Chapter 11
Regulus,
I hope you will forgive me for the direct address. I write this not as your friend but as someone who has watched James Potter crumble slowly but surely over the past few days. Watched the concern turned resignation within Pandora and the tension in Dorcas. I was unsure of the cause until today. Today when I watched Sirius open your letter and openly weep for the first time in seven years together.
I cannot possibly pretend to understand you on an intimate level but I had assumed us to be friends. I’m not stupid enough to assume I ever had the pleasure of knowing you, you keep your walls far too high to allow us in. Perhaps only Remus and James have that pleasure, either way I do love you a lot and so it pains me to write such a letter.
I can only assume that the contents of your letter to Sirius is the same cause as James’ melancholy, maybe I’m wrong but I doubt it… given the turn of the tide in the war against The Death Eaters I can only surmise that Voldemort has taken you into his service. You and your friends.
I can see the cracks in your relationships, whatever previously remained between you and Sirius seems to be cleaved in two, I see Remus’ hollow eyes follow you across the great hall. James’ refusal to even look at you. Dorcas spending all her time with us. The people you love as falling like snow,
The thing is, Regulus, I know you to be an intelligent individual who likely foresaw this, hence your letter to Sirius and preemptive separation from James (Was that supposed to be a secret? Whoops.) Given these actions I can only gather that you chose this path with a deliberate and careful reasoning. I know you to be someone of enough intellect to not be as mindlessly racist as others. You have never just made acceptions for your friends of muggle descent but all. And so, I find myself at a loss. Why would Regulus Black join Voldemort’s forces? Perhaps he has a plan, or simply, no choice at all.
My housemates find themselves subject, rightly so, to the reputation of bullheaded foolishness. I like to think myself more rational than this but I have been wrong before. With what little brain power a Gryffindor can possess I see that you may well be backed into a corner and increasingly alone as the people you love fall for your masquerade of indifference and separation.
As someone who loves you, I see you. I don’t have a lot of power to help but… I find you forgivable, redeemable and worthy. Should you find yourself in need of shelter, a place to hide or the desire to turn sides…I will always be here to welcome you home.
Yours,
Lily
His fingers shake around this letter. It's not from her note book, it's on parchment, as though she knew how important it would be and deemed it worthy of more than those quick tear away pages.
Those pages he can imagine her so absently scribbling away in a callous moment, taken for granted that they would last a lifetime. Why savour one letter to a friend at 14 years old? The notebook pages are bittersweet to Harry now. The way she was so brazenly living her life without fear. This letter though, on its crisp parchment, even 19 years later. Preserved, above all else. Regulus must have risked so much keeping a letter from Muggle Born Lily Evans at the height of his service to Voldemort. Lily? What must she have risked to send him this. When all her friends had turned on the youngest Black, written him off as lost to the dark already. Not Lily though.
Like James. Who would have regarded it as the height of dishonour to mistrust his friends,Remus had said. James, who was loyal to a fault, yet allowed Regulus to turn him away. Had he been torn between the brothers? Had James known Regulus’ heart well enough to understand his choices? Had Regulus explained? It seemed unlikely from what he knew of Regulus…and yet... So alike his father he had been told it a hundred times, but so rarely was he compared to his mother. His mother with her wit and intellect, her charm and compassion. Lily Evans who had been the only one to offer Regulus a lifeline.
Harry reaches for the box, preparing to refile through it for the poem with Regulus and Lily’s annotations but he finds it sat atop the pile. He tilts his head slightly, regarding Pandora’s box anew. Perhaps there was an order to the madness. Tentatively he lifts the poem from the box once more ‘Sirius was never free. They all deserve to be free’ Harry can see it now, plainer than before. Regulus making his choice, Lily’s lifeline - not tugging him back to their love as she had hoped - but solidifying to Regulus, who had so rarely experienced love in his life, that this was the right choice, That he would willingly sacrifice himself to keep them all free. To keep them all safe. Lily’s plea has been preserved so carefully, not to allow Regulus that step backwards, but to propel him farther down his path. Regulus Arctrurus Black would burn the world and himself with it to allow those he loves the freedom he felt they deserved, How his painting must ache to know it was all in vain.
Bartemius,
I won't ask you for this for myself. I won't play this game where we pretend that you don't know. I do not expect a response,
But I will ask you, keep him safe. As best you can. Send him home to me. I can’t use my words to convince him, everything I do just makes him more sure.
Please. Send him home in one piece.
I’ll wait till the sky falls into the sea for him.
His,
JFP
The lump in his throat makes it hard for Harry to even breathe. James Potter knew Regulus Black. Knew his heart, owned it Harry would guess. Yes, 100 miles away in a country manor in Wiltshire, a capture of Regulus Black sits in his painting, watching the seasons pass through his wisteria frame, haunted by his failure to protect those he loved. But his heart? Well that's rotting away under the earth in Godric's Hollow, clutched in James Potter's boney grip.
Luna was right, Harry knows Regulus Black. He knows the guilt he carries. The pain. Harry folds James’ letter into his pocket and stands. Casting Pandora’s box one last look, he leaves the room, bounding up the stairs.
The attic is not somewhere Harry has really wanted to explore much, he finds Geroge perched on one of the support beams, digging through an old trunk and giggling in a way that makes Harry hesitate. George however, clearly heard him coming.
“Harrykins” George looks up from the box and Harry raises a brow.
“That giggle is terrifying, what did you find?”
“Nothing for you to worry about Sir. Just…” George’s gaze unfocuses for a second before fixing on Harry again. “I’ve been thinking of some new stuff to make. For Teddy. I figured… the youngest son of the original Marauders deserves some pretty wicked supplies'' He's grinning again and Harry has to drag in a deep breath. George finally looking to the future is a huge step forwards.
“Well… I’ll warn McGonagall” he offers and George narrows his eyes at him.
“And yourself” Harry frowns and George rolls his eyes before turning back to the box, clearly done with Harry “You’re going to take the job Harry. The only person who doesn't know it. Is you” Harry sucks his teeth and scowls. Electingo not respond to George’s statement he pushes onwards.
“Do you know where I can find Bill?” George’s head snaps up suddenly and he nods slowly.
“Shell cottage. He’s been waiting for you” Harry frowns again.
“Why?” George shakes his head.
“You’re so oblivious Harry” Harry grinds his teeth and leaves the attic without a word.
Harry heads to Shell Cottage the long way. Stopping by Twilfitt and Tattings to pick up their most ludicrous socks.
The beach is mercifully quiet for a July afternoon. The sun is warm but the wind is chilly. He keeps his jumper on as he crosses the perfect dunes. The waves crash serenely in the background and Harry trembles. He finds his way back to the grave without even trying, his feet carrying him to his friend. When he gets to it, he just stares for a moment. The grave is as he left it. Moments before the world ended.
Harry lowers to his knees carefully unpackages the socks. Using charms Hermione taught him, he weatherproofs the wool and permanently attaches the obscene socks to the gravestone. The earth above Dobby’s body is still growing, the shoots pushing through, making life from death as the earth is want to do. Harry takes a moment before lowering himself to his arse and sitting next to Dobby, watching the waves. He isn't sure what he’s supposed to say. He isn’t sure he can speak. So he sits with Dobby. His staunch protector untilthe last. Sits with his friend and watches the waves crash and the clouds pass until he feels ready to leave. By the time he stands, the sun is painting the sky a glorious landscape of blush pinks and inky purples.
“The cost of freedom.” Harry mutters as he runs his fingers over the top of Dobby’s stone. “I’ll do my best to make it worth it. To live well and love hard. For everyone who gave their lives for our freedom.” with renewed steel, Harry leaves Dobby’s grave and heads to the cottage,
He’s halfway up the path when Fleur opens the door, offers him a sad smile and open arms. As he effortlessly collapses into her hold Harry can’t help but wonder at the strings of the universe, how he first met this woman, who she is to him now. She pulls him inside and fusses over him pushing him into the kitchen and a cup of hot tea pressed into his cold fingers.
“I saw you at the grave so I made the tea” she clucks. He imagines she would loath to hear it but she reminds him of Mrs Weasley as she fusses over him, calling through the house for Bill to come. “He has been waiting for you to come, '' she tells Harry softly, moving away from him to settle against the workbench, crossing her arms to watch Harry. There’s an aspect of something close to pity in her eyes as she watches him blow on his tea. He doesn't respond.
“There you are Harry” Bill leans against the door frame, rubbing dirty hands on a towel to wipe away what looks like mud. He smiles warmly at Harry and reaches out to ruffle Harry’s hair as he passes by to kiss Fleur.
“Hi Bill, sorry to drop by like this” Harry starts but Bill just snorts.
“You’re family Harry, you're always welcome” Bill rests against the worktop next to his wife and watches Harry with that same look of pity on his face and Harry grinds his teeth. With slightly more force than he had intended Harry slams the mug down on the counter and looks at the ceiling.
“Why don't you just spit out whatever it is you think I want rather than looking at me like that.” Harry lowers his gaze to Bill who has the grace to look guilty. “It’s rather irritating” Bill clears his throat and picks up his own mug.
“Sorry Harry. The subject has always been delicate for you. I assume” Bill’s scared fingers rub along his mug as he hesitates, seeming to choose a change in course before continuing. “I know you’re Teddy’s godfather. I have been speaking with Andromeda about raising Teddy…sharing my research. She informed me that she was asking you to take Ted. That she had given you something to open your mind and see things more clearly to help you make your choice…and in that process….you had visited Malfoy Manor.” Harry waits. Letting Bill chew on his words while Harry studies him, searching for a hint as to Bill's thoughts. When Bill does not continue Harry does.
“Yes” It's simple. Abrupt and cautious all at once. Bill nods.
“You’re going to testify for Draco and his mother?”
“I don’t know” the truth. Even if it makes his heart lurch and ash form on his tongue.
“I’m not going to testify at all” Bill says and Harry frowns. “They asked me to” Bill states “To testify against Draco. I won’t do that” Harry blinks, he hadn't even considered that. Who else had been called to testify against Draco?
“Why?” Is all he can think to say and Bill smiles sadly.
“Draco did some awful stuff, I know that. But I also know he didn't choose to bring Greyback into the castle. He was 16 Harry. When I was 16 I nearly took my friend's arm off with a miscast spell. I felt awful but I was just a stupid kid. Minnie sat me down in her office while I shook uncontrollably, trying to take my punishment like the Prefect I was. She just gave me a cup of tea and some biscuits and asked if I was okay. She reassured me that she knew I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone and that spells misfire all the time. She didn’t think any less of me and thought there was no need to inflict punishment when I was already so clearly beating myself up about it already. Just a stupid kid dicking about with my friends. Draco was just a stupid kid trying to keep his mother safe. Everything he did, every choice he made was to save his mother. Not a single person who got hurt because of Draco’s choices was deliberate. He wasn't trying to hurt me or Ron or Katie. They were all just mistakes. Side effects. I don’t know Draco very well… but if it was me, the guilt from my actions would be more than punishment enough. What was he supposed to do? What would I have done in his place? I can’t testify against Draco Malfoy when I can't fault the choices he made in that situation. I find him forgivable.” Bills takes a deep swig of his tea and Harry runs a hand through his own hair. Isn't this exactly what he was saying about Regulus?
Harry pictures his mother, this new vibrant image of her he now gets to put together from her immortalised words, Lily Evans. If he had known her. Had more to cling to than this scrapbooked imaginings, what might he have willingly done to keep her safe.
“I also,” Bill adds, still watching Harry. “Have no problem if you choose to testify for Draco and his mother. Mrs Malfoy did her part to keep you alive and Draco. I don't hold anything against him but I don't know him well enough to have any part in deciding his guilt. Do you find him worthy of redemption, Harry? Do you find him repentant?”