Believe in Yourself
I: Caradoc
Caradoc was worried. Plain and simple. Regulus had been enduring a year of Moody's one-on-one lessons - besides the summer, of course, but he had doubts that the break from the Little Palace brought much comfort - with little progress. He was still convinced he could become the perfect Heartrender his parents wanted him to be.
Caradoc pitied him. His mothers had been very supportive when they found out the child they had adopted from Keramzin had turned out to be Grisha- and a Tailor, no less. He couldn't imagine just how much Regulus was struggling.
Actually, that was a lie. Caradoc noticed the in increase of seams appearing along Regulus' face. At first, it had just been the scars under his eyes. Sometimes, his Tailoring job became stronger, as if he had not only vanished them, but healed them as well. Then it was the bags under his eyes and bringing a flush to his increasingly pale skin. There always seemed to be another seam each time Caradoc saw the boy, which was concering considering they had lessons twice a week.
Caradoc would forever remember when he first saw those small, prestine slashes under Regulus' eyes. His heart tugged and his stomach churrned. Regulus, who had been nine years old at the time - had taken a blade to himself. But Caradoc wasn't an idiot. He had first suspected Moody had been the culprit simply for how old they looked. Dependeding on how long their private lessons had been goining on, Caradoc wouldn't put it pass the old school Corporalnik to create permanent scarring. But when Regulus had admited the scars had been created by his own hand, he knew that something was askew in the House of Black. Caradoc doubted the thoughts of harming himself had come to him naturally. Something - or someone - had corrupted his line of thought. And guessing the age of those scars, he would bet every coin he's ever made that his parents had something to do with it.
Caradoc had heard stories of the Blacks, Walburga and Orion especially. They were ruthless in battle, admired by all the younger Corporalki who saw their work. During the educational year, Walburga and Orion were repeadedly sent out to Ravkan boarders, the Fjerdan boarder specifically. They tempted drüskelle hunters and obliterated them, thinning their forces. During the sunny months, they stayed closer to the Little Palace and patrolled the streets of Os Alta, protecting the Ravkan throne and citizens.
They were hard, cold and emotionless. They were apathetic. Took a bullet? You should've been wearing your kefta. You were? Then get up and walk it off. A Healer will tend to you afterwards.
Caradoc thought that maybe, just maybe, they had been different with their children. But judging by Regulus' scars, the way he spoke about his family and the stories he's heard of Sirius Black when the year comes close to closing, he knew he was wrong.
Beside him at the high table within in the dining hall, Moody shook his head, clicking his tongue. He glanced over and found Mad-Eye staring where Caradoc had been moments before. Regulus sat squeezed between his cousins at the table the Corporalki usually favoured. Next to him was the unmistakable platinum blonde of Narcissa Black, who was pointedly ignoring the wistful glance of Lucius Malfoy a few seats down. On his other side was Bellatrix Black, who showed as much promise as her aunt and uncle, though she had a loose screw or two. Across from him was Andromeda, who was telling a story with a smile on her face. Next to her was Regulus' brother, catching every word the least ruthless Black was saying as if her voice was water and he was dehydrating in the jurda fields in Novyi Zem.
Moody sighed and took a swig from his flask. The old man claims someone had tried to posion him once and he's never trusted another drink again. Considering Mad-Eye had half his body missing, most believed the rediculous story. Caradoc had his doubts.
"What?" Caradoc demanded, looking him up and down with annoyance.
"The most lousy Heartrender I've ever had to teach." Moody grumbled, nodding in Regulus' direction.
He's not a Heartrender. Caradoc's mind whispered. He shoved it away. It was Regulus' secret, and he'd carry it with him until the day he died.
"I'd second that," Kettleburn commented from next to Moody. "The boy's built like a twig." Moody hummed in agreement.
Caradoc scowled. "He's not lousy. Regulus is one of my smartest students."
"You teach cosmetics, Dearborn. It's more of an insult than a compliment. And besides, the rest of your class has feathers for brains." Kettleburn said with a chuckle.
Caradoc bristled. "First off-"
"Oh enough," Pomfrey groaned, glaring over at the three of them from her seat beside their General. McGonagall glanced over, a curious furrow in her brow - mostly interested in whatever was making her not-so-secret lover upset - and promptly rolled her eyes when she saw the head Heartrender, the otkazat'sya combat teacher and the Little Palace's only (known) Tailor quarrling once again. "Regulus Black is a wonderful student. He's having a little trouble and it would be easier if you actually helped him instead of wacking him with that cane of yours!"
Caradoc's head snapped to Moody so fast he swore he could hear a crack. He knew Moody was doing something along those lines but hearing someone put the truth into words ignited a fire in his gut. Caradoc glared, murder in his eyes. "You're what?!"
Moody smiled cruely and Caradoc wanted to knock his teeth out. "Protective, are you?"
Caradoc clenched his fists and Poppy patted his shoulded. He glanced back at her to see pitying, understanding eyes.
"He has private lessons every Saturday and Wednesday, should you like to come and mediate. And, perhaps, he might do well with someone who knows how he learns. " She said.
Moody glared at her over Caradoc's head but the Tailor beamed, quickly agreeing with a nod.
Saturday evening came by and Caradoc slipped through the crimson glass doors. The General had pulled him aside after dinner for a quick report on his students and when he arrived in Moody's classroom, him, Regulus and Poppy were already at it. Caradoc had entered just in time to see Mad-Eye stab his cane in Regulus' kidney. The young Tailor didn't even react, only twisting his hands harder. His jaw tightened as whatever he was attempting to do failed.
Caradoc strode across the room, catching the end of Moody's cane in a tight grip as he rose for another swing. Regulus whipped around, mouth dropping open as Mad-Eye scowled.
"You're late." Moody sneered.
"The General had a couple questions," Caradoc replied, equally as cold. He twisted the cane in Moody's grip and yanked it back, sending the one-legged man stumbling forward. Caradoc elbowed him in the stomach and Moody dropped the cane. Caradoc passed it to a waiting Poppy and glared at the Heartrender, who glared right back. "First change: no physical punishment."
"It's been proven a thousand times over that pain brings out a Grisha's ability." Moody hissed.
"Well, it's barbaric and obviously not working so instead of using the same methods from the time of the Darkling, we change to a more resonable and effective strategy." Caradoc said.
"You're joining these now too?" Regulus asked quietly. Caradoc's eyes snapped to him, frowning at the shame shining in his grey eyes.
"I'm only trying to help, Regulus. I could leave, though, should it make you uncomfortable."
A message glimmered in the child's eyes.
But you already know.
I know but there are traces of Heartrender in there and if there's any hope of bringing it out, I'm going to help you.
"Absolute rubbish," Moody growled. "There's no point, Dearborn. He's pathetic and a lost cause. Practically a squib."
Regulus flinched and Caradoc felt the rage surge through him again. A squib was perhaps the worst thing a Grisha could be called. It meant that, while you had somesort of control over the Small Science, you were so incredibly weak and beyond the help of Saints.
Caradoc wasn't a violent person. He was a soldier, sure, and he'd survived the orphanage. He knew how to fight. But he didn't choose to fight. But now, standing in front of Mad-Eye, fists clenched at his side, face flushed with anger and seeing red, it took serious restraint to not punch the Corporalnik in the face. It was a fight he couldn't win, he knew that, but the temptation flickered through his blood and he thought Moody might be able to feel it.
Poppy's voice brought him back from the vicious fantasies running through his head. "He's not a squib. I saw his testing. It was one of the most powerful examples of the Small Science that I've ever witnessed, much less from a complete beginner. He knocked someone out cold and threatened the life of two others."
Moody raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing.
Caradoc turned to Regulus', whose eyes had been bouncing from Corporalnik to Corporalnik. "What do you think is wrong?"
Regulus paused, biting his tongue. His gaze flickered to Moody before landing back on Caradoc.
At once, he understood.
Caradoc turned to Moody. "Leave."
The Heartrender's face contorted to appalled rage. "I am his professor. I am the Heartrender. This is my lesson. You can't tell me to leave."
"I can and I will."
Regulus cleared his throat and all eyes fell on him. "It's- it's fine."
"What's different between now and when you were tested, besides the amplification?" Poppy asked, smiling softly.
Once again, Regulus hesitated and had to force his words out. He turned his back to Moody and reached a hand out, tracing a pattern only he could see.
"When I was amplified, everything seemed clear. Like I had spent my life in a cloud of fog and it finally dissipated. And, before you say anything, I knew I was Grisha beforehand. My whole family has been, and I'd been manipulating the Small Science for years, even if a it was a little pathetic. But...it felt like my power was locked in a chest and that amplification had been the key," he took a deep breath and his hand stuttered, pausing in midair as if caught on something. "But now...it's like trying to reach through a wall. I can feel it, just out of reach. Like one small brick has been removed but my fingers are too big to reach through. Slughorn had been a wrecking ball and the wall had fallen. But when he let go, the bricks just slipped back into place."
Caradoc knew that feeling. Oh, he knew it well. He hadn't known he was Grisha beforehand, like Regulus had, but when he understood his potential, his power put up quite the fight. When he had finally broken that barrier, it was the best feeling in the world.
Fortunetly, he knew exactly what needed to happen for Regulus to be free of his problem.
Caradoc walked over and stood behind Regulus, who had let his hand drop. Caradoc placed his hands on Regulus' shoulders and the boy let him. He leaned down and whispered so only he could here.
"You just need to believe that you can break that wall, that that power belongs to you, that you can control that power, that you deserve that power. Believe in yourself, Regulus. That's all it takes."
II: Remus
James was a strange boy. Remus knew this, of course. He, James and Peter had become like brothers after the...incident, with Greyback. But still, James found new ways to prove to Remus that he was not like all the other eleven-year-olds he knew(okay- maybe James, Pete and himself were the only eleven-year-olds he knew but still).
First, his unending supply of happiness and unnerved Remus, whose father had sold him to Greyback when he was four - when Lyall had found out what Remus was - and he'd been serving him and all his...desires since then. But, the more time Remus spent aboard The Marauder, he understood. James had the perfect life. He was otkazat'sya, a normal boy with no trace of Grisha in his blood. His mother homeschooled him, and later Remus and Pete, from the comfort of the large vessel. He also had lessons with Monty, all sea-related things as James was expected to become a privateer when Monty retired. Whether he'd keep the name Sol - which, Remus admits, would suit James perfectly - or take on a new pseudonym was his choice. James could do practically anything he wanted and Remus was jealous.
Then it was James' unnatural friendliness. That day at the harbour, he saw Remus, a boy he didn't even know, in need of help and ran without a second thought. He saw Peter, an orphanded Tidemarker terrified of Ravka's Second Army, and he brought both of them under his wings and aboard his ship, like they were life-long friends and not three boys who met under terrible cercomstances.
Next was the way James' demeanor could change with the snap of his fingers. One minute, he was laughing at his own joke and the next, he was dead serious, barking orders with confidence and a straight-backed posture.
One after another, the strange layers of James Potter unraveled and were laid out neatly in front of him, like sheets of metal. James' voice explained what each layer was, what it did, why he did it, how it made him feel and where it was supposed to go until Remus was able to take those layers in his hand and rebuild James Potter.
If only everyone could be like metals.
Metal was something Remus understood. The particles, the feel they had between his fingers, the strength of each one. Metal was something Remus knew how to use, how to bend, how to create something special. The same with gemstones, though Remus never saw many of those in his time with Greyback.
Something Remus didn't understand was conversational skills. Speaking was never a specialty Remus had to prefect. He was never permitted to talk. Before his dad sold him, he had barely known how to speak. And when he reached the stage of constant, uncomprehenable babbling, his father demanded him to stay silent. Once he had been handed to Greyback, he knew more speech, but he didn't know Kerch. His mother was Kaelish, his father Ravkan. He was fluent - or as fluent as an infant could be - in those languages. But in Kerch? Absolutely not. Greyback had found someone to teach him Kerch but even then, his only job had been to share his gift and - as Greyback had so disgustingly put - 'sit there and look pretty'.
Remus had lost his ability to speak Kaelish but knew how to speak Ravkan, at least a little bit. Monty had helped replenish his knowledge but it hadn't quite helped him develop conversational skills.
So how the Saints was he supposed to confront an upside down James Potter, who had somehow stuck in the hammock he had been sleeping in for the entirety of his life.
"What are you doing?" Remus asked bluntly, looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, y'know," James said, cheeks flushed - Remus suspected from both the blood rushing to his head and embarrasment - and yet, still smiling. "Just hanging around."
James chuckled but Remus stared, unimpressed. "Well, you seem happy here. I guess I'll go into town with just Pete and Monty then."
"No, please!" James cried as Remus made to step away. He paused and glanced back, James now swaying slightly as he tried to reach out and grab Remus' leg. "Please help me, Moony."
Moony. The nickname given to him after he had slashed two cresent moons over Greyback's eyes. The thought should've made him sick, should've sent him running for the edge of the ship and emptying his stomach, should've made him queasy. His nickname was derived from an inncident with Fenrir Greyback. And yet, all Remus felt was a flicker of satisfaction. Greyback had defiled him time and time again and Remus had finally gotten back at him. No one, and he means no one, will ever suffer like he had at the hand of Fenrir Greyback again.
Remus took James' outstretched hand and yanked. The bronze-skinned boy tumbled out and slammed against the deck. Remus rolled his eyes and stolled off the ship, stopping next to Monty - who was once again wearing that coat of red and gold. Remus had begun to wonder whether or not he ever wore anything else or washed the Saintsforsaken thing but found out Monty owned several of the same jacket - and Peter. Peter smiled up at him and Remus nodded in return.
James came barreling off the ship a few moments later and Monty sighed with a shake of his head.
"What was the hold up?" Monty asked as the four of them made for the edge of the bustling city on the outskirts of the Wandering Isle. Remus had almost refused Monty's offer when he asked if Remus would like to see what a Kaelish market looked like along with the other boys but he decided to come along anyway. Maybe there was a chance that he'd run into his mother, though he knew it was unlikely.
"I was saving a beetle that was stuck on the ship." James replied confidently.
Remus snorted. "He got stuck in a hammock."
Peter burst into loud cackles and Monty shook his head with a chuckle. James's face was doing an impressive impression of the flaming red hair all around them.
"Moony!" He hissed. "Wormtail- stop laughing!"
Peter had been given the nickname 'Wormtail' because he was like a rat in a few ways. It was like his mind was built for puzzels. This was found out when Monty had tried to teach all three boys chess. After James had figured out what all the pieces meant, he lost intrest quite quickly. He couldn't sit still long enough to play an entire game, always wanting to rush through or play around with the pieces, but he played a handful of matches here and there. Remus had soaked the information like a sponge and he wasn't horrible but he was a terrible loser. He could beat James easily, Effie was more of a challenge but he managed fine but that was it. When Pete had beat him for the first time, he spent the next three days staring murderously from afar and plotting his revenge(Pete was not happy when James' dirty sock ended up in his soup). But Pete, he had listened to every word Monty had said greedily and could recite the conversation from memory(that was also another rat quality. Why James new so much about rats, Remus had no idea). He quickly caught on to the game's secrets and demolished James, obliterated Effie, destroyed Remus and embarrased Monty. He had yet to be bested by anyone on Monty's crew.
Pete was also increadibly sneaky. The amount of times he's snuck into the Galley and stolen fresh cookies is too many to count but Remus was grateful for it. Nothing beat Effie's fresh chocolate-chip cookies.
When James had first made the connection between Pete and rats, a few nicknames had been thrown into the mix, all of which Peter objected to. Whiskers, Cheeseman, The Cheese Master, Mr. Babytoes and Furball had all been contenders but the Tidemaker had quickly shut down all the horrible things James and Remus were coming up with when he accepted 'Wormtail'.
Pete did not stop laughing as they entered the market and a wave of nostalgia washed over Remus. He stared longingly as small children were dragged from booth to booth, canopy to canopy by their mothers. He watched them all frown and whine and complain, remembering when it had been him and his mother. He was tempted to stop one of the duos and give the child a lecture. Don't take it for granted. It can all end so quickly.
Red hair blazed from most heads and Remus ran a hand through his curls on instinct. He had his father's features. There had been many times where Remus had wished he looked more like his mother, especially near Greyback, but no time compared to now. Should he had been born with copper hair and eyes like the sea, he woud've fit right in here. But now, he felt like an outsider, looking in on an old photograph. This wasn't his life anymore. It hadn't been for a long time and his heart ached.
"Remus?"
Remus whipped around, eyes wide. Standing in front of him was Mrs. Evans, Remus' childhood neighbour. She had two daughters, if Remus remembered correctly but his mind was so foggy whenever he looked that far back. But he did remember the times Mrs. Evans watched him while Lyall and Hope went to work.
"Mrs. Evans?"
Her emerald eyes went wide at the sight of his face. "Saints," she whispered in Kaelish. "What happened to you?"
"A lot. Too much to go into detail. How have you been?"
"Right as rain. Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm okay now, thanks. Do you...do you maybe know what happened to Mam?"
A frown over took her face. She began swiftly ranting in Kaelish, speaking so fast Remus could only catch bits and pieces, and using words he didn't understand. All that sank through was 'sick', 'sorry', and 'sad'.
Remus prepared himself for the worst as he held up his hands. "Wait, wait, wait. My Kaelish isn't very good. Do you know another language?"
"Hope taught me Ravkan," Mrs. Evans said and Remus nodded, encouraging her to continue. "Your mother was devestated for years after you disappeared. She became very sad. She didn't even try to run when it came. Firepox, dear. Hope died from Firepox."
Behind him, James and Pete gasped. Monty laid a hand on Remus' shoulder, eyes sad. "I'm sorry, Remus."
But Remus didn't understand. Of that last sentance, he only knew the words 'Hope' and 'from'. He didn't know why everyone was so sad.
"What?" He cried, glancing frantically between Monty, Mrs. Evans and his friends. What had happened. "What does 'Firepox' mean?"
Monty's eyes only grew more pitying. He translated into Kerch. "Your mother died of Firepox."
Remus felt every bit of hope drain from him and splatter on the cobblestones. His mother was dead? How could she be dead?! Remus had always viewed Hope as invincable, unbreakable, immortal. She was strong when Remus couldn't be. She sung him songs, rocked him in her arms, held him until he slept. The thought of her was the only thing that pushed Remus to find a way out of Greyback's hold, even when he felt helpless.
And now she was dead. And Remus was inches away from breaking down in the middle of the street.
Turn it off. Greyback's voice hissed in his head and Remus' posture righted itself on instinct, an indifferent mask sliding into place. He ignored Monty's concerned stare and his friend's confused eyes. He turned to Mrs. Evans and nodded, speaking in Kaelish. "Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Evans. I'm sorry to cut this conversation short but I'm needed on the ship."
Mrs. Evans nodded, an understanding gleam in her eye. "Farewell, Remus. May your Saints watch over you."
"And to you as well." He answered as she scurried away.
"C'mon boys," Monty said, grabbing James' hand and offering his other to Pete, knowing Remus' feelings on handshakes and any hand-to-hand contact. Instead, he just nodded towards the ship. "Let's go."
Remus went to move but felt the hairs on his neck rise, the same way they always did when someone was too close at the wrong time. He sidestepped and turned, staring down at where two redheaded boys, both obviously twins, about five years older than Remus himself were trying to pick his pocket. He raised an eyebrow, hand falling to his belt knife. His eyes raked their appearances, looking for any traces of material he could use to his advantage. They were both extremely dirty and malnourished, their clothes shabby and covered in grime. Their shoes were much too small for them - one didn't even bother with footwear. The only metals on their person were the buttons on their trousers and a tiepin in the pocket of one of them.
Monty pushed James and Peter back, stepping up beside Remus. "And you two would be?" He demanded in Kaelish.
"Fabian." One twin, one with a shallow slash from the back of his ear to his jaw, replied, voice cracking. From pressure or misuse, Remus wasn't sure.
"Gideon." Said the other, his eyes not quite even.
"Why did you think it was a good idea to pickpocket someone obviously younger than you?" Monty continued.
"Almost pickpocket." Remus muttered and Monty pat his shoulder.
"Our sister," They both replied unanimously, pointing back to a girl in a nearby alleyway, hair matted and obviously green with somesort of stomach bug. "Trying to get her to a medik."
"What's her name?"
"Molly." Gideon answered.
Monty's eyes jumped between the twins and their sister. "Come with me. I have a medik on my ship. Work for my crew and the services come free."
Their eyes widened. "Really?"
Monty nodded.
James rushed forward, offering a hand to the closest twin, Gideon, who took it gratefully before running to the alley. James glanced over to Remus. "Alright there, Moony?"
Remus nodded before reaching down to grab Fabian's hand. As he pulled him up, Fabian's eyes widened and a small hiss fell from his mouth. Fabian flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, something shifting within him.
Oh no. Remus thought, yanking his hand away. They're Grisha.
Fabian stared at him, panting, coming down from the high only a living amplifier could provide.
Remus didn't actually mind hand-to-hand contact, depending on who the person was. Otkazat'sya? Fine, go ahead. Just don't be weird about it. Grisha like Monty or Peter? Absolutely not. He had been used as a tool before and he never would again.
Remus stepped forward, as if going to go help Gideon and Molly, but he paused as his shoulder brushed Fabian's arm, muttering lowly. "If you tell anyone, you'll experience first hand why they call me Moony."