So It Begins
I: Regulus
There wasn't a day Regulus feared more than when the Grisha testers came to 12 Grimmauld Place. Later on in life, Regulus would correct this thought but at age seven, Regulus couldn't think past the moment the doorbell rang and the sight of three Grisha, each in a different brightly coloured kefta representing their Order, stepped through into the foyer. Sirius was ecstatic, bounding on the balls of his feet and couldn't keep still.
Regulus, on the other hand, was not.
Regulus shifted, picked at his fingers, wide-eyed gaze flickering between the Corporalnik, the Etherealnik, the Materialnik, his brother and his parents. All four of the Blacks within the main sitting room knew what the outcome of today’s testing would be. Walburga and Orion were both Heartrenders, they came from a long line of them. The Black ancestors, all of Regulus' cousins - Bellatrix, Narcissa, Andromeda - were all Heartrenders. Walburga had been drilling down on them since they were three - beatings, lashes, even resulting to her own ablilites that came with a glowing red kefta embroidered with ebony black -, using whatever she could get her hands on to threaten their Grisha power out of them.
Sirius' gifts had been more willing. By the time he was four, Sirius was able to focus on heartbeats, slow or race them as he pleased. Of course, Walburga and Orion could've turned him into the Second Army the moment he showed signs of abilities. Though, they'd prefered to keep him confined to the dark halls and towering walls of Grimmauld Place, as have all the Blacks before them, running over beliefs, manners, speeches, history into his brain before he was deemed 'acceptable' to represent the Black family name at the Little Palace.
Regulus, however, had always been a bit more behind. Walburga was not pleased the first time he managed to manipulate the Small Science. She had been expecting the rushing of blood, the lack of oxygen, the speeding or slowing of her pulse. Instead, she'd found her hair had changed colour; turning from the dark of ravens feathers to the white of Fjerdan snow. Walburga had struck him across the face, had taken a blade to the wings of his shoulder blades, had stopped the blood rushing through his legs to send him tumbling to the floor, had pressed on his larynx for just long enough to send him unconscious. No Black would be a Tailor.
Regulus had been five then. Sirius had to drag him out of their father's drawing room and down the hall to his bedchambers, a trail of blood crusting on the hardwood. Walburga had made him clean it, as punishment. Regulus remembered the blood flaking off, gathering under his fingernails. He remembered the strain on his shoulders as his wounds tore open from the lack of a healer, just the sad first aid provided by Walburga's personal servant, Kreacher. He remembers the bruises on his knees from hours spent on the floor.
In the years to come, Regulus' Heartrending abilities revealed itself. Much too slowly for his parents liking but unraveled nonetheless. By age seven, Regulus could do what Sirius managed at five. But no matter what punishment he reaped for his lack of skill, Sirius found a way to share the blame. He'd pull some mischievous scheme, break some family heirloom, do things to drift his parents wrath away from Regulus and onto himself.
Regulus hated Sirius for it, for getting himself hurt. Regulus hated himself for allowing it to happen. He hated himself for how much he relied on it.
Though, as Regulus had come to terms with many times throughout his life, all good things must come to an end eventually.
Now, as Sirius stood at age eight, vibrating with excitement, his manipulation of the Small Science would be revealed. He'd be charted away and off to the Little Palace, where he'd train side-by-side with the Corporalki his age. He'd leave Regulus behind, caged within the cold building they called a home. Regulus was only seven. He'd have to wait a year to be tested. A year spent alone with his parents, a year unprotected, a year to lose himself completely to the Black family madness.
And when Sirius would inevitably return for summer holidays, he'd wear the same crimson coat of armour his parents did with the same level of pride.
"Would you please step forward, Mr. Black." The Etherealnik said.
Sirius obeyed instantly. His eyes flickered passed the woman in blue. Grey-blue met grey-green. Sirius' lips pulled into a soft smile. Regulus didn't return the gesture, only picked more at his nails. Sirius winked. Regulus blew out a breath and his lips twitched. A boney hand gripped at his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin and nails imprinting five cresent moons on his flesh. Regulus' small smile - if you could even call it that - faded immeadietly. He clasped his hands behind his back and gripped his fingers hard, forcing his nervous twitch to stop.
"Mr. Black," The Tidemaker continued. "You are aware of what this test entails, yes?"
Sirius nodded.
"Roll up your sleeve."
Sirius did as demanded, rolling up the fabric of his poet shirt to his elbow. He held out his forearm and the Etherealnik took it in her hands. She ran her fingers down his skin and clamped down firmly around his wrist. The Tidemaker brought her other hand to his skin, a thin blade held tight in her grasp. In a quick, fluid motion, she dragged the blade across the width of his forearm, leaving a trail of dripping crimson in its wake.
Sirius didn't even flinch.
The Materialnik quickly took the Etherealnik's place and Sirius let out a gasp. He must be an amplifyer, Regulus thought.
And he was right. The combination of pain and amplification caused the power to burst out of Sirius in a surge. Regulus felt his heart rate accelerate and excitement flooded through his viens. Though, just as soon as it started, the high faded. The Alkemi withdrew his hand and the blade fell from Sirius' skin. The Corporalnik, which Regulus has just noticed is a Healer, based off the silver embroidery, stepped forward. Her hand drifted over the slash on Sirius' arm and when she stepped back, all that was left was a shiny white scar.
"He is Grisha," The Tidemaker said, turning towards Walburga and Orion. "He shall report to the Little Palace immedeatly. You have thirty minutes for him to gather his things and for you to say your goodbyes."
Walburga and Orion only nodded.
The three Grisha left house, waiting on the steps for Sirius to gather his belongings.
"You're a Heartrender." Regulus whispered.
"We already knew that." Walburga snapped.
"I am a Heartrender." Sirius confirmed, ignoring his mother and grinning wolfishly at his younger brother.
"You're leaving for the Little Palace." Regulus could hear the tremor in his own voice.
Walburga smacked him upside the head, hard. Regulus bit back a wince.
"Boys don't cry." She hissed than whirled on her heels, storming out of the room with her kefta billowing behind her. Orion scrambled after her.
The two brothers sat in silence for a moment. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. They stood, staring at eachother. They were on either side of the room yet Regulus had never felt so far away, so...disconnected from the person who had always been the other half of his soul. They were about to spend the longest period of time apart from one another and the reality of the situation felt thick in the air, wrapping them in a suffocating blanket.
"Will you write?" Regulus asked finally.
"Of course, Reggie."
"Every week?"
"Every day, if you need me to."
Regulus nodded and they fell into silence again.
"You don't need to be scared, Reggie." Sirius said.
"Why shouldn't I be?"
Sirius took a step forward. Then another, and another, and another until he stood directly in front of Regulus, looking down into his eyes. "I'll always protect you."
"How can you do that if you're all the way out there?" Regulus' voice broke as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the Little Palace.
"I'll find a way." Sirius said firmly, pulling Regulus in a tight hug. He said it with such confidence that Regulus had no choice but to believe him. For a brief moment, while Regulus was sheltered from everything else in his brother's arms, Regulus allowed himself to feel hope, to feel that maybe everything will be alright.
But all good things must come to an end eventually.
II: Sirius
There wasn't a day Sirius looked forward to more than the day the Grisha testers came and whisked him out of his parents' chilling grasp. Later on in life, Sirius would experience many moments where he felt the same rush of excitment that he did that faithful morning. But the day the Alkemi had clamped down on his arm would be one of his favourites until he joined the star he was named after. The rush of power that had exploded within him was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It had him craving for more, reaching desperately for tasks he could not yet complete but would in the years to come.
Though, if there was one thing that Sirius had enjoyed more than the moment of amplification, it was the feeling of freedom when he stepped off the front step and into the carriage bearing the King's legendary double-eagle. Sirius could draw that mark with his eyes closed. Orion had made sure Sirius knew everything about Ravka's throne.
"The family name used to be Lantsov. Somewhere along the line of succession it was traded for Dumbledore and no one knows just quite how." Orion had seethed many times before. For once, it had not been because he was infuriated with Sirius. The Blacks despised the Dumbledores with everything they could.
"Who is Ravka's current King?" Orion had demanded one night in his study.
"Albus Dumbledore." Sirius responded without hesitation.
Orion scowled. "Unfortunately, that is correct. Be weary of him. Do not fall victim to his charms."
Sirius had been puzzled. "Why not? Don't we serve him as members of the Second Army?"
Orion slammed his hands down on his desk. "Listen to me, boy. We serve Ravka, not that cheating bag of otkazat'sya scum. What keeps things running smoothly?"
"Tradition."
"Exactly, boy. If there is one thing Albus Dumbledore is trying to be rid of is tradition. What is the royal family crest?"
"The double-eagle."
Orion's face darkened considerably. "As it should always be. Dumbledore, however, thinks not. He wants to change it to a pheonix. The only reason he hasn't done it yet is for fear his subjects will riot. A King without his citizens is a sailor without his boat; nothing."
Sirius shook his head, trying to send the reminders of his father's teachings flying out of his ears as he sat down.
The Materialnik settled beside him, the Etherealnik and Corporalnik opposite him. The Alkemi glanced over Sirius before shifting to the small window. He had eyes the colour of his fading grey hair. His skin was pale and but his cheeks were flushed. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and his heart was racing. He was pudgier than your average man and radiated with nerves. He shifted and adjusted his kefta.
The Tidemaker had hair like caramel pulled back into tight braid and eyes like melted honey. Her skin was rosy and her posture straight. She, too, was looking out the window, watching as the trees sped by.
The Healer's eyes, clear as a cloudless sky, shifted between her companions. Her hair, blonde as sand, was pinned back and out of her face. She sighed, exasperated, and turned to Sirius.
"Hello, dear. We weren't properly introduced. My name is Poppy. Poppy Pomfrey." She held out her hand and Sirius shook it.
"Sirius Black." He responded.
Poppy stared expectantly at her companions. The Tidemaker rolled her eyes but introduced herself nonetheless. "Pomona Sprout."
The Materialnik stayed silent, keeping his gaze firmly on the world outside.
Poppy smacked the Alkemi's knee with the back of her hand. "C'mon, Horace."
The Alkemi - Horace - shifted his gaze over to Sirius for just a moment. "Horace Slughorn."
Sirius nodded but Slughorn had already turned back to the window. Both Horace and Pomona had lost interest with him and Poppy pinched her nose with a sigh. She dropped her hand and smiled at him. "Sorry about them, dear. They can be quite dull. How are you feeling?"
"Excited." He replied without missing a beat.
Poppy raised an eyebrow. "Just excited?"
Sirius thought for a moment. Was there more to his feelings than just the rush of freedom? His heart was beating faster and he couldn't keep still, no matter how hard he tried. His fingers were twitching, his leg was bouncing, he was shifting. He was leaving for the Little Palace! He should be excited. He should be happy. He was free, at least a little bit. The most free he's ever been.
But leaving for the Little Palace meant leaving Reggie.
"Perhaps a little...guilty, as well." Sirius admitted.
Poppy smiled softly. “Is this the first time you two have been apart?”
Sirius nodded.
“It’s perfectly normal to feel guilty. But you’ll be reunited soon enough. He is just one year younger than you, yes?” Sirius nodded again. “Then who knows? He may just follow you back to the Little Palace next year.”
He will.
Sirius had never seen a bigger building(aside from the Grand Palace he had passed on the way in). The Little Palace was tall, its ceilings were made of gold. It was quite possibly the ugliest building he’d ever seen. The wooden walls were carved with intricate designs. As Sirius was given a tour with all the other new Grisha, he could tell which type of Grisha were to go where. As they walked passed the bedchambers of Squallers, Inferni and Tidemakers, he saw waves, gusts of wind and flames rising to the ceiling. As they past the library, there were books and quills. The halls outside the Materialki workshop were covered in different gemstones and different organs were engraved outside the Corporalki training rooms.
Sirius had to admit, despite the building looking like the architect was blind, the thought was clearly there and the designs had to have been drawn by the Saints themselves.
Sirius was so utterly infatuated with the carvings that he hadn't even noticed that the newest generation of Grisha had been split apart. Sirius and all the other eight-year-old Corporalki had been led into a room with red glass doors. The room was bare and smelled intensely of cleaning products. Along the walls of the room, at least fifty Corporalki were gathered, their kefta's all the same ruby red with embroidery ranging from silver, to black and even one or two blue. Sirius made eye contact with two certain Heartrenders, hair black as night and eyes just as dark. Neither one of them even acknowledged him.
At the head of the room, in front of another set of doors, stood Poppy beside a man whose face was nearly more scars than flesh. One eye was missing, replaced by a Fabrikator-made substitute that wizzed around in its socket. How it worked, Sirius couldn't even begin to guess. His hair was thin, scraggly and a disgusting shade of yellow. His kefta was the same as everyone else's, with the same flourish of black Sirius himself would soon wear. A wooden peg peeked out from under his kefta in the space a leg should be and he leaned against a cane made of sturdy wood.
"Listen up!" He shouted, speaking quickly and as if the Fjerdans or Shu were knocking on those glass doors. Whatever chatter that had been floating about the room fell silent instantly. "I am Alastor Moody but you shall refer to me as Mad-Eye. Today begins your years of learning here at the Little Palace. You will learn the theory of the Small Science and how to use it. You will learn how to heal, how to kill or how to modify. You will learn how foolish it is to rely on simply your Grisha abilities and the art of combat. You will learn how to be a soldier, how to walk beside your comrades and who you shall bring to their knees. You will learn who are your friends and who are you enemies. But first, you must adorn the badge of a Corporalnik."
Mad-Eye snapped his fingers and the doors behind him slammed open. Servents dressed in white flooded from out behind him, each falling into some sort of formation. Many had pounds of red fabric in their hands and others had tape measures.
"Any Tailors in this batch of novices, step forward." Moody demanded. Sirius glanced around at the people around him. No one moved.
Moody didn't seem surprised. "Healers, form a line in front of Madame Pomfrey. Heartrenders, do the same in front of me.
Sirius, along with half of the new recruits, stepped up to Mad-Eye. The servants surged forward, closing in on the Heartrender at the front of the line. One glance over to Poppy's line told Sirius the same thing was happening to the Healers. Most of the others his age looked terrified as the servants fluttered around, taking measurements and handing out pre-sewn keftas. But not Sirius, no. Saints forbid he wasn't informed about every little detail and became frightened by a bunch of servants. Not the best way to uphold the Black family reputation.
When it was his turn, Sirius stayed still and did exactly as the servants asked of him. Within a minute, a shiny red and black kefta was thrust into his hands and he was shooed away. Sirius walked back, beaming as he shoved his arms into his warm, bulletproof coat of armour. When he glanced over at his parents, Walburga was scowling at his blatant show of emotion. However, Sirius saw the faintest hint of his father's fleeting smile. He only grinned harder, a ridiculous amount of dopamine rushing through him.
He approves!Sirius' mind screamed with joy
Sirius stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back next to a Healer. He was decidedly more nervous than Sirius, twisting his hands in a way that reminded him of Reggie.
Reggie. Sirius' heart ached. He shoved it down. He'd deal with the longing later.
The Healer had a mop of tidy brown curls atop his head and his pale skin was dotted with freckles. His hazel eyes bounced between sight to sight, moving from Moody, to Poppy, to the older Corporalki, the new Healers, the new Heartrenders and then, finally, Sirius.
"Oh- hello." The boy waved shyly, a gesture Sirius almost missed.
Sirius grinned at him, offering his hand for a shake. "Hi. I'm Sirius Black."
The Healer took his hand. "Edgar Bones. Pleasure to meet you, Sirius."
"The pleasure is all mine, Edgar."
Edgar and Sirius had become quick friends, exchanging happy stories - though Edgar had considerably more than Sirius - and asking the basic ‘get to know you’ questions.
It was because of those questions Sirius found out Edgar had a sister. A twin sister. Who was here. In the Little Palace. With him.
“She’s an Etherealnik though,” Edgar said with a hint of sadness in his voice. It disappeared as quick as it came, hiding behind a grin. “It could be worse. We were so scared when we found out I was a Healer. We’ve never spent much time apart, just the two of us against the world. But then a miniature flood came through our house when she was tested and we were off to this place.” He gestured up at the ceiling. “What about you? Have you any siblings?”
Sirius nodded, watching the designs on the walls as they headed for the Great Hall. “A brother. He’s a year younger.”
“Oh.” Edgar was silent for a moment. “Who knows? Maybe next year you’ll find out he’s a Durast or an Alkemi or- oh! Maybe even an Inferni or-“
“He’s a Heartrender.” Sirius interrupted as they stepped into the hall full of chatter. Summoners, Fabrikators and Corporalki alike gathered around the four long tables in a strange array of red, blue and purple. A long table was set horizontally at the front of the room. Slughorn, Sprout, Mad-Eye, Poppy, Kettleburn(the otkazat’sya combat trainer Sirius had met earlier) and Minerva McGonagall, the Inferni who was the General of the Second Army, sat at the grand chairs among other people.
Edgar looked at him quizzically. “How do you know?”
“The same way I knew that I was a Heartrender.”
“You are being frustratingly vague.”
Sirius contemplated his answer. “The Blacks have all been Heartrenders,” he said slowly, deciding not to mention the fact his Grisha abilities had been beaten out of him. That didn’t exactly fit the picture perfect image his parents had created. Instead, he pointed to where his parents had sat down beside his Uncle Cygnus, Aunt Druella and their children Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda. Due to the inbreeding within his family - to better their chances on a complete Heartrender bloodline - all of them looked extremely similar and painfully related. “It isn’t hard to guess the outcomes of testing."
Edgar nodded but still had a confused look in his eye. Fortunately, he was unable to ask any more questions as he was practically tackled by a girl dressed in summoner blue.
“Edgar!” She squealed happily. Sirius noticed how similar they looked, the main difference being hair length, voice, her softer face and slimmer build.
“Amelia!” He cried, just as excited.
The two twins began a fast-paced conversation that Sirius could barely keep up in. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling like an intruder, and gazed around the Hall again. This time, however, Andy met his eyes and grinned, beckoning him over enthusiastically. He beamed back at her and slipped from Edgar’s side, weaving his way to his family. Andy shifted over, making space for him next to her.
“Sirius!” She exclaimed, much like Amelia did with Edgar.
“Andy!” He replied, greeting her with a hug. When he pulled away, he acknowledged the rest of the table and exchanged pleasantries, patting Cissa’s hand and nodding to everyone else.
“Trixy.” He said to Bella, smirking as she scowled.
“Siri.” She responded just as she had since he started calling her ‘Trixy’ at age three.
“Welcome, my boy.” Uncle Cygnus said with a slight grin. He was always easier to impress than his parents.
Speaking of which, Walburga’s chilling drawl slithered into the conversation.
“Yes, yes,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Sirius, who was that you were conversing with?”
“Edgar Bones, mother.” He responded, face going blank and voice empty.
“He’s a Healer."
“I know, mother.”
“Why not another Heartrender?”
“He just so happened to get his keftaas I did. He was the person closest to me.” Sirius tried not to cringe at the hollowness of his own words. Andy felt tense against him, her hand tracing small circles on his shoulder in an attempt of comfort.
“Aunt Walburga,” Cissa cut in smoothly before his mother could respond, picking up her glass. “Perhaps it’s a good thing Sirius was conversing with a Healer. The more friendships and connections he creates, the more strings he’ll be able to pull later on in life. And he’ll be rooming with other Heartrenders, he can speak to some then.”
Walburga turned her head slowly to Cissa, opened her mouth and then closed it after a moment. After a minute of contemplation, she responded. “Wise words, Narcissa. Perhaps you have a point.”
Andy relaxed and Sirius felt his own shoulders sag, if only a little. He glanced over at Cissa and mouthed a discreet ‘thank you’.
His cousin only winked in return.
Sirius was settling into life at the Little Palace with ease. It was nice to know that if he was caught slouching while studying the Grisha theory he wouldn’t be reprimanded with a slap across the face. In fact, he wasn’t reprimanded at all.
Sirius was miles ahead of all the other Corporalki his age. They were still learning the beginnings of Grisha theory and basic human anatomy, things Sirius had memorized years ago. He quickly became a favourite of Mad-Eye, always having the answers to questions the others didn’t.
Combat training, however, was more of a struggle. He was in the same position as everyone else. He didn’t know how to throw a punch. He could duck, he could dodge but he didn’t know how to block. At least at first. Unfortunately, Kettleburn had also taken a favouring to him for the way he always got back up without so much as a complaint. Another thing he could thank his parents for.
It was the beginning of week two of his stay at the Little Palace and Sirius was letting his aching muscles rest by the lake, watching the Etherealki practice their summoning from a face distance away. In his lap sat a notepad and a sketch pencil dangled lazily between his fingers. Drawing had been a skill he picked up in his early years, discovered when he was forced to sketch human anatomy for his notes to please his parents. The range of his drawing grew from organs and bones to his brother, his garden, sunsets and animals. Right now, the beginnings of a drawing had formed in his page; an Inferni, a Squaller and a Tidemaker, their reflections shining in the glimmering water below them.
As Sirius held his pencil more firmly, planning to sketch the details of the summoner’s keftas, when he heard the rustle of leaves behind him.
Sirius’ head snapped up, eyes scouring the gaps between the branches of the forest at his back. Had Edgar returned and was trying to sneak up on him? He had gone to meet some of his sister’s friends. Had he returned so soon? Was he trying to pull a scream from Sirius?
“Edgar?” He called and the shifting stopped but he heard no reply.
Sirius lifted his hands, searching for heartbeats. He wouldn’t be able to do anything to whoever was spying, not without seeing them, but his suspicions would be confirmed. He felt the thumping of a heart, slightly faster than it should be but that wasn’t surprising, hiding in a bush just inside the treeline.
“Who are you?” He demanded. “What do you want?”
Still, he received no reply.
Sirius set his drawing materials down and cautiously got to his feet, hands still raised. He slowly stalked towards the bush, preparing for a fight.
“I can feel your heartbeat, sneak. Come face me or I’ll make you.” He threatened.
The bush shuffled fiercely and out scrambled a boy at least two inches taller than him. His head was covered with the most unruly dark curls Sirius had ever seen. The words his parents might say about the untidiness of it made him cringe. His skin was a beautiful light brown and his eyes glimmered hazel. A pair of circular black glasses was perched on his nose and he frantically pushed them up as he threw his hands above his head.
“Please don’t kill me!”
Sirius paused but kept his hands up. The boy wore no kefta but instead some dirty play clothes. Around his neck dangled a compass etched with a grand sailor ship inside the circle of the sun. Was there some way he belonged to the Grand Palace and had somehow gotten lost? He certainly wasn’t of royal blood, Dumbledore was paler than Sirius and he had the skin tone of a Fjerdan. The son of a servant maybe? Or a lord?
“Who are you?” Sirius repeated.
“James- James Potter."
Potter. The name wasn’t something he’d heard before. Sirius tilted his head. “Where did you come from? You certainly aren’t Grisha.”
James shook his head, daring to let his hands fall to his sides. “Nope. Otkazat’sya. My dad’s an Alkemi though!”
Sirius’ mind instantly went to Slughorn but even he knew he couldn’t be more wrong. “What’re doing here?”
James shrugged. “I was playing around and saw you drawing and wanted to get a better look. You have some real talent.”
Sirius lowered his hands. “Thanks? Do you belong to the Grand Palace?”
“Nope!”
This James had a tremendous about of energy and enthusiasm, the very things Sirius would be lashed for.
Sirius loved him already. But he was still a little suspicious.
“Then why are you playing here, of all places?”
“My dad needed a favour from Minnie.”
“Minnie?”
“Minerva McGonagall? The General?”
“You call her Minnie?”
“Dad calls her Minnie, Mum calls her Minnie, so I call her Minnie.”
“A soldier calls his General ‘Minnie’?”
“Oh no. No, no, no. My dad’s not a soldier.”
Sirius’ eyes widened. “He’s a deserter?”
“No! He’d never- he’s not- it’s complicated.”
Sirius didn’t reply, still wide-eyed.
James cleared his throat and his eyes shifted to Sirius’ notepad. “Can I see your drawing up close?”
Sirius, grateful for the topic change, ran to get his sketch.