no time had passed at all.
He sank onto the edge of his bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy cloak. The events of the day had taken their toll, both physically and emotionally, and Regulus longed for nothing more than to collapse into the welcoming embrace of sleep.
But before he could succumb to his weariness, Bianca's words echoed in his mind. With a resigned sigh, he rose from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes with a sense of detachment.
The warm water of the shower washed away the grime of the day, soothing his aching muscles and easing the tension that had settled in his bones. He didn’t expect the warm water to feel so nice on his sore wings. As he stood beneath the spray, he allowed himself a moment of respite, a brief reprieve from the chaos that now consumed his life.
Regulus luxuriated in the warmth of the shower, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to melt away with each passing moment. The water cascaded over his wings, the gentle pressure easing the soreness that had plagued him since his unexpected awakening. It was a sensation unlike any other, the warmth of the water soothing both body and soul as he stood beneath the spray.
As the last of the soap washed away, Regulus reluctantly turned off the shower and stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom. He wrapped himself in a fluffy towel, relishing in the sense of cleanliness and renewal that lingered in the air.
He made his way back to his room to find fresh clothes waiting for him, a silent testament to Kreacher’s thoughtful care.
Downstairs, the aroma of a home-cooked meal greeted Regulus as he entered the kitchen, the sight of Kreacher bustling about the stove bringing a small smile to his lips. Bianca stood nearby, her expression serene as she prepared a tray of potions for him.
"Ah, there you are, Regulus," She greets him warmly, her eyes flickering with concern as she handed him the tray. "I've brought some potions to help with your recovery. Drink up, they'll do you good. You’re severely underweight right now and probably have deficiencies in various different vitamins,” Bianca was obviously very worried.
Regulus nodded gratefully, taking the potions from her with a sense of appreciation. He settled himself at the table, surrounded by the comforting presence of his mentor and his friend who had become like family to him.
Kreacher set in front of them multiple plates of various different foods. Obviously his elf-friend had been a bit too motivated. The sight of all the food made him smile.
As he began to eat, savoring the comforting flavors of the meal, his mother appeared in the frame above the stove and began demanding an explanation.
Regulus let his mentor discuss all the intricacies of his resurrection, appreciating that both of them were allowing him to eat, because suddenly he was ravenous.
“So his inheritance saved him,” His mother muses, more to herself than anything else. “That’s good. I’m relieved at least one of my sons made it out of that insufferable war,”
“Speaking of your sons, mother.” Regulus says, his voice a bit harder than he meant it to be. “Sirius is innocent. He would have never betrayed James. I don’t believe it,” Regulus tells his mother whose lips pucker distastefully.
“Similar to how that Potter boy-” She spits out, “-would never have betrayed you, yes?” Walburga tells Regulus, who flinches at the reminder. “He was in the arms of that filthy mudblood, a week after your death,” His mother was shrieking and Regulus’ eyes tear up again, his head bowing pain with the force of his heartbreak and pain.
“Lady Black,” Bianca’s voice was hard and unyielding. “Your son needs support, not more salt in his wounds,”
And Regulus was a bit baffled at how he hadn’t seen the hints of nobility etched in the character of his mentor until now. Looking now at the regal way she held herself and the confident glint in her eye, Regulus could see it now.
And apparently so could his mother, whose eyes narrow in on his mentor.
“So you are from Nevarah?” His mother demands.
“How do you even know about Nevarah, mother?” Regulus bursts out before he could control it. “Did you know I would inherit as a Dragel?” Regulus asks almost desperate.
Walburga purses her lips, intent on her silence.
“Mother!” Regulus demands forcing his mother to sigh.
“Your father and I had an inkling yes,” She admits, forcing him to reel back in surprise.
“So who is Regulus’ third then? Are you aware of them?” His mentor pipes in and Walburga looks like she took a bite out of a lemon.
“My third?” Regulus looks at Bianca who hums and gives him her hand.
“A knowledge transfer,” She smiles at him. “So that you’ll know any common Dragel terms that come up in conversation,” Regulus blinks and warily places his hand in the hand of his mentor’s.
Images and words flashed before his eyes in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, each one adding to the tapestry of knowledge that was being woven within his mind.
Regulus absorbed it all with a sense of awe and wonder, his mind expanding to encompass the vastness of his newfound knowledge. He felt as though he had been given access to a treasure trove of wisdom, and he wanted so much more. Regulus really wanted more knowledge transfers. Anything to give him an edge in life.
As if his mentor knew what he was thinking, she snorts.
“You’re brain will overload if you get too many knowledge transfers,” Bianca grins, “I’m a wealth of knowledge, however and you are my student,” She reassures him and Regulus sends her a small smile.
"Thank you, Oretta," He murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity.
He turns to his mother though, raising a brow. He was no longer the scared child he was.
Looking death in the eye and then coming out of it alive did that to people.
“I have another parent?” He asks his mother who looks a bit hesitant for a second before she nods with a sigh.
“I only know her first name,” She admits with a wince.
Regulus blinked a little. He was expecting his third to be a male if he was being honest, but thinking back to his father, the fact that his third was a female made sense now that he was thinking on it.
Orion Black would have never let another man near his wife without castrating him first.
Of that Regulus was certain.
“It doesn’t matter in the long run. After I take him to Nevarah, I’ll be able to find his third regardless. All I need to do is a blood test,” His Oretta explains and now that Regulus knew the real meaning of ‘Oretta,’ he felt much more at ease around her.
She was meant to protect him and teach him. She was his parent, his mother when he had none. She basically had become family the second Magic declared them student and mentor.
“Her name is Ilsa,” His mother winces, “She’s your second mother,” It looked like his mother seconds from cursing someone due to how much she despised the words coming out of her mouth.
His mentor’s eyebrows raise in a bit of shock at the situation.
“Hmm I see,” She murmurs, “It’ll be easy to find her, if she’s truly the woman I have in mind,”
“Who?” Regulus asks, a bit eager and his mentor flicks him gently in the middle of his forehead.
“No one you would know child,” She snorts at Regulus’ very obvious pout. “Have some patience, you will know soon,”
“So you’re leaving to Nevarah?” His mother asks and Regulus turns to her, eyeing her silently for a second.
“I think I have to at this point, mother,” Regulus admits to him mother who stares at her son just as quietly, before she allows her face to soften.
“I guess she deserves to meet her son as well,” Walburga murmurs to herself before sighing and looking her son in the eye, “Because he is a rather wonderful one,”
Her words made Regulus want to equally rage and cry. Cry, because he’d never heard her praise him like this before and rage, because why couldn’t she have told him this when she was alive.
“Mistress Walburga,” Kreacher looked like he was seconds from crying. And it made Regulus clear his throat himself, looking away to compose himself.
“Thank you mother,” Regulus tells Walburga, whose eyes soften even more.
“I was unable to protect you from the Dark Lard the first time around,” Her chin lifts up, “I won’t fail again.”
“My son’s safety is in your hands Madam,” His mother continues, turning to his Oretta.
“I will protect him with my life, Lady Black. You have no need to worry any longer,” Bianca smiles at her and Walburga very obviously relaxes.
“You must get your brother out of that prison and take him with you of course,” His mother clears her throat. “Your Dragel magic will make breaking into Azkaban a joke,” She instructs him and Regulus straightens.
“I will not have my son in that prison a day longer.”
Regulus blinks at his mother before nodding slowly. “I was going to do that anyway,” Regulus tells his mother who smirks slowly.
“Kreacher!”
“Yes Mistress,” The house-elf answers.
“Gather any and all newspapers that have been published in the past four years. Regulus, you are to read all of them before you leave to gather as much information as possible. You are also to secure the Black legacy in Nevarah and transfer all its holdings there,” His mother orders as Lady Black and Regulus can hear the resonating magic in the air.
“Lord Black,” She demands and Regulus stands to meet his mother’s eyes, acknowledging the transfer of power.
“Lady Black,” He replies,
“Do you vow to do right by the Black family legacy and lead the family to prosperity and honour?” Walburga's voice echoed through the room, her eyes boring into Regulus with an intensity that made him shiver.
Regulus squared his shoulders, steeling himself for the weight of the responsibility that lay ahead. "I do," he replied, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him.
And then the family magicks pressed in on him, testing his dedication.
He felt the weight of his ancestors' expectations pressing down upon him, a legacy that stretched back generations and demanded nothing less than absolute loyalty and dedication.
It took a second, that felt like hours, but the magic embraced him heartily, accepting him as the new Lord of the family.
Walburga's expression softened slightly, a hint of pride flickering in her eyes. "Then it is done," She declares, her voice tinged with a note of finality.
Bianca, ever observant, sensed the exhaustion coming from her student, “It has been a long day," She says softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "We could all benefit from some rest. Let us investigate more tomorrow,” She offers and Regulus nods in agreement, the weariness of the day beginning to catch up with him. He glanced around the room at his mother, Kreacher, and Bianca, feeling a sense of gratitude for their support.
With that, they dispersed, each retreating to their respective chambers to seek respite from the trials of the day.
It didn’t take long for him to sink into the depths of the darkness of sleep…. regardless of him crying himself to sleep.
The morning brought coffee, black eye bags and a hearty breakfast.
And Kreacher was popping in and out with piles of newspapers in his arms as he hands them to Regulus and his Oretta alike.
The pair of them had woken up and then instantly decided that in addition to caffeine, a game plan was a much.
And to make a game plan… they needed as much information as possible.
As Kreacher handed over the stack of newspapers, Regulus's heart sank at the grim headlines that greeted him. Each one seemed to paint a picture of a world consumed by darkness and fear, the legacy of Voldemort's reign of terror.
‘The Dark Lord kills over a hundred Muggles,’ one headline blared, sending a shiver down Regulus's spine. He flipped through the pages, each one revealing a new horror unleashed upon the wizarding world.
‘The Dark Lord slaughters seven Muggle villages,’
‘Fear grips the wizarding world as Dark Marks appear all across Britain,’ another headline declared, its ominous tone sending a wave of unease through Regulus's mind. And it just continued to get worse and worse until the morning of November the first.
‘The Dark Lord perished?!’
And then, in bold letters, “HARRY POTTER, THE”-BOY-WHO-LIVED?!’
Regulus's heart clenched at the mention of the young child, who was the son of his lost love. The son of the love of his life and the man he thought he’d marry one day. His brain stuttered at the thought of a small child looking like James and instead of the grey eyes he thought their child would always have, they were green.
And the thought makes him want to vomit.
‘Harry Potter, vanquisher of the Dark Lord,’
The first thought that came to his mind was that it was bullshit.
Because Regulus knew he had taught James all the magic he knew. And in some of the many books he’d given his James, there were multitudes of rituals and spells and ruins arrays on the power of blood sacrifices. And there was no way in bloody Hell, James wouldn’t sacrifice himself to save his family.
That just wasn’t the type of person James was.
And Regulus did not think Lily Evans, the muggleborn, knew anything of the dark magic such a ritual would take. The only person who would have been able to teach her, had been cut out from her life early on.
“Where did he go?” Regulus whispers, his hand tracing over the name of James’ son.
He’d once discussed the possibility of having children with James and they’d talked names.
Hadrian.
Hadrian had been one of the names they had agreed on and seeing the fact that James had named the son he’d had with another woman, Harry. It was a slap in the face.
“Harry Potter was sent to live with his extended family, sir,” Kreacher answers leaning over to read the paper he was interested in.
“This world is honestly bizarre,” Oretta grumbles not really paying attention as she munched on a cracker, a cup of coffee in front of her.
“Extended family?” Regulus mutters. All of the Potters were dead and there was no way in hell James didn’t leave Harry to Sirius.
So wouldn’t the next family to adopt baby Harry be the Black family?
“Why didn’t we get the child?” Regulus asks, his stomach churning with the sense that something was seriously wrong.
“Albus of course.” His mother answers, a sneer on her lips. “He had the baby with another family within the hour of the Potter’s deaths,” She purses her lips, “The Ministry knew nothing. No one knows where the poor child is apart from that blasted, bloody man,” His mother curses out Dumbledore and Regulus fights the urge to smile at honestly how much her hate of man remained the same even after four years.
That was all Regulus needed to hear, to know that he had to check in on the child.
He had to make sure James’ baby was okay.
There was no way he would be able to rest if he did’t know Harry was safe or not.
Regardless of how betrayed he felt because of James, he still loved him… even now.
And so Regulus stands with a grim smile and a loud sigh.
“I think I’ve read enough for now.” Regulus announces when his mentor and mother turn to look at him. “There’s something I need to do now,”
His mother gives him a knowing look, “You’re going to go get the child, aren’t you?”
“Wha- mother?!” Regulus hisses, a blush on his face.
“That Potter boy never deserved your loyalty and love. Not when he was alive and certainly not when he’s dead,” Walburga snaps, feeling mad at the fact that her son still loved a boy who never treated her Regulus right.
Regulus shrugs helplessly, “I need to make sure the kid is doing okay at least, mother. My heart won’t be at ease otherwise.”
His Oretta hums a little, “If you have something of his, I can easily track down the Potter child,” Bianca tells her student who smiles.
“No need for that, I have his blood,” Regulus smirks and Bianca raises a brow impressed.
“Even better,” His mentor snorts watching the pride light up on Regulus’ mother’s face.
“It’s the Black family training,” Walburga preens. And Bianca kind of dreads knowing what exactly the Black training entailed if Regulus was collecting blood from people left and right.
“Kreacher will fetch the vial,” Kreacher was smirking in a very similar manner to how Walburga was. The elf disappears and then reappears handing the vial to Regulus who uses an empty piece of parchment paper to perform the blood magic.
Regulus carefully uncorked the vial and poured its contents onto the parchment paper, his movements precise and deliberate.
Bianca watched with impressed curiosity as Regulus performed short ritual needed to find the child of his lover. .
As the blood began to swirl and coalesce on the parchment paper, forming intricate patterns and symbols, Regulus felt the magic enter his mind. Regulus's concentration was absolute as he worked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he guided the magic with practiced skill. With each movement of his hand, the symbols on the parchment paper grew more intricate, weaving together in a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Regulus lifted his hand, the blood magic complete. He studied the parchment paper for a moment, his eyes scanning the patterns with a mix of satisfaction and determination.
"It is done," He declares, his voice ringing with authority. “I know where Harry is,” He muses and then stands up, ready to go to the child.
Bianca stands as well, cracking her knuckles and stretching out her arms above her head.
“All right lets go, student mine,” Bianca huffs out and smiles at Regulus’ look of confusion. “As if I’m leaving you alone after the way I found you yesterday.” She drawls, causing him to blush.
“Oretta that wasn’t on purpose,” He grumbles, “I had to-” Regulus chokes, cursing himself for forgetting.
“Kreacher! The horcrux! Did you destroy it??” He demands and Kreacher blinks for a second, before remembrance sparkles in his eyes.
Kreacher bursts into tears.
And Regulus’ heart fell into his stomach.
Regulus's heart clenched at the sight of Kreacher's tears, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His own fear palpable. “Kreacher," He says softly, his voice filled with concern. "What happened? Did you not destroy the horcrux as I instructed?"
Kreacher sniffled, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "Master Regulus, Kreacher tried," He admits, his voice trembling with sorrow. "But Kreacher failed. The locket, it was too powerful. Kreacher could not destroy it."
A wave of despair washed over Regulus as he processed Kreacher's words. He had entrusted the house elf with a crucial task, and now it seemed that his hopes had been dashed.
"We-“ Regulus swallows, “We will discuss this after I check in on Harry,” He says and then leaves the house before he could go insane.