Coming Home
It should have been completely simple for Regulus Black's first year students to accurately and precisely brew a cure for boils.
In fact, Regulus had expected such greatness out of them that afternoon that he hadn't even bothered to wear his teaching robes. Instead, he was dressed in a simple black Oxford shirt and matching black tailored trousers, accompanied only by his emerald cufflinks.
It was a Friday, one that preceded Regulus's first weekend off of the term, and he couldn't be more alight with energy.
He was set to meet Potter the following day in Hogsmeade for a simple lunch. A low-effort.....meeting...in which they could catch up.
He should've known that he was being much too chipper.
Harry Potter only liked potions because he was curious about Regulus Black.
It was very seldom that he heard the adults in his life mention Padfoot's brother, Regulus. He and Draco had been talking about it the summer before term.
"Your Dad is in love with Uncle Reggie, Potter. I know he is."
"You're daft!" Harry exclaimed at Draco, freezing in his steps on the way to their quidditch pitch behind Malfoy Manor. "My Dad doesn't love Reggie!"
"And why not?" Draco suddenly huffed. "Is my family not good enough for the Potters?"
"What? I- of course you are! I mean-I mean your family is. Good enough I mean."
Harry felt his cheeks color in embarrassment, but Draco seemed content.
"Good," he finally said. "Uncle Reggie would be wonderful for Prongs."
"But they're not in love!" Harry groaned, throwing his head back as he did so. "They can hardly stand to be in the same room together!"
"Because they love each other!" Draco had continued to insist. "I heard Mum and Padfoot talking about them. They said something about both of them being thick and that they would figure it out on their own. If they're not talking about love, I don't know what else it could be!"
But for some reason, Harry just couldn't see it. His mother and father hadn't been together since he was a baby, but as far as Harry could remember, his father had never even as much as been on a single date.
And Regulus?
The mysterious and brooding man had avoided Harry at all costs. As for knowing him, he had only ever seen Regulus in passing. He didn't come to birthday parties or holidays, even when Draco was involved.
Harry had assumed that potions would be his worst subject, given the fact that his father couldn't brew to save his own life. And he found that it was incredibly frustrating, working with someone like Draco who seemed to have a natural talent for it.
Because of that, Harry found himself simply holding the ingredients for their cure for boils potion as Draco did all the work, staring intently at Professor Black.
Regulus was avoiding looking at Harry. It had been a week since James Potter had breezed into his classroom, taking him by surprise and uprooting everything about his world that he had pieced back together. And Harry had been staring into his soul ever since.
He knew that he had been unfair to him for all of those years, leaving and avoiding him at every turn. In truth, Harry held such a special place in Regulus's heart that he had excused himself to cry after Lily and James popped into Grimmauld Place the first time with him. Regulus had shaped his own world and decisions all around the fact that Harry Potter was supposed to be born, and born he was.
It was fair, Reg thought, that Harry didn't understand him. He had never given the boy the opportunity to. In truth, he hadn't even been fair to Draco. Regulus spent every free moment that he could with the young Malfoy, stepping in as a fatherly figure that Lucius wasn't around to fill. But at the first sign of a Potter or Evans, Regulus would disappear mid-conversation.
He could feel Harry's eyes staring into the back of his head as he walked laps between the workstations, watching as the other first years continued to brew and chop ingredients. Regulus turned then to look at his godson and Harry, making eye contact with him.
He had expected him to look away, but Regulus forgot that he was James Potter's son. Instead, Harry held his eyes until Regulus was forced to speak.
"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy. Your potion should be turning a shade of lavender soon. It seems that all you're missing is the-"
"Pickled shrake spines," Draco nodded. "Brewed it a thousand times, Uncle Reg- Professor."
Regulus could feel his lip pull up in a smirk, "Very good, Draco."
He then turned to Harry, "Are you alright, Mister Potter? You seem a bit distracted today."
He watched as Harry's eyes narrowed slightly behind his wire-framed glasses, seeming to study him intently. When Harry opened his mouth to speak, he once again caught Regulus off guard.
"You played quidditch while you were here at Hogwarts. Didn't you, Professor?"
The other students around seemed to become interested at the question, knowing how tightly to his chest their professor kept his personal life.
Regulus softened, recognizing it as a moment to use to begin to make the last several years up to him.
"I did," Regulus nodded, taking the empty stool in front of Harry. "I was seeker for Slytherin for a couple years."
"Then you played against my dad."
At that, Regulus laughed, "I did. The way he used to fly around the pitch was mad. Bloke didn't have a single fear at all during quidditch. He fell off his broom once and broke his arm in three places. Finished the game before he'd let a single person heal him."
Regulus's story had absorbed the kids of the classroom, Draco and Harry especially. It wasn't often that they heard stories about Hogwarts from anyone aside from the marauders, and hearing Reg tell them about it was fascinating.
Regulus watched the way Harry's eyes widened.
"Did Gryffindor win?" He asked.
Regulus laughed, "Of course not, Harry. I caught the snitch and Slytherin won, 380 to 220."
Draco laughed, elbowing Harry as Harry's face fell slightly.
There was a warmth building within Regulus, watching the two boys. They were the generation that Regulus and the marauders had sacrificed so much for to keep them safe. The fall of Voldemort had ensured that they would live a long and happy life, not worrying about the balance of the wizarding world or growing up without people who loved them. Reg watched as Draco and Harry accosted one another, and he rose from his stool when it happened.
The first and most important thing to know about the cure for boils, Regulus remembered telling them, was that if you over-brew it, it will explode.
The dark lavender potion spewed from the cauldron in front of Harry and Draco, raining down on several of the surrounding tables and covering a considerable amount of students, Professor included. The thick and dark sludge stuck to the skin of the witches and wizards, sizzling slightly as it squelched and dripped from their faces, arms, and chests.
The room stilled as Regulus blinked away the potion that was stuck in his eyelashes, wiping at his face with his right hand. When he pulled his hand from his face to look at it, he noticed that whatever Draco and Harry had managed to do prior to the potion exploding had caused the substance to stain his skin.
Yes, Regulus thought to himself as the class held their breath to see what he would do, Of course I need my skin stained purple the day before I meet Potter.
"All right, then," Regulus cleared his throat, standing spine-achingly straight. "Is anyone hurt? Does anyone need to see Madame Pomfrey?"
The shorter girl, sitting directly to Harry's right and clutching her Gryffindor tie very tightly within her fist, slowly raised her hand.
"I do, Professor. My- my neck is burnt rather badly."
"Of course, Miss Granger," Regulus paused, looking around the classroom. "Mister Longbottom, would you please escort Hermione to the hospital wing?"
Regulus snapped his fingers quickly, vanishing what was left of the potion covering himself and Draco and Harry's workstation.
"I think we'll dismiss early today, class. This seems to have been a right disaster. I'm afraid I can't do very much for the purple staining, but don't fret. There should be no side effects. I'll see you all next week and we'll try again."
The tension in the air dissipated when the first years realized that Regulus wasn't going to raise his voice or make a big deal about the fact that the class had been a complete and utter disaster. He couldn't quite be surprised that they were all scared of him, given the way he carried himself along with his quiet and brooding personality, but it seemed that they had just as much to learn about him as he had to learn about them.
He had promised himself (and Minerva and Poppy) that he was a changed wizard when he accepted the position. He wasn't the ruthless and cold version of himself that he had been during the war, cutting through everyone necessary. And although he was still essentially the same person at heart, Regulus Black had learned that being at Hogwarts was what he had needed. The castle reminded him of better days; times before the war and before his life had imploded.
***
James Potter never grew out of his love for quidditch.
It was something about the way that the wind felt against his skin as he raced through the air that gave him the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. Catching dark wizards paled in comparison to the feeling of being in the air on a broom. He couldn't help but to feel a stab of anger every time his shoulder would twinge, reminding him that he would never be able to play professionally due to his injury during the war.
He had become an auror immediately once he realized that he wouldn't be playing for Falmouth or Puddlemere and the department had accepted him with open arms. James Potter was a natural at catching dark wizards, emboldened by the year that he had spent exclusively with Regulus Black (not that anyone needed to know that).
James had rose quickly to Chief Auror with a promotion to head auror in the works working under Rufus Scrimgeour. There was whispers of Scrimgeour leaving the department to make a bid for the Minister's seat at the next election, and James would be chosen to head the auror department upon his leave.
It was difficult for James to adjust to auror life at first, realizing that rules were put in place that aurors had to follow. It wasn't like the war anymore where anything went in order to protect oneself. Unforgivables had been banned once again after the fall of Voldemort, and regulations were being followed to a T to ensure that every rogue death eater captured was found guilty by the Wizengamot and locked away.
The case of a lifetime had fallen upon James's desk that morning, and he couldn't help but to let out a sharp inhale at the name emblazoned on the side of it.
Lestrange, Bellatrix
"Sir?"
"It's time we found her, Potter," Scrimgeour grumbled out, nodding down at the folder. "She's been gone for five years this October and there's finally been a sighting in Sunderland. She and her daughter didn't just stop existing. Find them."
James warred with himself as Scrimgeour made his way out of James's office, words on the tip of his tongue.
"Sir, I-"
Scrimgeour paused, turning to look at him.
"You know of my...actions during the war?"
Rufus stared back at him silently.
"The Wizengamot may not see me as impartial when it comes to her."
Entering back into James's office, Scrimgeour waved his arm for the door to close with a click, followed by the familiar sensation of the room being silenced.
"For which side?"
James blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Which side do you think the Wizengamot would accuse you of being partial to?"
He could feel his face flush with color in anger. "What are you insinuating?"
"The public doesn't know of Regulus Black's time travel. That information was limited to only the Order of the Phoenix, the Head Auror and Head Unspeakable. But what the public does know is that you were romantically linked and fate-bound to a death eater-"
"He's not a death eater," James bit.
"-which still to this day has not been explained. For those that know the truth, there's no explanation as to why you're alive, Auror Potter. It's an unexplainable and, frankly, freak happenstance of nature."
"I don't understand the connection here, Sir."
"There will be some pushback from the public, sure, but you can't expect to take the position of Head Auror until you....clean out your closet, so to say."
James openly gaped at his boss across from him. "You're telling me this is all about your politics? You expect me to come forward, after all these years, and tell everyone what happened during the war? And you're using the capture of Bellatrix Lestrange as a cover to do so."
"This is about capturing Bellatrix Lestrange and nothing more."
"Don't make this political."
Scrimgeour scowled, looking down at James as if he were a petulant child. "Everything is political in this world, Auror Potter. The sooner you learn that, the better you will be at your job. Everything you need is in that file."
And without another word, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour strode from the office as if nothing had happened.
James couldn't help but to get angry over the conversation every time he thought back to it, which is what led him to get on his broom in the first place. He was nervous and anxious for his upcoming meeting with Regulus that afternoon, the first since the ending of the war, and his mind was all over the place.
It took no effort at all on James's part to strut right into Hogwarts after recieving Moony's letter that day, the feeling of fear being eclipsed only by that of a weightless happiness. He had assumed after all those years that Regulus simply didn't want to pursue anything further, given the fact that he had severed the soul bond so effectively.
It had been years of seeing one another in passing, saying nothing about the time they had spent together. It was a great point of contention between he and the other marauders, with Sirius and Remus insisting that he and Reg were both absolute imbeciles for orbiting around one another.
But his chance was that very afternoon, and James Potter refused to mess it up.
He just had to figure out how to break the news to him that Bellatrix Lestrange had been sighted, and he would be the one to find her.