The One-Eyed Witch
It was on August 31st, 1991, that James Potter sat his son, Harry, down and began to tell him of the special secrets that he would be passing down from the marauders themselves.
Padfoot had all but begged to include he and Moony in the conversation, but James felt that he needed the moment with his son. At the announcement, Sirius transformed into the shaggy black dog and waited, petulantly, in the orchard behind Potter Manor with Remus.
"You're leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow," James began, sitting in the chair across from Harry.
"And I know I'll be in Gryffindor," Harry added, smirking at his father and causing James to almost feel as though he was looking in a mirror.
"I don't doubt it at all, Buck," James laughed. "I have something I'd like to give you."
Harry knew of the cloak of invisibility, seeing it on the rare occasion that he caught his dad sneaking back into the manor or using it with Uncle Padfoot and Moony. But when James handed it over to him, allowing the soft fabric to graze the tips of Harry's fingers, Harry couldn't help but to gape at his dad.
"My dad gave it to me before my first year," James smiled wistfully. "It's been passed down through the Potter line for generations. It's your turn to take care of it now, and I trust that you won't give Minnie too much trouble with it."
"You're....giving it to me?"
"As long as you promise to be responsible with it, yes."
It took everything in James not to simultaneously laugh and sob at the words coming from his mouth. Somehow, in the last couple years, he had become just like his father. He could almost hear Fleamont speaking the same exact words to him all those years ago, probably in the same room.
He watched as Harry's green eyes widened in wonder at the thing in his hand, holding it as if it was a newborn kitten.
"Dad. Thank you."
Harry threw himself into James's arms and hugged him tightly. James returned the hug just as tight, and wondered to himself what Harry would have been like in the other world. The world that Regulus had rewritten, saving he and Lily's lives and rewriting the fabric of reality altogether.
He couldn't help but wonder if Harry would have ever gotten the cloak. James could only guess that someone would have passed their legacies onto Harry, even if James himself hadn't been around to do so.
It was another tender moment that James felt his heart restrict in his chest over, thinking about what could have happened, and didn't.
It was that moment that played over and over in James's head as he traversed the passageway between the basement of Honeyduke's Sweet Shop and the statue of the one-eyed witch.
He had been invited to the castle, and yet nostalgia had won over and he found himself casting a notice-me-not across himself and slinking down the tunnel.
Hogwarts held the best times of James Potter's life, and even just being in the dark passage was bringing up memories of the times that he, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had been up to no good.
But the war had taken things from all of them, and James found that every time he looked at the quidditch pitch, he couldn't help but think of Fleamont. The final battle.
It was the last public siting of Bellatrix Lestrange before she was held in the underground safehouse, stronger than even Azkaban itself. It was indeed true that she was with child, and it seemed that over the course of her pregnancy, Bellatrix did nothing but plot her escape.
James could remember the look of fear that painted Lily's face when Scrimgeour had told them that she was gone. The safe house that had been holding Bellatrix was supposed to be locked down tighter than Azkaban itself, but it looked as thought she, and subsequently her child, had just vanished.
They had been searching for her ever since, and now it was laid directly on James's shoulders to find her.
He was so distracted by the resurfaced memory of Bellatrix Lestrange that he didn't even bother to check for anyone outside of the passageway after moving the statue of the witch.
"Mr. Potter?"
James froze as the statue was put back into place, turning slowly towards the voice.
"Well, hello, Professor Lupin."
"What are you doing here, Prongs?" Remus asked, his face skillfully blank of all emotions.
"Meeting," James cleared his throat, buttoning his waistcoat and straightening his spine. "Work related."
"Work related."
"That is what I said, Moony."
"Mmhm," Moony hummed knowingly, crossing his arms in front of him and finally allowing a grin to overtake his face. "He's been on edge all day, you know. Nervous."
James tried to look disinterested. "Oh? Who?"
Lupin laughed, "Even after all these years and you're still incapable of lying. How you became such a good auror, I'll never understand."
"Oh come on, Moony," James suddenly laughed, following Remus down the corridor. "You know I can only lie when it matters."
"Where are you taking him, then?"
"Madame Pudifoot's, of course."
Remus stopped dead in his tracks, causing James's shoulder to bump into him abruptly. A look of incredulity painted Lupin's face.
"You're joking. After all these years you're going to muck it up by taking Regulus to Pudifoot's?"
James threw his head back in laughter, gripping onto Remus's shoulder and causing the few students that were passing by the shoot their teacher odd looks.
"The look on your face!" James wiped at a stray tear from how hard he was laughing. "Shows you that I still got a fib or two left in me. But no, I made reservations for that new restaurant in Diagon. La Sorcière Dorée."
"Oh," Lupin continued down the corridor. "Good."
James cleared his throat, appearing to be much more shy about what he was about to ask.
"You said he was nervous?"
But Lupin dodged the question. "Have you talked to Harry today?"
"Today? No, I haven't. Did something happen?"
"Regulus told him the story of the sixth year quidditch match."
"The one where he cheated and I broke my arm for no reason?" James petulantly asked, thinking back on the match. "He knows we should have won that one. I was in the hospital wing for four days!"
"Prongs," Lupin softly reminded him. "Regulus told Harry that story. In the middle of class. In front of everyone."
James stared back at Remus, waiting for him to elaborate.
"You can't be this thick, Prongs," Remus laughed. "When have you ever known Regulus Black to talk to Harry? Even more so, to share something about himself with anyone, and especially an entire class of firsties?"
It was true that Regulus had spent the last decade distancing himself from not only James, but everyone connected to him. He could almost see the impossibly small flinch that would pass over Reg's face when he arrived somewhere unannounced, but he never thought anything of it.
"Merlin, Moony."
"I beg of you, Prongs. Don't mess this up again. I don't think any of us can stand the watch the two of you batting your eyelashes at one another for another ten years."
"Not to worry, Moons!" James called back to him, already several steps ahead of where Lupin had stopped. "I have a good feeling about this one!"
Regulus had decided the moment after he stepped from the bath that the only answer was to cancel seeing James.
The bright splotches of purple that dotted his neck stuck above the collar of his Oxford by well over three inches, and the color was the most grotesque thing that he had ever seen.
The deep emerald color of his shirt seemed to do nothing more than make it brighter.
"No," Regulus found himself mumbling. "This just won't do."
Regulus picked up his wand from the edge of the sink and quickly conjured a patronus.
"Sorry, Potter, but it looks as though I won't be making it this afternoon-"
Regulus paused, trying to think quickly of a lie, "-staff meeting. Very important. I'll owl you with new plans next week."
Even he cringed as the spectral animal slowly meandered its way from the bathroom, looking as if it was in no hurry to travel at all.
And when Regulus stepped into his main living quarters, he quickly realized why.
"How is it, Potter, that you managed to get past my wards and the gargoyle sitting outside?"
James leaned casually against the stone door, arms crossed at his chest. When he caught the confusion and alarm on Regulus's face, he couldn't help but smirk.
"Marauder's secret, I'm afraid, Reg. But it looks as though I've received a patronus. One moment, please."
Regulus stood, in mock horror, as his deerhound patronus relayed the message of a last minute staff meeting to James.
But the joking tone was gone from James's voice when he asked, "Your patronus changed again?"
Regulus sighed, realizing just exactly how far the two had grown apart. "It's been changed since I died."
"...Oh. I see."
"Look, Potter. Would you- would you like some tea? I'm getting tea."
Calling for a house elf and politely asking for tea and biscuits, Regulus sank down into the plush of his couch and motioned with his head for James to join him. Taking the chair across from him, James watched as Regulus seemed to tense under his gaze.
"Was this a bad idea?"
Regulus lifted his head quickly. "What?"
"I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Reg. I know it's...it's been a long time. And we aren't, exactly-" He struggled for the right words. "We aren't normal. We never were."
But Regulus had already began to shake his head. "It's not us, Potter. There's no war, not anymore. We aren't the people we used to be. I'm not the person I used to be, not completely."
Regulus gave up any sign of propriety and lazily waved his hand towards the bar cart in the corner. A bottle of Ogden's flew across the room into his waiting hand and he didn't bother to wait for the tea.
"This conversation, I think, requires something stronger."
But when he offered the bottle to James, he shook his head.
The signature Potter smile returned. "One of us has to be sober to apparate us. I'm not missing our reservation."
"Reservation?" Regulus almost scoffed.
"You think I wasn't serious about this?" James asked, moving to join Regulus on the couch. "Regulus, if we're doing this again, I'm doing it properly. There's no war going on, no sides to choose. No crazed wizard on the loose-"
The flash of Bellatrix Lestrange across his mind was almost enough to make him flinch.
"-It's just us. If it was ever going to work between you and I, it would be now."
Regulus could feel himself hold his breath as James leaned in, lifting a hand gingerly to pull at his collar and revealing the large and garish purple stain on his skin.
"Staff meeting was it?"
Regulus hadn't done very much damage control at the end of the war. Much like the rest of the Black family, he had kept his standing in society as well as the fact that their entire bloodline was constantly shrouded in whispers of mystique and insanity.
He was ostracized from the wizarding community, sure. But politely.
He was never spat on or called death eater on the streets like those that actively chose to follow Voldemort. The Minister had been kind enough to release a statement.
Regulus Black was a vital member of the Order of the Phoenix and played a critical part in the destruction of Voldemort, it had read.
But Regulus had decided long before that most wizards couldn't read.
He hadn't considered the ramifications of being seen next to James Potter, one of the members of the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix. The recipient of an Order of Merlin, First class.
It also didn't help that James was, well, fit.
They stood at the apparition point that would take them to Diagon, and James held out his arm.
"Regulus?"
But Regulus didn't move to take his arm.
"Have you thought this through, Potter?"
If possible, his smile just grew wider, "Only for the last decade, Reg. Come on."
Regulus paused. "People will see you with me."
"Blimey, I hope so. I can't have people assuming I can't plan a proper date."
"Potter."
To cement in what he was asking, Regulus had rolled his left sleeve up to his elbow. "They'll see us together. Are you ready for that?"
At that, James's smile fell slightly. "It's been ten years, Regulus. If they can't accept it now, they won't be ready to accept it in a month or two. I'm not ashamed of you, quite the opposite. So now if you are done worrying-"
"I don't worry, Potter. I plan. We can't all fly by the seat of our trousers."
"If you think I have no plan for the evening, Regulus Black, then maybe you don't remember me quite as well as you thought."
Just as Regulus rolled his sleeve back down, James wrapped his arm around Regulus's shoulders and turned on his heel, depositing them in Diagon Alley.