Chapter 6
Two weeks before Christmas, Regulus wakes up to the snow falling outside the window. He shakes Sirius awake, and together they scramble to the window to watch tiny fluffy snowflakes twirl and spin in the wind, glistening as they fall.
There’s something magical in the first fall of snow. Despite the winter chill in the air and frost gathering at the bottom of the window, Regulus feels warm and melty inside. It has been a week since their mother’s funeral. Sometimes Regulus still feels a pang of guilt whenever his thoughts stray to his mother’s death or when he finds himself laughing instead of feeling sad or crying. But mostly, he is happy, perhaps, the happiest he has ever been. Even Sirius seems to be more like his old self – eager to play games and joke, always talking and moving around a lot. And father, too, is more rested, at ease, as if he has made peace with whatever has been troubling him over the past few months.
“He looks determined,” Sirius says when Regulus shares his thoughts with him. “He has that look ever since mother’s funeral, you know, since his fight with Grandma Irma and Grandfather Arcturus.”
Regulus thinks about it and decides that Sirius is right. Something changed after they left Grandfather Pollux’s house, but Regulus doesn’t try much to figure out what; the change is for the better, and that’s all that matters.
He leans his head against Sirius’ shoulder, and together, they enjoy the quietness of the morning and the sight of snow flurrying outside, the joy of approaching Christmas.
Uncle Alphard brings the Christmas tree that day. His cheeks are flushed from cold, and a few snowflakes still linger on his hair. Alphard drags the tree through the front door of his flat, cursing as it gets stuck, while their father chastises him for swearing in front of Regulus and Sirius.
“Don’t just stand there. Come and help!” Alphard hisses as he yanks at the branches, trying to get the tree inside.
“Why didn’t you get a smaller tree?”
“It’s the first time I’m having someone here for Christmas. We’re going all out this year, Orion.”
Father shakes his head, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. He flicks his wand, and the tree flies through the door, knocking against Uncle Alphard so hard he stumbles and falls onto his bottom.
“You did that on purpose,” he grumbles.
“Maybe.”
Regulus hides his grin behind his hand. Uncle Alphard and father bicker all the time, and it’s always entertaining to watch them. They’re like Regulus and Sirius in a way, just older and with funny beards covering half of their faces.
They put the tree in the middle of Uncle Alphard’s sitting room. They have to shift it a few times to hide the branches that got bent and broken when Alphard tried to force the tree through the door.
After a few seconds of admiring the tree, Sirius looks up at their father and asks, “Can we decorate it now?” His voice vibrates with excitement. Kreacher isn’t around to decorate the tree and the house, and both Regulus and Sirius hope the task will be theirs this year. “Please?”
There’s a pause, and Uncle Alphard rubs the back of his neck, looking at Sirius with a sheepish smile. “I just remembered that I don’t have anything we can decorate the tree with,” he says.
Sirius’ eyes widen. “Nothing? Is it going to stay that way?” His eyes sweep over the tree, forehead lined with a disappointed frown. Regulus, too, deflates a little. The tree is pretty, but Christmas without Christmas decorations sounds boring.
“No,” their father says. He throws a glare at Uncle Alphard before turning to Sirius. “We will buy new decorations. You and Regulus can choose whatever you like,” he says, ruffling Sirius’ hair. “After breakfast,” he adds before Sirius can open his mouth to demand they go right this very moment.
Since their father is trying to learn new things to cook, they have porridge for breakfast. It’s his first attempt at making porridge, and like every other time Orion tries to do something for the first time, it doesn’t go as well as he intended. Cautiously, Regulus scoops a little onto his spoon, looking at it with wary eyes before he tries it. It’s lumpy and rather bland and not something he’d like to eat. Then, his eyes meet Sirius’ across the table. The message in his brother’s eyes is clear: he agrees that the food is awful, but the sooner they eat, the sooner they’ll go for Christmas shopping. Regulus thinks about it for a second and decides he can make the sacrifice. With a solemn nod to Sirius, he starts eating, swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of porridge until his bowl is empty.
Father takes them to Christmas Market on Ragnuk’s Square – the magical district in Nottingham. It’s not as big as Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, but that doesn’t dampen Regulus’ excitement. They have never been to Christmas Market before, and Regulus already loves it. Even the air smells like Christmas - ginger and peppermint, chocolate and sugar.
“How about this one?” Sirius asks, pointing at the stall selling Christmas ornaments shaped like various creatures. Green and red dragons hang on thin threads between black nifflers, fiery red phoenixes and silver unicorns. They’re enchanted to move, sing carols or change colours.
Regulus mouth swings open a little as one of the dragons breathes a small puff of glitter. He runs to the stall to admire the ornaments from up close.
Father stops beside him, brushing his fingers against the red dragon and glancing down at the small pile of glitter on the ground. He grins. “I’m sure Alphard will love that one,” he says.
“Dad! Look at this,” Sirius calls. He points at the small wooden figurine of an elderly wizard, who sings God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs in a deep voice. “Can we get it?”
In the end, they buy most of their new ornaments on that stand. They look nothing like the decorations they used at Grimmauld Place, and Regulus thinks that’s the point. Orion smiles and nods his head every time Sirius shows him something odd, flashy or tacky. Regulus wonders whether it’s because he genuinely wants to buy those things or if he’s agreeing only to keep the smile on Sirius’ face. It doesn’t matter, though; Regulus is up for the game. For an hour or two, he and Sirius compete against each other, trying to find the ugliest and gaudiest ornament on the market. Although Regulus finds a few good ones, Sirius wins the game after he proudly shows them a figurine of cross-eyed Salazar Slytherin.
Once they decorate the tree, Uncle Alphard makes hot chocolate for them, and they sit on the floor in the sitting room, admiring their work. Sirius leans against their father’s side, drawing something in his sketchbook. Uncle Alphard and father speak about the newest issue of Transfiguration Today. Regulus doesn’t even try to follow the conversation; instead, he stares at the tree. It’s so different from any other Christmas tree he has ever seen, with the ornaments that are rather ugly and cheap and mismatched. Yet, the tree takes his breath away every time he looks at it, filling him with warmth and memories he will treasure forever.
***
Before they notice, Christmas is upon them, and with it, the annual family dinner at Blackfort. It’s the first time they will see their whole family since their mother’s funeral. The prospect of seeing them fills Regulus with nerves. His stomach feels as if there is a nest of angry bees there. Regulus is sure that Sirius feels the same even if his brother doesn’t say anything.
They dress in silence, putting on dress robes that Uncle Alphard picked for them at Twilfitt and Tattings. The fabric is stiff and restraining, and Regulus can’t stop tugging at his collar and fidgeting.
“Why do we have to wear this?” Sirius whines, throwing a reproachful look at their father. Regulus wants to tell his brother to shut up. Their father looks tired and tense again, and Sirius doesn’t make things easier with his complaints.
Regulus thinks that given a choice, all of them would prefer to stay at Uncle Alphard’s flat, drink hot chocolate and play cards.
“Your Grandfather likes fancy parties,” Alphard replies. He looks exceptionally smart with his dark navy blue robes. “It’s one night, though. So, brighten up, Sirius. When I was your age, my father threw parties every week.”
“Dreadful times,” Father agrees.
Sirius nods his head but doesn’t look any happier. Still grumbling under his nose, he puts on his cloak and takes father’s hand – they’re apparating to Blackfort as to not get ash over their robes. Regulus goes with Uncle Alphard. He smiles at him, but Regulus can feel the tension radiating off the man.
There is something about this dinner that makes him nervous. Is it because they haven’t seen the family for so long? Is it because of the argument between their father and Grandmother Irma? Is it because, for the first time, their mother won’t be there with them?
He is missing something. The unknown, the uncertainty of what he should expect, makes his stomach flip unpleasantly. He bends, bracing his hands on his knees after Uncle Alphard apparates them to Scotland. The world swings and sways before his eyes as Regulus tries to catch a breath, tries not to vomit all over his robes.
“Regulus?” Father kneels in front of him. He sounds worried.
The last thing Regulus wants is to add to his father’s stress. He swallows, pushing down nausea. “I’m fine,” he whispers. His heart beats furiously in his chest. “I don’t like apparating,” he says, forcing a smile onto his face.
Concern doesn’t disappear from father’s face. If anything, it grows stronger as his eyes sweep over Regulus’ face. “You’re sure? You look pale. If you’re not feeling well, we can go home.”
Regulus shakes his head. He knows they can’t miss the dinner. If they do, it will only make things worse between father and Grandfather Arcturus, and Regulus doesn’t want to be the reason for another fight between them. “I’m sure,” he says, trying to sound strong and confident. “I feel better now.”
After a moment, father nods, and they resume their walk along the cobblestone path that leads to Grandfather Arcturus’ house.
Blackfort is an ancient castle that has belonged to their family for centuries. It sits at the edge of a cliff at Isle Sky, looming over the sea and the forest that grows around it, looking gloomy and scary against the backdrop of the night sky. A shiver runs down Regulus’ back as he stares at the castle, but he still feels his father’s eyes on him and forces a smile onto his face. He needs to be brave. It’s just an old castle. It’s where their Grandfather lives; it’s where their family has lived for centuries. There’s nothing scary there, no monsters or ghosts hiding in the dark hallways. Uncle Alphard knocks on the door, and they wait for Mully – the house-elf who is as ancient as the castle itself – to open the door for them.
There is nothing to fear, he repeats in his head.
Inside it’s almost as dark as outside. The only light comes from the candles and their weak, flickering light. Their footsteps echo as they walk along the long, narrow corridors – father in the front and Uncle Alphard at the end. Regulus has the urge to grasp his brother’s hand or hide under his father’s arm. He shakes it off and straightens his back, following Sirius with his head held high in the way their mother has taught them.
Regulus already know the dinner is going to be dreadful, but he’s determined not to cause trouble, not to give their Grandfather any reasons for complaints. He will ease his father the stress. He recalls his mother’s lessons and everything he has learned about the proper behaviour and appropriate topics for conversations.
As they step inside the formal dining room, Regulus takes a deep breath and schools his face. He will behave as befits the member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black - proud and dignified just like his mother has taught them.
***
“You’re being stupid, Bella,” Andy whispers to her sister. “You will meet another boy. Someone who’s your age, someone who will appreciate you.”
“Roddy appreciates me,” Bellatrix replies haughtily, “besides, I’m done with boys. I should have started looking for someone more mature ages ago.”
“Rodolphus Lestrange appreciates our Grandfather’s gold,” Andromeda hisses. “He doesn’t care about you. Bella, please, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
The girls glance at their father, who speaks with Grandfather Pollux and Rodolphus Lestrange – Bellatrix’ guest and suitor. Regulus looks too. Rodolphus Lestrange is twenty-five, which makes him eight years older than Bella. There’s something ominous about the man. Maybe it’s because he towers over every man in the room, or maybe, it’s the dark gleam in his eyes. Regulus decides he doesn’t like Rodolphus Lestrange at all.
“Frank Longbottom brought a date for Grandpa’s party,” Narcissa whispers so Bella wouldn’t hear. “Alice Fawley. Bella was furious,” she giggles.
Regulus wrinkles his nose. In the past two years, he has heard about Bellatrix infatuation with Frank Longbottom more than he’d like to know. Despite Bella’s determination, it seems that Frank Longbottom remained unmoved by her attempts to get his attention, not that Regulus is surprised about it. He knows that Bellatrix can be fun, but those moments of playfulness are few and far between. Most of the time, she’s cruel and scary. Regulus prefers to avoid her, and he can’t fault Frank Longbottom for choosing to do the same.
“Don’t speak his name,” Bellatrix snaps at Narcissa. “Frank Longbottom can go to hell. I don’t care about him.”
“And that’s alright,” Andy says, running her fingers down Bella’s arm. “But there will be other boys. Don’t rush into something you will not be able to undo.”
Bella pushes Andy’s hand away. “I know what I’m doing,” she says and walks away with a huff.
Andy stares after her for a few seconds, a defeated look on her face. “You shouldn’t tease her about it, Cissy. You’re only making things worse.”
Cissy shrugs. “Why are you so against him? He’s quite handsome,” she whispers, blushing.
Andy looks at Narcissa sharply. “He’s dangerous. I’ve heard terrible things about him and his father. They’re not someone whom you’d want in your family, Cissy.”
“Daddy’s pleased.”
“Daddy wouldn’t care if he’s a devil as long as he has a proper name. All he wants is to brag to his friends about the great union between Blacks and Lestranges.”
Regulus frowns, not knowing what they are talking about. Sirius is confused too. “What are you talking about?” Sirius asks, looking between Andy and Cissy. “What union?”
Cissy rolls her eyes. It’s the most undignified thing Regulus has ever seen her do. “We mean marriage. Rodolphus Lestrange wants to marry Bella.”
Regulus’ mouth falls open. “But she’s still in school.”
“It’ll be a long engagement then.”
Andy scowls. “It will be a mistake. You’ll see. It won’t end well.”
***
During dinner, Regulus pays more attention to Rodolphus Lestrange than he would have if he didn’t hear about the possible engagement between the man and Bella. Rodolphus Lestrange is what Regulus’ mother would call a respectable wizard. He comes from an old, pureblood family; he was in Slytherin; he has pride and magical prowess befitting a man of the proper sort.
Regulus finds himself reluctant to meet the man’s colourless eyes. There’s something about them that makes his skin crawl.
The conversation turns to politics.
“The Minister,” Rodolphus says in a voice dripping with disgust, “won’t be in office for long. It is a shame he has been chosen in the first place and stayed for so long, but with the rumours surrounding Quidditch World Cup, I doubt he will be able to remain in the office for much longer.”
Uncle Ignatius clears his throat. “That would be a pity. He’s doing a fine job.”
Rodolphus throws him a look of contempt. “I find it disappointing that you’re so blind to the man’s faults, Mr Prewett. Ever since the Mudblood took the office of the Minister for Magic, it’s one scandal after another. He’s shaming all of us. The sooner he’s gone, the better.”
“I quite agree with you, Rodolphus,” Uncle Cygnus says. He takes a sip of his wine. “The Mudbloods and blood-traitors are getting bolder. First, the Mudblood becomes the Minister for Magic, and now, I’ve heard they want to make Dumbledore the Headmaster of Hogwarts once old Dippett retires.”
“I’ve heard,” Rodolphus shakes his head in disappointment. “If Dumbledore becomes the Headmaster, he will destroy everything great about Hogwarts. Thankfully, there might be someone who will stop that rot and corruption,” Lestrange adds in a quiet voice. “Someone more powerful than Dumbledore; someone who respects our traditions and values.”
Bellatrix glances at him, black eyes gleaming with interest in the flickering light. Silence falls in the dining room, and it seems like everyone holds their breath, waiting for Rodolphus to continue.
“Is it really the time and place for this?” Father’s voice slices through the silence. Regulus looks at him and sees the iron-clad grip his father has on his glass, how pale his face is, how his voice trembles with nerves. Or anger, perhaps.
Grandfather Arcturus glares and hisses something into Orion’s ear. If looks could kill, Regulus’ father would be dead.
He needs to do something. He needs to do something before the dinner turns into another argument.
Rodolphus chuckles. “Aren’t we all friends here? The change is coming, Mr Black, and it’s coming fast. We will need to unite, to show strength. It’s the only way we will regain the power that has been taken from us. We must stand together in this. Me and you, my brother and your sons, all of us. Only then we will bring back the right order.”
Regulus searches his head for something clever to say. He clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s our duty to root out those, who are unworthy of being a part of our world,” he says, repeating the words his mother has said so many times.
“Regulus!” Father shouts.
When Regulus looks at him this time, he has no doubts – his father is angry, furious even. And it’s Regulus at whom this anger is directed. He shrinks in his seat, curling into himself.
“I’ve had enough of this talk. Sirius, Regulus, we’re going home,” Orion says. He stands up, throwing his napkin at his plate, glaring at everyone at the table.
“Stop with this theatrics,” Grandfather Arcturus’ booms. “I thought we were done with dramatics when Walburga died, but you’ve been exposed to this for so long, you started to act like her. Sit down.”
“No.”
Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath, staring between Regulus’ father and Grandfather with apprehension. The tension in the room is almost palpable. It wraps around Regulus’ and holds him tight in its grip, freezing him in place.
Uncle Alphard stands up and walks over to them. He pats Sirius on the shoulder and helps Regulus to stand. Father and Grandfather are still staring at each other, waging war with their eyes, and neither is willing to let the other win. “Let’s go,” Uncle Alphard whispers, ushering them to the fireplace.
Before they exit the room, Grandfather speaks up. “If you leave now, you won’t have anything to come back to,” he says, looking at Orion. Regulus has never seen his Grandfather this way. He looks scary, dangerous. “I have enough of your attitude.”
Father shrugs. “I can live with that.”
Grandmother Irma gasps. Uncle Cygnus and Grandfather Pollux start to shout. Regulus is almost certain he hears Uncle Ignatius’ and Aunt Lucretia’s amused chuckles.
They leave.
As they step out of the fireplace at Alphard’s flat, Regulus wraps his arms around himself and looks at his feet. He always hated when his parents were angry, and now, he thinks he hates the feeling even more. His heart clenches painfully in his chest as he remembers the look on his father’s face, the way he shouted Regulus’ name.
Father is the last one to come through the fireplace. He starts pacing around the room. “I don’t want to hear either of you speak like that ever again,” he says in a trembling voice.
Regulus bites his lip, desperately trying to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, still looking at his feet.
Father kneels in front of him. He lifts Regulus’ chin with his fingers, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Forget everything your mother ever said. It’s not your duty to change the world. It’s not your duty to fight for some outdated beliefs.” He looks between Regulus and Sirius. “It’s not up to you to decide who is worthy and who isn’t of being a part of our world.” He squeezes Regulus’ shoulder. “I’m not angry with you.”
Regulus doesn’t believe him but nods his head anyway. The last thing he wants is to cause more trouble.
Regulus and Sirius go to their bedroom. The moment the door closes, Regulus falls onto his bed and tugs the sleeping Jupiter to his chest. He covers his head with his blanket, buries his face in the cat’s soft fur and starts to cry.
***
He wakes up hours later. It’s dark outside, and Jupiter is long gone. Regulus’ head is pounding from crying, the stress of the evening, the anxiety that accompanied him the whole day. He casts one glance at Sirius before quietly slipping out of his bed and out of the room.
He wanders around the dark flat on his tiptoes, careful not to wake anyone. He’s not in the mood for talking, and that’s what his Uncle and father would want to do if they find him awake this late. At least, that’s what they would do yesterday before he has opened his mouth and made everything worse and more complicated.
He thinks of his Grandfather’s last words. What does it mean for them? Has he made such a mess of things that they would be cast out of the family?
His musings are interrupted by the quiet voices that come from the kitchen. Father and Uncle Alphard are still awake. He creeps closer.
“I keep messing everything up, Alfie.” father says. Regulus stops in his tracks, blood whooshing in his ears. The door to the kitchen is left ajar, and from his spot, Regulus can see his father and Uncle. Father is pacing and tugging at his hair, and his eyes are red-rimmed and wild. Regulus’ heart stops for a beat. He has made his father cry. “I try to do better, but I kept making the same mistakes.”
“You need to calm down,” Uncle Alphard says. He grabs Orion’s elbow, forcing him to stop pacing. “Nothing terrible happened. You didn’t mess up anything, only sped up our plans a little.”
“You don’t understand. I should have left six months ago.” Father shakes his head. “I can’t lose them. I can’t lose my sons again.” His voice breaks.
Alphard forces him into a chair. There is a frown on his face as he looks at Orion, confused. “What are you talking about? Again? You’ve never lost them. They’re right here, sleeping in their room.”
Father mumbles something into his hands, too quiet for Regulus to hear. Perhaps it will be better if he doesn’t know.
“A dream?” Alphard sounds amused. He pours tea into two teacups and hands one to Orion. “Drink,” he says and pats Orion on the shoulder. “Orion, you never believed in dreams and prophecies. Don’t start now. Tomorrow, we will go to Grimmauld Place and do the ritual, and everything will be fine.”
Father looks up, and his eyes find Regulus in the shadows. “Regulus? What are you doing up so late?”
“Bathroom,” he mumbles and rushes to the bathroom before his father has a chance to say anything more. If his father realises Regulus eavesdropped on the conversation, he will get even angrier. That’s the last thing Regulus wants. He shuffles back to his bedroom and gets into his bed, his head full of questions.
***
The next day after breakfast, they go to Grimmauld Place.
“What is going on?” Sirius whispers. Their house is dark and dusty, the stale air suffocating them the moment they step out of the fireplace.
“I don’t know,” Regulus lies. To avoid Sirius’ eyes, he looks around. Perhaps it’s because they haven’t been at Grimmauld Place for almost a month, or maybe it’s just because Kreacher is not there, but the house feels emptier somehow.
“Boys, go to your room and see if there’s anything left you’d like to take with you,” their father says. “Your Uncle and I have something to take care of. We will be back in a moment.”
Regulus follows Sirius up the stairs. The change becomes obvious when they step into their room. It’s empty. Before they went to live with Uncle Alphard, father packed a few things for them – clothes and toys and their favourite pillows and blankets, but most of their stuff has been left behind. Now, there was nothing left in their bedroom except for furniture.
Sirius looks at him with wide eyes and repeats his earlier question. “What is going on?”
They go downstairs. The portrait that is the entrance to the hidden room Regulus and Sirius have found in the summer is hanging open. The room behind the painting looks different. Instead of the narrow corridor where Regulus and Sirius had to crawl to fit, it’s a large room with a high ceiling. Father and Uncle Alphard are inside; they stand in front of the tapestry, holding their wands and muttering something under their nose.
Regulus and Sirius exchange a look.
“Are you sure about this?” Father asks Uncle Alphard.
“Remember when we were fourteen, and I promised to always be by your side? I meant what I said.”
Father smiles. They turn to the tapestry again and move their wands in unison, chanting something in Latin that Regulus can’t understand. With wide eyes, Regulus watches as the delicate silver threads on the tapestry shimmer and sparkle before it starts to fade.
Within seconds it’s like they have never existed – their names disappear from the tapestry, gone forever.
“Merlin, that felt good.” Uncle Alphard laughs. He notices Regulus and Sirius. “Are you ready to go, boys?”
“Go where?” Sirius asks, glancing between their father and Uncle.
Father takes their hands, and together they walk down the stairs. “To our new home.”