revelations. so many revelations
"Let me get this straight, and I swear to Merlin, Sirius, if you make a joke about you not being straight I will find a way to strangle you."
Sirius shut his mouth, looking sheepish.
"Peter Pettigrew, the one man I thought was incapable of betrayal simply because of how much of a coward he is, betrayed Potter and Evans to the Dark Lord because he was secretly a Death Eater for Merlin knows how long."
"Yes, though, in hindsight, I think he'd turned a few months before Harry was born, at the very least?" Sirius offered, and Regulus took a deep breath.
"That is not what matters here."
"Okay..."
"Anyway, when you found out about the betrayal, you rightfully chased after the bastard, but he framed you for blowing up a street of Muggles, so you were sent to Azkaban for twelve years-"
"Technically it was only eleven-"
"Don't interrupt me, I'm processing. Twelve years in Azkaban without a trial, which is so deeply illegal I'm struggling to understand how Crouch didn't combust on the spot, and in that time, your godson, who supposedly defeated the Dark Lord-"
"What do you mean supposedly?"
"It was probably actually something Evans did, she was a hell of a witch. Anyway, your godson was sent to relatives that seem abusive, had to stop the Dark Lord from getting the Philosopher's Stone in first year, slayed a basilisk in second year, had to deal with you breaking out in third year, had to compete in the fucking Triwizard Tournament in fourth year, and has now been expelled."
"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sirius watched at Regulus buried his face in his hands.
"What the fuck is wrong with everyone," Regulus said, his voice muffled.
"No clue. But anyway, Harry's going to be living here from now on, and if you have a problem with that, then I'll... I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be good." Sirius crossed his arms defiantly, glaring at the portrait.
"I literally died betraying the Dark Lord, why would I have a problem with that?"
"What?"
"What?"
Two hours later, Sirius and Harry were sitting in the study, Regulus's portrait propped up on the desk.
"He's definitely Potter's brat." Regulus commented, and Harry glared at him.
"Who even are you?"
"You never mentioned me, Sirius? How could you? I feel so betrayed!" Regulus wailed dramatically, and Sirius rolled his eyes.
"How anybody thought I was the most dramatic Black sibling is beyond me." He shook his head, and Harry looked curiously at him.
"Wait, you had siblings?"
"A sibling. Me. Regulus Black, it's a pleasure." Regulus informed Harry, sounding bored. "And Sirius, the reason they thought you were the most dramatic is because you are. Unless you've miraculously forgotten the Incendio Incident?"
"I thought we agreed to never talk about that ever again," Sirius hissed, and the portrait shrugged.
"Maybe don't piss me off, then." Regulus turned his attention back to Harry. "Anyway, I was his younger brother. I died back in '79, but luckily, I was smart and left a portrait behind. Which reminds me, Sirius, you really should get one painted just in case."
"I know I mentioned being a fugitive to you. I can't just waltz into any random studio and get a portrait."
"Then you'll have to get your name cleared, won't you?" Regulus ignored Sirius's glare. "Now, Potter, I'm assuming Sirius hasn't had any time to teach you of your rightful responsibilities?"
"Rightful responsibilities?" Harry echoed. "What responsibilities? Fighting Voldemort?"
Regulus shuddered at the name. "Must you call him that? To answer your question, no, not fighting him. Your rightful responsibilities as the only member of an Ancient and Noble House."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow slightly at Regulus's facepalm in response.
"Has nobody taught you anything? Idiots, the lot of them..." Regulus sighed. "You are the very last Potter in existence. This means that you are automatically the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, as well as Lord Potter by default.
"In contrast, Sirius is Heir Black, not Lord Black, since, though he is the rightful heir by blood, by magic, by soul, there are other surviving members who could take up the Lordship in the event of his untimely death. Once he takes up the Lordship- don't you glare at me, Sirius, you will do it unless you want our House to fall to Malfoy- then he will lawfully be Lord Black, and has all the privileges that that grants. Do you understand?"
"I... guess? What does being a Lord mean, exactly?" Harry asked, and Regulus huffed.
"Merlin, the curriculum really should teach this to the children..." Regulus shook his head. "As Lord of an Ancient and Noble House, you have the right to vote in the Wizengamot, as well as having family magic that answers only to you- or, in our case, to any member of the Black family, though it will obey the Lord above all else. Each Ancient and Noble House has its own ideals and traditions and way of following them, and though some are open to outsiders, others can only be known by those of that family's blood. It's for this reason that, once you believe you are ready, you absolutely must procure an Heir."
"An Heir? I'm not going to have kids anytime soon!" Harry's expression showed his horror at the very thought.
"They do not have to be yours biologically, nor do they have to be of a certain age- though, younger is usually better. Blood adoption can solve the blood issue easily enough." At Harry's confused look, Regulus elaborated. "Blood adoption is a ritual that adopts someone into your family, making them your blood relation. Very useful if you are infertile or simply too young for children."
"Oh. Well, that's alright, then." Harry relaxed. "If Sirius is the Heir, what did that make you?"
"The spare, of course." Regulus seemed a little reluctant to speak about this. Sirius could understand- he hadn't been the only one suffering in this house of horrors. "Many Ancient and Noble Houses will have two children- the Heir, the one set to inherit it all, and the spare, a younger sibling there just in case the Heir dies or isn't accepted by the family magic. I was the spare, and I'd say I would have come in handy if not for the war, seeing as Sirius never had any interest in becoming Lord."
"That seems... not good? I mean, if one kid gets everything, and the other kid gets nothing..." Harry frowned, and Regulus laughed.
"Oh, no, that's usually not the case at all. Children are deeply treasured in the magical world, and Heir and spare alike usually have good childhoods. I won't lie and say that there haven't been cases like that, but usually, they're equally provided for. One simply has their future already set in stone."
"Regulus is right, kiddo," Sirius agreed. "The spare isn't seen like that, that's just what they happen to be called- and even then, that's only in private situations like this. Usually they're just referred to as the second-born."
"Oh." Harry seemed to be rethinking something.
"Now, as a Black- the spare, at that- I know absolutely nothing about the Potter traditions you'd need to follow to be considered a proper Lord." Regulus stated. "Sirius likely knows a bit more than I, but not much."
"Yup. Potter family traditions were Potter family traditions only, and though your grandparents included me in the ones they could, some I simply wasn't allowed to know." Sirius explained, and Harry nodded.
"But... Well, you said I'm the last Potter, right? How am I supposed to know the traditions?" Harry asked.
"An excellent question." Regulus grinned. "The Blacks have married into quite a lot of wizarding families over the years, one of which is the Potters. More specifically, our Aunt Dorea married your great-uncle, Charlus Potter- the Lord Potter, at that time. They never did have children, so your father, and you by extension, were made Heirs, but one thing they did have is portraits."
"You mean..." Sirius trailed off as Regulus's grin only grew.
"Aunt, Uncle, come in!" He called, and two older adults, a man and woman, entered his portrait.
"Hello, Harry. It's lovely to finally meet you," said the woman, her familiar silver eyes filled with warmth.