Chapter 9
The Black Family's New Years Ball was one of the hottest events in the Pureblood society calendar, on par with the Malfoy Yule Ball. It had never been cancelled, not even in the war- merely becoming a Masquerade Ball for a few years.
The Blacks adored being eye-catching and dramatic, and so the whole family co-ordinated the colour of their outfits every year. It was always black and silver, the family colours, but it was never the same outfit twice. Their closest allies and those who married into the family though didn't bear the name Black always had designs of black and silver woven into their robes to signify the honour of being associated with the hosts. It was wonderful.
It was a celebration Regulus had always enjoyed, ever since he was a young child. He loved the music, the dressing up, the dancing with his friends, and the attention he got from being a Black. Quite often, in his younger years during the war, being a Black had him on the receiving end of fear, anger, or over-the-top placating. At the Ball, everyone was envious of his family name, even for only a night.
It was the 31st of December 1987, and Regulus was absolutely ecstatic. It had been a brilliant year, the year that Regulus finally got the closure he needed from James. They were hours away from 1988, and Regulus was determined that it would be the year he moved on and found love once again.
The ball was well underway, now, it being almost eleven o'clock, and Regulus felt truly alive. Sirius and Rabastan had absolutely outdone themselves this year with the decor, turning the ballroom of Black Castle into a wonderland.
Regulus had mingled with his friends, his family, his acquaintances and family allies, even some admirers, before he found a moment alone and encountered Severus at the drinks table.
Maybe it was the Firewhiskey, but Regulus didn't think Severus had looked this good in years- working under Dumbledore in Hogwarts wore him down so much, and the protective potions he often used on his hair straightened it. But not today. No, today he met Regulus' eyes with a charming grin in his royal blue robes, his collar-length hair in the perfect curls that marked out the Prince family's Middle Eastern heritage.
It reminded Regulus so much of Hogwarts, of their carefree younger years, that he couldn't help but grin back.
Severus' grin took him right back to the Room of Requirement, of the moment they perfected the Arithmantic equations to get the Sectumsempra spell they created to work and their absolute delight over it. To the Slytherin parties where Severus and a few other Half-Bloods introduced the Pureblood to Muggle Ska music, and taught them how to do a dance they called 'Skanking,' and the grin Severus shot him when Regulus had finally gotten the hang of it. To the smirks they shared every time they extended a hand to the other at the conclusion of every duel they had against each other. To the potions they brewed together for the infirmary, and the joy when Madam Pomfrey said their work was exceptional. To the dances they shared at these very Balls in their teenage years, and Severus' unguarded smiles that made Regulus wonder what could happen if he wasn't with James.
Well, Regulus wasn't with James now, and he was willing to find out what could happen.
"Regulus Black," Severus said, looking him up and down with an admiring eye, "May I steal you for a few dances?"
"Of course, Severus Prince," Regulus said, taking the outstretched hand, "Lead the way."
They danced, and they danced, and Regulus felt more alive than he had in so long, even compared to his elation earlier in the evening. As the clock struck five minutes to midnight, Regulus lead Severus away from the dance floor to join everyone else outside. They settled themselves at the front of the crowd, as a Black and an Ally, their hands still intertwined.
"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One..." the crowd chanted, "Happy New Year!"
As the fireworks went off above them, and the crowd cheered, Severus pulled Regulus into a searing kiss. One that he returned with vigour, ignoring the wolf whistles from a voice that was definitely Sirius, the chuckles he recognised as Marvolo's, and the loud 'ew' that was definitely Hydrus.
As they pulled apart, Severus gave Regulus that charming grin.
"I've wanted to do that since 1976," Severus muttered.
"I'm glad you did it, in the end," Regulus replied, "I believe 1988 is off to an incredible start."
______
James had been dreading Lily's trial since the moment she had been arrested, even more so since he was given the date of the 2nd of February. It was to be a full Wizengamot trial, and one that James was thankful he didn't have to be present for. He could have watched or testified, but he had opted to give his statements ahead of time. He didn't think he could sit in the courtroom, but had requested a memory of the trial to be sent over afterwards for him to view through a Pensieve.
The day had finally come, and the trial was already underway. It had started two hours ago. Madam Bones would visit today, as soon as the trial was over, to present the memories and the verdict. He just had no idea when that would be.
He had sent Henry over to Longbottom Manor for tutoring as normal, not wanting to keep him in the house as he paced back and forth anxiously.
It was three hours later, after James had just completed the equivalent of an assault course in Potter Manor's duelling room, that Wispy informed James that Madam Bones was waiting. He all but sprinted downstairs, still in his duelling robes.
"Keeping active, Potter?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Of course Madam Bones. You know me, Head Auror and everything. Have to stay fit."
She held out the vial of memories, "These are my own. They're a copy, you may keep them. Lily Evans has been found guilty on all charges and given a fifteen year sentence in Azkaban. The vote was almost unanimous across all factions, though I'm sure you can imagine who voted against it."
"Dumbledore and his cronies," James scowled.
"Correct. He also had the life sentence dropped down to fifteen years, stating that the sentence was anti-Muggleborn bias as opposed to the law. I'm opening a private investigation into the man myself, as Ms Evans testimony under Veritaserum whilst being held by the DMLE implicated him. That is not public information, and I trust that you will keep it to yourself. As Head Auror and an affected party, you will be by my side in reviewing the information collected during the investigation but you will not be part of it."
"Of course, Madam Bones. Thank you."
"I shall see you on Monday. I do wish for you to be involved in the investigation into Unspeakable Hestia Jones for her role in leaking information from the DoM. I sincerely hope you can begin to heal from the injustices done to yourself and your family."
As Madam Bones left, James collapsed back into his favourite armchair.
Lily was in fucking Azkaban. It was final now. The worst of it was surely over, and now he needed to begin breaking apart his son's prejudices slowly but surely.
______
"Your mum's really in Azkaban?" Ron asked Henry two weeks later, the next time they saw each other. Henry knew his dad wasn't the biggest fan of Mrs Weasley, so he probably wouldn't see Ron as much now. Still, a visit every week or two was better than nothing.
"Yeah," Henry replied, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, "I get why, though. She did all that awful stuff to my dad."
"Mum said your mum shouldn't have been arrested," Ron replied, fiddling with his socks, "She always tells Ginny that it's normal for a good wife to give her husband potions to make sure he loves her as much as he possibly can."
Henry's head snapped up, and he frowned, "That's- that's really not true, Ron. My dad told me all about it, all this fancy-shmancy magical law stuff. Y'know, I wouldn't be able to feel things like happiness and all if my mum hadn't given me a potion after I was born, 'cos love potions really affect children born from it. They're really bad."
"Well, that's not what my mum said, and she's always right!" Ron protested, crossing his arms all huffy, "She prob'ly gives my dad potions, and we're all fine!"
Henry thought back to all his dad had started telling him, about prejudice and how a lot of the stuff he had been told by his mum and Mrs Weasley wasn't fully true. He still didn't like Slytherins or Dark wizards all that much, certainly didn't trust them, but he was beginning to realise that not all of them were evil. His dad told him that he really shouldn't believe everything he's told as fact just because one of the Weasleys said it, that he should think for himself, and this seemed like one of those things. He'd definitely tell his dad about it later, anyway.
He knew one thing for sure, though- the Weasleys were not the perfect family he had thought they were. Being back at the Burrow after his dad had talked to him was proving the fact- he noticed now how Mrs Weasley favoured Ron and Ginny, how she despised the twins, how disappointed she was in Bill and Charlie because they didn't wanted to work for the Ministry, and how she completely overlooked Percy when he did everything expected of him just because he wasn't one of her youngest two.
"Yeah," Henry merely said, "Maybe so."
When he told his dad about the conversation later that night, his dad looked absolutely horrified and thanked him for telling him. As he went up to his dad's study later that night to ask him to put him to bed, his dad appeared to be in the middle of a very urgent letter. Henry wondered if the two were connected.
______
It was the 27th August 1988, the full moon, and Hydrus was absolutely ecstatic. Today was the day he would summon Death, cementing the bond between the deity and him. The most crucial step in becoming a Necromancer!
His papa was definitely panicking, but Hydrus didn't really see why. Draco and Tom had told him that very few people met with Death, and that his papa was probably just worried. Hydrus knew he would be okay though, he had been training for this since he was five.
He had to fast for the day, only being able to drink bone broth and water, but that was okay. Once he established his bond with Death, he would only need to meditate. He would have the option to call upon Death in his head if he really needed to as well.
As the moon neared its highest point in the sky, Hydrus changed into a simple white linen robe, adorned with Necromantic runes for protection and calm. He walked through the winding hallways of Grimmauld Place, down into the dungeons where the ritual chamber lay. His papa was waiting outside the marble doors with Severus, who had been in a relationship with his papa since they shared a kiss at the New Year's Ball (and hadn't that been a shock).
"Are you ready, mon soleil?" his papa asked, worry shining in his eyes.
"Yes, papa. It's not a hard ritual, I could do it in my sleep."
"Okay, Hydrus, I believe you. Severus and I will be waiting in the drawing room, alright? Come to us when you finish."
Hydrus nodded, and opened his arms for a hug, which his papa immediately gave him. Flailing an arm out to the side, he pulled Severus in for the hell of it. The man made a noise of amusement, and joined the group hug.
After some final well wishes, Hydrus walked into the ritual chamber, the heavy doors falling shut behind him. There was no going back now.
He checked the ritual circle he had drawn earlier, making sure every line of the pentagram was perfect. Satisfied, he lit the candles with a flick of his wrist and settled down in the centre of the pentagram. Making a cut on each palm with the obsidian dagger he had found in the Peverell vaults, he pressed his palms to the chalk and allowed the blood to flow into it, turning the circle red. It wasn't very much blood at all, yet it soaked the lines of the circle. When it was complete, Hydrus began to chant in the Tongue of the Dead. It sounded just like English to him, but others said it was scratchy, distorted. Unsettling.
"I call upon thee, Death, for I am your Child, chosen to walk the mortal plane in your stead and practice the Forgotten Arts in your name. Come to me, o' Death, for you are my Master, and I answer to none but thee. Come to me, and solidify our bond so I can fulfil your wishes in the realm of the living. I offer thee my blood in the circle, to guide you to my side."
A dark fog began to gather in the corners of the ritual chamber, swirling together until it eventually coalesced into one impossibly tall hooded figure made up of fog and shadows. Death, Hydrus instantly recognised. Death had no clear defining features that screamed male or female, Death was not tied down to mortal constructs such as gender. Death was in everything, everywhere, at all times.
"Death," Hydrus greeted, "I am honoured that you heard my call and found me worthy."
"Hydrus Arcturus Black," Death replied, with an incline of the head, and a voice made up of the voices of hundreds all speaking at once, "Son of Regulus Arcturus. A direct descendant of Sadhbh Peverell, the last Necromancer to walk this earth, and the youngest to ever call upon me. You have done well, my child. Very well indeed. It has taken others many years to reach this stage."
"Thank you, Death. I cannot express my gratitude at hearing your words. I eagerly await your instructions to complete the bond, and all instructions thereafter."
"Successfully calling upon me is all it takes to solidify our bond, little one," Death said, the voices now sounding amused, "From now on, you need only to meditate to communicate with me. I would appreciate you doing so monthly. My main task for you now is to collect the Deathly Hallows and reunite them under you. I have summoned them all to the Peverell vault from those who previously held them- the Cloak of Invisibility from James Potter, the Elder Wand from Albus Dumbledore, and the Resurrection Stone from Marvolo Gaunt-Slytherin. Then, I simply ask you to continue to study. Complete your introductory education, and perfect it. Form a connection with the Hallows. You are too young yet to move onto the more advanced things, as talented as you are."
"Of course, Death. Thank you for your guidance."
"One last thing," Death said, "I must bestow you with the Mark of a Necromancer. It is what helps stabilise your powers, more so even than our bond. It shall be placed above your heart."
"It is an honour to receive it."
"Very well, my Child. We shall talk again soon."
As Death's form became fog once more, Hydrus inhaled sharply, feeling a slight burning on his chest. As the fog disappeared, the burning stopped, and Hydrus peeked down at his chest. There, over his heart, was the Mark he had committed to memory long ago. A circle, bisected by a vertical line, all within a triangle. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The Mark of a Necromancer.
Standing slowly, making sure the ritual hadn't drained any energy since he was so young, Hydrus summoned Kreacher to clear up the ritual circle. He'd do it himself when he had a wand, which he would soon. Not just any wand, mind, but the Elder Wand.
Beaming, he ran upstairs, excited to show off his Mark to his papa and Severus. And, he supposed, ask them to inform Uncle Marvolo that Death had taken a Deathly Hallow off him. Hydrus assumed he wouldn't be too happy, but then again, he had never mentioned owning a Hallow before, so he mightn't even have known at all.