➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟏 “𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙞𝙤𝙣’𝙨 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩”
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Even from the other side of the door, he could feel the heat emanating from inside the room. It was the basement, of course it would be hot, but the purpose for which it was used did not help at all. After three loud knocks, a deep voice came from the inside.
“Siga!” (Come in!)
On cue, Nicolás opened the door to Abu Pedro’s study. The room was large, with three long tables with different instruments to process the ingredients, every wall had shelves reaching for the ceiling filled with all kinds of ingredients, from the most common to the most rare and expensive, all in large quantities.
“Abu, you’ve had the lad here all week, are you sure the gases haven’t made him delirious?” said Nicolás.
On the large table, examining the finished products, were two people. Abu Pedro, and Harry. For the last week, Pedro took upon himself the mission to make Harry a somewhat decent potion brewer before the new school year started, or, at the very least, make him able to brew what was expected of him. Because, as he said, 'No Cardona will be less than skilled at potion brewing, not under my watch.'
Because, well, Harry didn’t only have a grudge with Snape —or more accurately, Snape had a grudge with Harry— over Uncle James. Turns out, Harry really sucked at potions, he was probably as good as Neville was before Nicolás’ help, and he had to fight the urge to strangle Harry for not asking for help, but oh, well, things were starting to get sorted anyway.
Abu Pedro only smiled at him, gesturing at the table. “Come and take a look at this.” And the teenager complied.
After filling the last phial with the most recent potion brewed, Harry let the glass container next to the other ones, looking at Nicolás with his big green hopeful eyes, very close to vibrating where he stood. Nicolás ruffled Harry’s hair, before taking one of the potions.
“Let’s see,” he said, raising the dark silvery liquid to eye level, “Essence of Dittany is a little advanced,” he questioned, looking at Pedro; even without an answer, he knew the full moon was approaching and his father was surely going to need it. “Let’s try it.” Nicolás opened the potion, before taking a knife from the table, and under Harry’s alarmed face, he cut his palm, before taking the dropper over, and dropping one single silvery drop, and the wound healed in a second. “Nice work, Little One,” the teenager said, ruffling Harry’s hair even more.
Nicolás hummed, taking the phial with green liquid and examining the green hues, before he raised it to his nose, inhaling its smell, “Antidote to Uncommon Poisons?” he asked, Harry nodded eagerly. Nicolás opened the phial, dropping a few drops on his finger, licking it, before grimacing. “Perhaps you’d like to add a few drops of Honeywater to get rid of the bitterness. But still, perfectly done, Little One.”
Next, was a teal blue liquid. “Hmm, Confusing Concoction, nice work,” Nicolás said, after a quick sniff. It smelled just as it should, with a deep rosemary smell and a small sugary sweetness under it.
Lastly, was a turquoise blue liquid. With an impressed expression, Nicolás opened the phial, sniffing the potion, “Draught of Peace, this is an advanced one, Little One. Let’s see,” Nicolás opened the phial, and drank a small gulp of it—it tasted like sugared milk—, sensing a calming feeling emanating from his chest. “Very nice work, Harry!”
With a blinding smile, Harry nodded, “I’m dying to see Snape’s face the next time he tries to humiliate me in class.”
“So much good work in just a week, eh?” said Nicolás.
“Well, when you have an amazing teacher, it is pretty hard not to learn,” Harry said, looking at Abu Pedro with a smile. Pedro had already packed up the room, ready for them to leave, and had Nicolás been a little less perceptive, he wouldn't have noticed the way his grandfather's chest popped slightly out in pride. He took the greatest joy in sharing the skills he worked his life to hone.
Abu Pedro shook his head with a soft smile as they approached the door, “Nah, Harry, I already told you. No grandson of mine will ever fail potions. What do you think old Fleamont would say!”
“You knew my grandfather?” Harry asked.
“Knew? Oh, Harry, we worked together before he finally figured out how to work the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, all for your grandmother, Euphemia.”
“How so?”
“She was Indian, her hair was a nightmare to style – in her words, of course. The potion worked wonders for her, shame it had no effect on the Potters' hair, though,” Pedro said, ruffling Harry’s uncontrollable hair.
“Have you done the rest of your assignments?” Nicolás asked.
“Yes,” Harry said as they entered the hall of the main floor.
“Okay, and do you have everything ready for school?”
“Yes, my Quidditch supplies are safe, my books are already in the trunk, alongside my uniforms, and Hedwig is still in the forest, though,” Harry replied. “Am I missing anything?”
“Normal clothing?”
“Yes, Mother, that’s also ready in my trunk,” replied Harry with a cheeky and toothy grin and added an unnecessarily exaggerated nod. Nicolás rolled his eyes while Abu Pedro laughed.
“Was just making sure,” the teen defended himself.
“Nico, stop pestering the lad, he has one last week of holidays,” said Abu Pedro.
“Am I pestering?” Nicolás asked. Harry only laughed, pressing himself to Nicolás’ side as they entered the living room. But all three stopped in their tracks at the tense sight.
Everyone was in the living room, but their expressions were anything far from good. On the couch, Abu Angela was sipping coffee, as if trying to stay composed, to her side was Caelum, who had an annoyed expression, and Nicolás knew he probably was biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from speaking. In another seat, Remus sat, sipping his tea, enjoying a dramatic display worthy of a theater in his living room.
In the middle of the room were Carolina and María standing, both of them seemed to be arguing, but in hushed tones with a man. A man that irked Nicolás, and apparently everyone else in the room.
“You didn’t notify anyone in the Ministry,” stressed Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, with an ashen face and sweat gleaming on his brow.
“I don’t have any obligation to notify anyone about my personal business and those of my family,” responded Carolina in a stern voice.
“You went behind our backs and did it the muggle way,” Fudge tried to argue, as if trying to prove something.
“Minister, I think it is very clear what we meant by family business,” responded María in a cold voice.
Fudge seemed to get even more nervous, gulping. From his side, Nicolás felt Harry grab the hem of his sweater, tense. Their presence still unnoticed by the arguing part.
“I’m appalled to have to remember you the law, Minister, but there was absolutely no law that prevented me from taking Harry. You can check the papers all you want, it is legal, and I notified Dumbledore about it,” finished Carolina. Her tone and probably stern face were making the Minister even more nervous. It wasn’t every day that the Minister for Magic found himself scolded by the Head of one of his departments.
"You notified him after the deed was done!"
"Well, he's the headmaster of a school, is he not? There's no reason for us to request his approval," said María.
Fudge looked around the room, trying to find something or someone of help, before his eyes fell on Abu Pedro, who had stepped in front of Nicolás and Harry.
“Pedro!” the Minister exclaimed.
“Cornelius,” Pedro conceded in a plain voice.
“I’m sure you understand the gravity of the situation,” said Fudge.
“Of you havocking the peace in my family's home?” Pedro asked.
“What?!” Fudge said. “Pedro, please, you know I would never do such a thing.”
Abu Pedro gave him a deadpan expression. “The only reason I see for you to be here is because of Sirius Black. By all means, please do illustrate to me what’s your theory. Do you think that, because my daughter is married to Black, what? We brought Harry here so we can hand him to Black, so he can be killed?”
"But of course not!" prompted Fudge, growing pale with each word Pedro said, before his eyes fell on Harry. “Harry Potter! My name is Cornelius Fudge, I am –”
“The Minister, I know,” Harry cut him.
“Have they told you about Black?” Fudge pressed.
“I know everything I need to know about Black, and I’ve been taught how to defend myself,” Harry easily lied for them.
“I see…” said Fudge, now his paleness being replaced by a deep embarrassed flush.
“Now, unless you’re going to move on to the part of your highly insightful theory where my grandson and my daughter are conspiring with Black to get Harry killed, I think you are overstepping your welcome,” Pedro said in a voice that made obvious there was no place to argue.
Fudge only held his eyes for a few seconds, before his reddened face took a few shades of red, and nodded. And he turned to nod at everyone else present.
“You have my apologies, please, excuse me for disturbing your night, I’ll see myself out,” and without waiting for an answer, the man hurried out of the house.
“Can you believe the nerve that man has?” groaned Carolina.
“Am I – Am I causing you trouble?” asked Harry in a small voice. In an instant, all eyes fell on him, and everyone shook their heads. Carolina approached him, ruffling his hair.
“Of course, no, Love. It’s not your fault we have a spineless bigot for Minister,” Carolina said, before walking towards the kitchen.
Standing from the couch, Abu Angela walked towards Abu Pedro. “Now, I think it's time for supper,” and with that, everyone walked to the dining room.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
When the room door was flung open, Nicolás' attention was abruptly taken from his table, where a saturated mess of pieces of long and short parchment and paper sheets rested. Each piece of material was overflowed with Nicolás lavish writing and notes about the Homunculus Charm. Even Ember, previously slumbering by Nicolás' bare feet, was up in a second.
At the door frame was Harry, looking deeply distraught. His breathing was a little erratic. The last Nicolás knew was that Harry was taking a stroll around the forest, but he clearly had come running all the way up here, and he looked confused, and out of place.
“Harry?” Nicolás asked slowly, rising from his chair.
Harry blinked a few times. “Sorry, I — I didn’t mean to — I — are you busy?”
Instead of answering, Nicolás walked to his bedside table, taking the phial of Draught of Peace Harry made the day before. Wordlessly, he handed the potion to Harry, who took it with trembling hands. With a gesture, Nicolás told Harry to drink it, and without a doubt, the boy did.
After two gulps of the potion, Harry’s breathing started to calm down. Grabbing the boy by the hand, Nicolás closed the door and moved Harry to sit on the bed. Ember followed, climbing up in the bed, rubbing his head on Harry’s chest, trying to offer comfort in his own way.
“What happened?” Nicolás started.
“You — you said Sirius was an Animagus, yes?”
“I did, why?” Nicolas said cautiously.
“He’s a black dog, right? Like my plushie, the one Caelum gave me?” Harry asked, Nicolás nodded, not getting at where Harry was going. “I think I saw him?”
“Is that a question, or a statement?”
“I’m not sure. I was walking in the backyard, I intended to go a bit into the forest, seeing if I could find Hedwig, but there was this gigantic black dog. It was far away, but it didn’t seem like he could actually see me.”
“Well, that would make sense, Uncle Sirius knows the house is here, but I redid all the protections, and he’s not allowed in.” That seemed to calm Harry, as the boy nodded. “Now, do you have everything ready? Mom will be taking you tomorrow to the Weasleys, and you’ll stay with them till the Hogwarts Express, right?”
Harry nodded eagerly, and after a quick hug, he seemed to forget about seeing Sirius at all. But before he left, Nicolás grabbed his shoulders.
“We are trusting you know what to do. You don’t ask questions about Sirius, and you simply nod at everything anyone says, okay?”
“Always pretend you know less than you really do, it always raises fewer questions,” Harry said from memory the biggest lesson Nicolás has taught him.
“Good lad, now go and sleep,” and after a boop on the nose, Harry left to sleep.
With a sigh, Nicolás landed himself on the bed, scratching Ember’s head. “Well, let’s hope our visit to Grimmauld Place is as pleasant as Harry’s stay at The Burrow will be.”
Ember grunted in response, clearly in disagreement with Nicolás’ hopes. Nicolás sighed once more.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Maybe the heavens conspired that day, or maybe it was meant to be an omen delivered, but the London sky seemed to be greyer than any other summer day so far. Or perhaps it was simply because the summer was coming to an end and not due to some uncoupled correlation made by Nicolás' overenthusiastic mind.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Caelum asked.
“Well, that sign says Grimmauld Place. I don’t believe there are more streets called like that in London,” Nicolás said. “Although, maybe I should check for glasses myself, if my memory serves me well, after eleven, follows twelve, not thirteen,” he added, gesturing to the large houses on the other side of the street.
“Mom said we should approach it for the house to reveal itself,” Caelum said, giving the first steps towards the street.
All it took was for Caelum to stop in front of the houses, and the eleven and the thirteen, previously side-by-side, immediately parted ways. And once they moved apart enough, another house emerged from thin air, taking its rightful place. The Number 12 of Grimmauld Place.
“Look at that!” said Nicolás, slapping Caelum’s shoulder. “Now we can say you really are a proper Black.”
“Let’s hope I don’t regret this,” Caelum sighed, walking to the door, where he stopped.
The door didn’t have a handle, or a hole for a key, or a doorknob. Nobody would guess it was a door if it wasn't for the door knocker. It had the shape of a twisted serpent, and a hole on the base. Caelum took out his wand and put it in the hole. Instantly, the door swung open on its own.
And well, the interior really made justice to its name. It was nothing but grim and old. The whole house was dark—not a single light in sight—, with every window closed, and the thick curtains shielding any light from accessing the house. The air was humid, and dusty.
As they walked inside, lamps magically lighted up, revealing the long hallway, and an overhead chandelier. It was clear that the house had seen better days and had spent the last decade or so completely derelict. Everything in sight looked a shade of grey or white, covered in thick layers of dust, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and the carpet seemed a day before disintegrating.
The faint light showed them the portraits that had been blackened by the passage of time, all the people in them were busy, either sleeping or visiting other portraits, thankfully.
As they started to walk, they heard some slow steps, before a house-elf stopped in front of them. It had to be the oldest house-elf they had ever seen.
“Who dares enter the sacred home of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?” the elf croaked. He looked at them with a dirty look, before he seemed to notice something in Caelum, because the next second, he threw himself at Caelum’s feet, holding his legs and crying loudly. “Master Regulus has finally come back!” he cried.
Alarmed, Caelum's eyes snapped at Nicolás for help. But Nicolás was just as confused. The poor elf looked completely out of touch with reality, if not a little bit delirious.
“Er — I, um — I’m sorry, Who’s that? I’m not… Regulus?” Caelum said slowly. The nameless elf looked at him alarmed. Nicolás sent him a sharp look, and Caelum got the message. “My name is Caelum… Caelum Black. Who are you?”
The elf seemed to think for a minute, before giving a deep bow, and spoke, “Kreacher is Kreacher, Young Master,” then, he seemed to think very hard for a moment.
“Wait, Master?” Caelum asked, alarmed.
Kreacher straightened his posture, trying to look more dignified in the disgustingly dirty rags he was using. The elf nodded at last, “You is the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Young Master.”
“How – How do you know I’m the heir?” Caelum asked.
Without saying anything, Kreacher beckoned them to follow him. And so, they did, they followed the elf's gawky stepping, ignoring the small dust clouds from the carpet under their weight. At last, Kreacher took them to another room, a spacious one.
The walls were covered by a deep green tapis, all of it containing the seemingly endless ramification of a tree, a family tree; the House of Black's family tree. Its inscription, atop and at the bottom, read "En Stirps Nobilis et Gens Antiquissima Black," "Behold the Lineage of the Noble and Most Ancient Clan (of) Black".
Navigating the sea of names, faces, and scorched marks—the disowned ones, if Nicolás had to guess—, Kreacher pointed the last end for them.
From the names Orion and Walburga Black descended a golden branch toward two spots, one with a skull, under the name of Regulus Arcturus Black, and a scorched one under the name Sirius Orion Black. Sirius’ thread was connected to another name tag under the name of María Cardona, his wife. And finally, connected to those two, was the name tag with Caelum Black.
“The Mistress last hope was that the Young Master could be a better Heir than the blood traitor of his father,” Kreacher said.
“What did you just call my father?” Caelum snapped at the elf.
Kreacher seemed to cower in his spot, trembling. “For what he is, Young Master, a blood traitor,” he whimpered.
Seeing as his cousin—just like his fugitive father and his mother—was easily heated, Nicolás put a hand on his shoulder, and Caelum seemed to relax a bit.
“Just, don’t call him that. Call him by his name, or don’t call him at all,” said Caelumn steely. Kreacher merely nodded, looking miserable.
“Kreacher, would you be so kind as to take us to the library? Caelum really needs to see something in there,” Nicolás said. Kreacher looked at him frowning with a sneer, before looking at Caelum.
It was fairly easy for Nicolás to brush off the poor creature's behavior. It was clear he hadn't been around people for many years, and it was no surprise he held so tightly to the behaviors of one of the most discriminating pureblood families.
“Please,” Caelum added. Kreacher seemed taken aback by the thanking, but nodded nonetheless, walking out of the room, and they followed.
They went up to the second floor, where they found a spacious library. It had multiple shelves, all filled with books.
“Kreacher,” Caelum called. The elf’s head snapped in his direction. “Do you happen to know about books that contain family trees of the pureblood families?”
Kreacher nodded eagerly, before disappearing in between the shelves.
“Do you feel it?” Caelum asked Nicolás.
“Feel what?”
“The energies around here,” Caelum gestured a circle with his finger.
“I thought it was established that I can’t do that. But I mean, this place looks like a madhouse straight out of any of King's books, rather than a home. It gives me the chills.”
Caelum rolled his eyes, but couldn't disagree. “There’s a reason my father ran away from here,” he gulped. “What I try to say is that there’s something in here, something that doesn’t feel right.”
Nicolás looked back at him, concerned. “What exactly do you mean it ‘doesn’t feel right’?”
Caelum’s eyes jumped to every corner of the dark room, before falling back on Nicolás. “It feels just like the diary. The energies I feel here are the same, they scream the same.”
Nicolás’ eyes widened, but before he could speak, Kreacher appeared with three books for them, and if they slightly jumped at the croaky voice's sudden appearance, neither would acknowledge it.
“Kreacher found these books for the Young Master,” the elf said.
“Thank you, Kreacher, but you can just call me Caelum.”
The elf panicked, shaking his head. “Kreacher must not! The Mistress would be enraged.”
Seeing as the discussion would be a waste of time, Nicolás gestured to the table on the side of the room.
“That’s okay, Kreacher,” Caelum tried to reassure the house-elf. “We’ll just sit here and read them, is that alright?”
“The Young Master can do whatever the Young Master wishes,” the elf responded.
Nodding, and after a quick thanks, Caelum dragged Nicolás to the table. They put the books on the table before Nicolás took one, The Pure-Blood Directory—signed in property of R.A.B.—, it had been published anonymously in 1930, although, inside, it had the name Cantankerus Nott written in a most pristine handwriting.
The book contained what the author called, The Sacred Twenty-Eight, a list of the most pure-blooded families of Great Britain. On the index, where all the families were named, someone—probably the R.A.B. person—had left notes, in the same pristine handwriting, in front of each name listed.
Like, how the Weasleys had a ‘Blood-traitors,’ next to it. The Abbotts had a ‘non-important,’ next to them, and the Gaunts had a ‘Dead line,’ and a ‘Salazar Slytherin,’ next to it. Picked by this, Nicolás moved to the Gaunt Family page.
Of course, what he read was very disturbing. It had been a family notorious for exclusively recurring to inbreeding to keep its purity, and the ‘had been’ is appropriate, as the family had died out a couple of decades ago. Merope Gaunt, the last female in the family died giving birth in a muggle orphanage after running away from the family. The last male heir had been Morfin Gaunt, who died in Azkaban in a life-long sentence for the murder of the Riddle family, a muggle family.
“Bingo!” Nicolás said.
Caelum’s eyes rose from the book in his hands, “So?”
“The Gaunts, one of them was imprisoned for killing the Riddle family, and one of them gave birth in a muggle orphanage.”
“Too much for a coincidence, eh?” asked Caelum.
“Too much, and too specific, yes. Not to mention it says they were related to Salazar Slytherin,” Nicolás said, putting the book in his backpack. “I think that’s all we needed.”
Caelum looked at the corner where Kreacher was standing, ready to serve. He seemed to be murmuring in a hushed voice to himself.
“How long do you think he’s been alone?” Nicolás asked pitifully.
“Probably since Walburga died, like ten years ago,” lamented Caelum. As he stood, he spoke again, “Kreacher, would you mind giving us a walk through the house? I’d like to get to know the place.”
The poor house-elf' gaunt face seemed to brighten up, as much as it could with so many wrinkles, but he seemed more than excited to serve, and quickly walked them through the first floor again, then back to the second floor, and the third floor, lastly, they entered the fourth floor, which only had two rooms with signs in each door. The biggest one said Sirius Orion Black, and the second one said, Regulus Arcturus Black, with the warning, ‘Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black.’
“You called me Regulus before,” Caelum told Kreacher.
The elf’s eyes fell to the floor, and he looked even more miserable than before, and much sadder. “The Young Master resembles poor Master Regulus.”
With a confused expression, as if his body moved on its own, Caelum´s hand rose, and he put his palm on the coldness of the wooden door. Instantly, his body tensed, and as Kreacher tried to tell him that he couldn’t enter, Caelum’s forehead sweated and his brow furrowed, almost in pain.
Caelum took his palm off the door and staggered back. His eyes were shut closed, and his head moving erratically. He moved until his back hit the other wall.
“No! Let go of me! Please! No! Don’t take me!” he cried while moving his arms in a frenzy, as if trying to get out of someone’s grasp.
“Caelum!” Nicolás yelled, even Kreacher was trying to get him to snap out of his trance. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide, and started to vomit water. Pure, clear water, pooling up on the floor. At last, Caelum fell to the floor on his ass, looking around erratically, trying to get a grasp of reality.
“What was that?” Nicolás demanded, lowering himself to Caelum’s level, trying to get him to calm. Kreacher did quick work of the water, vanishing it.
“I was – I was under water – it seemed – it seemed like – like a cave – it was so dark, and they – those – those things – they were like bodies, and they grabbed me – they tried to take me down, I was drowning,” Caelum said in between loud sobs.
Nicolás cradled his head against his chest, and they spent long minutes doing breathing exercises, before Caelum recovered some control of his body. With them, Kreacher was in panic, muttering about Master Regulus, and his promise, and how he failed.
Deciding it had been enough, Nicolás helped Caelum up, and once the house elf seemed calmer, they spoke with Kreacher, suggesting for him to come with them, but he refused, saying that his responsibility was with the Black Family.
With no real argument and refusing to order Kreacher to do something he rather not, the boys agreed to come and visit him another day and left the house. Finally breathing well once they stepped into the street and the house vanished itself from view.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
“And it was a cave?” María asked.
“Yes,” Caelum sighed in a tired voice. “I was in a cave, but it had water all around, and there were – things, dragging me down. I felt like I was drowning.”
“And then he just threw up water, like, perfectly clean water, out of nowhere,” added Nicolás.
“Why do you look so distraught, Love?” Carolina asked her son. Nicolás sighed.
“Well, apart from the fact that my cousin had some kind of vision, possession, divine message, prediction – or whatever the hell that was, he almost drowned too, standing up and with no water. But that’s not all.”
That comment earned everyone’s attention.
“I – Caelum allowed me to get in his mind and see what he saw, and – just before leaving the reserve, Milo came to me, in the night,” Nicolás said.
“Why was the older Demiguise looking for you?” inquired Abu Pedro.
“He looked in panic and asked to show me something. He showed me three things.” Nicolás said, remembering that night.
Ember was shifting in the bed, which was unusual for him, before standing up, a low growl, almost in warning, coming from his throat. When Nicolás looked, he didn’t see anything, but the next moment he appeared. It was a koala-sized monkey, its body was covered with long, pristine white hair, making him look like some kind of ancient wise monk.
“Milo?” Nicolás asked. Milo was the oldest of the Demiguise family of the reserve.
Milo looked frightened, but that was weird. It was a clear night, no thunder nor lightning. But Milo was desperate for him, and he told him he had a message, something that came to him. A pre-cognition, and he needed Nicolás to see it.
Looking into his eyes, Nicolás used his Legilimency to enter the Demiguise’s mind, seeing his prediction.
The first image that came was quick. A rat running in a child’s shoulder. The kid had Hogwarts robes, but nothing else of notice. The rat simply ran on the boy’s shoulder, before hiding itself in a pocket.
Next came a full moon. This time, the Hogwarts castle was in the background, and in the foreground was a wolf, it was howling at the moon. It was a painful howl, like a calling for home.
And lastly, it sent him to a cave. It was on the seashore, with water all around. There was some kind of altar in the middle of the cave, but the water was weird. It was clear, but at the same time dark, as if said darkness didn’t come from the water, but rather what was in the water.
In a closer look, Nicolás saw them. They were human bodies, dead bodies, with grey skin. They looked like zombies but were not decomposing.
And after that, the pre-cognitive sight ended. And Nicolás came back to reality with a gasp.
“A rat?” Aunt María asked with a gasp.
“Pettigrew,” concluded Carolina. Remus looked just as disturbed.
“Wait, come back to these creatures,” prompted Abu Pedro.
“They have human bodies, but they look dead. Their skin is completely grey, but they are not decomposing,” explained Nicolás. “Do you think it can be something like Necromancy?”
Pedro seemed to think for a moment before Remus gasped. “You don’t think they could be Inferi?” the question was directed to Pedro.
“Inferi?” asked Caelum.
“Dark creatures. Very dark,” explained Pedro. “They are reanimated corpses with Necromancy; it requires very dark magic to create them.”
“I think by this point it pretty obvious who has no idea where dark becomes too dark,” Nicolás said.
“There was, actually, a rumor, in the Ministry back in the day, that all the people Voldemort’s Death Eaters killed or disappeared were serving a purpose,” said Pedro in a distant voice. "What if he was grouping them all for this?"
“An Inferi army?” ventures Abu Angela. “To guard what?”
“And what does one thing have to do with anything else?” asked
Caelum.
Nicolás shook his head, “I think we're not asking the important questions. What could he be protecting in that cave? Something like the diary? And how is it related to the Blacks? Why was the cave shown to Caelum when he touched that damned door?”
“Whose door?” asked María.
“Regulus’,” Caelum said, and all the adults’ faces changed in a second. “What? What happened to him? You all knew him?”
“He was Sirius’ younger brother by a year. He attended Hogwarts with us, he was sorted in Slytherin,” explained María.
“Oh,” said Nicolás. “That already explains a lot.”
“Pardon me?” questioned Aunt María.
“He was a Slytherin, you all were a bunch of Gryffindors. No doubt Sirius and he didn’t get along,” Nicolás shrugged. “He probably believed most of the pure-blood bullshit, too.”
“We were friends for a few years, before his family got to him, harder than ever, after Sirius left their house and was disowned,” María continued. “He became a Death Eater, the youngest in the school. After that, he cut contact with everyone.”
“And you think he assisted Voldemort with these things? With the cave?”
“Probably,” María shrugged. “There’s no way to know for sure, he’s dead.”
“That’s why Kreacher was crying and calling his name,” commented Nicolás. “How did he die?”
Carolina spoke, “Nobody knows. The accepted theory is that he got cold feet under Voldemort’s orders and tried to escape; unfortunately, it is not like you can pass a resignation letter to him. Some speculate he was killed by Voldemort himself.”
Everyone sighed. Their only hope of getting to know anything was dissipating into thin air. But more importantly, how was he supposed to tell Harry about any of what they had been discussing?
“Wait,” Nicolas said. “Regulus…” he muttered to himself, deep in thought. “Regulus – why is that familiar? – of course, The Lion’s Heart! How could I‘ve not noticed before!”
And, under everyone’s confused eyes, Nicolás jumped from his seat, running towards his room, with everyone on his heels, each with a different confused face.
“Nico, Love, what do you mean, ‘The Lion’s Heart’?” Carolina called her son.
“The Lion’s Heart is a star, Mom! It’s Regulus,” Nicolás said. “Seriously, didn’t any of you pass Astronomy at Hogwarts?”
Entering his room, with the lights down, he tilted his head up, watching the ceiling. There, just like every day, the start he had enchanted shone as bright as their cosmic counterparts. But there was one constellation he was interested in.
“There! Look at it!” he said, pointing at the Leo Constellation. “The Lion’s Heart,” he continued, pointing at a specific star, the brightest star in the constellation. “Regulus. I've noticed it doing that since we came back,” he commented, watching how the star seemed to glow bright for moments, before reducing its brilliance, only to come back brighter, and repeat the same, over and over. All of this while the other starts stayed constant.
“And what do you reckon it means?” Carolina asked.
“I’m not sure, but three years ago, Sirius was doing the same, there,” Nicolás said, pointing at Canis Major. “That year we discovered, albeit privately, that Uncle Sirius was innocent, and three years after, now, he escaped a supposedly impossible-to-break-out prison.”
María looked down at him. “You’re not suggesting that Regulus is –”
“You said his body was never found,” Caelum chimed in, breathless.
Aunt María coughed. “Cae, but that doesn’t mean he is alive.”
“It’s having its own behavior,” Nicolás said. “Back at Castelobruxo, the Centaurs always said that cosmic movement, just like human behavior, always tells us something.”
María still looked skeptical. “And what do you reckon it means?”
“I don’t know what it means,” Nicolás said, his eyes glowed on the star, now gleaming brightly again. “All I know is that it means something. 'Tis only a matter of time before we know what.”
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Author's note
First of all, someone really needed to get Harry a potions tutor, like, for real, so, here it is!
Please tell me I'm not the only one who despises Fudge, like, think of a more incompetent and useless Minister for Magic.
I was really excited about the Grimmauld Place scene! And in this part, we'll finally see so much more of Caelum's character with everything related to being a Black.
Thank you to all of you who waited for this and who enjoyed the other parts! I love you guys! Remember, all comments, votes, and follows are always appreciated.
- 𝐣.𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜