The Altar of the Phoenix

In a castle dark or a fortress strong

With chains upon my feet

You know that ghost is me

And I will never be set free

As long as I'm a ghost you can't see

4th July 1973

Surprisingly, despite the cool darkness of Grimmauld Place; the small garden behind the home was warmed by the July sky. Brightened by the sun, shadowed by the tall house. 

Regulus sat on the grass, running a hand over his buzzed scalp. 

Sirius flopped down beside him; grinning despite his matching buzzcut. The very moment they’d returned to Grimmauld, Walburga had shaved off their long locks and snipped Ara’s hair below her chin. A punishment for their disobedience over the school year. She’d made them write their transgressions over and over again, pining the lines to their bedroom doors. At least Sirius and Ara could sneak from their rooms to stay with Regulus. They did not have to see the words every day. 

Or rather, they chose not to. And Reg supposed he was just glad that they both chose him, despite their mother’s constant nattering that her ‘little heir’ was far better than them both. 

They’d not had any letters from their friends, but it was hardly a surprise. Either their friends figured they should wait until they were at the Potters, or their parents were burning the evidence. That was hardly their biggest issue. 

No. That was the utter boredom they all felt. 

The library was off limits, as were their brooms and the music room. They’d taken to playing catch with scrunched up socks and making up stories as they trounced the halls. At least they were able to leave the house and go into the garden. Sometimes Wally wouldn’t even allow that. 

As Regulus looked down at the grass, Sirius tilted his head to the sky - just to feel the sun. 

“Do you recon Ara’s alright?” Reg spoke as he pulled at the grass, tugging strands free. 

“She’s hanging out in my brain until Wally lets her out.” Sirius shrugged in reply, tapping his temple. 

In the wake of their cropped hair, Walburga and their father had informed them that they would still be expected at Narcissa’s wedding. Sirius had lamented, complaining of his short locks; but not to the degree that Ara did. She snapped at Wally when she’d backhanded Sirius, telling her that maybe with the new haircut, Flint might no longer want the betrothal. And then she’d called her mother a ‘bitch’. 

In a fit of rage, Walburga had pulled her eldest child into the cupboard under the stairs and locked her in. Until she stopped complaining, apparently. 

The siblings knew realistically, it would be until the wedding. 

At least Kreacher was helping them smuggle her food and water. He may not have been the biggest fan of the twins, but even he disapproved of Walburga’s extreme methods. That and he loved Reg enough to do as he bid. 

When Reg had asked Ara, in hushed whispers pressed against the cupboard door in the dimness of night, why she wouldn’t stay quiet at home, she’d sighed a heavy sigh. 

“Easier for me to say it than Sirius.” She’d whispered behind the door, her voice strained. “He wouldn’t last if he were in here.”

That was the end of the matter, it seemed. She wouldn’t speak any more, asking him to talk about his friends to distract her. He had, if only to indulge her. 

Sirius’s shoulder knocking his distracted Regulus back to the present. He ran his fingers over the grass; strands ticking his palms. 

“Can’t believe she cut our hair.” Reg winced, rubbing the short strands; too short to pull or style. 

“At least you don’t look like a puff-ball.” Ara’s voice bled through Sirius’s, a laugh bubbling from the three. 

“Fine, c’est vrai.” Reg smiled. 

“How are you feeling about your first year? Happy? Wish you’d pulled more pranks with us?” Sirius nudged his shoulder, a lopsided grin pleasant across his pale lips. 

“I’m happy.” Regulus smiled fondly. “David’s a good mate. Henry and Daisy McKinnon are cool too.” 

“Yeah?” 

Reg glanced up at the tone of Sirius’s voice; something foreign. He found his brother looking to him with a softness Reg frankly never saw on him. It was how Ara looked at him. With pride and hope and all these things he didn’t think he’d ever understand. 

It was difficult to remember that Sirius was Ara’s twin sometimes. While the two were so alike, she held this quality that Sirius simply didn’t. That Reg didn’t either. The Black brothers two sides of the same coin. The two outcomes to any given equation. Left or right? Fight or flee? 

Without a sister to temper their fights and help them understand one another… it was impossible to say where they could have ended up. 

Nowhere good, that much was certain. 

“I’ve been helping David study, and Henry and I have been practicing to try and get on the quidditch team.”

“Does David not play?” Sirius asked, genuinely curious. 

“Nah, he’s like Ara. Terrified of brooms.” 

“Lily’s like that too. Same with Aiden, that Ravenclaw with big ears in my year.” Sirius mimed the feature, prompting a surprised laugh from the younger Black brother. 

“So were my housemates at the start of flying classes. Only David is still scared sheepless. Maybe it’s a Muggleborn thing?”

“A Muggleborn, and Ara, thing.” Sirius laughed, knocking Reg with his elbow - his twin dipping from his mind to let the boys share a private moment. “You promise everything’s alright?”

“Yeah, Siri. Everything feels… great.” He shrugged apathetically. “I don’t know, maybe I’m still not used to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did it feel too big to you, too?” Regulus asked quietly, eyes flicking between the grass and his brother. “All these people. I’d never seen that many people before in my life, not until I was getting sorted. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by how many people there are in the world.”

“It felt massive to me too. A good kind of big, though. Like knowing that we’re only the tiniest part of a larger puzzle. Whatever mistakes we make; there are millions of people out there that’ll never know. There’s something freeing about being unknown. And there’s something even better about being able to make a new name for yourself.”

“I guess. It just sort of makes me feel sick.” Regulus sighed. “I don’t think I’m made for the bigness of the world. I don’t want any names. I don’t want any of it.”

“But you’re the heir, Reggie.”

“I wish I wasn’t.” He mumbled bitterly, ripping at grass anew. “And then, sometimes I wish I could do more with it. It’s not fair that it all falls to her.”

“She’s the eldest.” He sighed. 

“It’s still not fair.”

“No. It’s not.” Sirius grit out. “It was meant to be my job.” 

The two sat in silence, hands in the grass and dirt. Feeling the cool breeze and the heat lingering on the ground. Silently wishing that Ara was there, just to distract them. 

Because what else was there to say?

——

12th July 1973

In this dream, Ara was sat with the ginger boy - Ronald, she thought - in the Common Room. It was oddly deserted, the sound of the fire crackling so very deafening in her ears. Homework parchment was scattered across several tables, clearly pulled together for this very purpose. 

“You’ll start us off, right?” Ron asked, looking to her with nerves as he unwrapped a Peppermint Toad. 

“I suppose so.” She heard herself say, eyes fixed on the boy’s staircase. 

She only had to wait a moment to see what the two were waiting for. Not-James soon made an appearance; stomping down the staircase with bleak eyes and messier hair than usual. As he reached the two, a scowl erupted on his pleasant face. 

“Harry you… you look terrible.” She winced, wanting to reach and brush through his hair. So that was his name, Ara thought. Harry. Though she had always suspected he were not some form of James Potter, it was nice to have her conspiracy confirmed. 

“Where is everyone?” Harry asked, not too kindly.

“Gone!” The ginger boy frowned. “It’s the first day of the holidays, remember?” He asked, inspecting the disheveled boy carefully. “It’s nearly lunchtime, I was about to come and wake you.” 

Wordlessly, the boy slumped into a chair beside the fire - green eyes fixed on a large orange cat sprawled in front of the fire. They were oddly large; such a defining feature on his face. It was hard not to be transfixed by them. 

“You really don’t look well, you know.” Ara heard herself say. 

“I’m fine.” He bit out. 

“Harry, listen,” Ara reached for the boy, hand pausing in the air as he continued to stare into the fire, “you must be really upset about what we heard yesterday.” He scoffed at that sentiment; it was clear that for this situation, it must have bene an understatement. “but the thing is, you mustn’t go doing anything stupid.”

“Like what?” The boy retorted.

“Like trying to go after him.” The ginger spoke sharply, looking to Harry with a shake of his head at the boy’s unkind attitude. 

“You won’t, will you, Harry?” Ara looked to the boy for a moment longer. And though his mood was rotten, the boy looked to her with a softness she had never seen before. 

It simply broke her heart.

“Wake up!” 

Ara blinked away sleep, eyes unfocused in the darkness. As she pulled herself upright, her surroundings came into view; her twin sat beside her on the bed - Regulus knelt before them, clearly having just shaken them awake. 

“You were twitching.” Reg sighed, relieved at having gotten through. 

“He’s called Harry.” Sirius muttered through a yawn, looking to see Ara nod in confirmation.

“It’s nice to put a name to the face.” She agreed, letting the haze of slumber pull her back down as she sank back into the pillows - ignoring Regulus’s confused whispering. 

Fill him in, will you? She pleaded in their mind, feeling sleep take hold.

Why do I always get the rubbish jobs? Sirius grumbled, though he did not argue against doing it. 

As she let herself sink back into sleep, she felt her brothers move to lie beside her. 

And she thought of Harry. The poor boy with the scar that resembled their best friend so eerily. 

Because now she knew his name. A simple fact that meant so very much. 

Regulus looked at her funny, as they went about the day. Constantly by her side, mouth slightly ajar as though constantly opening his mouth to say something - only to give up at the last moment. She supposed he would comment once he’d configured the words. At least, that was what Sirius reassured her in their mind. 

She hoped so. 

——

13th July 1973

Though it may not have been exactly as she dreamed; Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was pleasantly pleased by the splendour of her wedding. 

Held at the Malfoy estate - the grounds seemed lively with magic and love that warm summer day. 

Wisteria fell from the trees shadowing the grounds - charmed in blues and whites to match the colour theme. Tables circled a large and beautiful patch of grass - filled with little white flowers and loose blue petals. A lively atmosphere despite the Darkness of the estate and its guests - most donning deep shades of black and green even with the heat of midday on their backs. 

The wedding itself had gone perfectly to plan. They had been presented by their fathers - a loop of black and silver around their wrists as they spoke the words to bind themselves together. Lucius had smiled at her as though she were the only person he cared to see, kissing her soundly but gently. 

And for a moment, Narcissa had let her eyes flicker shut. She let herself believe this would all go to plan, that she would be content as a wife to him while he rose through the Dark Lord’s ranks. 

The fabled Lord had politely declined their invitation, apparently in Albania researching for the summer. No matter to them. In fact, she rather preferred having only family at the event. 

Even if her family was utterly insane. Already, her mother had tried to charm the flowers different colours and attempted to transfigure the water feature from white marble to silver. Lucius’s parents were hardly better - his mother alternating between sobbing and sniffling at the ‘loss’ of her baby while his father grumbled that there were too many Blacks in attendance. 

The guests ranged from school chums to odd aunts, all with their own quirks. Her dorm mate, Lenora Greengrass, was trying to get the young Rosier brothers out of their corner - doing odd flourishes to sway them to dance. Killian seemed amused, but little Evan’s face was pinked with embarrassment as she twirled and laughed. Aunt Walburga was sat with Uncle Orion, eyes stalking the venue on the hunt for her children. Her husband merely looked up to the trees, seemingly enjoying the view. She supposed he was often trapped in the greyness of London. 

At least they were all finally sat to eat. Not that Narcissa would get that opportunity for a while; stuck by the head table accepting congratulations from dozens of estranged relatives. 

“Your cousin is certainly blooming into herself.” Lucius commented absently after a moment of quiet (his cousins having just shaken both their hands as they conversed in French), eyes following Ara as she moved through the space with her twin. Narcissa’s gaze followed mildly. 

Walburga had somehow managed to wrangle her children into matching Black robes; fit with silver stitching of stars along the hems. The boys donned black silk shirts below, clearly baking in the heat as they fanned themselves with folded napkins. Even Ara had joined in fanning her brothers, giggling prettily at their dramatics. Her top was styled differently to her brothers; a soft black silk that highlighted the faint new curve to her chest. She looked so very lovely with her short hair pulled half up into a twisting mass of curls, adorned with silver star pins that she recognised from Bella’s jewellery box. Clearly her eldest sister had helped with the wrangling. Curls like Ara’s with a bob that short needed a pair of extra hands. 

“She looks like a child, Lucius.” Narcissa replied, because it was true. Ara was a beautiful child, not quite a teenager in shape yet. Though, that seemed to hardly matter to Olin Flint as he paraded around, puffed with pride over his revolting deal. Pointing out the thirteen year old girl to men her father’s age, relishing in their leers. 

The man did not spot the gaze of the Potter couple as they glared in his direction. An odd pair for a Black family event, but somehow so very welcome to Narcissa. To see those that loved her cousins, that would keep them safe. And would hopefully free Ara before she followed Bellatrix’s path. 

Besides, Dorea looked simply incredible in her burgundy and silver robes. She showed up half the ‘proper’ pureblood ladies there; her dress so very elegant. Narcissa was very glad she had extended an invitation their way - especially considering Dorea’s attempts to return to the flock with Uncle Alphard’s approval. Despite his kookiness, Alphard was the keeper of the family ledger now; the duty having been passed to him after Andromeda was disowned. An impartial witness to their family spats. His word had weight now. 

“I wish you had the Black curls.” Lucius mused, hardly noticing Narcissa’s tenseness as he remained transfixed by a child half his age. 

“And I wish you didn’t love those ridiculous peacocks. We don’t all get what we want, now do we?” She snapped. 

“Narcissa, I did not choose you to have a talkative bride.” He hissed.

“No. You didn’t choose me. You chose the Black family because the Malfoys stand behind us in perpetuity.” She bit back, anger hot in her eyes. “So stand behind me.” 

Wordlessly, he obeyed - moving just a step behind her, hand on her shoulder now. Despite her wishes, she didn’t move it. It wouldn’t be proper to. 

Looking to the snooty boy behind her, Cissa sometimes wondered how on Earth she’d fancied him for so many years. 

And worse, she wondered how she could ever learn to love him like she did as a young girl. The illusion had crumbled. 

That was what growing up got you. That was what realising your sister had been sacrificed as a soldier to a maniac - the same one her husband had willingly followed… 

Narcissa Malfoy had always been a little too bright for a family so dark. Blonde hair and pale blue - too Rosier to truly be a Black. 

They should have realised it extended to her magic.

She should have realised. 

Silently, she looked out towards her sister and cousins - a smile breaking free of her calm mask. 

Bella had found the young lot and pulled Ara free; twirling the giggling girl around on the dance floor. Their hair was done with similar pins; so eerily similar as they shared mad grins. Rarely did they get to see one another now, and Narcissa knew how much their cousin had meant to her sister. Someone to share in the madness. In all its joys and pains.

Sirius had vanished (likely cooking up some prank she’d pretend to loathe), but Reg stayed by the water feature. His eyes found hers and she shared a humourless smile with the boy she helped raise. 

This was their doom in life. To be the watchers. 

Her hand raised her glass; a silent toast the boy shared. 

They drank, bitterly.