Healing

Sirius Orion Black had always lived a dramatic life. He’d often credited it to fate, but the truth was… he sought it out himself. If he thought back to how he’d been before Hogwarts, though… Well, that was a different matter altogether. Ever since he was a young boy, his life had been a rather strange mess. He had always known something was off— He just hadn’t pinpointed the cause until it was too late.

“It’s never too late.” James said fiercely.

All he had known for sure was that his house had always been supercilious.

…Cruel.

He hadn’t admitted the latter to himself until much later. Those two words shouldn’t have been connected after all, right? House Black was supercilious because it had the right to be. Because it should be. Where else had wizards boasted such pure blood? (He’d ignored the traitorous part of him that asked why did it matter? ) Such devotion to saving magic? Such riches despite all that came their way? Such power ? Such sense?

It occurred to him only years later, (when he looked at a boy with too many scars, slumped alongside a dormitory bed, shaking) that House Black was called insane for a reason. (A pure-blood boy his age with messy black hair and blue eyes and specs and a true charming smile reached out to the slumped boy.)

Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, and he hadn’t known why. He’d been living his life on a precarious line so as to not offend fate. His every action was weighed upon by the heavy air of sharp supervision, and the supervisor was just waiting to punish him—or worse, Reggie. A Gryffindor would have fought back. Sirius hid in the covers of passivity. A Gryffindor wouldn’t have been afraid. Sirius was. And being a Gryffindor (Sirius had blinked back tears), meant that he was going to be hated by his family.

But he always smiled. He had been told that it was very charming by his mother. It was the only thing she had ever truly complimented him on. Years down the line, when their relationship fell apart, he ought to have stopped smiling. Cut off ties for good, because every time he smiled he remembered her smiling back and how it would never happen again. He remembered what that woman did to him and Reg .

But he got to choose what happened now, didn’t he? Who was she, now harmless as a mouse, to dictate the terms by which he lived? He’d left that awful house. So he smiled, even as he had smiled when his mother’s Crucio embedded itself in his skin in both ink and pain. Words left soul marks, after all. When his father first told him he was a disappointment and the words scrawled themselves across his back, he blinked with moist eyes and smiled.

So that Regulus would never have to face the same fate, Sirius smiled even when his brother went to far ends to please their parents. If that meant Regulus standing disdainfully during Sirius’ torture, well, would he rather it be Reggie? But Sirius smiled, too, when Regulus met him under the stairs with admittedly fascinating books about pranks they would play when they were both at Hogwarts. It was a tiny yet warm hope, that promise of future antics.

But when Sirius saw Regulus after his first year away, he didn’t see a geeky boy who loved moving puzzles and transfiguring everything into fake wands. He saw a shut off expression that conveyed he had no relation with Sirius other than formalities. It hurt. It shouldn’t have been this way—he should have done something different—but right now Regulus looked at him blankly and Sirius choked back his words and grinned a grin he wished to see light Reg's features again.

“Reggie! Don’t be so Sirius.”

It got easier to smile through the pain, after the first few times. There had been no sense in being dramatic. It wouldn’t have changed anything. He would endure until it was all over.

Then again, the marauders had taught him that drama wasn’t supposed to change anything. You did it for fun. Expression was the very fibre of life, they said. Never hold anything in.

So when he left his home for good, he pushed back thoughts of the brother he had selfishly left behind (“Sirius, don’t leave m-us. We’ll work it out, so please— ”). He swept back his robes with a practiced ease and charm that would have made Snivellus jealous, knocked on the doors of Potter Place while whistling, and gave James a warm smile when he asked what was up. Expression seemed to help.

Rumors had always followed him. The surprising thing about them was how drastically they changed. During their first year at Hogwarts, it was all— ‘the insane Black kid who keeps to himself’ and ‘what a waste of power.’ They said it quietly, of course, but not quiet enough that Sirius couldn’t hear. During his first year he had just wanted to escape from the mess he had called home. He had been so grateful for the distance and for the distraction, that he had dived into his studies with a fervor he had never seen in himself before.

For once I’m doing something because I want to, Sirius had thought.

A voice echoed through his head, Oh? Not because you fear what might happen if you don’t?

It took him a second to realize the voice sounded like his mother’s.

The commentary went on. The boy who you could never get a rise out of. The boy who tried to ignore conflict. The boy averse to touch. The boy who just wanted to be left alone to do his stuff in peace. Later, they would all wonder, how could this be the boy with the charm to bewitch even the giant squid?

 Theydon’t know, Sirius thought, as he walked through the corridors, They don’t know how it feels when you’re broken to the point where you feel numb. When you just want to run from it all.

Except they did. And Sirius found out soon enough, once he’d made friends with Remus and Peter and James. Everyone had problems. The point was to accept and deal with them.

“You're all my family,” Remus croaked, weak after another full moon, “and my condition doesn’t change that. Thank you for reminding me of it.”

They showed Sirius just how fun everything could be. They enveloped the passive boy he once was in a swarm of sweet mischief that grew on him. They made him brave. No—they made him realize he could be brave. They made him realize he was in charge of what happened in his life. When the opinions changed to ‘the kid who made everyone smile,’ it was because he changed, and frankly, it didn’t matter what anyone else said as long as he was someone he was proud of.

When Sirius grew up, he could say he'd healed from that shade of a boy. When Archie claimed that Sirius’ name tempted fate, he could honestly say, “Oh, the Blacks are above Fate, didn’t you know?”—He could raise surprised eyebrows—“Don’t tell me you’ve been living your life without a sense of dramatic irony, just in case Fate takes it personally? Oh, dear, however have I gone wrong?”

And his friends made him want to be the James and Remus and Peter and Lily for any Sirius Black who became the victim of their family’s expectations.

“It isn’t too late, you know.” Peter offered him a smile, “We never judged you by your family, Sirius. We just love you for who you are. Don’t you think everyone deserves that chance? If after a life full of bigotry, you can make anyone feel the way we made you feel, and the way you made me feel — seen only for ourselves, not something we couldn’t control — would it be in vain?”

Pettigrew left, but that truth remained with Sirius, the words marked indelibly on his skin.

Sirius smiled genuinely. No wonder Peter and Remus had gotten along so well. Both spewed wisdom at the most needed of times, and now he had a chance to act on it for once. 

Dear Bella and Rodolphus had just passed away.

So despite James and Lily’s shock, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he decided to take in Caelum Lestrange. It wasn’t a surprise to Remus, anyway, who was smiling to himself. Sirius could—and he would —help one Sirius Black at a time.

“Thank you.” Sirius choked out through the hug. The words didn’t do it justice, but his friends understood. The marauders were special, in that way amongst many others.

If Sirius had to count the number of souls marks the Marauders’ words had left on him, he was sure he would be stuck with the task forever. He intended to give Caelum at least as many happy ones.

-0

[ClClCl]

-0

Accidental magic. What a strange, funny little word that was, wasn’t it? It only occurred with a child's strong will, albeit at times a subconscious one.

Therefore the only consolation, Caelum thought, could be that he hadn’t really meant to do it—not consciously, anyway.

But he had. He really had wanted them to die painfully, just then. When his magic made them scream until they collapsed, Caelum had thought Good riddance! until he realized what that made him.

Murderer.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus lay limp on the ground. Caelum had wanted to run but his knees had buckled. He couldn’t even blame the dark hex he had just endured for it— it was just the horror.

“M-Mother?” Caelum pulled himself a little closer across the floor, “…Mother? Father?”

No response. Caelum shivered and grabbed one of their hands— he wasn’t sure whose it was —and felt for some pulse.

Nothing.

He closed his eyes both to block the onset of tears and to think, and waited. Something huge had to happen, right? Now that his parents have left the world, something must change. He was a mess within already, so he just sat, and waited.

Nothing happened. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Call the aurors? Run away? He doubted he could do the latter. Maybe it was best to just accept his fate. Feeling numb, Caelum slowly chugged down a Calming Draught, stuck his head down the floo and sent a message to the auror department, and waited. He looked at his parents lying dead on the floor, trying to sort out how he felt about it.

The men who came to fetch him gave him some calming supplements, then took him to the ministry. He was interrogated in a gentle but firm voice. He remembered answering dazedly. He had expected worse, actually. Wouldn’t have minded, even, had it all gone down.

Later, a trial was held.

Perhaps now it would all come crashing down.

“You are Caelum Lestrange, age 10, of Dartmoor Castle?” A man in plum-colored robes with the silver ‘W’ of the Wizengamot on the left-hand side of the chest said, not even bothering to look at him.

Caelum lifted his chin ever so slightly, “Yes,” 

“You agree to have confessed to the murder of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange?”

Murder.

“Yes, but —” 

“You have also claimed it as unintentional on your part? An unexpected turn of accidental magic?” said the man, finally deigning to look at him.

“Yes,” said Caelum, “only —”

He took a deep breath. This was the part he had been dreading. He would have to tell them everything— the dark curses, the daily torture, the final wish for it to end— if he wanted to make it out of this without the mention of Azkaban. Any punishment would do, just not Azkaban. His mother’s bed-time stories about that place—

His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Caelum tried to muster up an indifferent mask, but knew it was a moot point when the most he could manage was the choked sound of a distressed animal.

“I think,” said a voice, “This is where I step in, yes?”

This sent a chuckle through some of the Wizengamot.

“Witness for the defense, Sirius Orion Black the third.” said Sirius Black, and Caelum wouldn't know until much later, that the words had scrawled themselves across his back.

Sirius Black managed to convince the Wizengamot that Caelum had been provoked, citing not only the several occasions Bellatrix had been charged for torture and let free due to ‘mysterious circumstances’, but his own experience with his cousin’s insanity as well.

More than a few people were willing speak up now that Bellatrix was dead, and Rodolphus, who was known to turn a blind eye to the crimes committed by his wife so long as she didn’t set her eyes on another man, was hardly any better when he let his son be tortured in front of him.

This doesn’t excuse anything, Caelum thought, I lost myself, today.

Suddenly, he didn’t care if they threw him in Azkaban. He felt sick for even trying to evade it.

But most of the Wizengamot seemed to be turning in his favor. The boy had been threatened, They must have thought, tortured, even. How was he to tame himself, when even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions?

It was decreed that he was to be watched, and further accidental magic would not be treated with such leniency. But he was cleared of all charges.

Caelum was free . He didn’t really understand that and it’s implications, not until the court started proceedings for whom his custody shall go. The first one to be thought of was Rabastan Lestrange, of course, but Sirius Black waved the choice away with such loathing even Caelum was surprised. Well, he’d been surprised ever since Black had stood up for him, actually.

Apparently Rabastan Lestrange had condoned Bellatrix’s actions on more than one occasion, barring him as a fitting foster parent. Caelum wondered why Black was sharing all this now, when it came to Caelum. If he truly held the Lestranges in such spite, why didn’t he report them long ago? Did the reason he held back not matter anymore? Or did it just matter less than Caelum?

He squashed the ambiguous feelings that lit within him at the thought. Black must be using him. There was no way he would care for a Lestrange. Still…

“That blood traitor scum is beneath you.” Bellatrix had spat, “You are not obliged to bear a moment of him.”

…

" Black ." Caelum poured all his frustration and disgust into that word. All the posturing and fake smiles around him had driven him to gritted teeth, and there Sirius Black walked, in all his House glory, like he hadn’t a care in the world for anything.

"Lestrange," An ironic nod, "Come to divulge the secrets of your House?"

Caelum spluttered, "What? No—" 

Where had that come from?

Black chuckled, "Then to run from the whirlwind of courtesy that is this stomach-turning gala?"

"It's nowhere near what it is to encounter you." Said Caelum.

"So you admit the event is stomach-turning?"

How ironic that even back then, Black had been his outlet, his freedom. The one person he never held pretenses with or sweet-talked to, and now, the man was speaking up for him? Why?

And then another thought so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner dropped on him. Rabastan Lestrange was unfit as a foster parent. The Lestranges had no other direct relatives, which meant, inevitably, that the right would fall to his mother’s side—to the Blacks. The Malfoys might try to adopt him, using Narcissa Black’s connection, but somehow he didn’t see them doing that unless there was push from the SOW Party leader. They disliked him well enough. But the weight of the the Head of House Black, should he want to—

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Harry was just about done with the potion when Archie came rushing into her lab.

“What is it, Arch?” she said, not looking up from her cauldron.

“Dad’s back.” She didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning, “I think he got the new boy, Caelum, along, too.”

“You’ve got another cousin to tease, then.” Harry smiled, “Congratulations.”

Archie gave her a mischievous smile, which grew into something expectant.

“Oh. Sirius wanted to introduce us, right?” Harry frowned at her incomplete potion, “Ok, give me a minute. I’ll just put this on hold and come.”

“On hold?” Archie’s voice was surprised, "Is there a spell for that?"

Harry asked her magic to make the potion dormant, then said “I guess. Many brews are fast paced and I can't make mistakes, or leave the potion while I'm brewing. So I just... ask my magic to help me out.” She frowned, "But I think I read about a charm that does that somewhere in one of my periodicals."

"So I can disturb you whenever you're brewing now?" Archie said mischievously.

"No." Harry said, "Just because my magic is nice to me does not mean I become a lazy potioneer—"

“Alright, alright, forget I said anything,” Archie said, the fond amusement in his voice letting her know he didn’t actually mind her potions-generated forceful tone, “I don't know how you do that without a wand, but if you’re done…?”

The unspoken 'come on' was clear.

Harry had to admit to a burning curiosity. Her family had always been Lily, James, Remus, Archie, and Sirius. They were her only friends, too. There had been no other kids her age to interact with, though her Dad did mention Sirius might let the boy, Neville, over some time.

And Caelum was a Lestrange. She didn’t know too much about them, but that was only because Sirius hated that family. She would never hold it against Caelum, but it added to the intrigue. Who was Caelum Lestrange?

“Yes, let’s go.” said Harry, smiling as Archie’s hand found hers.

…

"Caelum Lestrange," Sirius said kindly, "This is my son, Arcturus. We call him Archie. This is his cousin, Harriet."

When Harry met Caelum Lestrange's steely blue eyes, she hadn't expected the burning intensity in them, the burning hatred. The look of disgust. There was no apparent reason for the intractable hate in his eyes, and yet for a moment she felt inferior beneath his haughty gaze.

Why is he looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong? It's almost like… he thinks I'm disgusting.

Why...?

Then her self-confidence came back to her in a rush, wrapping itself around her like a cocoon. She was instantly on edge. Archie had been saying something to Caelum.

So you hate me for something I haven't even done, is it?

Harry gave him a saccharine smile.

A flash of recognition in those eyes, and then a sneer, "Potter, I take it?"

"A great guess, Caelum, if Sirius hadn't already told you my first name," said Harry, enjoying the twitch at her use of his first name. Harry didn't feel one bit of guilt. She'd come here ready to welcome a family member, only to see that he'd already judged her. And for what? What reason could he give for the hate in his eyes?

Did it have something to do with her blood? Surely not. Maybe he had confused someone else's actions with hers.

Deciding to not jump to conclusions, she said, "Hi Caelum. I'm Harry. What are your interests?"

Caelum sneered, "As if I would-"

"Caelum." Sirius' voice was firm, but gentle.

He stared at Sirius with much of the same hate, but Sirius met his gaze with something she'd never seen in him before. Whatever Caelum saw in Sirius, he jerked his head away and back at her.

"Potions."

Potions? Harry smiled. This, she could work with.

"Really?" Harry said, "I love potions too! I was just making one before you came, actually. Do you want to see it?"

Caelum's face looked like he wanted anything but, and yet a flicker of curiosity passed his eyes so fast Harry wouldn't have caught it unless she was searching.

She could see him hesitate.

"You'll have to come down to my lab anyway, if you would ever like to brew." Harry said, trying a different angle.

Archie grinned, "She's right. The Black Family lab is in a terrible state."

"I'm sure it will be fine with some refurbishment," Caelum drawled.

"But what about ingredients?" Harry said, "You can take some from my stores until they move your stuff here."

"I'll figure it out," he said, a bite to his words.

"Ok then," Harry said, holding back a sigh, "I guess I'll go and finish my potion. Let me know if you need anything."

Caelum's eyebrows rose before he could subdue the motion, and he gave a scowl as she left. She didn't know what part of the conversation had surprised him, but decided to let it go.

So Caelum liked potions, did he? Harry was sure he'd come by her lab sooner or later. She thought of how much brighter it would be with someone else by her side to get excited with. Smiling to herself, Harry put a hand on her lab door, and that's when it caught her attention. A line of neat, black handwriting ran across the back of her palm.

Potions.

Harry frowned, before her lips stretched into a smile. It was her first soul mark. That the arrival of a potion-loving Caelum Lestrange was what brought it forth, meant that Harry wasn’t going to be alone. Someone would finally understand her yearning, her wonder and thrill, as she brewed.

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," Harry murmured, "We have a long way to go."

She had never realised she was so eager for company. No, that wasn't quite it— Harry was thirsty for understanding.

And that, I will get. Harry thought.

-0

[ClClCl]

-0

Caelum thought he would last a week, at the very least, before he was forced to leave his room. It seemed, however, that even a day of solitude was too much to ask from the marauders and their spawn.

When he was asked to join dinner by a cheery Arcturus Black, Caelum resigned himself to attending, all the while not looking up at any of the seated people. He retired to his room immediately afterwards. With the windows in his room looking out into the dark night and his curtains embroidered with a shining silver thread to form stars and constellations, the world seemed to come to standstill.

Caelum ran a hand through his hair in a sign of confusion he would never show in front of anyone.

What am I doing here?

How had it come to this, that he was now lounging in a blood traitor's home, one that belonged to one of his mother's most hated relatives? That he was now his son, by the eyes of law?

Oh, if only mother could see me now, Caelum thought, this wouldbe my last night.

He—he should have done something. He should have said he didn't want to be adopted by Black. But all he could muster at that time has been an indistinct choking sound and gratitude, oh lord so much gratitude, that Sirius Black had stepped in for him. That, for once, Caelum didn't have to watch what he said too much, and that a heavy decision had been taken from his hands. He'd actually pushed everything away at the trial and relied on Black to see him through safely. Like a parent.

Ignoring how that line of thought sent him in a place too dangerous to navigate ( but why, though? A traitorous part of his mind insisted, Mother and father are dead. You don't have to be scared anymore, or stand by what they told you. Besides, is the thought of Sirius Black as your father really that bad? )

Yes, yes it was.

( It doesn't have to be— )

"Shut up, you good for nothing but Potions lump," Caelum groaned, pressing a hand against his temple. Even his insults sounded pathetic.

And what was up with Sirius Black, anyway? If Caelum had to guess, he'd say he was helping Caelum out of some sort of sympathy. He'd known that the Blacks had had a terrible childhood, so perhaps that had spawned this wish of Sirius' to ensure Caelum didn't suffer the same?

Sappy do-gooder.

"Caelum." Sirius said, as though he was talking to someone whom he saw himself in. Whom Sirius wanted to save from going through what he did. As though he felt it wasn’t Caelum’s fault for his outlook, but it had to be corrected anyway, before he hurt himself and others.

Caelum stared up at the ceiling from his bed, trying to forget the slight moisture he'd seen in those eyes, and instead focus on what they implied. He’d always known something was slightly off with his parents' beliefs against those who were not of pure blood and ideals. Something had not quite fit right.

How could Master Snape be inferior, if he was known as the Greatest Potions Master in the world? Potions were considered a difficult line of study.

How could non-purebloods be weak, or unworthy, when two of the founders of Hogwarts (which had become a minefield of blood rights) themselves were half-bloods?

How could— but there was no point in thinking how it could be. What his mother believed, what the ancient lines believed, had to be true, and that was the end of it.

Are those really my thoughts? Caelum managed to stop just in time before he murmured those words aloud. It would have been sacrilege, if he had. Mother would hurt him so much—

but my mother isn't there anymore.

It took a moment for those words to sink in again, but when they did, Caelum found himself groping about for his potions kit. The rest of his stuff would be moved in later that day, but he had refused to part with his potions kit. It was his only lifeline, should anything happen. He found what he was looking for a minute later. There, in an unnoticeable, small zip with an undetectable extension charm, was a notebook. A diary, to be exact.

A soul mark diary. Caelum made note of his every soul mark there, also mentioning and pondering on different interpretations of them. It was a pastime he could genuinely admit to enjoying, especially when the soulmark puzzled him. Sometimes, it was a dull, obvious mark that would change him, like the first time his mother had used a curse on him. That didn’t need much explaining, it was obvious it would alter his life.

Caelum searched himself for any new soul marks, taking aid of the rather plain mirror before him.

Witness for the defense, Sirius Orion Black the third.

Caelum took a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly had worked him up, but he needed to relax. No, he realised, he wasn’t worked up—he was relieved. Somehow, his tiny, stupid brain had been relieved to see that Sirius standing up for him had been powerful enough to change something intrinsically within him. It meant that Caelum wasn’t beyond repair. And where had that thought come from, that he needed repairing?

His head had started throbbing.

No, I can't think of this anymore. Caelum thought, rubbing at his head furiously. Not now.

Maybe never, He thought with some more hope.

Caelum cast about for another soul mark, anything that could take his mind away from the first. He found one across his upper arm.

Really? I love Potions too!

What…? His brain seemed to have stopped working.

Harriet Potter, wasn't it? Why had those words from her gone and had such an effect on him? Was he going to find a kindred spirit in her, of all people ?

'I love Potions too!' 

The words had been said in such an eager, truthful tone. Was there really someone who would understand what Potions meant to him? Someone who enjoyed it as much as he did? Someone he could brew with—he snapped back to reality when he realised who he was thinking of.

A half-blood.

Caelum blew a deep breath. He needed to vent, or his thoughts would keep him restless all night.

Caelum decided to pour his thoughts down on the page by his side. Writing and brewing were the best remedies for anything, right? But for whatever reason, when he sat and wrote, only what his parents talked of blood purism came out. Lines and lines of degradation, lines and lines of venom aimed at more than two thirds of the population. Words that would only come out from the mouth of someone who was desperate for someone to hate, for someone to look down on, or words that would only be said by someone who was insecure, who was, who was…

Caelum tore the page away and put his pen to the next page. He wasn’t prepared for the words that came out, even though some part of him had known it.

I’m scared.

-0

[ClClCl]

-0

Caelum took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. If he was scared to see things as they were, he’d better damn well get over it. It took a minute to swing open, during which Caelum tried to look anywhere but the poster that hung in front of the door with animated letters saying “Harry’s lab”. A stag was running after a dog with chalk that rewrote those words even as the previous words disappeared into oblivion. He snorted at the weird design.

When he’d first knocked, he had heard Harriet Potter’s amused voice.

“So someone finally decides to respect the ‘please knock before entering’ sign,” the girl laughed, “I guess it’s you, mom?”

Caelum looked back at the door he’d been trying to ignore eye contact with and noticed that there was, indeed, such a sign below the animated letters.

“It’s me half-bl-” Caelum shut his mouth, swallowed, and then opened it again, “It’s me, Caelum.”

“Oh.” A pause, “Just give me a minute.”

And so Caelum found himself inside a lab, Harriet plopped on a stool by a cauldron while he settled on another nearby. The lab was decent, he thought after a glance around.

Then Harriet said, in the cheesy voice of an adult pushing his child to make friends, “So, Caelum. What is it?”

“I wanted to know the limits of any talent you may possess in potions,” Caelum said with a bit of snark at what may well be his younger cousin, now.

Harriet raised an eyebrow in friendly challenge, “Only if you also participate in that test with me. I should also know your abilities, right?”

Caelum found his lips curving into a shark-like grin. There was something about the twinkle in her eyes—the girl was only six, but he could feel a passionate fire within her, much like the one within him. This could be fun. “Why not?”

Harriet left her seat and came back with a bunch of potion periodicals.

“What do you think we should brew?” She said, sliding a few to him. They were all editions, he noted, that had published lists for the most difficult potions to brew in world-wide school curriculums. It said something about her confidence, that she had chosen brewing one of those as a means for one to show their skills to the other, and not, say, a knife technique or some other stepping stone.

He surfed through one of the periodicals, “How about a Heart Harmonic? We could donate it to St. Mungo’s if it turns out all right.”

Harriet’s eyes flicked to the recipe, and he realised that for a moment he had forgotten who he was talking to— she was six for Merlin’s sake —and a girl. “No, forget it. We could try-”

“Why not?” There was something sharp in her voice that made him look up, something almost… disappointed in him. “You don’t think I'm capable of doing it? Have you forgotten that this is a test to see where we stand? Let’s do it—a Heart Harmonic.”

He sighed, “Sure. Don’t blame me whe—if you collapse like a puppet and fail, though.”

Harriet smirked, “Worry about yourself, Caelum.”

“Why worry when I’m going to win?” Caelum’s nose wrinkled, “Actually, win? Pfft. There’s no competition around here.”

Harriet handed him a cauldron, “Keep teasing. We'll see what happens.”

Caelum sniffed and took it, internally admiring the cauldron’s sheen. He missed his own ones at home. The one thing he didn’t bring along with him in the potions kit.

Harriet was looking at him strangely, “Let’s set up the ingredients first. Don’t worry, there are protective wards in here in case you make a mistake while brewing.”

“You mean in case you do.” Caleum snorted.

Harriet shook her head with a smile and got to work.

He'd expected some fumbling around and embarrassed glances, but Harriet Potter seemed to be entirely in control of the situation. In a few minutes she'd placed all the ingredients required in an easy to access order by the brewing table. Caelum pulled out his knife just as Harriet examined two of hers. The smaller one was sharper, but the larger one provided a lot more surface area. She picked the larger one.

Smart. He grunted, a little surprised. The Jabber-Fruit's magical mutation, given it's unwieldy size, would have been difficult to cut with a knife so small, regardless of the fact that it was a little sharper.

He pushed the thought aside for a moment and focused on her knife technique. It was perfect.

Realizing that he was actually sabotaging the potion by giving all of his attention to how well she did and not doing anything by himself, Caelum gave up looking for faults for the time being.

It was actually quite comforting and easing to work with a partner who knew what she was doing. Caelum grunted in satisfaction after the stir was completed and the potion looked as good as it should. He was about to add the unicorn hair when Harriet stopped him.

“Wait,” she said, frowning.

“What?” he hissed, “This part is time sensitive, you idiot!”

“Something is wrong,” she pressed, “The potion doesn’t feel right.”

“What, to your magical senses?” Caelum drawled, sarcasm evident.

“It isn’t stable.” Harriet insisted, “We need to do something about it.”

“It’ll blow up if we don’t add the unicorn hair now —”

Harry grabbed the hair from him, looked at it for a moment, and dropped it into the cauldron just as Caelum yanked her away from it, bracing for the explosion.

It never came.

“What did you do?” Caelum said, breathing hard.

“My magic saturated the unicorn hair,” said Harriet, sounding bewildered.

“So it wouldn’t really affect all the ingredients in the potion, but still stabilize it.” Caelum blew a breath, and the words left his mouth before he could check them, “That was brilliant.”

Harriet’s lips parted for so short a moment he missed it, “Thank you.”

Her lips split into a grin, "So what were you saying about 'don’t blame me if you collapse like a puppet and fail'?"

“I don't know, did I say that?” Caelum said with a smirk.

“Hmm… maybe not,” Harriet said with a finger on her chin, "But you agree that you called me brilliant?"

He had, hadn’t he? What did that mean? That she was brilliant, of course, but… he was not scared as much, anymore, to admit that his parents were wrong. Maybe doing what he loved most in a half-blood’s company, having the half blood positively thrive in what he would have called his terrain, might just have given him the courage to admit it.

They were the same.

“I was calling my act brilliant.” Caelum scoffed, “Had I not dropped the hair in the cauldron in time, we might not be alive save for your lab’s flimsy safety wards.” It had been Harriet who had put the magically saturated unicorn hair in, even a fool could see that. Still, he could deny it for the fun of it. Harriet laughed.

Caelum and Harriet continued to work on the potion, pleased when it turned out the exact azure that marked perfection.

“Hmm… it does seem to have a little more magic than required,” Caelum said, and his words were a pure lie. He wouldn't know, anyway, "Looks like you did fail after all. I'm a seer.”

“I thought you never said such a thing,” Harriet said, a perfect picture of innocence.

“Yeah, right.” Caelum muttered, but there was no heat in it.

After that day, they made brewing together a habit. Caelum had tried to resist when Harriet had suggested it, but ultimately gave in on the excuse that he would get more help, and there was no reason for them to grow close.

Most often Caelum would come over to her lab in Potter Place, and other times she would come and help clear and refurbish the lab at the Black Family home. 

Caelum still attended meal times in silence, avoiding glancing up unless he was directly talked to. Which tended to happen a lot.

"So, Caelum," Lupin prompted him, "I heard you have a knack for Herbology as well as Potions?"

Caelum made a non-committal noise in his throat. Not him . Why did Caelum have to pretend to be civil with a werewolf?

Caelum scowled internally at himself. Have you forgotten what you wrote in your journal just yesterday? The bit about 'rediscovering the truth'?

"Yes, but my primary interest is in potions." Caelum offered.

Several people looked up. It was unusual that he said anything more than what was absolutely necessary.

Caelum raised an eyebrow at them. Where on earth was subtlety in their openly surprised faces? Where was the intrigue, in their happy-go-lucky attitude?

Is it just that those things have been around me so much, Caelum thought, that I don't appreciate openness anymore?

"I can see that," Lupin's voice was distinctly amused, "Harry appreciates your company a lot."

Caelum didn't know what to say to that, so he just made a 'hmm' sound and went back to his meal. Later that night, Sirius came to visit him in his room.

"What's up, champ?" Sirius smiled.

"The stars are." Caelum said blandly.

He resisted the urge to add, "and the moon," when he realised his statement was incomplete. It would then devolve into clouds and Merlin knew what else. That road of correction knew no end.

Sirius chuckled, "Right you are. Want to go with me to the garden to see them?"

Caelum should have refused. Whatever this attempt was, it was misguided. But a part of him had been yearning for some company other than what came from a potions lab. It had been so long since he'd been near someone without aim. Maybe he could afford to relax, if only for one night.

"Lead the way," He said.

He didn’t know why the steady look in Sirius's eyes surprised him so much.

"Sure. Put something warm on."

The garden was much more beautiful than the one by Dartmoor Castle. Potted flowering plants were set in each corner almost as a boundary of sorts, though Caelum couldn’t make out the colors very well in the dark. The grass, which was probably a fresh, bright green, looked strangely luminescent in the light of the moon. He could appreciate it, if in a detached sort of way.

I wonder if any of this could be used in a potion, Caelum thought.

He turned to look at Sirius, but Sirius’s gaze was lost in the stars. Caelum stared for a minute, then looked up.

He found himself breathless. The sky— the stars glowing softly in a merge of purple and navy and black— it was beautiful. 

It was unlikely that Grimmauld Place had such a good view of the sky.

"Is this even real?" Caelum said when he found his voice, still unable to tear his eyes away from the stars.

"The image?" Sirius Black said, voice just as much in awe, "Yes. It's projected from the view up a hill, though. Real-time."

There was a certain fondness in his tone that made Caelum ask, "Is it a story worth sharing?"

"I daresay you'll find it quite amusing." Sirius said, a pleasant surprise in his voice.

"Pray tell." Caelum said, finally prying his eyes away from the scenic view, but not before searching for the constellation he had taken his name from. But the Caelum constellation had faint stars, and he knew they would be lost amidst the countless bright ones before him.

“It was Archie’s fourth birthday,” Sirius said, a laugh in his voice, “And we took him for a hike.”

“A hike?” Caelum asked, amused, “Only you would.”

“It’s not really that astonishing.” Sirius said, “Even back then, Archie loved the outdoors. And the stars, whose rare view was part of the reason we went.”

“Sure.”

Sirius laughed, “Anyway, we picked a decent hill for stargazing and set about trekking a while before sundown. It was not as fun as one might think— especially with children who insisted on stepping on every single thorn, but —”

“Children?” Caelum frowned, “Was Harriet with you, too?”

“Yes. Our families rarely go anywhere without one another,” Sirius gazed at him with some unnamed emotion, “We’re one unit.”

What was he trying to say?

“I see.” Caelum looked back at the stars, suddenly uncomfortable.

“When we finally made it to the top,” Sirius said, sounding slightly exasperated for some reason, “It started raining, thunder and all. It was too cloudy to make anything out. ”

“Oh?” Caelum’s lips quirked, “You didn’t check the weather forecast?”

Sirius muttered something like ‘Marauders don’t take caution,’ that Caelum found quite silly.

“What did you all do, then?”

“Well, we didn’t come all the way there for nothing, right?” Sirius said, “We improvised.”

Caelum raised an eyebrow.

“We argued,” Sirius admitted sheepishly, “until Harriet and Archie scowled at us and told us to get on with whatever we intended to do.”

Caelum snorted.

“Unsurprisingly, it was Remus who came up with the idea to broadcast the live view from up there right above our homes, so we could, and I quote, ‘Feel the magic of the universe everyday.’ Cheesy bloke.” His eyes twinkled, “And guess what? He even brought cheese for snacks! When we’d told him to get cake instead."

Caelum laughed at the disbelief in his tone, “To be fair, I’d take cheese any day.”

Sirius shot him with a betrayed expression, which Caelum ignored easily.

Caelum examined the sky, but there was nothing to show that the sky as he saw it was not really there, “How did you get it to look so seamless and real? That’s a tricky bit of spellwork.”

“Not really,” Sirius shrugged, “We were inspired by the ceiling in the Hogwarts great hall.”

Hogwarts. Caelum ignored the pointless hope that rose in his throat. His parents had wanted him to attend Durmstrang. Now that they were gone, though, was it possible that Sirius would let him learn under Master Snape? He didn't dare ask.

“Caelum,” Sirius said quietly, “You know, whatever it is that you want to ask, I’ll probably say yes.”

“Be honest, why did you help me?” The words left Caelum before he could check them.

Sirius was quiet for a moment.

“Because I’ve been you.” he said, seeming almost lost in his thoughts, “I-I was lucky, to find someone like the marauders. They cared for me, showed me that I had the courage to stand up against all the oppression, all the beliefs that had been force fed to me since childhood. Sometimes you succumb to it all, though, and it becomes difficult to come back.” His voice was heavy with regret.

Caelum wondered what he had done to warrant such regret when he had still hung precariously between beliefs. He didn’t ask.

“But I wasn’t beyond healing,” Sirius said, “and I don’t think anyone is beyond healing, ever. It’s just that people give up too soon."

Caelum knew he wasn’t just talking about beliefs, anymore— his tone held the undercurrent of one talking of different things that boiled down to the same truth.

As he stared up at the stars, Caelum’s eyes prickled. He blinked, surprised to find the water in them.

It’s just that people give up too soon.

Had he been doing that? Telling himself that he couldn’t change? That his parents were the lines he had to run himself by? Of course he could change. No one else but him had the reins to his life. External events could only affect him so far as he let them.

and I don’t think anyone is beyond healing, ever.

Caelum sat down on the grass.

Sirius didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at him as Caelum wiped his tears away, for which he was pathetically grateful.

“I don’t know what to do.” Caelum told him after a while, pushing aside any shame at the admission, “It feels wrong to be here, as though I’m betraying them.”

Sirius didn’t ask who ‘them’ was. It was fairly obvious.

Instead he said, “But are you really? Where is it said that holding different opinions from your parents is a betrayal?”

Caelum looked up at him, “Where is it written that it’s not?”

“Several places, actually.” Sirius said, voice gentle, “Caelum, every person has a mind of his own, the capability to process information and reach logical conclusions. There is no point to it if you remain willfully blind to something, because that doesn’t change anything at all. You could believe the moon is made of sugar quills, insist on it for the rest of your life and come up with all sorts of cleverly worded arguments to prove it to people, and it wouldn’t change reality.”

Caelum ought to have pushed him away when his hand came on his shoulder, but he didn’t.

“You only give back to those who have and will care about you,” Sirius said, “if you stand on your own feet. If you can think for yourself, and if you, too, share the love you once received.”

You only give back to those who have and will care about you, if you stand on your own feet.

The words wouldn’t leave Caelum’s head, just like his skin, just like his soul .

“Now you tell me, Caelum,” Sirius said, “Is Harry any different from us? If she had been introduced as a pure-blood to you, would you have noticed the difference?”

Caelum wanted to shake the question away, because he knew there was no going back after this. But an inner voice had him roped there, something that told him to think for himself, to see the truth as it was.

“No.”

The next day, Caelum woke up to a crick in his neck. He’d slept at an odd angle. Sighing, he rummaged through his potions kit for a muscle relaxant, downed it, and then sat and thought.

Last night was… beautiful. He frowned at the descriptor, then realised it had been. He’d come out with all the questions and worries that had plagued him without end, and sharing it with someone had made him feel so much lighter. Caelum resisted the urge to hop about to test if he could fly.

That’s just stupid, he told himself.

You’ll never know if you don’t try, a ridiculous sing-song voice in his head said.

Caelum decided to ignore his head and got fresh on autopilot. Maybe it was the fact that Caelum had felt the truth in Sirius’ words, but today, he couldn’t duck his face while eating breakfast. He could tell Archie and Sirius noticed, but thankfully, they didn’t say anything.

He stated that too soon.

“So, Dad,” Archie said, “I noticed you went to bed late last night. What happened?”

Sirius gave him a dashing smile, “Oh, I was regaling lost ones with tales of old.”

“Uh… what?”

Caelum snorted.

“Nothing, Arch.”

“That is not a proper answer,” Archie grumbled, “Caelum, do you have any idea?”

It was a clear attempt to involve him in the conversation.

“I find old men quite uninteresting,” Caelum said.

There were surprised guffaws around the table.

“We may make a marauder of you yet,” Sirius said, flashing him another smile.

Caelum couldn’t help but grin, “Oh?”

He spent the day brewing with Harriet. When dinner came, he was surprised to find himself hesitating before the floo. Was he somehow supposed to act differently, now?

Sirius' words came to him like their conversation occurred mere moments ago.

Right, be myself.

Once in, Caelum took a plate off the table and reached out to serve himself some… cheesecake.

“When we’d told him to get cake instead.”

“To be fair, I’d take cheese any day.”

Caelum ducked his head to hide the moisture in his eyes. He felt oddly touched. Not only had Sirius remembered that piece of information Caelum had thrown in the air, but he’d actually done something to make him happy. Caelum couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something just to make him happy.

Maybe... said a voice in his head, If this can happen, other things will fall into place too? Maybe, now things will change?

-0

[ClClCl]

-0

When Caelum first met Lady Black, flushed as she came from the flu with a brilliant smile on her face (She'd just come back from a trip to America; something about dealing with a virus?), he was forced to admit that the rumors were true— she was as beautiful as she was kind. He didn’t need to know her on a personal level to see it, either. The crinkles around her mouth showed that she often smiled, and there was a warmth to it that couldn't be faked. There was a natural endearing aura to her that didn't seem to require anything more from her part. She just stood, and people stared.

"Sirius!" Diana exclaimed as Sirius came rushing to the floo and attempted to wrap her in a hug.

She laughed and set down a bag she'd brought with her, "Just a minute."

Sirius made an impatient sound that drew out another soft laugh from Diana. 

She got back up and embraced him, "I've missed you so much." She peeked around his shoulder, "Where's Archie?"

"At James and Lily's." Sirius said, not letting go of her, "We didn't know you were coming—why not tell us?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Diana said as she pulled away gently to get a good look at him.

"I'll get him," Caelum said quietly. He had the unsettling feeling he was intruding on something.

"No, that's fine. We'll get him right after introducing you two." Sirius said, looking as though he'd come back to earth after spending a long time in space, "Caelum, this is Diana. Diana, this lovely, youthful boy,"— Caelum rolled his eyes —"is the latest addition to our family."

Diana's eyes surveyed Caelum for a moment before spreading her arms lightly, eyes wide in silent question. Caelum's gaze fell to the side, and he hoped she understood. It didn’t… feel quite right.

Diana's smile dropped a fraction, though it still looked radiant as ever, "I have something for you."

She reached into the white-colored bag she'd set aside and brought out another bag from within.

It was… a potions bag.

Caelum's jaw dropped.

"I heard you like Potions," Diana said, "And that your older bag's seams split often, so I thought another one would go some ways to help. You certainly put them to good use."

Sirius, for all his care, would never suggest buying him a potions related thing—he seemed to have something against the subject: almost everyone at home did, from what he'd gleaned from the constant nettling Harriet faced for her interests.

Then Diana must have had to go out of her way to push him for such details, rather than buy Caelum a surface gift and be done with it. These people…

...They really did care.

Caelum found he couldn’t refuse.

"Thank you."

...

Diana's presence added to the cheer in the house by huge amounts, and the gaily laughter everywhere proved infectious.

And so, after a few months of them roping Caelum into every other activity, Caelum settled into the rhythm of the marauders. Food fights, pranks, wholesome gatherings every few hours (and wasn’t that a word Caelum had never thought he would use?), and friendly teasing and banter; the fun-filled days and relaxing family dinners with the Potters and Remus Lupin—who'd turned out to be a delightfully interesting person, when Caelum had finally talked to him.

For the first time ever, Caelum could truthfully say that he was happy, that he was having the time of his life. And for the first time, he had people who wanted to hear that, too. People who smiled when they made him smile. And like this, happiness became the new normal. Caelum never had to lie or hide his thoughts or feelings anymore. He was free.

And that was when things started to go downhill.

Caelum had been down with flu and resting uselessly on his bed when the trigger to the avalanche that would soon follow occured.

"We're sorry you have to rest like a big old Grandpa while we play with Neville." Archie teased, "Don't worry, we won't do anything too exciting without you."

Harry put her hand on his lightly. "Or discover any ancient secrets, either."

She laughed at his affected grumpy look.

"Caelum, you know you wouldn't have joined us even if you weren't ill. You would be brewing in your lab instead."

That, Caelum could admit to easily. Harry and Archie, assured by his response, left his room with wishes to get well soon.

He was rattled from his uncomfortable sleep when the door to his room swung open with a creak. Sirius stepped in, looking worried.

"I'm fine, Sirius." Caelum said with a wry grin, "Don't worry so much. It's just the flu."

Sirius shook his head slightly, eyes surveying the room, "Yeah, I… Caelum, have you seen Archie, Harry or Neville?"

Caelum frowned, "I did… before they started playing, I think."

Sirius cursed under his breath, "Ok. You stay here and get well soon, champ."

Caelum's frown deepened, "I will. Is something wrong?"

Sirius had a harried expression as he swept out of the room, "Maybe. We can't find them anywhere."

Caelum pushed down the worry and tried to think. Anywhere, huh?

"Sirius, wait!" Caelum called, "Did you check the backyard and the room next to the potions lab? They sometimes play there. And what about the attic?"

Sirius popped back in visibility, "I checked the backyard and that room, too. They can't get into the attic even if they tried. I just renewed the locking charm on it this morning."

Caelum grimaced, "Just check it. To be sure." As if a locking charm could stop Harry's wandless abilities.

Sirius' eyes sharpened, and he left without another word.

Caelum tried to get up, but fatigue overcame him. He sighed and closed his eyes, “What are you all up to?”

Sirius found Archie and Neville in a deep sleep on the attic floor, Harry crying hysterically in a corner. Archie and Neville held scant memories of the day, and Harry was too traumatized to say more.

Caelum was released from bed rest six days later, once all the symptoms of the flu had dissipated. He hadn’t seen Harriet at all since that day.

He didn’t know what he had expected. There Harriet was, brewing in her lab as always, save for the dark circles under her eyes. She looked to be immersed in the brew, dropping prepped ingredient after ingredient with an uncanny focus. Once she’d left the cauldron to stew, she looked up at him.

 “Caelum.” She gave him a smile, “How are you? Feeling better?”

Caelum gave a nod, but he was focusing on something else entirely. Before, Harry’s magic circled her like the wind, almost buffeting everything away with its sheer aura. Caelum didn’t need to know how to read auras to see it— he could feel it. Now, though… there was nothing.

“Harry, your magic—” Caelum’s eyes widened. “What happened?” He snapped.

She looked taken aback, “I… nothing. Everything’s fine.”

Caelum raised an eyebrow, “Cast the stasis charm.”

“Caelum, wha—”

“The spell you ask your magic to do to make your potion stable. Cast. It.” Caelum growled. Something was really wrong, and he couldn’t deal with Harry playing pretend now. And when had she started doing that with him anyway?

Harry focused on the cauldron as though nothing had changed, but he knew she didn’t believe for a moment she could do it. Why was she even holding up this pretense? Did she hope to fool him into thinking nothing was wrong? Was he going to be fed a lie again? Cast aside?

Stop being overdramatic! He thought furiously to himself, and Harry, Merlin bless her soul, didn’t go through with the act. Her eyes flicked towards him, then fixed on the ground, before deciding that was an admission of guilt. She locked his gaze with hers. “I can’t. Wandless magic is beyond me, now.”

He frowned, “That doesn’t make sense. Wandless magic is all about channeling it the right way. If you and your magic did it as repeatedly as I have seen you do it, it should be natural for you to follow the correct pattern required by now.”

Harry frowned back, “But I can’t, I tell you! It just doesn’t work anymore.”

“Can you still direct your magic using a wand, then?” Caelum said.

“I haven’t really tried,” Harry said thoughtfully, but beneath the mask, he could feel the unvoiced fear. I don’t want to find out it doesn’t work, too, It seemed to say.

Caelum sighed, “I’ll get you a wand, wait here for a moment.”

He left the lab in a near-jog. Fortunately, there was no witness to this silly act, or they would never see the end of Caelum’s blackmail.

Black mail, heh, get it? He thought, before cringing at his ridiculous internal monologue. What had living in this place done to him? His attention shifted back to the subject of getting a wand. Mr. Potter was working and he’d rather not take Mrs. Potter’s wand. He’d seen how often she used hers, almost clung to it like a lifeline, even. She looked at her wand as though it was the only safe source to expend magic from, and the idea of how much magic she had, given Harry’s significant stores and the sheer amount he saw Mrs. Potter burning through each day was frankly terrifying. He’d best leave her to her devices.

He flooed back to The Black Family home and looked for Sirius. After a bit of friendly banter Caelum was walking, a wand in hand, back to Harry’s lab.

-0

[HpHpHp]

-0

Harry took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. She suppressed the shiver that threatened to run across her body when Caelum offered her a wand. Why was she so scared? She couldn’t recall what had happened the day Neville came over, but she suspected it had started sometime around that. She was scared of her magic. She’d been cross with it once in a while, but there’d never been so much distrust. Her mind was telling her that her magic was terrible, awful, and she couldn’t even remember why anymore. Maybe she’d always thought this way, and whatever had happened had only cemented it deeper? Her magic must have done something unforgivable— must have hurt someone, for her to be this upset.

“Harry—” Caelum cursed, “Harry, are you fine?”

“Yes,” Harry reached out to the wand. It was going to be okay.

The moment she held it she knew something was wrong. Her potion vials shattered, her cauldrons and knives broke into shards, her ingredients mutilated and the mess started to swirl around her and Caelum.

“I’m-I’m going to hurt you,” She choked out, “Get out of here!”

“Harry,” Caelum said calmly, “It’s going to be okay. Relax.”

But Harry couldn’t relax, not when all she could remember was a teary and terrified Caelum talking about how his magic had killed his parents just because he couldn’t control it.

“Get out of here!” Harry said hysterically, and the swirling bits around her shoved Caelum out the door and locked it with an overpowered locking charm.

“So now you decide to work?!” She all but screamed at her magic. A shard of glass swung at her face, grazing her cheek, and she cupped it, shocked. It had never hurt her before.

She dropped the wand, but it didn’t seem to ease her magic at all. Instead, as though angry with her for trying to abandon it, it tore everything in her lab apart.

“Stop.” Harry said weakly, “ Stop! ”

It only seemed to feed on her panic. One of her cupboards caught fire.

“ STOP!! ” Harry shrieked. The circling shards around her dropped to the ground. The fire didn’t extinguish.

Harry didn’t care, she just slumped to the ground too, hugging her body and trying to keep herself from trembling.

“ It was going to be okay,” Caelum promised—

“But it’s not.” Harry said into the air, “I’m dangerous.”

"Still…" Sirius trailed off with a frown. "I'll let you know if I find out what it was. Whatever did it needs to be taken out of this house, before it hurts someone else."

Harry gasped. What had that been, a memory? Her confusion drowned in her hysterical laugh. Before it hurts someone else.

Her heart dropped. Caelum. Had she hurt him, too? She pulled up her sleeve to see the words ‘That was brilliant.’ marked on her skin. She was repulsed with herself.

“Caelum?” Harry ran to the door, “Are you injured? Caelum?!”

“Harry? He's fine.” Lily’s voice came muffled through the door, “Shall I come in, dear?”

Her voice was soft, unlike the panicked tone Harry had expected. Had been afraid to hear.

“N-Yeah...” said Harry, “Yes, please.”

“I need you to stay calm, okay sweetie?” Lily said steadily.

“Yeah.” said Harry, “Yeah, I’m calm.”

Harry felt foriegn magic wash over the door and knew when her overpowered locking charm was undone by Lily.

Lily opened the door carefully, “...Harry?”

Harry realised she was behind the door, “I’m here.”

She was wrapped in her mother’s warmth even as everything in her lab was restored by her mother’s magic. Except for her ingredients. Those, she thought morosely, would have to go.

“Where is Caelum?” Harry said timidly, feeling as though she was repeating herself, “Did I hurt him?”

Lily looked at her with some indecipherable emotion, “No, he was just knocked unconscious.”

“Mum, will he also hate me now?” Harry said. She ignored the pain the thought caused her.

“Also hate you?” Lily looked shocked, “No one can hate you, Harry, and definitely not Caelum. Who said they hated you?”

“Whatever did it needs to be taken out of this house, before it hurts someone else."

She shook her head, “No. No one said anything. I’m just being silly.”

Lily carried her off to bed and stayed by her side the entire night.

-0

[ClClCl]

-0

Whatever had fractured within her, it had changed Harry intrinsically. She was more quiet, but most of her was just plain scared of her magic. And there was nothing Caelum could do about it except to remind her how wonderful she was. It didn’t work.

After the incident, Caelum saw a dramatic shift in her way of dealing with life. She became ever so cautious, ever so wary, and she wore a mask of calm that was getting just plain eerie. In the midst of it all, she turned to the only thing that seemed to matter to her anymore— potions. Her ambition and drive seemed to harden something inside her that had been soft. She talked to him, but in the quiet depths of her lab, of potion theories and science. Her way of calming herself had become reciting potion ingredients, and her residence, the lab.

She was more determined than ever, and even as he saw that she was going about it wrong, that to immerse herself in work and push aside her emotions was not good for her, she drifted further away. Flying, the one thing Caelum was terrible at, was her only source of freedom, and she took to the skies with Archie. Caelum watched from the ground, hoping that he’d be able to catch her if she fell.

Meanwhile his own dreams were getting squashed. He thought his life could change completely, now that he no longer was a puppet to his parents’ beliefs. It seemed, however, that they could touch him even from the dead.

Caelum’s face darkened as he remembered the conversation he’d had with Sirius before buying his wand.

“I’m sorry, Caelum, but your parents have put your name in for Durmstrang since birth. It’s in their will, too.” Sirius had said, “My hands are tied.” It was only the horrible, bitter note in his voice that had kept Caelum from snapping at him. No Hogwarts. Caelum couldn’t learn under Master Snape after all. Why’d he let himself hope for it after being taken in by Sirius? His parents had found a way to hurt him in the end.

Caelum had felt a cynical smile spread across his face, “All right.”

Caelum shoved the thought away and locked his trunk shut with a click. His flight was tomorrow.

…

His year at Durmstrang had been interesting, to say the least. He couldn’t say he’d been disappointed in anything but the Potions curriculum, which had been amended once the master there started to tutor him personally in some aspects, so that had to count as something. He’d find a way to reach out to Master Snape later, but until then Caelum wasn’t going to turn up his nose at more knowledge.

He had been taught Russian since birth in preparation for this, so didn’t face much challenge in learning. He found the difference between Durmstrang education and the tutoring sessions held by Remus (a decent teacher) quite intriguing.  While the latter covered the hands-on aspects of spells and magic, Durmstrang delved into the theory. Caelum was fascinated despite himself.

Amidst it all, he seemed to have forgotten the troubles at home.

Harry was a very poor correspondent, while Archie ensured that he received a letter every week by Sirius and him. Occasionally, he had the friendly letter from Remus, Lily and James too. The problems that Harry might have been facing seemed so far away, and with the way all the letters sounded so calm and assuring, he thought it all fixed and settled. Little did he know how wrong he was.

In the meantime, Caelum grew. Within the first few lessons itself he had established himself as a passionate potioneer, and he was able to get a lab for himself in school by the end of the year. Master Rutherage could help no less than Master Snape until they reached the higher ends of the potions field, and Caelum absorbed all he could.

Master Rutherage promised him more lessons over the winter break, so he stayed back. After a flurry of letters claiming that he wouldn't remember them anymore unless they met soon, the marauders sent some concerning news. Aunt Diana had fallen ill, though it didn't seem too serious. They'd see a healer if it got worse.

When he returned, content, it was to welcome arms. Things looked to be at their peak. Harry seemed to be much better now (or perhaps he had just stopped looking too closely), and much further ahead in her potion studies. So much so that she was ahead of him.

It was wonderful, brewing together and discussing theories and ingredients. They’d come so far, he thought. He’d come so far.

But then they found out that Diana had a rare illness. A terminal illness.

" No. I—" Caelum tried to breathe , "We'll—"

"Shh." Diana ran a hand each across Archie and Caelum's hair, "It's going to be okay."

Returning to Durmstrang that year was the hardest. Anyday Caelum had an oblivious breakfast in the Durmstrang Hall might be Diana's last. He might never see her again.

His feet stopped of their own accord right before the airport.

"Do I… Do I really have to go?" Caelum said quietly, "I'd rather be here. Maybe we could even figure something out—"

Sirius looked away helplessly.

Diana gave him a warm smile— and oh, if only he'd realized on a deeper level that that would be the last he'd get from her —he'd have talked of what she meant to him. How he loved that she could read his mind and know just the thing to say to comfort them. How the love she'd showered him with over time, love that was sweet, simple and pure, meant more than the world.

She pressed her fever-parched lips against his forehead, "With such a promising young generation, I'm sure there'll be a cure soon. Go and achieve your dreams, Caelum. I just want to see you and Archie fly. If that means holding on and cheering for you every moment, I will. Don't worry so much."

Caelum blinked rapidly, "Yeah. I'll make you proud, so take care of yourself… Mum."

Her mouth parted in touched surprise, and he was glad to have produced that effect. She'd been a better parent than anyone could hope for.

"You already have, Caelum." She said, "You've made me so proud."

There was a strange sort of strength in her voice that had been missing before, and Caelum found himself believing it would all turn out okay.

He boarded the plane with a more settled mind.

It all happened too fast. The marauders sent a letter saying Diana had been admitted to the hospital, and then his mail went silent. He had no other source of news, and he was at the point of deciding to storm back there somehow when he was called home in wake of a 'family emergency'.

Caelum found himself shaking by the floo, pale as paper.

Family emergency? Did she—

No no no. Just no. Don't overthink it.

His worst fear proved true. She was gone. Gone, leaving only the broken shards of a once whole family.

Sirius didn’t come out of his room for four days. Not for water, food, or Archie. Archie, who was suffering just as much as he surely was. Archie, who slumped against a wall and had a breakdown every time he thought no one— no, everytime he thought the adults weren't looking. Caelum went to talk to Sirius when he finally came out, only to find him unresponsive. Blank. Lost.

And Caelum… all he could do was sit on the floor of his potions lab and stare up at his ingredients, trying not to think about Diana's warm smile and feverish skin as she waved him goodbye. Of how she went out of her way to make things he liked, or how she dedicated her time to understand the things that mattered to him. 

It took a long time, but Caelum finally felt stable enough to get back to school, which was sending somewhat insistent letters now that he'd missed it for almost three months since Yule.

They parted without ceremony, and Caelum looked away and tried to keep the past somewhere it could never see the light of the day.

He stayed over winter break, but this time more to avoid the atmosphere at home than anything else. When he came over the summer, it was to a comparatively settled home. Days seemed to seep by without his notice, and soon it was time for another year.

Now, when he came back, things had almost gone back to normal. It hurt, in a strange sort of way, that they were getting used to a life without Diana, but Caelum found the gratitude more heavier. He couldn’t stand Sirius's empty or Archie's sad expressions any longer. It reminded him constantly of what they'd lost.

Then came another year, and then another . Each time they all changed so much— changed except for the inner warmth they held for one another. A stabilizing constant that healed them over time.

But this summer, as he returned from his fourth year, there was something other than the usual at home. Harry and Archie were planning something, and he knew it. He just couldn’t put his finger on what.

If he looked back, he ought to have known something like this would happen. Harry’s love for potions had been bordering near obsession, but the fact that she wanted to help everyone with them had held him back from deterring her. Besides, she looked so happy. He never saw her that way unless it was about Potions. That, by itself, should have been a warning sign, but he didn’t heed it in time.

Harry and Archie were surprisingly careful to not let anyone know what they were planning. He was about to give up eavesdropping and just confront them outright when he heard it.

Sirius wanted Archie to go to Hogwarts. And Archie wanted to be a healer. Really badly.

“Sirius, you’re blocking him from what he wants the most in life!” Caelum said indignantly.

Sirius winced, “With Diana gone, I—I can’t risk it. He’ll be so far out of my reach, away in America. Don’t even get me started on his future in Britain, considering he would have received education from AIM. He’ll thank me later, Hogwarts is wonderful.”

That seemed quite unreasonable to Caelum, “You live in the wizarding world. Should anything happen, all you need is an international Portkey or floo to get to him.” He swallowed, “and aunt Diana is the reason Archie wants to do this.”

He saw the conflict in Sirius’s eyes.

“A mother’s death is something that can make or break a child,” Caelum said, ignoring how he saw Bellatrix and Rodolphus lying limp in his mind’s eye, how Diana's warm smile positively glowed as it seared through his thoughts, or how he could see Archie peeking from behind the door and how these words must have written themselves across his skin, “And Archie chose to let it make him. Are you really going to deprive him of that?”

Sirius averted his gaze.

“Think about it,” Caelum said as he left the room.

The moment he was out of Sirius’ line of site, he lay flat against a wall and firmly told himself to take deep breaths.

Sirius was okay if Caelum left the country, but when it came to Archie…

He had never really become his son, had he?

No, Caelum told himself, he was bitter to let you go. He just couldn’t do anything about it.

For all he knew, that could have been what further cemented Sirius’ decision to not let Archie go.

I call him Sirius, said a part of Caelum that refused to shut up. Archie calls him ‘dad’. Who are you fooling? Have you seen the way he looks at Archie? It’ll never be the same.

It’ll never be the same.

And that’s when Caelum realised.

It doesn’t have to be. What Sirius and I share is special in its own way, just like each and every star, just like each and every relationship. I’m not Archie, and I’ll never be, but I wouldn’t be here if Sirius didn’t care for me.

It didn’t matter that Sirius connoted Archie with Diana and therefore held onto him with more heart. Caelum only had to remember the warmth in Sirius' hand when he'd touched Caelum's shoulder to know he was loved.

Sighing, he stopped pressing himself against the wall and gave a grunt when he realised there was water in his eyes. Shaking his head sharply, he saw Archie watching him intently.

"No sense of privacy, huh?" Caelum said lamely.

Archie took a few steps closer, and perhaps it was because Caelum knew it wasn't just sympathy that had put him to it, but on a deeper level, understanding, he found himself giving into a hug.

...

Sirius still held onto his decision, and the fervor in Harry and Archie’s conversations under a quieting charm only grew stronger as the school months approached closer. Harry hadn’t declared which school she wanted to attend yet. He was growing worried for her. She had always wanted to go to Hogwarts. Caelum thought she’d grown past that, but the look in her eyes when she thought no one was looking said otherwise.

And then it clicked. Harry announced that she wanted to attend AIM, and all Caelum could think was Don’t tell me she—

He couldn’t stand by any longer. If what he thought was true, this had to end now. He caught Harry reshelving ingredients in her lab. There was a silence neither of them knew how to break, during which she assessed his expression. Has she always done that? Mincing her words based on the person and their state?

No, of course she didn’t, Caelum thought, this only happened because you, just like others, overlooked what she was going through. What she wanted.

Harry hadn’t told him, but Archie had. James hadn’t been the most supportive father over the years, going so far as to burn and twist away her first stirring rod. Neither had anybody else ever understood her passion, making it a topic for jokes. Perhaps that was why she’d started lying to her parents, to both keep their peace of mind and follow her passion unobstructed.

He remembered the countless times she’d run off to Diagon to buy herself ingredients and potion periodicals, and James and Lily had been none the wiser until the fact was thrown in their faces with her inexplicable resources. Now those lies had led her down a path where she didn’t mind lying to her family forever if it was for her dream. If it was for Potions.

“...What are you going to do, Harry?" Caelum tried to keep his emotions down his throat, but they clawed all the way up, making the question sound rather weak and… scared. He didn't like feeling scared again. But this was another fear, different from what he had experienced as a child— fear for another— fear for his own .

"Me? I'm going to be the best potions master this world has ever seen, Caelum," Harry said, a grin indicating that she was playing around and eyes showing the firm determination behind words said lightly.

"You are." Caelum said with a smile, "We'll both be . "

“You better keep up then,” Harry said.

“That, I will,” Caelum said, and then, “Don’t do anything that could get you killed before that can happen.”

"What on earth are you imagining that I will be up to in America?" Harry said, amused. But she’d averted her eyes.

"As long as you'll be in America,” He muttered.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Harry frowned.

“Harry, I know. ” Caelum said, “I know what plot you and Archie are brewing, and it’s a terrible idea.”

Harry went still, then raised an eyebrow, “Plot? Are you talking about the prank we were going to use on you before leaving for the school year? ‘Cause we canceled tha-”

Misdirection again. Caelum bit back some harsh words. He hated being lied to. He stepped forward, “I know you plan to switch places.”

He saw the moment she decided on a different story to sell.

“No, don’t lie to me again. You need to understand that this is too dangerous an ocean to wade in!” said Caelum.

She was still stuck on her point. The way her lips had a rueful touch to them gave it away. She was going to go through with it anyway.

He shook her ever so slightly by the shoulders, "Harry, listen, okay? Don't just count me as a person who's rambling but ultimately has no say in your decisions. Listen. "

"I am listening, Caelum." Harry said, and he could tell she was trying hard to keep her voice steady. She was lying to him again. She wasn't going to liste-

"But in the end," said Harry, "It'll be my choice, whatever you're thinking of. If you tell mum or dad… I'll still find a way. This means everything to me, Caelum."

He didn't doubt that she would. Harry always did. The clarity she'd afforded him, however, left him wordless for a moment. When he regained his voice, he said, "I… You can do so much for the world, Harry. You're overflowing with talent, and I can see in you the want to help everyone. Don't… don't throw it all away, for validation. Our family may not understand you or your potions, but I do . You don't need Severus Snape to tell that to you. It isn't worth your life ."

That was what it boiled down to, didn’t it? He thought. Validation . Her family’s disregard for just how far she’d come and her dedication to the field had made Harry insecure, so tiny and deep a fracture that it made her who she was. She wanted to know if she could make it despite all her flaws, and she had given that power over to Severus Snape without a fight. He was the judge in her life now, having a strong enough hold on her that she could change her life with a wave. And the path only ran two ways— Success or Destruction.

"But Potions is my life." Harry's voice cracked, "I need someone who knows potions like him to tell me I have a real chance at making it in the field— that even though I'm a half-blood girl, I have the potential to do something great with my abilities. And the knowledge to further the field I have given my life to, knowledge only he can give me, what of that? This could be all I’ve ever wanted, to be able to invent potions that change people’s lives."

She stared at him. Caelum stared back, and he couldn't deny the disbelief that had overcome him in that moment, the disgust, "That even though you're a half-blood girl? Did you buy into that nonsense? You—" he looked away, "You were the one, you know, who I clutched onto the hand of to see that half-bloods weren't any different from me. How can you believe that you're any lesser now?"

It wasn’t fair, he knew. The world had shown her descriminatioin and had stopped her from attending Hogwarts because of something she couldn’t control. It was obvious that some part of her would want to prove to them, prove to herself, that she was no different from them, that she could be better. 

"Because it matters." Harry said, breathless.

Caelum caught her gaze and didn't let it go, "It matters? Blood matters? "

Harry held his gaze just as well, "It matters to the world, and they tried to stop me, to stop so many like me, from claiming our right. I'm going to prove them wrong."

There it was, that fire burning with tenacity. Somehow, she always ended up convincing him that hers was the superior idea. Maybe because it was the superior idea, he admitted. She would play the blood purists in their own game, all the while achieving the dream she so ardently wanted to achieve. And Caelum knew, just as he knew Sirius Black was a better father than Rodolphus could ever be, that if there was one person who ought to be the Greatest Potions Master or Mistress in the world, it should be Harry.

Caelum pulled her in an embrace, “How can I help?”

He could hear the smile in her voice, “You just did.”