The Second Sun
The library was bathed in a soft, dim light that emanated from the flickering candles, casting warm, dancing shadows on the weathered books lining the shelves and the polished wooden floor. Hedwyn and Regulus sat side by side — in front of the largest window in the room — gazing out at the distant silhouette of the mountains against the backdrop of the glowing night sky.
Regulus held his husband's hand while pointing at the stars with the other, recounting tales of old Blacks named after the heavenly bodies above. Hedwyn listened to every word that came out of Regulus' mouth with a smile, content with the endearing way the man next to him spoke of his family's history. At times, he felt it was more akin to mythology than real history, but he enjoyed hearing about it nonetheless.
It was close to New Year’s, just an hour away from 1980. According to an old wizarding tradition, one Hedwyn hadn’t been aware of until Regulus explained it, the couple were to spend the beginning of the new year together. “The magic of time will be stronger tonight than any other,” Regulus had told him when asked why the New Year needed a tradition of its own. Apparently, for reasons unknown even to those who study the theories behind magic, the beginning of a new year had been a special day for wixen since records of magical origin began.
And so, they marvelled at the world outside from the comfort of Gwynt Keep. Even with the winds stronger in December, the fortress stood unyielding to the forces of nature, which made Hedwyn smirk. A strange sense of pride passed through him as he thought of his ancestors who had built the keep.
Regulus continued to speak, recounting the story of a boy named Arcas and his discovery of a hidden room within Hogwarts, believed to have belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. Hedwyn found it amusing that his husband seemed to have forgotten about the stars and had now descended into stories concerning any of the Blacks.
His gaze shifted from Regulus, though his focus remained on him, and wandered towards the landscape outside. The walls of the keep obscured his view of what lay beyond, leaving only the trees nearest the main building visible. He was glad the grounds inside the walls were large enough not to feel claustrophobic, however. He watched as the trees danced in the wind, their leaves battling against the strong gusts of air that blew down on them from time to time.
‘A storm must be on the way,’ Hedwyn mused as he noticed the way the trees swayed in the wind.
There was something else as well, he could tell. Something... beyond the wards. He tilted his head slightly, as though focusing more intently on the spot from which the odd feeling seemed to emanate.
‘This will be interesting,’ Death's voice almost made him jump from the surprise.
Hedwyn sat up straighter in his seat, not noticing the look Regulus sent him. ‘What do you mean? What is it that I'm feeling? Death? Death, come back here! Death! What’s happening to my wards, you old bag of bones?!’ He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned. That was not the day for the entity to be vague and mysterious, that’s for sure.
“Um, what's wrong?” Regulus’ voice brought him back to the room.
However, Hedwyn wasn’t sure what to say. Death obviously knew what was happening but had made no effort to explain why the wards were behaving oddly. It couldn’t be dangerous, could it? The deity wouldn’t stay quiet if there was any real cause for concern. Or so he hoped.
He rubbed the back of his head before answering, not quite sure how to explain Death's weird behaviour. “Oh, it's just Death. He was just, um, messing up with me. Or is that what I think he was doing? I dunno.”
A dark eyebrow lifted on Regulus' face. It was clear he was not convinced by the explanation, but maybe he decided to not say anything to insult the entity or his husband's intellectual capabilities.
Instead, the Black Heir just leaned back in his seat and continued to stare at Hedwyn. His thumb made circular motions on the back of Hedwyn and opened his mouth before closing it again.
“It's just something with the wards, darling,” said Hedwyn, his tone clearly not as reassuring as his words tried to be. “There is just something weird going on outside of them. Nothing to worry about, though. The wards are as strong as they've always been.”
Of all the reactions Hedwyn had expected from Regulus, letting out a weary sigh and rising from his chair was not one of them. He furrowed his brow as he watched his husband with a hint of curiosity. Regulus loosened the fastenings of his formal robes, allowing them to fall gracefully to the floor, revealing beneath them a far more relaxed and otherworldly garb — an elegant tunic woven with shimmering threads that seemed to shift colours in the dim light, paired with soft, supple trousers that clung lightly to his form, charmed to adjust for comfort. The fabric whispered with enchantments, offering both ease and quiet protection, a subtle blend of the practical and the arcane.
Hedwyn blushed and stopped himself from wetting his lips, choosing to rise from his seat as well but keeping on his robes. There was no need for Regulus to see the tent forming on his light silk trousers. He rubbed his hands together, very aware of how red his face was.
Hedwyn was so enamoured by Regulus' looks that he didn't realise the other man was speaking to him until Regulus turned to him, still speaking, “And if I get a speck of dust on this tunic I'll throw someone at the sun. Grandmother gave it to me not even a month ago. Anyway, let's get this over with so we can enjoy the coming of the new year in peace.”
Regulus almost made him lose his footing on the polished floor as the man hurriedly pulled him along by the hand, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. They dashed through the archway and out of the main building, bursting into the cool air of the green fields that stretched out before them. The grass swayed gently in the breeze, contrasting with the towering stone walls that enclosed their home.
With every stride, they could feel the weight of the festivities they were leaving behind, the laughter and cheers fading into the distance. They raced towards the gate in the wall, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they sought the source of the disturbance that had pulled them away from celebrating the New Year together.
Hedwyn flicked his wand at the gate, casting a spell that enveloped it in a swirling mist. The once-solid structure shimmered and blurred, maintaining its shape but appearing hazy and smoke-like. They stepped through as if walking through a cloud, the sensation of the cool air hitting them abruptly as they emerged on the other side.
As the mist solidified back into the wood behind them, they paused, taking a moment to acclimatise to the outside world. The night air was stronger without the protection of the wall offered, as well as its enchantments, and Harry felt the need to put an arm around Regulus. He rolled his eyes as his husband grinned, not at all happy about the man deciding to go out into the cold without his robes.
Without saying a word, Regulus tilted his head to the side as if telling Hedwyn to take them to where the wards were shifty. Hedwyn did as the other man wished, but not before casting a Silencing Charm on their feet. An element of surprise might be needed after all.
They walked in the shadows of the wall, the source of the anomalies drawing nearer. A figure began to materialise in the distance, prompting Hedwyn to tighten his grip around Regulus' waist. Both wizards had their wands at the ready, their hearts pounding as they cautiously approached the cloaked figure, whose dark robes billowed ominously beneath a shadowy hood. The air felt charged with tension, each step echoing their growing apprehension as they prepared to confront the unknown presence before them.
When they got to a safe distance, Hedwyn signalled to Regulus for them to stop. He then raised his wand and closed his eyes, focusing and calling for his magic to act.
He directed his wand towards the ground, tracing a sweeping motion through the air. Instantly, the grass beneath their feet rippled, as though something unseen was stirring beneath the surface. A palpable energy coursed through the earth, unsettling the soil as Hedwyn’s magic carved a direct, unerring path towards the intruder. The line of disturbance snaked across the field, the blades of grass trembling in its wake, hinting at the powerful forces at play beneath the calm exterior.
The ground beneath the intruder burst open, like a shark tearing through the surface of the water as it lunges for its prey. Earth and grass exploded outward, the force of the eruption rippling through the air with predatory intent, closing in on the target with deadly precision.
A pained shout could be heard echoing in the fields as the invader was attacked on all sides by Hedwyn's unforgiving magic.
As the dust settled and the mist of debris subsided, the scene revealed a man ensnared by jagged stones and twisting roots, their sharp points piercing his hands and legs, pinning him helplessly to the ground. A thin, needle-like shard of stone hovered menacingly near his throat, a silent yet unmistakable warning of the fate that awaited should he dare attempt to break free.
The two men stepped forward, their movements now confident, assured of the intruder's capture. Regulus wasted no time before Accioing the man's wand that lay next to him on the ground, while Hedwyn cast an Anti-Apparition Charm to prevent the man from using any means to escape. He also Accioed a portkey that the man had in his pocket, courtesy of Death, who gave him quick advice before vanishing from his mind again.
As they got just a few feet from the man, Hedwyn's eyes widened in shock. And by the gasp he heard Regulus letting out, he was not the only one who recognised the invader.
“Dumbledore!” Hedwyn hissed, his grip on his wand tightening. He got closer to the man and vanished the dark robes he was wearing, revealing the dark blue one the old man was wearing underneath. There was pain in Dumbledore's eyes, possibly from the stones and roots piercing his flesh, or maybe it was from humiliation. Nonetheless, it did nothing to calm Hedwyn's anger as he put a foot on the man's chest, causing Dumbledore to let out a loud cry.
“What in Morgana's name are you doing here?” asked Regulus, incredulous. He, too, got closer to the old man, grinning as he saw the pain he was in. “What? Cat got your tongue? Maybe we'll have to make you talk.”
“No!” Dumbledore screamed and tried to move his limbs, only causing more pain to himself in the process. “No. My boy, please. Forgive this old man, please. I meant no harm, I swear.”
“Bullshit!” Hedwyn said, his foot pressing down on Dumbledore. “Why would you be here if not to attack or steal from us? Do you think we are stupid, you old cunt?”
Hedwyn for Dumbledore to say something, but the old man decided to keep his lips shut. It was then that he decided to think of some sort of punishment for Dumbledore. He first thought about killing the man, as it would be a great way to get rid of him fast, but decided against it as he did not see death as a good enough punishment for someone like Dumbledore. He even asked Regulus about any ideas, as his husband disliked Dumbledore just as much as him for what he did during Hedwyn's past life, but Regulus only said they should kill him and go back inside to enjoy the New Year.
‘If I may?’ Death's voice made Hedwyn raise an eyebrow, curiosity taking over his thoughts of punishment. ‘I may have an idea that I imagine is quite... entertaining.’
Hedwyn asked Death what they meant by that, but all he got in return was a soft, mischievous giggle. Rolling his eyes, he sighed and waved a hand. ‘Oh, just get on with it, then. Do whatever you want with him.’
As soon as he thought those words he regretted them as he felt Death laugh maniacally in his head and then vanish.
The air got colder, and it was as if the moonlight became weaker, making Hedwyn take a step back and put his hand back around Regulus' waist. His husband looked at him with confusion, also feeling the changes around them and perhaps thinking it was Hedwyn who did it. Hedwyn only whispered “Death” to him, which made Regulus look around suspiciously.
The shadows beneath Dumbledore began to shift, flowing like liquid as they seeped away from under him. The inky substance started to bubble and surge upwards from the ground. First, a long, gaunt arm emerged from the dark liquid, followed swiftly by another. Then a distorted skeletal head rose, its decayed flesh blackened and rotten, with the bones beneath twisted and grotesque. It was as though a tall, emaciated figure had been crushed and grotesquely rearranged. The torso, sunken and with many tiny arms, lone fingers and sewn mouths growing from it, emerged. Dumbledore began to contort his body bizarrely as he tried to get away from the creature. He did not scream, though his eyes and mouth were wide open in fear. The man was visibly in pain, but that did not stop him from trying to move his body. It was then that the stones and roots slowly expanded and embedded more into his flesh to prevent Dumbledore from escaping. As the man began to writhe, only to cause more pain to himself, he let out a muffled wail of agony. The creature was now on his feet, its legs twisted and its knees bent backwards in an animalistic way.
Hedwyn felt when Regulus got closer to him, seeking refuge in his husband's embrace, but with his eyes still on the creature before them.
For some reason, however, Hedwyn did not feel any fear in the presence of the creature. He found himself uncertain whether this was due to his understanding that it was merely a part of Death's plan or if he simply possessed an unusual lack of fear at that moment. Whatever the cause, he felt an odd sense of calm as he confronted the unsettling being before them.
The thing moved forward, looming over Dumbledore. From its body, pieces of rotten flesh and liquid started to drop on the former headmaster, causing the old man to slightly turn his head away, but his wide eyes stayed on the creature above him.
Suddenly, it opened its mouth with a sharp snap, as though bones had cracked to allow the movement. A harsh, raspy, and uncanny sound emerged: “You,” it uttered in an inhuman voice. It was as if a beast from the age before civilisation, when the encroaching night made both children and men shiver and cower in caves, had begun to mimic human speech. The effect was peculiar and unsettling — a whisper in a dark forest.
The creature got closer to Dumbledore, its bent knees popping and cracking as it lowered its heavy body. A tongue, black and foul, came out of the creature's mouth and lingered around Dumbledore's eyes. The man was now paralysed in fear, the will to escape forgotten. Viscus dark liquid was smeared all over the old man's eyes and forehead, almost causing Hedwyn to gag. The smell that came from the creature was, perhaps, the worst part of it. It was as if dead leaves, rats and humans had come together in a putrefied concoction.
When the creature's webbed fingers touched Dumbledore's left arm, causing its sharp razor-like nails to sink into the man's skin with ease, the old man let out a piercing scream. Then, as if he were witnessing something that came from a nightmare, Hedwyn watched as the creature pushed its tongue into Dumbledore's throat. The man's body thrashed under the creature, doing everything it could to achieve freedom.
It felt like an eternity had passed when the thing lifted its head and slowly got away from Dumbledore. Regulus flinched when the creature looked at them, and Hedwyn put his arms around his husband while glaring at the thing.
The beast then, before Hedwyn and Regulus could fully grasp the horror they had just witnessed, dissolved into shadows and went back to be only Dumbledore's silhouette on the ground.
‘Enjoy,’ was all Death said while disappearing from Hedwyn's mind while laughing.
“What the fuck,” Hedwyn was brought back to the scene before him as Regulus cursed while staring at Dumbledore. The man was now free, even though Hedwyn had not released him. ‘Damn you, Death,’ he thought, annoyed.
The two of them took a step closer, each thinking if they should restrict Dumbledore again. The man did not look as if he was going to fight them, however. Dumbledore looked more like a statue than a wizard, actually. The man was paralysed on the ground, unwilling to move or speak.
“Should we ship him off to one of our Knights or something?” asked Regulus. “I really don't fancy an old man as garden decoration, darling.”
Hedwyn only snickered at the thought of having Dumbledore as a statue for the garden, which would be more like a scarecrow than a piece of art.
“Maybe sent him to Nurmengard? I think Grindelwald will love to have him there,” argued Hedwyn.
“Um, I'm not against it,” said Regulus.
Hedwyn then took another step forward and kicked Dumbledore on the arm, “Get up, old coot. Your lover is waiting for you.”
Hedwyn jumped back when Dumbledore rose from the ground like a doll controlled by strings. He looked wide-eyed at Regulus, silently asking for support. All the weirdness happening around them was suddenly becoming too much for Hedwyn. Regulus was staring at Dumbledore, however, with an inquisitive look in his eyes.
“Jump,” Regulus told the old man. Hedwyn's mouth flew open as he saw Dumbledore do as Regulus said.
Regulus was grinning wildly as Hedwyn looked between his husband and Dumbledore. “Oh I'm going to love this,” said Regulus. He took Hedwyn's hand and turned around, telling Dumbledore to follow them after realising the man was still jumping like a fool.
The two of them brought Dumbledore into the Keep, but not before Hedwyn made sure to ask Death again and again if the man was truly under their control. “If he destroys my house I'll hunt you, Death,” Hedwyn threatened out loud. The deity only continued to laugh and tell Hedwyn to stop being boring and enjoy the gift.
As they walked, Hedwyn listened as Regulus quickly made plans of how they could use Dumbledore to scare the Wizengamot into thinking that the old man was planning a revolution and that he and Hedwyn were the only ones who could stop the former headmaster. “We can't keep pretending forever, though,” argued Regulus as they calmly entered the building, a stiff Dumbledore following them just steps behind. “At some point, we'll have to stage a great battle like we did with Voldemort, but I'm sure we can handle a few years of our dearest lords and ladies shaking in their boots in fear of what Dumbledore could do. We can even stage some attacks with our Knights so it wouldn't be only threats. Oh, I can't wait for it! We should not kill him, though. He's too good of a card to lose,” he looked back at Dumbledore and smirked. “And I'm sure Grindelwald does deserve a few years with his beloved, don't you dear?”
As the two laughed, dropping Dumbledore in a cupboard and telling Ædda to feed him from time to time, the former Hogwarts headmaster screamed in his head, terrified of the shadows moving around him and of the lost of control of his own body. A pity no one could hear him.
Hedwyn and Regulus returned to their seats in the library, feeling more comfortable and confident than before. Now, we were the only formidable adversary left at their mercy; they could sit back and watch as the storm passed over the Keep, and as the sun rose with the certainty that their lives were destined for greatness.