Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cheers...

Muffled and a little far away cheers were all he could hear.

Looking around, rubble and destruction were all he could see. The once beautiful and lively castle he learnt to call home gave nothing but a sense of despair and sadness. Although there was cheering going on behind him, none of it reached him.

He just stood there thinking about how it was finally over. All the years that lead him here. All those years he knew this moment was coming: die or kill. And oh how he hated the thought of this moment.

All he ever wanted was peace and happiness. A safe place away from the family that detested his mere existence. Showing it every time they'd hurt him, abused him, and made him hate ever being born in the first place.

’This should not have been my life‘, he thought. Trapped in his own head while everyone else celebrated the death of Lord Voldemort.

Looking at the man's corpse there on the ground; Dead. Dead like every person whose blood was spilt on the ground of a place that should've been a safe haven.

’He's nothing anymore. All this madness, the mass killing, the terror. All of this and his body is just lying there like it's nothing but an empty husk‘, Harry pondered, standing will his nemesis no longer was in this world. Voldemort is now on the way to become nothing but history. ’Tom Marvolo Riddle, Voldemort, The Dark Lord, You-Know-Who. Now he's going to become nothing but a memory for some, and history for so many others in the future.‘

Looking down at his hand, vision still dazed after the duel, he saw it. The wand that killed so many, the one who killed Voldemort. Gripping it tight, Harry could feel its power. So strong now he was paying attention to it that he almost let's the wand fall. The magic of the Elder Wand flows through Harry's body, nearly as naturally as the boy's own magic or the blood in his veins. He feels an odd kind of comfort from the magic coursing through him now. As if being hugged by the power now in him, Harry relaxes a little bit.

The people behind him finally get his attention. Looking in their direction Harry gazes around. Happy faces, cheerful smiles and people hugging each other. He sees Ron and Hermione sharing a kiss, Neville and Luna hugging, and the rest of the Weasleys in a family embrace. Everybody, it's in a state of euphoria, people Harry knows as well as the ones he doesn't. Lord Voldemort is dead. They are free.

Harry, however, does not feel this happiness. He doesn't know why but all he feels is an emptiness and the wand magic going through him, bringing little comfort. Just enough so he can resist falling down crying.

’That's it now‘, Harry thinks ’The reason I got this far. The reason I was raised as a sacrificial lamb. The only reason people seemed to care about me when I entered this world. Perhaps it was still the only reason people cared. Harry James Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, the saviour of the wizard world.‘

Becoming bitter by the moment, Harry could only look at the people celebrating and feel an immense sense of unappreciation.

’How can they be so happy?‘, Happy spat in his head ’So many have died. My parents, Sirius, Remus, Fred... so so many. And yet they celebrate so openly. Merlin, I died! All this death and they look so joyful.‘

It did not go unnoticed by Harry that no one approached him. Not his friends, not the Weasleys, not even the people who loved to throw themselves at him in the past. It was as if his job was done and now he's nothing but a ghost. He doesn't feel like a hero but more like an executioner. He did the job that had been assigned to him before he could even know how to speak and knew they didn't need him anymore.

Harry takes a few steps towards his friends.

Hermione looks at him with an odd look at first but then she smiles. A fake one, Harry can tell, then Ron looks to where Hermione is looking at. His eyes lock with Harry's. Nothing. There's nothing there. The warmth of before no longer lingering in Ron's sight.

Harry doesn't notice when Mrs. Weasley suddenly is behind Ronald, hugging him, and then extending the hug to Hermione. She never looks a Harry. She drags Ron and Hermione to where the rest of the Weasleys are, leaving Harry alone, standing close to where they were just now.

Something breaks inside de Boy-Who-Lived. Feeling detached from everything and everyone, forgotten by those whom he calls friends, Harry turns around and starts to walk towards the bridge and away from Hogwarts.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking without a target in sight Harry just keeps going, and with every step, the hole inside his chest just feels like it's getting bigger. The emptiness becomes so strong that not even the power of the wand can stop it from consuming Harry's mind.

’Do not worry so, my friend...‘, a voice says, making Harry stop and look around.

No one is there.

"Am I finally losing it?", he asks himself out loud.

As if amused, the voice chuckles, making Harry tighten his grip on the wand.

"Who's there? Show yourself!", he shouts, looking around as he does it.

A gush of wind passes through Harry, making him shiver from the cold.

’Fear not, Harry‘, the voice says in the boy's head ’I am nothing but a friend.‘

Suddenly Harry feels the magic of the wand go through him once more, embracing him with its warmth.

Harry feels now like he's in a park, surrounded by trees coloured by autumn. He relaxes, accepting the presence that courses through his veins and skin.

"Who are you?", he whispers.

’A friend... and a guide.‘

Chapter Text

The voice said no more, but Harry had a sudden feeling of what to do and where to go.

Apparating to Grimmauld Place, Harry entered the townhouse, taking care to not wake Walburga's portrait, and immediately called for Kreacher.

"Filthy half-blood master calls for Kreacher", Harry sits down on a chair in the Drawing Room, pretending not to hear the house-elf’s jab.

"Yes, Kreacher. I'd like for you to lock the entire house down. Only allowing you and me to come and go. Can you do that?"

"Kreacher can close the house, yes"

"Nice. So please do that... and... um... is there any bedroom here that is, er, clean?"

"Disgraced master room is clean, as well as mistress' room and master Regulus' room."

"Yeah, well. I don't feel comfortable sleeping in Sirius' room", Harry says a wave of sadness goes through him, making the boy miss his godfather even more now that his at Grimmauld Place "And, Merlin forbid, I will definitely not sleep on a bed Walburga has used."

A shiver goes through Harry as he says that and Kreacher is unimpressed.

"Kreacher take dirty mater's things to master Regulus' room then."

Looking at Harry, as if expecting something, Kreacher stays there waiting.

"Oh. Yeah. I don't actually have anything on me other than the Hallows and, er, these clothes I'm wearing. Are there any clothes here, Kreacher? I will go out later to buy more but I don't wanna go looking like I just fought a war."

That irony is not totally lost to Harry.

"Master Orion and maters Regulus' wardrobes have clothes, yes." 

"Well, I think Orion was very tall from what I remember Sirius telling me about him, so Regulus' clothes will have to do it."

Kreacher doesn't answer him but just leaves with a pop. 

"Rude", the boy mumbles.

Signing Harry gets up from the chair, deciding that it's better to have a bath and then go to sleep.
Not knowing or caring if anyone will try to find the Boy-Who-Lived and probably try to use his new fame as the one who defeated Voldemort twice. 

Making Kreacher close down the townhouse was a good idea because as much as his friend's reactions to him were more than weird, Harry knew they couldn't stay away for long. Especially Hermione with her need to put her nose in other people's business, and having Hermione come by means having Ron here as well. Merlin forbid they stay away from each other.

Still very bitter about his friend's treatment of him, Harry decides to put the thought of them aside and go do away more important thing: sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A mumbled voice makes Harry wake up. Slowly opening his eyes, he goes to grab his glasses from the bedside table. Putting them on while sitting up Harry starts to pay more attention to his surroundings, especially the house-elf speaking while looking at him.

"...throw water at them?"

"Excuse me?", is the only thing Harry can say to that.

"Kreacher says that master's mudbloob and blood-traitor are here trying to get in."

"Oh", Harry lets out, still trying to wake up completely "And what did you tell them."

"Kreacher tell them mudbloobs and blood-traitors are not welcome." 

Singing as the elf's ridiculous antics Harry says "Of course. Merlin help me. Well, er, tell them I'm not here and the House of Black has a new head or something."

The house-elf doesn't seem impressed by Harry's response.

"Kreacher do that, yes."

"Yeah, ok. Er, if they don't leave I guess you can through water at them."

That brings a smirk to the house-elf mouth and Harry can tell that can't be a good thing. 

After Kreacher is gone Harry lays down again, closing his eyes and thinking that he hasn't slept enough to deal with this. 

’I was thinking the same thing‘, the voice in his head says again, making Harry jump from the sudden appearance.

"What the- Who are you?! What do you want?"

’I told you Harry, I am here as a friend and as a guide.‘

"That doesn't explain anything. I'm going to ask again, Who are you? And what do you want from me? Actually, how are you speaking in my head?"

’Well, I thought by now you'd have figured it out, Harry. You are actually holding one of my creations right now. Perhaps that's the clue you need."

Confused, Harry looks at his right hand, seeing nothing, then at his left one. At that action, his left hand let go of what it was holding. 

"The Elder Wand", Harry says almost in a whisper.

’Indeed‘, says the voice.

"No, but that means that... you are-", unable to finish the phrase, Harry just stays quiet.

’Death‘, answers the voice, in an amused tone.

"But, but why are you here in my head? Why are you talking to me? Am I cursed or something? Am I dead?!", Harry says as he can feel himself beginning to panic.

’This can't be happening. I just wanted some peace and now I have literal Death in my head. Damned Potter Luck. I ended the war but now I'm haunted by Death Itself.‘

"Why do these things keep happening to me?", Harry asks as he looks at the ceiling as if god himself would answer him.

’Calm down, Harry. I am not here to bring you harm. You have reunited my Hallows. The first person to ever do so. And that, Harry, make you my master.‘

"What?! But no, I through the Resurrection Stone away in the Forbidden Forrest. I can't be the Master of Death."

’Oh, but you are, Harry. You have the claim over the Hallows. You have touched and used all of them, Harry.‘

"Wait, but I have never used the wand!"

’Didn't you? How have you arrived here then?‘

"Bloody apparition! I didn't even realise I used the wrong wand to leave Hogwarts. Should've used the Knight Bus."

Death remains silent but Harry can feel It is entertained by his behaviour.

"Wait, you said that I have touched and used all of them, right? Doesn't that mean Dublemdore should've been Master of Death?"

Death laughs lightly before answering "No, Harry. Only someone of Peverell blood can master the Hallows. You're the last of the descendants of the Peverells, actually. No one else alive could master the Hallows other than you.‘

"Oh... Yeah, I guess that explains things."

After that, there is only silence. Harry is trying to digest the conversation they just had. Now having to accept yet another distinct thing about himself. Not that he doesn't like it, no. He is actually very curious about what being Master of Death entails. Is it a new power? Can he bring back the dead? Kill people with one thought? As morbid as it all sounds Harry isn't put off by it. Maybe the Deathly Hallows have changed him in some way or perhaps he has seen so much death and violence during the war that it wouldn't surprise him if that was the cause of his slight lack of morals.

"So, um, Death. What does being your master give me? Can I bring people who've died back or something? Do I have some powers that nobody else has?"

’I'm sorry Harry not even I can bring people from the dead, but yes, you do have "some powers" as you called it."

Rubbing his shoulder awkwardly he answers "Nah, it's ok, Death. It's not your fault. But, yeah, what kind of magic can I do then?"

’Well, you are now a necromancer, Harry. Meaning that you can bring soulless creatures back to life: plants, no sentient animals, as well as controlling the dead. I'm afraid you have had an encounter with the inferi once, yes? Well, you can now make beings much like those, but the process of making them would be easier for you, as well as the control you'd have over them would be complete; different from other necromancers that would need a lot of magic to control the inferi.‘

Harry shivered from the memory of the cave. The horrid place should burn in hell, Harry would tell anyone who asked. 

"Um, not to insult you but the power seems a little, let's say, timid. Are there any other things I could do?"

’Of course. The Hallows give their master a lot of power, Harry. You could've destroyed de Horcruxes much more easily, by using your magic to take the soul out of the container, leaving it as an empty object again.‘

"Ugh. Of course, I could. I can never have it easy can I? Well, that's good to know though. Next time I'll use that tactic", Harry answers with a small laugh, much to Death's amusement.

’You can also save people from the brink of death. You cannot resurrect them, but you can keep their souls inside their bodies.‘

Harry nods and hums at that. It's definitely something that could come in handy.

’There is also the fact that, if you wish to, I can no longer touch you. That, of course, means that you'd be immortal.‘

"Wow. Really? That's, um, cool I guess but I don't really have a need for it. I don't think immortality is something I desire."

A wave of appreciation washes through Harry. Death most definitely liked his response.

"Is there anything else?"

’There is one thing, but that'll have to wait. I'd like for you to go to Gringotts first, Harry. Ask them about the records of your accounts and to do an inheritance test. After that come back here and I shall tell you about the other type of magic you can do.‘ 

"Gringotts? Yeah, I guess that's fine. Wait, what do you mean by accounts? As in I have more than one?"

No answer came so Harry just signed and got up from the bed. He had no idea about what Gringotts you show him but if Death thinks it's necessary then he doesn't see a problem with it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Harry got to the kitchen breakfast was already on the table. Kreacher really did his job this time, Harry thought.

Not only there was breakfast but also the house is clean(?). That's definitely an improvement from the past.

While Harry was eating Kreacher popped into the kitchen and stopped when he looked at Harry.

It took Harry some time to realise it was because of the way he was dressed. He was wearing one of Regulus' open green robes. The inside of the robe was full of constellations, some of which Harry recognised from his Astronomy class. The Leo constellation, with the Regulus A as its brightest star, being the most obvious. To go with the robe Harry decided to do something with his hair, using a product he got from Regulus' bathroom. His hair now was more tamed and come to ear level. Harry also got a silver pocket watch that belonged to one of the Black ancestors, from what he could gather.

Seeing the house-elf continuing look of awe Harry chuckled and said, “Well, Kreacher, I'm flattered but I'm just wearing nicer clothing.”

"Master looks much better now, yes he does", said the elf.

"Well, thank you, Kreacher. Is there something that you need?"

That seemed to take the elf out of his stupor.

"Master filthy friends send letters."

With a snap of his finger, Kreacher made two letters appear on the table.

"I see...I'm going to Gringotts first and I guess I'll read them when I'm back. I have no patience now for those two now."

Kreacher left and Harry resumed eating his breakfast and in the back of his mind, he was wondering what excuse they'd use for ignoring him. If they think he'll just forgive them they are very much wrong. No more selfless Potter, Harry thought. He didn't die for these people just so he could be thrown out like he's nothing but rubbish.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arriving at Diagon Alley made Harry a bit weary. He didn't know if people would be hailing him as a saviour or as the next Dark Lord. You never really know with the British, Harry knew that by heart by now.

Thankfully he took his Invisibility Cloak with him, so moving around the Alley was actually quite easy. He just had to make sure not to bump into one of the people who were celebrating the death of Voldemort.

Celebrating was not quite the word. People were behaving like it was the biggest party in Wizart Britain's history. The stores were opened, and people were drinking in the streets. Everyone was hugging each other or crying out of happiness.

Harry sneered. Of course, these cowards were celebrating, he thought. They didn't move one finger against Voldemort, but now it's over they show their faces.

With his mood worsening, Harry made his way to Gringotts Bank, thankful that the goblins were not participating in this cacophony.

Entering the bank Harry took off his Cloak. At the same time hoping that the goblins wouldn't burn him alive for destroying their bank.

’Calm down, master. The goblins will recognise my magic in you and won't dare touch you,‘ Death said, making Harry relax.

"Um, hello. I'd like to talk to the goblin responsible for my account. I'm Harry Potter."

Thankfully the bank was utterly empty with only Harry there at the moment. Probably partying at the end of the war, Harry realised. 

Looking up at him, the goblin, shocked by the magic around Harry, could only ask for his key, which Harry said he didn't have.

"You don't have your key?", the goblin asked with a sneer.

"Um, no, sorry. I never actually had my key. Rubeus Hagrid had it when I first came here, and I think Molly Weasley has it now."

The goblin looked at him for a moment, with a face of astonishment. Then the goblin suddenly yelled something in Gobbledegook.

A second goblin appeared, Accompany me, Mr. Potter, he said.

Harry followed the goblin to an office.

"Very well, Mr. Potter, my name is Ironclaw and I am your account manager. I must say, I have been waiting for you for quite some time, Mr. Potter. Your accounts have never been seen by you, which is most unusual."

"I'm sorry, Ironclaw, but I didn't even know I had more the one account. I visited one vault, the first time I came to the bank, and I thought that was my only one. I'm actually here to see the records of my accounts and to make an inheritance test."

Ironclaw nodded and snapped his fingers. A few file folders appeared on the table. 

"These as the records since you have inherited the Potter and Black accounts. And these", Ironclaw gave a parchment to Harry, "is all the money and items that have been taken out of your vaults."

Looking at the parchment Harry couldn't help but gape at what was written.

POTTER ACCOUNTS

687 — Trust vault: 50,625 galleons
237 — Potter vault: 25,000,000 galleons

TRANSACTIONS & REMOVALS

— Trust Vault —
13th of November, 1981 - Invisibility Cloak 
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

— Potter Vault —
2nd of May, 1982 - 15,027 galleons
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

— Potter Vault —
3rd of June, 1982 - Peverell Grimoire
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

— Potter Vault —
22nd of January, 1986 - 120 galleons
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)
receiver:
(Vault 827 - Weasley family vault)

— Potter Vault —
11th of April, 1990 - 876 sickles
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)
receiver:
(Vault 827 - Weasley family vault)

26th of April, 1992 - 36 books
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)
receiver:
(Vault 1,727 - Hermione Jean Granger's vault)

— Potter Vault —
26th of April, 1992 - 17,324 galleon
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)
receiver:
(Vault 1,727 - Hermione Jean Granger's vault)

BLACK ACCOUNTS    

771 — Black Family Vault: 87,000,000 galleons 

TRANSACTIONS & REMOVALS

20th of October, 1996 - 12 books
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)
receiver:
(Vault 1,727 - Hermione Jean Granger's vault)

20th of October, 1996 - 23,560 galleon
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

6th of November, 1996 - Black Grimoire
(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

23rd of November, 1996 - 37,854 galleon
(Vault 1,346 - Order of Phoenix's vault)

Harry could not believe what he was seeing. Dumbledore stole from him?! And it started the same year his parents were murdered! He even stole from Sirius! In the same year he lost his godfather Dumbledore decided to steal from Sirius. 

And the worst part: Dumbledore was paying the Weasleys and Hermione. The Weasleys, a family that were proud of their humbleness were fucking stealing from him! And Hermione was not only stealing money but also books, of course!

"How did this happen?", Harry asked Ironclaw, while trying to not scream and destroy the goblin's office.

The goblin, sensing Harry's mood, cleared his voice with apprehension. “You see, Mr Potter, Ironclaw started Albus Dumbledore, as your magical guardian, could take money and items from your vault that could be used by you or given to other with your permission.”

"But I never used any of this! These money, these books, I've never seen any of it."

"Well, Mr Potter, if you wish Gringotts can order all the money and items to be brought back to your vaults. The items can be called at any moment, so they appear instantly back in the vaults they are from. The money, however, could take some time. In this case, given that you did not authorise the transactions it means that the people who were given the money will have to give back more than they were given."

"Dot it!", Harry said with exasperation, "I want every Knut back in those vaults and I want them to lose everything they have in order to pay me back."

Nodding to Harry, Ironclaw got up and left the room, telling Harry that he'll take care of it right now. “Very well, Mr. Potter. It will be done,” he said when he came back.

"Now, in relation to the inheritance test, all you need to do is put three drops of blood on this enchanted parchment, please."

Nodding, Harry did as he was told. The results were at the same time shocking and infuriating.

HARRY JAMES POTTER
17 years old

Half-blood 

Parents:

Father - James Fleamont Potter

Mother - Lily Clarice Potter née Evans

Lordships

Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Prestigious House of Peverell
Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter
Lorde of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black

Titles

The Boy-Who-Lived
The Saviour of The Wizarding World
The Man-Who-Conquered 
The Master of Death

 Magic abilities

Parseltongue & Parselmagic (Blocked by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore) — Blocks broken at 11 years old
Occlumency (Blocked by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore) — 100% blocked
Metamorphmagus (Blocked by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore) — 100% blocked
Magic of Death and Time

Glamours & Compulsions

Glamour - James Fleamont Potter's hair and facial features
Glamour - To give small stature
Glamour - To harm vision (Vision impaired from overuse of glamour)

(Cast by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore)

Compulsion - To trust Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore 
Compulsion - To befriend Ronald Bilius Weasley
Compulsion - To trust Weasleys 
Compulsion - To hate Slytherin House
Compulsion - To act heroically
Compulsion - To like Hermione Jean Granger
Compulsion - To not like studying
Compulsion - To hate the Dark Arts
Compulsion - To hate pureblood ideology
Compulsion - To give his life for other 
Compulsion - To make trust the Order of the Phoenix 
Compulsion - To love Ginevra Molly Weasley 

(Cast by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Molly Elisabeth Weasley and Hermione Jean Granger)

Harry blinked, not believing what he was reading. After a few moments after he finished reading the parchment, he looked up at Ironclaw and asked “Are these glamours and compulsions still on me? Can I remove them? And my eyes, can something be done about them?”

"Yes, Mr Potter, Gringotts can remove them all. For a price of course."

"Take it from the Potter vault."

"Very well. Accompany me please."

They left Ironclaw's office and went into another room where some other goblins were walking around. A lady goblin approached them and asked “What can I do for you?”

“The boy needs a cleansing and healing for the eyes,” was all that Ironclaw told the other goblin. She nodded to him and looked at Harry.

"Accompany please, Mr Potter."

Harry followed the goblin to another room. There the lady goblin, Sharpteeth, as she introduced herself to him, told him to lie down on the bed in the middle of the room, telling him to stay there until the process was done.

To say that it was uncomfortable was an understatement. Harry felt like a million ants were walking under his skin. He felt the incessant need to scratch himself but had just enough self-control to remain still. Fortunately for him, the process was not very long, and after a few minutes, he could feel the sensation leaving.

After it ended Harry felt quite odd. His clothes felt like they didn't fit so well, his hair felt lighter on his head, and his vision had most definitely changed. Taking off his glasses that now blurred his vision, Harry realised that he could see without them.

Merlin!, was all he could think of. Shocked by how bad his vision had been before. No wonder he could never write things correctly when he could barely see them. Snape would definitely sneer at him and say he was dumb regardless of vision though, of that Harry was sure. 

Sitting on the bed Harry got the Elder Wand and conjured a mirror. To say that he was baffled by what he saw was an understatement. 

The most obvious thing was his hair, no longer dark and messy, now it was ginger like his mother, falling beautiful on his slightly freckled face. His eyes were still like his mother's, which he was thankful for. He could now say he was a mixture between his mother and father, no longer the clone of James Potter, but now his own person. He could also tell that he no longer was small. Regulus' robes feeling tight around his body was a strong indication of that. Waving his wand, Harry adjusted his robes so they could fit him properly again.

Looking at the mirror again he could only think, Merlin, I look so different. Harry never thought of himself as attractive but now he would have to change that. He would have to get used to seeing his new self in the mirror, but he was not complaining. 

Getting up from the bed, Harry went towards the door. Outside the room was Sharpteeth, waiting patiently for the cleansing and healing process to finish. 

"I see you've finished, Mr Potter. We hope you're happy with the results. You're now completely clean of compulsions or glamorous."

"Yes, I'm happy with it, Thank you."

"I'm just doing my job, Mr Potter. Now, Ironclaw asked me to take you to his office again so he can explain some things to you. Follow me please."

Harry said noting as he followed Sharpteeth. Still basking on the feeling of being clean from those traitors' magic. It felt like being free from a prison. Harry didn't think he would ever get tired of this feeling.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After going once again to Ironclaw's office they talked for a bit. The goblin assured Harry that the people who had stolen from him would know the consequences of their actions very soon and that, if he wished, Harry could take Mrs Wesley and Hermione to court for putting compulsions on him. Harry, linking the idea, said that he'll do just that.

Asking for a money pouch, linked to his Potter vault, so that he can get money without going to Gringotts every time, Harry said his goodbyes to his account manager, saying that he'd look through the files and look for the Potter properties and maybe even the Peverell ones, if that are any. 

Walking around Diagon Alley, Harry thought it was time for him to spend money on himself. 

His first stop was at Twilfitt and Tattings for some high-quality robes and boots.

Harry decided to go for a completely new wardrobe; going for a selection of black, blue, grey and Slytherin green robes, for informal and formal settings and some winter robes as well. Also buying some dragon hide boots and gloves, Harry left the store, going back to the Alley.

Feeling satisfied with his purchase, Harry thought it was better to go back to Grimmauld Place 

Go towards the apparition point, he realised that, to the rest of the Wizarding World, the Harry James Potter they knew was gone. His new face and height were unrecognisable to anyone, leaving them unaware that the Boy-Who-Lived was walking among them.

That brought a smile to Harry's face...

Chapter Text

Playing with the letter in his hand, Harry has a feeling that whatever is in them is not going to be good or the truth.

The first letter is short and stupid, Ron's style:

  Hey mate,

We're kinda looking for you. You just left and didn't tell anyone, Harry. Mum and Ginny are asking for you, mate. 
Just come to the Burrow and let's talk.

Ron

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at Ronald's way of letter. Does he really think I will just go back running to them? They must think I'm beyond stupid.

Hermione's letter was what he was expecting from her:

  Harry,

we've been worried sick! You just left Hogwarts and didn't tell anyone, Harry. Do you have any idea of how concerned we are for you? Mrs Weasley has been crying all day, thinking that you were kidnapped by a Death Eater. 
Are you doing this for attention, Harry? You know how much we care for you. How could you just leave us like that?
We went to Grimmauld Place but Kreacher said you were not there and that the House of Black has a new head. We're thinking Malfoy owns the house now. Kreacher even threw hot water at Ron and me! That little demon.
You need to come to the Burrow, Harry! We are all here waiting for you, especially Ginny. 

Your friend,
Hermione 

"You've always been a bad liar, Hermione", Harry said after finishing the letter. "I can't believe they think I'm that easily manipulated."

Throwing the letters into the fireplace, Harry layed down on the couch, resting a bit after everything he's gone through today.

’Master?‘, Death asked in Harry's head.

"Yes, Death?"

’I'd like to talk about the power we talked about before‘

"The one you said you were going to tell me? Go on then."

’You've seen in your inheritance test, yes, master? Yes, the power of time. You see, Harry, death is never-ending; it can never be stopped. Death comes to all things no matter the time. In essence, death is timeless, therefore, going from one place in time to another is as easy as apparating to the next room.‘

"Time travel? I can travel through time?", Harry asked, a little short in breath, thinking about the possibilities of this.

’Indeed you can. It's one of the powers of the Master of Death. Endless passage through the waves of time."

Harry took a moment to digest what was said. He couldn't help but think about his parents. The possibility of saving them. He could also save Sirius and Lupin, maybe even Snape. The man saved me multiple times, after all, Harry thought.

"Could I go to my parents' time, Death? Save them from being murdered by Voldemort?"

’Yes you can, Harry. You can go and save anyone you'd like to.‘

"But this wouldn't be a different dimension or something like that right? They'd really be my parents?"

’Yes, Harry. They would be your parents, from your timeline.‘

”Wow", Harry whispered.

"I-I think I want to do that, Death. Save my parents, save Sirius, save them from Voldemort. But, Death, would you be able to help me in any way? I don't know if I'm strong enough to protect them from Voldemort. I was lucky he was weakened when we duelled. I definitely cannot go by lucky anymore."

’Of course, I can help you, Harry. I'm your guide after all. I'll be teaching you all should've learnt at Hogwarts and a lot more, to help you in your journey. I can say with certainty that, by the time you're 19, you'll be ready for the travel.‘

"19... That's good. I know it won't matter in the grand scheme of things but I'd like to see my ’friends‘ pay for what they did to me. I wish I could do it with Dumbledore but I guess I'll have to wait for when I'm in the past.

With that said, Harry got up from the couch, in the direction of the library. Death guided him along the way. Yes, he had a lot to learn and for the first time in years, Harry felt excited about the future.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the next months, all Harry would do was study to prepare himself for his task. Death and he would spend hours in the Black Library. Now, without the compulsions, Harry realised that he actually loves learning new magic. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Ancient Runes, Mind Arts, Necromancy and even the Dark Arts. All this new knowledge was flooding Harry's mind at an incredible rate.

Death even showed him Soul Magic, important against the Horcruxes, and his new favourite: Parselmagic. It happens that Harry was actually still a Parselmouth.

’It comes from your mother's side, Harry‘, Death explained to him one day. ’ Your mother was actually a descendant of Gormlaith Gaunt, an incredibly powerful dark witch, founder of Ivermony School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Lily Evans was a decent from a squib granddaughter of Gormlaith Gaunt.‘

Parselmagic has taken a special place in Harry's heart, being the magic coming from his mother. The few Parseltongue dark curses he could cast were incredibly powerful and basically impossible to overcome, since nobody else alive knew Parseltongue, nobody could produce the counter curses. 

Another thing that Harry loved doing nowadays was making the lives of his former friends an absolute hell.

The Weasleys and Hermione were made to give back all that money they took from him, and a lot more in damages because of their theft.

The Weasleys were basically crippled by this. The twins had to sell all their products and give the money to Harry, Arthur and Percy lost their jobs in the Ministry after the news of what the family had done came out and, the best part, Ronald and Ginevra wouldn't be able to go back to Hogwarts since the family had no money left.

Hermione, going through a similar thing with her parents, since they didn't know she stole from Harry but now they have to help their daughter pay for the money she took from Harry.

The Most delightful moment, however, was seeing Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger being tried at the Wizengamot.

Mrs Weasley was sentenced to one month in Azkaban and had her wand snapped, as well as being forbidden from producing potions for the rest of her life.

Hermione, for her help in the defeat of Voldemort, was given a 'lighter' sentence, by the Wizengamot's standards. However, Hermione herself might as well thought she was being given the Dementors Kiss.

"Banned from holding any jobs at the Ministry of Magic, as well as having your wand detained for 8 years.", Minister Isadora Fawley stated.

"But how can I go back to Hogwarts if I don't have a wand?!", Hermione cried out.

"You'll not be going back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, young lady", answered the minister. "Someone so immoral like yourself shouldn't be allowed the privilege of learning at such a prestigious school."

Seeing Hermione's expression when the minister told her that was something Harry would never forget.

’Merlin, I need to get a pensive‘, Harry thought in amusement.

Mrs Weasley and Hermione were then escorted out of the chamber and Harry, using his Metamorphmagus ability to disguise himself as the old self, got up from his seat to leave.

Many eyes were on him while he left, especially the journalists'. The news of the betrayal had reached far and wide in the moths after the war and the people wanted to know everything about it.

The Traitors, now the Weasleys were called by the people of Wizarding Britain and Hermione was simply ignored as nothing more than dirt under their shoes.

That was not the only trial Harry went to, since the Malfoys had been arrested, the boy felt the need to pay the life debt he owed them.

Narcissa Malfoy was released after Harry told the Wizengamot about her lying to Voldemort, which saved the Boy-Who-Lived at the end.

Harry did the same during Draco Malfoy's trial. Harry told the court that Malfoy was forced by Voldemort, under the threat of death, to do what he did. As well as lying to Bellatrix Lestrange and stopping her from calling Voldemort to Malfoy Manor.

Both mother and son went back to their Manor, however, the Malfoy patriarch, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, was sentenced to Azkaban for his allegiance to the Dark Lord.

Many other Death Eaters were also sentenced to Azkaban as the months went by. Harry, though, asked Minister Fawley to make sure every single person was given a proper trial, different from what happened during the first war. The Minister, as everyone else nowadays it seems, was more than happy to help the Man-Who-Conquered in any way possible.

After the trials, Harry went back to studying, more relaxed now that the Weasleys and Granger were made pariahs in the Wizarding World.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The time went on so fast that when Harry realised his 19th birthday was just a week away.

’I believe it's time for us to talk before you travel, Harry‘, Death told him after he finished his duel with the training dummies.

Harry was now significantly better at duelling, thanks to Death's enchanted dummies. That plus his newly acquired power and knowledge made Harry basically unbeatable. His body was incredibly tired from all the daily training but he knew he was stronger than ever.

The now man was so in tune with his magic that he felt like he could do anything.

"Sure, Death", he answered as he sat down on the floor, still sweating from all the training.

Dark smoke began to appear and solidify in front of Harry. The first time Death appeared in person Harry almost fell off a chair, but after months of it happening, it was easy to get used to.

"Well, Harry, is almost time and I can see that you are most definitely prepared to go to your parent's time. However, there is one more thing you'll need, Harry."

"What is it? I can't think of anything, I've already packed everything I'll need, Death. Books, clothes, and when I get there I'll go straight to Gringotts and claim the Peverell lordship as we talked about."

"Yes, but you can't do everything by yourself, Harry. Even with all you've learnt, you're still in need of help. You must decide who shall help you in your quest to bring down Lorde Voldemort."

"I can't really have anyone in mind though. If I need someone to help me then it has to be someone I'll trust. I could have my parent's help, but I don't want to put them at risk. The only people I know who fought Voldemort are the ones in the Order, and I'm definitely not asking any of them for help."

"There is no need to ask them, Harry. There is someone who can help with not only bringing down the Dark Lord but also with your plans of changing the Wizarding World. You said yourself you want to make a big difference, erase the corruption from the government, protect children who might've been abused like you were, protect them from muggles who, if found the existence of magic, would terrorise every witch and wizard in the world."

"But I don't know anyone like that. I know I'll have to bridge the gap with the Dark Sect but who could help me with this? The only dark wizards I know are Lucius Malfoy and Snape, and the Death Eaters."

"Look around, Harry. Help might be closer than you'd think."

Looking around the training room in Grimmauld Place Harry thought, ’Black Family? I only know Sirius and he hates dark magic. Orion? No, he's influential but I doubt he'll go against Voldemort. Walburga? Merlin forbid.‘

"Wait. You can be thinking about Regulus Black, right? He's a Death Eater!"

"Oh, but he'll betray Voldemort, have you forgotten? A few days after you're arrival, Regulus Black will go retrieve Slytherin's Locket and die in the process."

"So you want me to help him get the Locket and ask for his help afterwards? I guess I can do that. I always thought it was a shame the Black family was basically extinct. But how can he help me afterwards?"

"Regulus Black is the heir of the darkest family in Britain, Harry. The Black's influence on other dark families is enormous. Regulus, as a pureblood heir, knows the inner workings of the Ministry. Someone with that influence and knowledge could help you immensely."

"But he's a pureblood. I doubt he'll want to help a half-blood. He betrayed Voldemort but that doesn't mean he's not a blood purist."

"That's the reason why I'd like to change your blood status. Making you a new person entirely; and being a pureblood will save you a lot of time if the other dark wizards can accept you easier."

"What do you mean 'change' my blood status? How's that even possible? Will I stop being my parent's son though? I'm not sure if I want that if that's the case."

"Yes, you'd no longer be the son of James and Lily Potter. You'd still have a few characters of them, however. You can't build a new life for yourself if you are still Harry Potter. You must leave some aspects of your past life behind. It'd be better for you, Harry. Trust me on that."

Signing as he got up from the floor Harry said "Okay, Death. I'll allow you to make me a pureblood and I'll go help Regulus Black. I'm trusting you on this."

"You'll not regret this, Harry", Death said as he vanished in smoke. A small smile on his lips

Chapter Text

He arrived in a blast of light.

Suddenly, no longer in the warm of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry was hit with cold winter from every side.

Looking around, he could recognise the Scottish countryside. It was dark and the nearest town was probably far away from him. 

"Perfect", he said, with a smile. "No time to lose." 

Not waiting another minute, he apparated to Diagon Alley. It was the 17th of July, 1979. Just in time, Harry thought.

Late a night the Alley was empty, and most people were either hiding from the war or were asleep before going to work in the morning.

Harry went straight to Gringotts, entering the bank and going towards the goblin he recognised as being a younger Ironclaw.

"Hello, I'd like to reopen my family vault, and claim my lordship."

Looking up, Ironclaw asked "And who are you?"

"My name is Hedwyn Aelius Peverell." 

Raising an eyebrow the goblin asked "Peverell, you say? You must perform an inheritance test before taking the lordship. We can do the test right here if you'd like."

"Very well", Hedwyn answered. Dropping three drops of blood onto the enchanted parchment that was given waiting for the results.

 
HEDWYN AELIUS PEVERELL 
19 years old
Pureblood 

Parents:
Father - Cadoc Brynmor Peverell 
Mother - Ada Freydis Peverell née Dahl

Lordship

Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Prestigious House of Peverell

Titles

The Master of Death 

Magic abilities

 
Parseltongue & Parselmagic
Occlumency
Metamorphmagus
Magic of Death and Time

"Very well, Mr Peverell. I'll start the process of reopening your vault"

"I'll transfer my money from my vault at a bank in Norway to my vault here at Gringotts", the money being Death's welcoming gift, of sorts.

"Understood. Would you like your lordship ring now?"

Hedwyn nodded and the goblin snapped his finger, making a wooden box appear.

Inside there was a silver ring, with carvings in the form of Thestrals. In the middle, there was a dark blue stone with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on the middle. Putting on the ring gave a rush of magic that coursed through his body. The Peverell family magic accepted him.

Looking up at the goblin he said "And I'd like for the Wizengamot seats that have been used by the Potters to be given back to me."

"It'll be done, Lord Peverell. But beware that those seats have been used by Albus Dumbledore and losing those seats means that he'll no longer be Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Mr Dumbledore might try to contact you to gain your favour." 

Hedwyn couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Let the old man try. It'll be funny to see him beg."

Ironclaw smirked and gave a nod. Harry then nodded back and turned around, leaving the bank.

’Well, well, well. Time to go home.', he thought 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The state was beautiful. Set in a remote location in Wales, the land where the Peverells came from.

Gwynt Keep was its name. A structure that felt both imposing and homely. With gardens that would make a Malfoy jealous and a building as old as Hogwarts herself.

The magic of the place of the best part. Death magic. The Peverell never shied away from necromancy and the magic of this ancestral home was the proof of that. 

The chief house-elf Ædda was an old little lady who started crying when Hedwyn came inside the Keep. 

Ædda not having a master in so long, she said while crying.

Harry just smiled at her, patting her on the head.

There were many other elves, all very happy to finally have a master and Harry was very happy to have them there.

Calling another place home after so long at Grimmauld Place was not as hard as Harry thought it would be. Gwynt Keep was easily becoming his favourite place. Besides being a beautiful home it had everything had needed. The library was enormous, with books on topics Harry never had at the Black townhouse. Ritualistic Necromancy and Blodcræft were just two titles he already was anxious to read.

But everything has its time.

Now, Hedwyn must put his plans into place. Reading the Daily Prophet already showed him his plans were already working.

DUMBLEDORE LOSES POSITIONS

 
That's right dear readers. Albus Dumbledore has just lost his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot or Supreme Mugwump. According to Ministry officials, a new lord came in and claimed his lordship, making Dumbledore unable to keep his titles. 
Now, dear readers, you may be asking yourself who this new lord is. Well, is no other than Hedwyn Aelius Peverell, the first Lord Peverell in generations! 
Lord Peverell is yet to make an appearance, but we'll all certainly be waiting for the next Wizengamot court date. Just in days time, Wizarding Britain will know who its new lord is. I can't wait!

There was a lot more pandering, which Harry couldn't care more about, so he set the paper aside and got a letter that came in just this morning.

  Lord Peverell,

I was made aware that we have a new face in British politics. It's a very slippery hill, you see. Many of these politicians have nothing in mind but their own profit. So, being more experienced in dealing with these issues, I thought it would be nice of me to lend you a hand.
I have been taken care of the seats from cousins of yours, you see. The Potter family has trusted me with helping them to keep their seats in good use, and I would be more than happy to do the same for you.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore 

The sheer audacity of this man!, Harry thought. Does he take me for a stupid school student?

But the letter did help him in a way. Learning that Dumbledore was in control of the Potters' seats even before he was born was useful information.
As a member of a family that became part of the Potters, being Lord Peverell gave Hedwyn an advantage: the Potter House was, for lack of a better term, vassals to the Peverells. This information was in the documents he got from Gringotts years ago. The Potter accepted these terms in order to gain the Peverell wealth, as well as their properties. 

Harry could act as a sort of lord over the Potters. Whatever he told them to do they'd have to comply, otherwise they could be disinherited.

Take the Potters away from Dumbledore's influence is a must. And with that in mind Harry wrote a letter to Lord Fleamont Potter and his wife.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Potter Manor

"Master, a letter for you", said a little house-elf to the old man who sat at the breakfast table.

"Thank you, Hiddy", said the man to the elf. Opening the letter, the Potter lord couldn't help but feel a headache coming.

  Lord Fleamont Potter,

I am sending this letter to you in order to schedule a meeting between you and me. It has come to my attention that the influence of a certain headmaster over the House of Potter is graver than I had previously thought. 

Now, I do not expect you to believe my stories about Albus Dumbledore right away, especially through letters. So I, as Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Prestigious House of Peverell, see no other choice than to command you and your wife to come to my residence in order for me to reveal some truths that will be beneficial for you to know. I expect you and Lady Potter at noon.

Best regards, 

Lord Hedwyn Aelius Peverell 

Fleamont couldn't believe what he was reading. A lord from a house the Potters are vassals to just essentially order him to come to him as if he was but a dog. He'd be outraged if he was not already used to the absurd. Being James Potter's father comes with such perks after all.

"What is it father?", his son asked from the other side of the table.

"It's nothing, James. Lord Peverell has, er, invited me and your mother to visit him tomorrow.

"Peverell? Is that the old dead family that was filled with dark wizards?", James asked, making a disgusted face.

Fleamont signs at his son's behaviour and rubs his forehead in order to ease his tension.

"We've talked about this, James. Our family has never been on the Light side. The Potters have always been a family of Grey wizards and the Peverells are our descendants as well. Lord Peverell is a cousin of sorts. Even if he's a dark wizard I want you to respect him. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Dad. Why are you so sensitive about this Peverell bloke?"

"Remember the story of how the Peverells became the Potters? Lord Peverell therefore has a lot of power over our family. If he wished to he could disinherit all of us, leaving us nameless and on the streets. You'll not do anything to anger Lord Peverell, James." 

James mumbled some word as if annoyed and went back to eat. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DUMBLEDORE AND GRINDELWALD:

A LOVE STORY?

You've read it right, dear readers. The one and only Albus Dumbledore has just been proven to have had a relationship with none other than the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Yesterday a few documents were delivered to the Daily Prophet, and in these documents was sensitive information about Hogwarts headmaster's secret love affair with Grindelwald. According to this documents, verified by us, tell the story of a young couple who, in the face of their mediocre lives, decided to rule the world together, subjugating muggles to wizardkind. The young couple, you may ask, were none other than Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald! The two were said to have a childish obsession with the Deathly Hallows, going so far as planning to use the childhood story items to rule over all. 

It was also a shock to learn that the slogan Mr Dumbledore loves to use "For the greater good" came from none other than Grindelwald himself. For decades Albus Dumbledore has used a dark lord's saying as if were nothing but an innocent phrase, when in reality the story behind it is as dark as the headmaster's past.

So, dear readers, I ask you all. How can the British people believe the man who lied to us for so long, hiding his villainous past from us? How can we trust such a man to guide our youth? And what else is Dumbledore hiding?! Is he a secret Dark Lord? Is he also in love with You-Know-Who? Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named just a disguise Dumbledore uses to deceive us all? Those questions and many others will be answered by our journalist, fear not!

— Marcus Skeeter

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the news.

"This is better than I could ever wish for!", he said with a big smile on his face.

A pop interrupted his moment of joy.

"Master's visitors are here", said Ædda.

"Oh. Already? Fleamont must've rushed here after reading the news", Harry said with a smirk. "Bring them to my office, Ædda".

The house-elf nodded and apparated.

In his office, Hedwyn waited for Lord and Lady Potter to arrive. Planning on how to bring them and their and daughter-in-law under his wing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fleamont felt as if he was an ant. The sheer size of the property was astonishing. The land showed the power the Peverell family had not only over the Potters but over many more unsuspecting families. Hedwyn Peverell is not a man to anger.

An old house-elf guided him and Euphemia through the grand house and to say he was becoming morw impressed with every new room he saw was and understatement. The elf stop when they reached a door, bowed to them and apparated away.

They were inn front of a dark wooden door, Lord Peverell's office,  Fleamont thought and that made him feel even more anxious.

Perhaps sensing her husband's mood, Euphemia touched his arm and said "It's going to be fine, Fleamont. Relax. The man is not going to eat you alive."

"I wished I was as optimistic as you, darling", he said with a smile.

Euphemia gave him a small smile and took hold of his left hand. 

Then the door opened, revealing not an old and grumpy man as Fleamont had expected, but a young joyful-looking one. He was perhaps even younger than his James. Tall with ginger hair that touched his shoulders; eyes green with a touch of dark yellow, the facial features delicate, worthy of a pureblood. 

"Lord and Lady Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you", the young man said, shaking Fleamont's hand and kissing the top of Euphemia's.

"Lord Peverell, merry met", said the Potter lord.

"Thank you for inviting us to your beautiful home", said Euphemia.

After a few more nice words from each side, the three entered the office. The Potters taking the seats in front of the office desk and Peverell taking the one behind it.

"I must say I was not expecting you this early. I assume you've read the Daily Prophet this morning."

Fleamont looked at his wife before answering, she nodded at him.

"Yes, Lord Peverell. It was quite a shock I must say. I've known Albus for years now and reading about his past was... troubling."

"I can imagine. Trusting someone for that long just to see their true colour so suddenly must be a difficult thing to digest."

It didn't go unnoticed by the Potters that the young man seemed to speak from experience.

"Indeed. From what you said in your letter, however, I assume that you knew about Albus' past."

Peverell smirks and that's all the answer Fleamont needed.

"I'm afraid Albus Dumbledore is not the man you think he is, Lord Potter. I have a feeling that in the future will learn a lot more about him."

That statement left a bitter taste in Fleamont's mouth. What else can Albus be hiding, he thought.

"But that's not why I invited you two here."

"And what reason might that be, Lord Peverell?", asked Euphemia, after the two men ended their exchange. 

"Oh, Lady Potter. I wish to help your family, of course. We are also family after all, aren't we? But that aside, let me ask you this: your daughter-in-law is caring a child, isn't she?"

"How do you-", Fleamont started asking but Lord Peverell raised his hand as to tell him to wait.

"I assume you've read some books from the Peverell family, Lord Potter. Books that talk about a very rare ability that some Peverells had."

"A seer?", Fleamont asked, baffled by the implications of that.

"Somewhat. The future is not one thing, you see. It's like a tree that grows branches from branches. A never-stopping cycle."

"So you saw Lily pregnant? That seems a bit odd. I thought seers so important moment in the future", Euphoria said.

"Oh, but that child is very important, Lady Potter. That child, if the circumstances are correct, can have the power to take down the Dark Lord."

To say the Potters were shocked by this revelation was an understatement. Fleamont were wide open and mouth agape, while Euphemia had a hand covering her mouth, more dignified than her husband.

Before the Potters could say anything, Hedwyn began "But those circumstances would not be good ones, you see. That's the reason why you're here. You know of the ties between our families, of course. The Potters swore allegiance to my family, but my family also swore to protect yours."

"You want to... protect our grandchild?", Fleamont asked.

"Very much so. It would be a disgrace for me and my family to know what the future holds for your family and simply do nothing about it. We are related after all, even if distantly.  So what do you say? Will you accept my help?"

Fleamont looked at his wife, her face impassive, but her eyes told everything he needed to know.

"What would we need to do to keep our family safe?", Fleamont asked the Peverell lord.

"First of all, all be sending you two, as well as your son and daughter-in-law to one of the Peverell's residences in Ireland. You'll be away from the war and, most importantly, away from danger. I'll also be putting the house under the Fidelius Charm, with me as your secret keeper."

"Is that all?", Euphemia asked, feeling that Lord Peverell was yet more to say.

"You must cut all contact with Albus Dumbledore, and your son must leave the Order of the Phoenix, as well as his job as Auror."

Fleamont didn't question Lord Peverell on how he knew about the Order, assuming he son in a vision. Albus had said it was a secretive organisation after all.

"That could be hard to do, Lord Peverell. James is very invested in the war. Making him leave would be very hard", said Fleamont, already dreading having to ask such a thing from his son. Merlin knows how that boy is a Gryffindor.

"Your grandchild cannot become an orphan, Lord Potter. It's very essential that both his parents stay alive. You have to do whatever is necessary to take your son away from Dumbledore and keep him in the house in Ireland. Otherwise, I fear James and Lily's child will not have an good life."

That seemed to wake something in Euphemia. The mere thought of her grandchildren having a miserable life was more than enough for her.

"Do not worry, Lord Peverell. I myself will make sure that James does as you said. He may no longer be a child but he'll listen to his mother. And I'm sure Lily you'll make him listen as well", Euphemia then looked at her husband "But what about Sirius though? James would be distraught if something were to happen to him."

"Sirius black?", Hedwyn asked; Euphemia nodded in confirmation.

"Indeed. From what I've gathered from him he can be very stubborn". It was then that an idea popped into Harry's head, making him smirk. "Tell me, do you happen to have a pensive? I've seen Sirius Black's future and the vision I have should be enough to discourage him from behaving like a petulant child."

They saw him take out his wand, a very familiar one that they couldn't pinpoint, and transfigure a pen into a small glass bottle. He then put the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew the memory, placing it inside the bottle and closing it.

"Show this to Mr Black. You might want to see it as well, so to know what it is about. Your son should also see, so he can know what kind of future anyone related to the order would have."

He then gave the bottle to Fleamont and the man put it inside a pocket in his robe pocket.

"I'd prefer if you could resolve everything with your son and Mr Black by tomorrow. As fast you go to the safehouse the better", Getting up from the chair, as if to signify the ending of the meeting Lord Peverell added "When things get sorted at your home, pack everything you'd need and come straight. All take you all to the house by portkey. The house has everything you need, as well as a few of my house-elfs."

After that, the Potters said their goodbyes, promising to come back tomorrow with the rest of the family, but before they could leave Peverell said to them "Oh, and beware of Peter Pettigrew."

Chapter Text

He felt cold, as if his soul was being ripped from his body. His head was spinning. Impossible to think or feel anything.

"This can't be happening", he told himself, repeating it over and over.

He didn't know what to think, or what to do. He felt betrayed and disgusted. This is not what he was promised. His parents only told him good things about what his new life would be.

Heir of the House of Black. Youngest Death Eater to date. A lie. It was all a lie. And, oh, was he not stupid for falling for such an obvious lie?

He closed his eyes, trying to make the shivers go away, trying to wake up from this nightmare.

The floor feels so cold, he thought.

There was no one to help him while he was like this. No friends, he had no time for those. His parents? Probably at some gathering, bragging about how their son had the Dark Mark on his left arm.

The Mark was like a weight to Regulus. A branding. He felt like cattle. Branded by a maniac.

How did his life turn into this? He was so hopeful. Just a few years ago everything was going so right. But then all went downhill.

It was like an avalanche enfolded him.

First Sirius left. That was his first blow. Then his parents had put all the weight of the family name on his shoulders. Then, the worst of all. He met the Dark Lord. The things he did for that man... Just so he could become another sycophant.

How he hated this. How he hated what his life had become. But above all else, he hated his parents and the Dark Lord the most.

The ones who destroyed his life. The one who made his brother run away.

The hate fuelled something inside of Regulus. It was as if the curtains had been pulled. He was seeing the world for the first time today. A world of chaos and hate.

A world on the cusp of being controlled by a madman.

That monster doesn't deserve any of it, he thought. His mind full of hate against the man who was burning his country.

"That's it", he said aloud, to anyone but himself. "I'll kill him. I'll make him feel what I have felt."

Slowly getting up from the floor, Regulus made his way to his bed, where his elf rested. He touched Kreacher's hand.

"I'll make him pay for what he did to you", he promised, his anger growing as he saw the house-elf that raised him lying down half-dead.

"I'll destroy his soul, Kreacher. I'll watch he's plans fall as he dies." 

Horcrux.

Just the thought of it made him gag. How could anyone make such a cursed object, Regulus didn't know.

He didn't know what expected him there either. But none of it mattered. He'll die before he allows this to go any longer. He must be stopped, he thought. 

From the little Kreacher was able to tell him, he had a terrifying challenge ahead. Death feels so much like a possibility now that it almost makes him choke.

He never thought he would be dealing with eminent death at 18. There were so many things he wanted to do. So much magic to learn. 

Not that any of his dreams could've ever become true. His parents would never allow him to pursue his passion. 

After tonight I might never be able to be anything more than a corpse, but at least my death will bring his demise, he thought to himself.

He just had to wait a few more hours and Kreacher would be well enough to take him there. Just well enough to help him kill that bastard.

He sat down on the floor, back touching his bed where his friend layed. Closing his eyes, he went to his mind-space, behind the black walls of his mind. The music room. His favourite place. All his memories are stored in a place he put his heart in. 

He watched his memories go by. Him playing with his brother when they were kids, his first trip to Diagon Alley, his first travel on the Hogwarts Express, the view of the castle from the boat.

He left a tear fall. This is not how my life should have ended, he says.

He can't hold his tears anymore. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't deserve to die. He just wanted to be happy again. Happy as when he was a little boy. 

He thinks of how funny it is. He's 18 years of age. A grown man in the eyes of everyone else, but, deep inside, he still feels like a boy. Like the boy who saw his big brother leaving, with not even a glance at his little brother. 

"Why did you leave me alone, Sirius?", he asks no one as he cries. The hole in his chest gets bigger with the melancholy that grows.

He's now lying on the floor again. Head pressed against the wooden floorboards. Tears wetting the old wood. 

He feels so empty. So forgotten. Will anyone remember Regulus Black?, he thinks. Will anyone cry for me?

The lack of people who would cry for him makes everything worse. He can't help but think if his brother will be sad. If he'll miss his little brother.

Those are his last thoughts as he drifts to sleep, too tired to remain awake. Too sad to cry anymore.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His body hurts. That's all he can think about.

He opens his eyes and sighs. I slept on the bloody floor, he grumbles in his head.

He stretches as he gets up. Looking at his bed, he sees his elf sitting.

"Master Regulus hurt his head sleeping on the floor", Kreacher says in a reprimanding tone. That brings a smile to Regulus' tired face.

"I know, Kreacher. I'm sorry. How are you feeling?"

"Kreacher feels better", the elf says as he gets up from the bed. Regulus can tell he's still tired, though.

Looking out of the window the sun is almost down. It's almost night, he thinks. Almost time to go.

Regulus crouches down to Kreacher's eye level. 

"Kreacher, I need you to do something for me. It's not going to be something easy. Neither is something you'll like to do."

The house-elf narrows his eyes are his master. Not liking where this was going.

"You remember where the Dark Lord took you, right? Good, so... I need you to take me there, Kreacher. I need to retrieve what the Dark Lord is hiding in there."

Kreacher starts to shake his head. "Master Regulus can't go to that place. Master Regulus die if he goes! Kreacher won't take master there."

Passing his hand through his hair, Regulus sighs. He expected that Kreacher wouldn't want to take him there. 

"Kreacher, listen to me. I need to get there. That thing the Dark Lord is hiding is immoral, Kreacher. That thing needs to be destroyed. If you don't help me out of your own volition I'll have to order you to do it."

"Master Regulus can't do that. Kreacher can't take master to cave."

"You should listen to him", a voice says behind Regulus, making him stand up and turn around.

A man he's never seen before is by his room door. 

"Who are you? And who let you in?"

This better not be one of Sirius' pranks, he thinks.

"I guess you haven't read the papers this week, yeah? I thought my face was pretty recognisable. Emphasis on pretty."

This has to be a prank, Regulus thinks.

But as he looks at the man the more he starts to recognise him. 

"Hedwyn Peverell? You're him, right? The one who made Dumbledore be kicked out of the Wizengamot."

"Well, I'm flattered but I just took my seats back, he lost his job on his own?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow at that comment. "But didn't you get control of the Potter seats as well? And some people were saying you had something to do with the Potters disappearing."

The Potters and my bloody brother, he adds in his head.

"But I guess that's beside the point. What are you doing in my room? Are you here to see my father? You do know it's very rude to go snooping around people's houses, yes?", Regulus said, crossing his arm.

Peverell only smiled at that. "But I'm not in your room, I'm by your door."

Regulus fake laughed. "Really funny. Now if you don't mind, I was quite busy."

"Oh, yes. Planning your suicide mission, right? How's that going?"

Regulus frizes. Nobody should know about that. Had he talked in his sleep? That has to be it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Peverell", he says, trying to be nonchalant about it.

"Really? So you're not going to get Slytherin's Locked from the cave? I guess I'm in the wrong room then."

His head is spinning. How much has he spoken while he slept? This can't be happening. He's going to ruin his plans. 

"Why don't you go find my father and leave me alone? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't? The word Horcrux means nothing to you then?"

Regulus visibly stiffens. 

"There you go", Peverell says with a smirk. "That won't do anything, you know? That's only one of his Horcruxes."

Regulus feels like he's going to vomit. He couldn't have made more than one, he thinks. One is already awful enough.

"That's impossible. Making one is already a feat of madness. He couldn't have made more than one."

"Oh, but he's made five", that number makes Regulus choke, the thoughts of revenge being possible crumbling in his mind. "He wants seven, but he hasn't made the final two as of yet."

"Seven!", Regulus says in exasperation. "Making one is already unheard of but seven. He can't be that mad."

"But he is. He's been for quite a while now."

"Seven...", he whispers, looking at the floor and closing his eyes.

I'll never be able to stop him now, he thinks. He's invincible.

Opening his eyes, he stares at Peverell.

"And how do you know so much about him? I doubt he has ever told anyone about what he's done."

"You're right. He's too paranoid to reveal his secrets. How I found out about them though... That will require a vow."

"Why would I do that? I don't even know you. You could go running to him, saying that I was going to betray him."

"If you make the vow, Regulus Black", the way he says his name makes a shiver go through Regulus' body. "I'll help you get your revenge and rid the world of him."

Sceptical, Regulus asks "And what is in it to you? What do you gain from it?"

"Well, if I help you with your problem you can help me with mine", the seductive tone he uses makes Regulus blush. "I have many ideas for the Wizarding World, but I'm also a newcomer. People have to learn to trust me."

"And having a member of the House of Black by your side helps you with it. Smart."

"Thank you, darling", Peverell says with a smile, making Regulus blush again. "What do you say, Mr Black, do we have a deal?"

Regulus thinks before answering. He can't pretend that having help didn't ignite the fire of revenge within him again. The Dark Lord may be mad but he's no idiot. Merlin only knows the protections he's put around his Horcruxes.

"How can you guarantee that you'd know how to go around the Dark Lord's protections? Yes, you know how many Horcruxes there are, but do you know where to find them? How to get a hold of them? How to destroy them?"

"Everything will be explained as soon as you make the vow, but don't worry, I can get and destroy the Horcruxes just fine."

Regulus stared at him for a few seconds. Trying to decide if trusting this stranger was I good idea. Not that going to the cave was one, he thought. He should really think things through before jumping into danger's arms like a Gryffindor.

"Very well. I'll give you a vow, if, you give me one as well."

"Oh, and what would that vow entail?"

"You'll not hide anything from me in regards to the Horcruxes. I want to know everything you know about them."

Peverell thought for a second and nodded, saying after "I'll give you a vow then."

"Then we have a deal Hedwyn Peverell."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He left the pensive in a daze.

His mind was going everywhere with thoughts. How could this be true? Was this Sirius' most elaborate prank? Am I hallucinating? This has to be the most ridiculous dream he's ever had, right?

"You're Master of Death?", was all he could come up with.

"That I am." 

"And you've killed the Dark Lord before?"

"Sure did", he answered him with a big smile.

"And you're James Potter's son?"

"Yep."

"Am I dead? Is this hell? This has to be my punishment."

"Nope. All real. You'll learn to accept it. It took me some time as well."

Regulus rolls his eyes at the answer, not believing it for a second. Then he turns around a goes sit on a chair by the table in the corner of his room.

"You came back to save your parents", he stated, trying to digest everything.

"That and other things as well."

"Take revenge on Dumbledore?"

Peverell gave him a smirk. Yeah, he's definitely crazy, Regulus thought.

"So you're the one making his life hell with the stories on the Daily Prophet."

"It has been quite fun to see him falling apart, yes."

Rubbing his face with his hands, Regulus tries to digest this crazy story faster. It's not helping.

"So what now? We get the Horcruxes and destroy them, and then what?"

"I guess I'll defeat Voldemort? it'll certainly give more leverage with the public."

"You have too many plans, you know that right?"

Peverell only gives him a mocking smile.

"So when can we start doing this? As soon as we defeat him the better. I don't think I can't survive another raid."

"Oh, you don't have to be a Death Eater anymore."

"What do you mean? I'm only free when he dies."

"The Dark Mark ties you to him, right? I can get rid of it for you?"

"You can?!", Regulus asked, jumping from his chair. "Why didn't you say something before? I would've made that vow straight away."

"I... forgot? But that's good to know. So, wanna do it right now?"

"Merlin, yes! Take this thing from me, please."

He got closer to Hedwyn, lifting his left sleeve hastily.

Harry then got hold of Regulus' forearm, holding him with his left hand. He then got his wand and pressed the tip of the wand to the skull. 

What happened next made Regulus shiver and blush. Hedwyn started to speak in Parseltongue, which Regulus never thought he would not not find terrifying, but when Hedwyn spoke, it didn't feel evil.

Bit by bit, the chains around Regulus' soul were falling. He didn't fully realise how oppressive the Dark Lord's magic was. 

He watched as the Dark Mark began to fade until, with a snap sound, akin to something breaking, it left him.

Being free from the Mark was such a sudden and overwhelming feeling that Regulus could not help but lose strength in his legs, almost falling down, if not for Hedwyn's arms encircling his waist, stopping the fall.

He then looked up, to Hedwyn's green and yellow eyes. The boy was smiling at him.

At that moment, something inside of him felt warm, as if the coldness that resided inside of him for so long had been replaced.

Maybe he would be happy after all.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe this is where Slytherin's descendants lived. Thank Merlin he's not alive to see this", Regulus said, horrified by the run-down in front of him.

The wards around the property were already down. Peverell having taken them out when they apparated there. Apparently not even the Dark Lord can make protections that can fend off the Master of Death.

"It's truly sad. The lineage of the great Salazar Slytherin was relegated to poverty. Of course, they brought it to themselves, but it's truly a shame."

Both men said no more, as they approached the door with a snake nailed on it.

Hedwyn, with a wave of his wand, opened the door, revealing an even worse sight. A place so dirty that only hours of cleaning could make it look less repulsive.

However, Harry could tell that there was and energy in house, old and powerful. And he also knew why.

The power of the Resurrection Stone was strong. Hedwyn could feel it even far away from it. The magic emanating from the Stone was so familiar to him that he could pinpoint exactly where it was hidden.

"There", he pointed with his wand. A floorboard a bit darker than the others, perhaps because of the long exposure Withering Curse on the ring.

"I can feel the compulsion calling for me. Even with my Occlumency walls, it is hard to resist", Regulus said, taking a step back.

"Don't worry, it'll end soon", Harry reassured the other boy. He vanished the floorboard, revealing a metal box; then levitated the box closer to where he was. 

The next step was a bit tricky. With the box now opened, showing the ring inside, Harry worked on taking down Voldemort's intertwined compulsions. Curses interlinked with each other, one more deadly than the other, it was truly the work of a genius.

Regulus watched as Hedwyn casted counter curses and hissed somethings in Parseltongue. He was glad he didn't have to do this alone. Yes, he was smart and had all the knowledge on the Dark Arts the Black Library could provide, but not even he had a grasp on the obscure curses the Dark Lord knew of.

Harry's shoulders relaxed. It was done. Every curse laid on the ring was gone, leaving only the Horcrux inside.

"Is it over?", Regulus asked, looking over Hedwyn's shoulder. The other man nodded in confirmation. "Good. Can we leave now? This place is depressing."

"Says the guy who lives in a place called Grimmauld", Harry said, shoving Regulus playfully with his shoulder, making the boy roll his eyes. 

"Touché."

The two men turned around and left, apparating to Gwynt Keep, away from the decrepit shack.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Just four left", Harry said

"Just? You say as if it's a walk in the park. I assume you have a plan for the diary?"

"I was thinking on putting Malfoy under the Imperius Curse, it worked on your parents after all."

Regulus just blinked at him. But it was true. Since Hedwyn casted the Unforgivable on this parents the two stopped bothering him. Signing he said "I guess it could work. It'll definitely save us some time. Do you want to go after Malfoy and I go after Snape? If there's anyone that can help us with the potion in the basin at the cave it's him."

"I guess it's a good idea if I go alone to get Malfoy. It'll be easier to cast the curse on him and bring him here. Are you sure Snape will help us, though? As far as I know, he's loyal to the Dark Lord."

"Oh, he's loyal to him, for now. I'm sure telling him this will help Lily Potter will make him comply. Severus was always quite selfish and I doubt he's changed. Only the Dark Lord's most loyal servants are unconcerned about his declining sanity. I'll also tell him his Mark can help to persuade him."

They talked more about their plans. Harry would wait for Malfoy, under his Invisibility Cloak. Lucius Malfoy has been seen at the Ministry regularly, Regulus had said. Apparently, the man is slowly taking over his father's place in the Wizengamot.

Harry had put Ædda to spy on Malfoy, so he could know at what time was best to go after the man. 

Regulus, however, had a more difficult task: persuade the headstrong potion master to betray the Dark Lord. Black was putting a lot of trust in his persuasion tactics. If that didn't work though, Hedwyn could always obliviate the man. According to the Master of Death, not even a master occlumens like Severus Snape could held against his Mind Arts abilities. Of course, without Snape's help, they would need more... morally ambiguous ways of getting rid of the potion.

Let's just hope it won't come to that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spinner's End was never a place Regulus thought he would ever visit. It was so Muggle and... average that it was hard to believe a Death Eater would live in such a place.

Severus never had anything good to say about his home when they were at Hogwarts, not that he ever knew the details of Snape's home life. They were not exactly friends, but more acquaintances.

The front door opened, revealing a young man, a bit older than Regulus', but not by much. His black robes, the only thing Severus seemed to wear these days, and his impassive face made Snape an imposing figure, much different from his time at Hogwarts.

"Regulus Black", Snape said, in his signature dragged way of speaking. "Why do I owe you the pleasure of such... sudden visit?"

"Hello, Severus. How long has it been?"

"Quite", the man replies, a slight frown forming on his face.

Snape then opens the door for Regulus, not waiting for the Black Heir as he turns around, disappearing inside the house.

The inside of the Potion Master's house was what one would expect. A clean but dark house, stacked with books stacked on books. Predictable. Almost too predictable. It was as if everything was meticulously placed so as to give visitors the idea that Snape was the person they expected him to be.

Sitting in a dark room that appeared to be a small library, Severus Snape sat in a chair in the corner. The only light in the room came from a lamp on a desk by Snape's side, making a shadow fall over the man's left side. Severus' dark-coloured robes blended in the shadows as if part of them.

Regulus steps further inside the room. The place was clearly not meant for guests if the lack of seats was to be taken into account. 

The situation screamed "Here I am the lord" and Regulus didn't like that atmosphere at all.

"You see Severus", Black started, face not showing his worry "A few days ago I was made aware of a fact that I thought you would like to know."

Only lifting an eyebrow at that, Snape answered "And what incredible facts would make the heir of the House of Black come to this part of England, if I may ask?"

"It concerns Lily Evans", Regulus said in an almost-whisper, purposely using 'Evans' instead of 'Potter'.

Snape straightened his neck, eyes narrowing. "And how do you know anything about Lily, Black? Do you perhaps know to where she and her pathetic excuse of a husband ran?"

The Potters' sudden disappearance was news all over Britain. Especially after people realised Auror James Potter had quit his job at the Ministry and fled with the rest of his family and Sirius Black.

When he heard that the Potters had left Severus wanted to send Lily a letter, asking her if she was fine and if something had happened. He refrained from it, however, not wishing to be ignored or, worse, being mocked by Potter and Black for showing concern.

"Oh. I know the reason, yes", Regulus said with a mischievous smile.

Losing his temper Severus spat "Go on with it, Black! Why did she leave?"

"There was a prophecy made, Severus. A prophecy that would change our country, but for the prophecy to happen, Lily Evans would need to die."

"What are you talking about? That's not how prophecies work. How could Lily's death cause any change."

"The seer also saw the paths for the prophecy to happen. That's how they know Evans would need to die."

Narrowing his eyes Severus said "And what does the prophecy say, then? What change could Lily's death bring to our country, Black? She's not even a politician. She's a muggle-born witch known only by her friends and a few more."

"The downfall of the Dark Lord."

"Excuse me?", Snape asked, not liking where this was going.

"Evans is caring a child, Severus. A child that would bring down the Dark Lord if he were to become an orphan. That's why the Potters have fled. They don't wish to put this weight on their future family member."

Severus didn't know what to say part of him wanted to run to the Dark Lord with the news, and another part of him wanted to throw Black out of his house and pretend this conversation never happened.

Rubbing his eyes and looking at Regulus, Severus stood up. 

"And why haven't you told the Dark Lord about this, Black? I don't remember you ever being close to the Potters. Have you defected then? Have you joined the old coots children's club?"

"Don't look at me like that, Snape. We both know how the Dark Lord has become. We both have heard histories of him while we were young students in Slytherin. He's not the same. His ideology has changed. He has become more violent, more murderous. He now kills anyone who bothers him. He tortures and murders his own! He doesn't care if you are a pureblood or a Muggle. We both know how dangerous he's become, Severus, so don't try to deny it."

"What am I to do, Black? Shall I go to Dumbledore and kiss his horrid robes? Pledge my life to him? Maybe you think I can become his new pet?"

"The Dark Lord and Dumbledore are not the only pieces on the board, Severus."

"What do you-", Severus stopped the question when Regulus lifted his left sleeve. "Impossible...", Snape said, not believing his eyes.

"There is someone way more powerful than Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, Severus. Someone who has discovered what the Dark Lord has been hiding for years. Someone who is protecting Lily Evans and her baby. Someone with enough power to defeat both the mad lord and the old man. Someone who will fight for what the Dark Lord once said he fought for."

"Who?", was all Severus could ask. This can't be possible, he thought. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord were the most powerful wizards alive.

If this is true then the game will change completely, he pondered. 

"Hedwyn Aelius Peverell"

"Peverell? The new lord? How is that even possible? People say he's a young man, not old enough to be capable of defeating the Dark Lord."

"He has way more power than one could have, Severus. He removed my Dark Mark like it was the easiest thing for him to do. He's the most powerful wizard alive by far."

What followed after were agonising minutes of silence. Regulus not knowing if his manipulations have worked on Snap. While Snape was thinking about the implications of both betraying the Dark Lord as well as the implications of revealing all this to him.

"If the Dark Lord finds out about this", Severus started. Hand trembling a bit at the thought of his lord finding out about his betrayal and what he'd do to Severus if he were to be discovered. "Killing me will be a mercy."

"He never has to know. Hedwyn can remove your Mark, so the Dark Lord won't be able to summon you and I can put your house under Fidelius."

"Peverell would remove my Mark?", he asked while unconsciously rubbish his left forearm. "And since when can you perform a charm like the Fidelius?"

"Hedwyn taught me", he said dismissively. "And yes, will be removing your Mark if you wish to join us."

"And what would I need to do?"

"First you'll need to do a secrecy vow. If it helps I also am under one."

"Very well. When can I meet him?"

"He should be back by now so I can first perform the Fidelius Charm, making me you your own secret keeper, and we can go."

Not really fully convinced this is a good idea but seeing no other choice, Severus only nodded to Regulus. 

Black then started the enchantment and Snape went back to his chair. With a sigh he closed his eyes, hoping he was doing the right thing.

For Lily, he thought. And maybe for himself as well.

Chapter Text

Harry never thought he could've ever had a normal conversation with Severus Snape, as normal as you could call it.

It went surprisingly well, though. Snape made de vow and agreed to help us with the potion. "Give me a few days," the potion master said. It was reasonable, considering their condition. 

Snape did have a weird expression on his face when a Lucius Malfoy under the Imperius came through the floo. Not that could be seen as normal, Harry knew that much. He nonetheless got the Diary from Lucius and obliviated him, sending the man back to Malfoy Manor. 

Regulus did point out, unnecessarily Harry thought, that getting Tom Riddle's Diary had been a very easy feat. Speaking with Snape gave me a stomach ache, the boy told Harry.

"It's not my fault you're intimidated by him", he told Regulus.

"I'm not!", the Black Heir responded.

And the two bickered for a while after that. None of it seriously, of course. Regulus doubted Harry was serious often.

One thing Harry was not expecting, however, was a letter from his parents asking if he could visit them in the safehouse, so they could speak to him about Dumbledore.

Although he didn't necessarily want to speak with his parents directly, content with just watching them from afar and making sure they'd be okay, he did agree to meet them. 

He also knew that Sirius would definitely be there, so he was going to take Regulus with him as well, to see if the brothers would reconcile, or maybe it was just to create a little bit of chaos, one could never know with Harry.

He wore his best robes, waiting to impress. They were a blue that glittered when the light touched the fabric. He wore also a white shirt underneath and on his chest was a necklace with the Resurrection Stone as its jewel. I look dashing, he thought as he looked in the mirror. He could feel Death rolling his eyes due to Harry's behaviour.

Regulus wore a more casual robe, not looking to impress the light wizards. The robes were a dark purple with the Orion constellation making the fabric shine. Harry pointed out that he looked beautiful, which made the other man blush and turn around to hide his face.

Harry smiled at Regulus' shyness but said nothing about it. He then took the younger man's arm and apparated to Ireland.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The safehouse was nothing grandeur. It was more than most magical families had but it was not overly luxurious. Nothing can compare to my home, Hedwyn thought.

A house-elf met them on the way to the house and guided them, passing through the small garden and going towards the wooden front door.

"I tell masters visitors are here", the elf said, vanishing with a pop. The door opened for them.

Entering the house the two men were met with the Potters and Sirius Black sitting in the living room. Saying that the atmosphere in the room was not the most pleasant was an understatement, but what could one expect from a meeting with James Potter and Sirius Black?

Lord and Lady Potter got up to meet their guests, as well as Lily Potter. James and Sirius were obviously not welcoming at all. Great, Harry thought with sarcasm.

After the greetings, they all sat down. The Potters and Sirius Black on one side of the room and Hedwyn and Regulus on the other. Not a glaring division but still a bit obvious.

"Well, Lord Peverell,", Lily was the first one to speak "we understand the need to stay here. We all want to protect this child that's coming, of course. Yet we can't help to think about our friends in the Order, as well as the people suffering from You-Know-Who's attacks."

"And you want to know if have seen the end of the war, am I correct?"

Lily nodded to him.

"We want to know who's going to win", James said.

"James!", Fleamont hissed and Euphemia shook her head. Sirius, of course, was nodding to James.

"I see. Well, I can't tell when the war is going to end, but I can assure you that is going to be soon."

"And how can you be so sure? Have you seen that in the future?", Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

Regulus sneered at his brother's antics. 

"No, Mr Black. I have not seen it. I have been taking some... measures to ensure the Dark Lord's defeat. I can pinpoint a date but I can say with certainty that he's demise is closer than you'd think."

"Excuse me, Lord Peverell, but what kind of 'measures' could these be?", Lord Potter asked.

"Let's say that the things that make him immortal will soon disappear", Hedwyn answered with a sharp smile.

"He's immortal?!", Sirius asks in shock.

The others didn't say it out loud but it was clear by their expressions that it was news to them too.

"Oh, you didn't know? I believed it was common knowledge at this point", Peverell answered while laughing.

"You really like to play people, don't you?", Regulus asks Harry.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Reggie."

"Reggie? Okay then, Harry."

The two men laughed lightly and smiled at one another. The brief but sweet exchange didn't go unnoticed by the people in the room.

"And what is he doing here? He's a bloody Death Eater!", Sirius says pointing his finger at Regulus.

But before Regulus can answer his brother Hedwyn says "Your brother is not a Death Eater, Mr Black. He's putting his life at risk by helping me. Is that something you think a Death Eater would do?"

Sirius stays quiet, refusing to answer and Harry feels a sense of satisfaction after defending Regulus from his hot-headed brother.

Lily and Euphemia both smile at Peverell's defence of Regulus. James rolls his eyes.

"I still don't understand why we have to stay away from Dumbledore. Is it because of those news articles? They were lies anyway", The Potter heir says.

"Were they, Mr Potter? I can attest to you that what was written was nothing but the truth. There is a lot more about Albus Dumbledore that you don't know about."

"And how do you know about it? The headmaster is a good man! He's the leader of the resistance against You-Know-Who."

"Yes, a leader of an army of children and former students he favoured. What an honourable man. Dumbledore will first use a child as a shield before putting himself in harm's way, Mr Potter. He's far from being honourable."

"You don't know what you're talking about. Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive!", Sirius spat.

Hedwyn couldn't help but laugh. 

"The 'greatest wizard alive'? A great wizard would've had a love affair with a murderer? A great wizard would villainize an eleven-year-old orphan just because he came from a dark family, Mr Black? A great wizard would send children back to abusive homes to suffer? What do you think? Are those the actions of a great wizard?"

Sirius doesn't answer, just mumbles under his breath.

"Who is this child you talked about, Lord Peverell? The one you say Albus 'villainized'?", Lord Potter asks, concern showing on his face.

"Is the very person he now claims to fight against, Lord Potter."

Euphemia stiffens "No!", the lady says.

"Indeed, Lady Potter."

Sirius shakes his head in denial and James says "There's no way! Dumbledore would never do that! And even if he did there would be a reason. The boy was probably evil or something."

James' parents look at their son in shock after what he said. 

"James!", Fleamont says while Euphemia just shakes her head in indignation.

"No child should be mistreated, James Potter! How can you call a child that's being treated unfairly 'evil'?", Euphemia asks her son. Her face was disgruntled.

The Potter heir then puts his head down, feeling ashamed of himself after what his mother pointed out. Sirius Black shuts his mouth and looks at the floor.

"Dumbledore's first interaction with young Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord's real name, already showed the man Dumbledore is. He not only set the orphan boy's wardrobe on fire but he looked at him with disdain just because the boy was a Parselmouth. I want you to imagine what that would be like. Tom Riddle was an orphan living in an orphanage where he had little food, and where he was bullied and attacked because of his accidental magic. Not only the other orphans mistreated the young boy but the matron as well."

"He was excluded because he was different and when he learnt about magic the man who introduced him to it treated him badly. What reinforced the idea that he could only trust himself, Lily Potter said. She understood quite well how being harassed just because you were magical felt like.

"Exactly, Ms Potter."

"And what about the children being sent to abusive homes? Who Dumbledore sent home?", Lily asked, already feeling like she knew the answer.

"I'm afraid you were once an acquaintance of this person, Ms Potter."

Closing her eyes so as not to cry, Lilly couldn't help but feel guilty. She always suspected it! He never told her but she always thought something was wrong in that house. "Severus...", her voice cracking as she said the name of her childhood friend.

"Snivellus?", Sirius asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "You should be ashamed of yourself. The both of you!", he said to both Sirius and James. "Severus Snape was a boy from a poor family. An abusive family and all you did was torment him. And you two did it for now reason other than because Mr Potter was infatuated with then Lily Evans. The both of you attacked a random student for the most ridiculous reason of all."

"Is this true, James Potter?! This is not how your mother and I raised you", Fleamont scolded his son.

James was now looking at the floor, too ashamed to face his father's disappointed glare.

"He's a Death Eater!", Sirius exclaimed.

"And that makes him so beneath you, doesn't it? The man you made a loner is now being forced to serve a manic."

Regulus felt Hedwyn's words deeply, even though they were not about him. Had Sirius done the same to him? Made him a loner, an easier target to their parents as well as the Dark Lord?

Sirius was going to defend himself but Fleamont raised his hand. "I believe that's enough Sirius. I hope you think about Lord Peverell's words. What the both of you have done makes me so so disappointed."

"I agree. I'm incredibly disappointed in you as well", Euphemia said.

Rubbing her shoulder awkwardly, Lily decided to change the subject. "You said 'children', Lord Peverell. Who else Dumbledore has sent back to an abusive home?"

Hedwyn gave her a sad smile. "That's another reason why I don't want your child to grow up an orphan, Ms Potter", was all Peverell said but Lily understood him immediately.

"No... It can't be. Not my baby." 

Harry could see how that news affected his mother. She looked so fragile now. Both arms around her belly, as if to defend her child.

"Unfortunately yes. Dumbledore would've used your child in his battle against the Dark Lord. Doing anything necessary to make sure they stayed easy to manipulate."

"What kind of thing?", James raised his head. Eyes full of anger. Apparently his instincts to protect his child were stronger than he's allegiance to Dumbledore.

"He would've placed him with Petunia Evans", was all he had to say. Every one of them knew of Lily Potter's awful sister. 

"I can't believe he would do such a thing with a child. We always trusted him and that's how he pays us?!", Lily couldn't hold her anger. James places a hand on her shoulder, a reassuring gesture for his wife.

"Dumbledore is very good at manipulating people. It's truly something he has mastered. That's why I need you to stay away from him."

Harry saw each one of them, even Sirius, nod in agreement.

Lord Potter signs, clearly drained from the revelations of today. 

’I believe it's time to go, Harry. They have a lot to think about', Death pointed out.

Hedwyn then looked at Regulus, signifying that it was time to go. Both men got up and said their goodbyes. The most shocking part was definitely Sirius hugging his brother. However it was clear that Regulus would need time to forgive him, but Sirius didn't seem worried about it.

Family is too complicated, Harry thought and Death laughed.

Chapter Text

The room was buzzing with curiosity.  

People gossiping with the others around them. Whispers about the newcomer.

Hedwyn Aelius Peverell. The name jumped from one mouth to another. New faces were rare in Britain so the new addition to the Wizengamot was the talk of the month. Everyone wanted a look at the new addition to their little world.

"I heard he's from Germany", one person said.

"No, it's Sweden", another replied. 

Different rumours disguised as facts flooded the minds of everyone in the chamber.

The doors closed. The talking ceased. 

"The Wizengamot welcomes its new member, Lord Hedwyn Aelius Peverell", Chief Warlock Albert Smith says.

The doors open again. The young man, dressed in a purple robe as per tradition, comes forth inside the chamber, stopping at its centre. All eyes on him.

"I, Lord Hedwyn Aelius Peverell, swear to uphold the values of this body, secure its secrets and work betterment of the people we guard over", Hedwyn vowed. A curtain of light drapes over the man, signifying his acceptance.

"Welcome, Lord Peverell", Chief Warlock Smith says. 

Hedwyn goes towards the other members, stopping at Lord Malfoy's side. A new chair appeared, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows displayed at its centre. The message is clear: he's a dark wizard and isn't afraid to show it. The members of the Light Sect are disappointed, by the look on their faces, but they say nothing.

"Let the session begin", the Chief Warlock starts. "Today we shall open the floor to new legislation. Whoever wishes to propose new laws may come forward."

To everyone's surprise, the new lord is the one to rise to present his ideas.

"Lords And Ladies of the Wizengamot. I have been made aware of something of great concern. Reports have reached me recently of the utter negligence towards our youngest", Hedwyn stated. "Which in itself would be a driver for immediate change. However, it has also come to my attention that no laws for the protection of magical children exist in Britain, leaving several young witches and wizards to suffer, unable to seek help."

People started to murmur. The subject of child protection laws was brought up from time to time, but no consensus was ever reached since no one in the chamber had much knowledge about it.

"What do you propose, Lord Peverell?", Lord Harvey Longbottom inquired. 

"Good you have asked, Lord Longbottom. Firstly, I would like to propose some measures to ensure that our children have at least some protections from abuse."

"And what such measures would those be, Lord Peverell?", Lord Abraxas Malfoy asks. 

"I believe in setting up a system where, when the child goes to Hogwarts, they will get seen by a healer in order to see if any physical abuse has happened; and that healer will send a report to the Ministry to inform of the child's condition. Of course, a department must be created to take care of these issues."

"That seems reasonable enough" the Chief Warlock said.

"Indeed. I believe it's time for us to take care of our children. We have been negligent for too long", Madam Marchbanks said, hitting the floor with her cane. "I always tried to talk to Dumbledore about it but the man never listened.

 Many members of the Wizengamot nodded at Madam Marchbanks' statement. Albus Dumbledore was never one known to listen to others.

"I would also like to propose the possibility for children to stay at the school during summer if they don't feel safe at home."

"That would be a good idea. Most of the teachers stay at the school during summer anyway and the house-elfs are always there", Lord Belford Greengrass pointed it out. "But we should also think about the ones to young to stay alone all year. Perhaps some families would like to adopt them, so a system could be created to help with that. The older ones can be emancipated if they wish to."

"That is very thoughtful, Lord Greengrass", said the Chief Warlock.

The consensus was clear in most people's faces. Magical children were seen as a blessing after all and the lack of legislation to protect the next generation of witches and wizards was truly shameful.

"I agree with the provision, but there is the question of funding for such a department, however", Lord Augustus Prewett asked.

"If I'm not mistaken, the Ministry has enough money for a small department, Lord Prewett", Lord Peverell answered. "There is no need for a big department, at least for now. All we need is competent people willing to work for the protection of children."

There were several people nodding at Peverell's statement. There was really no need for a massive department since the number of children in difficult situations was probably not that high regardless.

’They do love keeping the purses closed, yes?‘, Death asked Hedwyn. Clearly annoyed by humans' antics.

Harry wanted to laugh at his friend's comment but kept a straight face for good measure.

"I believe it's time for the voting them", Chief Warlock Smith voiced, rising from his seat as he did so. "All in favour of the creation of a department for the protection and care of magical children; the stationing of a healer at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as well as allowing students to stay at the school if they so wish; and the creation of a system for adoption or the granting of emancipation of those whose parents have been seen as dangerous to the child wellbeing, please raise your wand."

Those agreeing with the positions raised their wand. A majority, Harry could tell. He relaxed a bit after seeing the clear victory. For a second he thought that not even the Potter seats Fleamont had allowed him to use were going to be enough, but thankfully he was wrong.

"The ayes have it!", The Chief Warlock declared. "I will delegate those who'll work in the new Department for the Protection of Magical Children, and the ones who'll take care of the adoption requests. I'll also send a letter to St. Mungus telling them to send a healer to Hogwarts and meet Headmaster Dumbledore about the changes for those who wish to stay at the school for the summer."

Hedwyn held his head a little higher after that. The youngest lord in the Wizengamot and also had his first legislation proposal approved on his first day. He knew many would be jealous but he didn't care a bit.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

’He's incredible‘, was all Regulus could think while he got up from his seat, following Hedwyn out of the chamber.

To say that he was impressed was an understatement. While helping Hedwyn with the names of the lords and ladies and with how to address the Wizengamot properly, Regulus didn't imagine he would do so well. Passing legislation during your first day between the elite families of Britain was unheard of.

"Congratulations, Hedwyn", Regulus said when the two men got inside the lift.

Harry smiled sweetly at him, which made Regulus' cheeks heat up and hands start sweating. "Thank you, Regulus. I wouldn't have done it without you."

Hedwyn then gave Regulus' right arm a light squeeze. ’Thank, Merlin I have him by my side‘, Harry thought.

Both men were still smiling at each other when another person got inside the lift, making Regulus blush even more and Harry looked away, face pinker than before.

As they reached the Atrium Harry's stomach made a sound, causing Regulus to laugh.

"Do you want to go eat something? There's this lovely restaurant in Diagon Alley I'd love to take you", the Black heir asked the lord.

"Sure. I'm starving. It's a date", Harry answered, giving Regulus a wink.

The other boy rolled his eyes but smiled, creating courage before linking his arm with Harry's. The time traveller smiled at him and blushed but didn't free his arm.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I have to admit, this place is breathtaking, Reggie", Harry said after they finished their dessert.

They were sitting next to each other, admiring the view of Diagon from above. The Silver Lion was one of the most luxurious restaurants in the alley, so Hedwyn was very impressed. The food had been amazing, of course, but Regulus being there with him just made it better.

"I'm glad you like it, Harry", Regulus said, with a small smile on his lips. "You needed a time off, to be honest."

"Yeah, I agree. Bringing down a dark lord and being a politician is very tiring."

Both men laughed a the comment, the relaxed in their seats.

They could almost forget about the rest of the world being there. Just listening to the music coming from the restaurant, while they sat at a table by the balcony, looking a the world outside. I wish I could stay like this forever, Harry thought.

Regulus moved in his seat, making Hedwyn look at him. The boy was already looking at him, a smile on his handsome face.

"I'm glad you came back, Harry", he said. "And I'm glad you came to me. Thank you for saving me, Harry."

Looking at Regulus, while the boy was smiling at him with his cheeks flushed melted Harry's heart. He gently placed his hand on top of Regulus'.

"I'm glad I met you, Regulus", he said almost in a whisper, his face closer to the other man's. "You make this so much better by being by my side."

"Really?", was all Regulus had the power to say. Feeling like he was at the top of a mountain, breathless, just Harry and him.

"Yeah...", Harry answered, his face so close to Regulus' he could see every detail. How beautiful, Harry thought before closing his eyes and slowly getting closer.

Regulus was the one to bridge the gap. When their lips touched, the rest of the world stopped existing. They were alone, in peace, in their own perfect place.

He tastes divine, Regulus thought, deepening the kiss. His hands were now on Harry's face, bringing him closer.

Hedwyn's hands went to Regulus' hips, trying to touch the other man as much as possible.

They stayed like this for a way. Sharing kisses, touches and smiles. In their Perfect Place, where nothing else was important but each other.

Chapter Text

His hands wouldn't stop sweating. His heart was beating so fast he was sure even a deaf man could hear. I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought in exasperation. 

It'll work, it'll work, it'll work; he kept repeating it to himself in his head, trying to subdue his anxiety.

"Calm down! You're going to bring attention to where we are", his companion hissed. 

He pretends not to hear, otherwise, the answer he might give wouldn't be a nice one.

His boyfriend, yes boyfriend, holds his left hand, trying to help him relax. He watches as the boy brings his hand to his lips, leaving small kisses on his knuckles. 

"I'm sorry. I just can't stop thinking about what could go wrong", he whispers, closing his eyes.

"Hey, it's okay. We're in this together, remember? I won't let anything bad happen to you."

He gives his lover's hand a squeeze, a sign of confirmation. The corner of his mouth lifts, not being able to keep a bad mood when he's so close to the man he is falling in love with.

They resume their walking, trying to find a good victim. This is so wrong... but also slightly exciting, he thinks to himself.

He can tell his boyfriend found the target by the way he's looking at a specific goblin. The old goblin is perfect, he thinks. The creatures' hierarchy won't allow others to scrutiny the soon-to-be Imperius'd goblin even if he's perambulating through the bank.

The urge to cast the curse comes to him, itching to be proactive, but as soon as the feeling comes it goes. He knows that his Imperius is strong, but they need more than strength to guarantee their success. They need perfection.

As much as it pains him, he knows he's not perfect at it. Going around the senior members of the wizanding elite as if he's been there since the beginning? He can do that with his mouth shut. Throw insults in a way that sounds like a compliment? Ha! He was born to do it. Cast a curse at a creature he really doesn't have much knowledge of? Yeah, Harry can take care of it.

They walk towards the goblin, steps muffled by a charm. Closer... closer... closer. Now!

"Imperio", Hedwyn whispers, almost impossible to hear. 

The goblin stops, Regulus' breath halts. Harry's brows furrow; he's concentrating hard. The old goblin starts to walk again, Regulus breaths again.

"Okay. We just need to stay close to him. Oh...and ignore the dragon."

"Excuse me?"

-------------------------------------------------------

"You were not joking. Why in Merlin's name is there a dragon in here?!",  Regulus lets an ear-piercing shriek worthy of Walburga. 

Harry almost stumbles over a rock in surprise.

"Regulus Black!" he hisses. Eyes blazing under his wet red hair. He then turns back to the goblin, walking towards the sleeping dragon. An also wet Regulus follows close behind.

Whoever made the Thief's Downfall was definitely on Regulus' list of mortal enemies now. How Harry was able to go around Gringotts' protection he didn't know, but Death's interference was not far from impossible.

A blue light goes towards the dragon, and it takes him a second to realise it came from Harry's wand. 

"What was that for?" he curiously asks.

"A spell to keep him asleep. Last time what I had to do to get past him didn't sit well with me."

He only nodded, knowing that whatever it was made Harry very upset. He hates harming magical creatures above all. He's so kind to those in need; Grandfather will love him, he thinks, grinning to himself.

So lost in his own thoughts of pride for having a man like Hedwyn Peverell to be by his side and call him his, Regulus didn't realise they were already in front of Bellatrix Lestrange's vault.

"...Being quite difficult last time."

That brought him back to reality, blushing because of his distraction, he looked around, realising they were at their destination.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his partner's suddenly odd behaviour but opted to remain quiet.

"When we get inside remember you can't touch anything. The Germino Curse almost killed me last time and I'm not feeling like giving it a second try", he told his boyfriend.

"Having only one curse on your things sounds so... lesser. One would think Bella would be more nasty with the protections on her vault."

Hedwyn shrugged "She probably couldn't be bothered". Then he turned to the goblin, the creature started to move towards the vault door. He doesn't need to give the command out loud, Regulus realises, not having paid attention to it before.

The goblin put his hand on the door, and after a few seconds, there was a click sound. The door opened. 

The three of them got inside the vault, careful to not touch anything.

The vault was much like in his own time, Harry was thinking. Bellatrix probably didn't have time to put anything here before going to Azkaban. 

Both men's eyes went straight to the golden cup that was at the top of a shelf filled with jewellery and galleons. 

He draws his wand, pointing it to Hufflepuff's Cup. Wingardium Leviosa, he says calmly. The Cup levitates slowly towards them, careful to not touch anything else.

Harry takes a small box from his robes, opening it as Regulus levitates the Cup towards it.

He drops the spell, and Hufflepuff's Cup falls inside the box. Harry closes it and hides it inside his robes.

Hedwyn grins at him, making Regulus raise an eyebrow. "Wanna get out in style?"

"I'm going to regret this but sure", he says, taking the hand Harry offers him.

-------------------------------------------------------

The grounds trembles. The noise in the room seizes. The shaking starts; goblins screaming from below the floor can be heard.

The floor explodes; screams can be heard on all sides. Dust goes up, but as soon as it comes it goes. A giant shape appears, white as milk.

A deafening roar makes the people inside the bank cry; Diagon Alley outside stops.

No one has time to react as the dome of Gringotts caves in. No one makes a sound, too shocked by what they are seeing.

A giant white dragon emerges from the bank's ceiling. Another roar makes every witness shake in fear.

The dragon flaps its wings as if trying to relearn how to use them. 

The beast leaps into the air. Wings flapping more confidently this time.

Every witch, wizard and creature in the alley watches as the dragon flies higher and higher. Further and further away from them. 

What nobody sees are the two wizards, under a Disillusionment Charm, on the beats' back. One of them grinning like a madman and the other with fear in his grey eyes.

-------------------------------------------------------
 
ASSAULT ON GRINGOTTS:

RESPONSIBLES YET TO BE FOUND

A smirk came to his face. Days after their invasion of Bellatrix's vault nobody was aware of what had been stolen. The speculation was that a goblin set the dragon free, for Merlin knows what reason. 

People are so dumb, Harry couldn't help but think. 

Fortunately, the goblins didn't say which dragon was freed so Bellatrix would remain unaware of what happened at her vault. 

Hedwyn let himself relax in his seat. 

He was having breakfast with Regulus. The other boy is still a bit sleepy. Harry thought he looked beautiful all dishevelled; the always combed black locks were now messy, and his pyjama's shirt had some buttons open.

"What is it?", the boy asked, after seeing his boyfriend staring at him.

"You're so beautiful", he said with a big smile on his face.

Regulus blushed and muttered something under his breath. Harry thought it just made him look cuter.

Looking back at him Regulus asked, "Are we doing something today?"

In the days after the robbery both men stayed at Gwynt Keep; reading to each other, kissing, enjoying their deserved moment of peace.

"I wanted to go through the ritual again with you."

Regulus straightened his back, more awake now than before.

"Why though? The Arithmancy equations were all correct. Unless you think I made a mistake?", he narrows his eyes at his boyfriend as he asks; daring the other boy to doubt him.

Harry puts his hands up and shakes his head. "No, Reggie. I was talking about the sacrifice we will need for the ritual. Soul Magic isn't Light by far, so you know what kind of sacrifice we'll need."

Regulus' hands tighten on his cutlery. Yes, of course, he knew about it, but it didn't mean he wanted to think about it.

"A magical soul...", he says slowly, as if trying to make sure his mouth didn't betray his brain. He shivered.

Soul Magic was incredibly dangerous and often required a living sacrifice.

"Yes... I know it's uncomfortable to talk about but you know it's necessary, right?", Regulus nodded. "Good. We have to decide who we'll use. I can't be a Muggle, unfortunately, so we are working with fewer possibilities here."

"Why don't we use Dumbledore?", he said before he could even think.

Harry laughed, bringing his hands to his face to hide his amusement; and failing miserable at it.

Regulus smiled at his boyfriend's behaviour while shaking his head.

Then the idea came to him. The perfect person to use. Someone so disliked, even by his own family, that nobody would mind if he went missing. A man so vile he made Bellatrix tolerable. 

"Dolohov", said while standing up. "He's perfect, Harry!"

"Antonin Dolohov? Why him?"

Regulus was restless, walking from one side to the other. The thought of cleaning the world of someone like Dolohov brings him ecstasy.

"Antonin is hated even by other Death Eaters. He's repulsive. No Death Eater gets close to him during a raid. The things he does to people... I've never personally seen it, but even just hearing about them makes me sick. He's sadistic, even more than my cousin; some say even more than the Dark Lord", Regulus shacks his head as he speaks, trying to suppress memories of what people told him about Dolohov. "Merlin, he's own family despises him. They think he brings them shame and are disgusted by him."

Harry puts his hands together; brows furrowed. "Thinking about it, it does make sense."

Regulus smiles so hard it hurts. He gets closer to Harry and leaves a peck on his boyfriend's lips. 

"I knew you'd see I was right", he says with a smirk.

Hedwyn rolls his eyes playfully at his boyfriend. "Yeah. Whatever you say, darling."

They laugh at Harry's sarcastic jab. 

The laugh stops when a black owl surges through the window. It drops a letter in front of Harry and flies right out.

Lifting an eyebrow he casts a few charms at the letter. It's clear.

He picks up the letter and opens it.

  Peverell,

the potion to counter the other one is done. 

S.S.

The letter is short and concise. Typical, Harry thinks.

He then shows the letter to Regulus. The other boy reads the letter, and his mood visibly plummets. Hedwyn gets up and goes towards his boyfriend, hugging the other boy tight.

"You don't have to go, Reggie. I can't do it alone", he says calmly while caressing his partner's hair.

The other man shakes his head and lifts it up to look at Harry in the eyes. "No, it's too dangerous", he brings a hand to Harry's face and kisses him. Retreating he says "We do everything tougher, remember? I would never let you go there alone."

Harry hugs him tighter and leaves a kiss on Regulus' cheek.

"We do it together."

Chapter Text

The cold wind hit him immediately. A shiver went through him. The cold felt like it was inside of him; all the warmth of his body was gone.

But it wasn't just because of the wind, he realised. There was something else; a feeling that was creeping into him. A feeling he so familiar with just a few days ago.

Dread. 

That was what being in this place did to him. It was as if a Dementor was hugging him from behind; sucking the happiness from him, leaving him feeling like he was drowning.

The waves crashed against the high rock they were on. Far away, a crack in the cliff gave the ominous feel of the evil that was inside. 

The Cliff of Moher. This place could've been beautiful, he thought. But Riddle impregnated it with his evil Black Magic. He could feel the bile rising in his throat just by thinking about what they would encounter.

He was in a daze; mind away from his body. He didn't even react when his boyfriend hugged him and apparated them.

The strong wind was gone. The dark magic of the entrance to the cavern overwhelmed him. He stumbled backwards, getting caught by his boyfriend before he could realise he was falling.

"... -dn't have brought you here. I'll call Kreacher to get you."

His eyes were wide open now. Before his boyfriend could open his mouth to call the house-elf he brought his hand to Harry's mouth.

"No!", he said in exasperation. Head shaking in denial. "You promised we'd do this together."

"That was before I saw what this place does to you, Regulus!", his boyfriend said in a rushed tone; hands gripping his ginger hair.

"Oh! So you're promises mean so little, yeah? Why don't we forg-"

Before he could finish Harry came towards him, gripping his face with both hands.

"I can't see you suffer like this, Reggie...",  his boyfriend said in whispers.  "I hate seeing you miserable."

Hugging his boyfriend and kissing him he said "It's okay, Harry. I just won't take this as easily as you, but we need to do this together. It will kill me to think you're here by yourself."

He felt Harry sighing against his lips. His boyfriend then nodded and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Okay. Well to this together, but I'm still concerned."

Giving his Hedwyn a small kiss he answered "I'd find it odd if you wasn't."

Both smiled at that, kissing one final time.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Episkey", Harry said the healing charm and the cut on his hand healed.

He picked up Harry's hand and kissed the palm.

"I told you I could've done that, Harry", he said, letting go of Hedwyn's hand. 

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. "And I told you I could handle it, darling."

Not willing to continue to argue with his stubborn boyfriend, he just grabbed his hand and walked through the entrance.

The place was exactly like Kreacher described it. And the eerie atmosphere around the whole cave.

Maybe if he was not a dark wizard he wouldn't feel the effects of the Dark Lord's magic so strongly, but that wasn't the case.

There is evil here, he thought.

He then watched as Harry got close to the water and raised his wand. There was silence for a few moments; then a loud noise startled him. A wet chain was now being gripped by his boyfriend.

He saw as Harry started to pull the chain. The sound of moving water was the only thing he could hear in the cave now.

A boat appeared on the horizon, getting closer and closer until it was in front of them.

"Riddle made so just one wizard could go, but I found a way to 'mute' my age for such wards."

"Oh. And how is that?", he asks eagerly. This kind of knowledge could come in handy, he thought.

Harry winked at him "The Dark Lord is not the only one who knows some things about Soul Magic."

He shivered, trying to forget about Horcrux creating ritual that flooded his mind "You did soul magic? When?! Was it some kind of Charm?"

"It's something like that, yes. And this kind of soul magic is more about concentrating and reaching to your soul with your own magic. I basically enveloped my soul with my magic, and I can go around wards that sense your soul to determine your age."

After a few seconds of looking at his body with disbelief, he blinked and said "You are brilliant. You know that right?"

Hedwyn only smiled, blushing.

Moving towards the boat, they made sure to be careful to not disturb the water even more. Once inside the boat started to move towards the centre of the cave, where the basin was.

A hand touched his shoulder, making him turn around slightly. 

"When we get there and get rid of the potion I want you to be alert, okay? I can use necromancy to control de inferi, but I can take some time. You know Fiendfyre, right?"

He nodded "I do. I'll try to use it in an emergency and I will remain alert, don't worry."

The boat stopped, making them turn to look ahead. The little island in the middle was radiating Dark Magic.

Leaving the boat and getting closer to the basin made his heart beat faster and faster. It's real, he thought, looking around. This is where I was supposed to die. Alone and forgotten by all.

Closing his eyes he inhaled and exhaled, trying to control his nerves. It's not helping, but that's it, he thought to himself, opening his eyes again.

Harry was with his back to him, looking at the basin. 

He retrieved the potion from inside his robes and got closer. Hedwyn turned and eyed the potion on his hand.

"So. I drop the potion on the basin and get Slytherin's Locket, while you focus on the inferi."

Harry nodded to him. "That's it. Do you need to drink the potion?"

"Yeah, but Snape said the effects will be gone. It'll be like drinking water."

"Are you sure? Snape only worked with the description of the option and not a sample."

It was obvious his boyfriend was nervous, the both of them were really. Touching Harry's hand he said "All will be well, love. We'll be fine."

Harry squeezed his hand gently and sighed. 

"Okay. Let's do this", Hedwyn then let go of his hand and turned to look at the water. He then closed his eyes and drew his wand, gripping it tightly. 

Eying the basin, with the potion in hand, he could feel his anxiety getting stronger.

His hands were sweating, making his grip on the potion become tighter. He could picture the scene so vividly: himself, on the floor next to the basin's altar, a panicking Kreacher by his side. He would then give his house-elf the Locket and order him to destroy it. His friend elf would leave and he would remain there, with the inferi getting closer and closer. 

The possibility of what his very recent past could have been was so terrifying to him that it made him feel ill.

Dying in the way I feared the most, he thought.

Alone.

While being dragged to the water, his flesh being ripped apart by those monsters. His last thoughts were clear to him.

Thinking about sacrificing himself because there was no future for him under Tom Riddle's regime. 

The thought of his brother, hearing about Regulus' death but not knowing what happened to him. 

No one he ever cared about knowing what happened to him.

Lonely even in death.

Would Sirius have cried?, he couldn't help but think.

Would his older brother have cared that the little boy he saw grow up had died? Would anyone?

To never be buried alongside his ancestors. To never truly know peace. To think no one would know for sure what had happened to Regulus Black.

His death forever an open question. His body lost forever under the water.

One person would miss me now, he thought while looking at Harry.

His boyfriend would cry for him, he knew that. Harry would've looked for me, he closed his eyes as he thought.

‘My dear Harry.’

Opening his eyes, he got closer to the basin. He would make sure to do everything to bring Voldemort down.

Swiftly he took the cork out of the flask and poured the potion inside the basin.

The potion the Dark Lord created started to change. From emerald it became yellow, then red, then blue and at the end it was transparent like water.

He then transfigured the empty potion flask, transforming it into a glass cup.

The first gulp was mixed with anxiety and anticipation.

Nothing happened.

He waited for a few more seconds, to make sure.

The next seconds were hastily ones. Drinking faster and faster. Stopping only when the bottom of the basin became more visible. One final gulp of the once evil liquid left his lips, down his throat and ending his spiral. 

The emerald-coloured locket appeared. He rapidly took the thing and put it inside a containment box he took from his robes.

Then taking a fake one, that Harry didn't know about, from one of his pockets and inspected it before putting it where the real one was.

There was rumbling in the water. He immediately drew his wand, looking everywhere around him and Harry.

When the first one came out of the water he almost screamed. The dead body was beyond grotesque. Skeletal thin, with pale white skin.

Suddenly there were more, all around them.

Come on, Harry, he thought in panic.

"Incendio!", he yelled the spell, sending it to five inferi who were closer.

He did the same with a few who came behind him. 

More were coming out of the water. More and more of those hideous creatures were coming closer.

"Harry, if you don't stop them I will!", he yelled at his boyfriend. Stupid plan of using bloody inferi!, he thought.

A few more Incendios made him tired. The anxiety and fear mixed with using the fire spell over and over were tiring him.

"If you don't rush this I won't be able to use Fiendfyre against them! I'm tired already, Harry", he said as tears of panic rolled down his face.

While trying to move to fire the spell on some inferi who were coming closer to Harry he stumbled, falling to the ground.

His wand was no longer in his hand. He had no time to look for it. They were close; too close.

"HARRY, PLEASE!", he screamed.

We are going to die here, he thought. Maybe I'm destined to die here.

He was crying. The panic had settled inside him. He pulled his knee against his chest and began to sob.

"I don't want to die", his voice cracking as he spoke.

He didn't know if Harry was dead. He couldn't look. He could only listen to those things getting closer.

Maybe Harry had left. Maybe he fled after he saw how pathetic I am. Was I left to die alone, he asked himself.

"Don't leave me, Harry. Please", sobbing as he begged his boyfriend that he didn't know if was still there.

The sounds of movement stopped. He didn't stop crying. He could hear movement again; closer to his face.

Something touched his hair. His sob got louder. 

He didn't know when it happened but suddenly he no longer was on the cold stone floor.

"Reggie, please. Come back to me, baby. I'm so sorry, Regulus."

The cries stop suddenly. He was feeling warm. Someone was hugging him.
Lifting his head, with a face still wet with tears, he saw his boyfriend. But something was wrong.

Harry was crying. 

"I'm sorry, Reggie. Please forgive me.", Hedwyn said, hugging Regulus tighter against his chest.

The sight of his boyfriend crying broke his heart.

He raised his hand, touching his boyfriend's face. While caressing his face he said "Hedwyn. Harry, darling. I'm here."

When he heard Regulus voice and felt his touch he buried his face on his boyfriend's hair.

"I'm sorry, Regulus. This stupid plan was my fault. We should've just left", Harry said while crying.

"It's okay. It's okay. We are okay. We're okay, Harry", soothing both Harry and himself.

Harry inhaled against his hair; Regulus' scent calming him.

They remained like that for a while. Embraced by each other. Caressing and whispering sweet words to each other. The hell around them was forgotten for now. 

-------------------------------------------------------

"So you left another fake Locket for the Dark Lord to find?"

"Yep"

"And you want to make him go to the cave at one point and use the Horcruxes to make him come to us for the final battle?"

"That's exactly what I said, yes."

Harry only looked at Regulus with a raised eyebrow at him. 

They are in their bedroom. Laying in bed together. Two days have passed since the incident in the cave and they have yet to leave each other's side.

"It's not a bad plan at all, honestly. Thankfully you're the brains of this relationship."

Regulus looked smug after that. "Yeah, I know. Not news at all."

Harry fake sneered at him. That made Regulus laugh, which in turn made Harry smile.

"What did the note say? I hope it makes him angry."

"Oh. It will ", Regulus said while smirking. He then called Kreacher, asking for a copy he had on a table in his office and showing it to Harry.

To the Dark Lord

- Know we will be long gone before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who was the first to discover your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it and all the others if you do not adhere to our demands. In the possibility of your denial of our terms, you will be mortal once more.

- R.A.B. & H.A.P.

"Wow." Harry said "Your note from my past was a lot like this one. I always liked that one, by the way. I well deserved fuck you to Riddle."

The praising made Regulus blush and hide his face against Harry's chest.

Hedwyn smiled at his boyfriend's shyness.

"We'll bring that bastard down together, Reggie. Him first and then Britain will be ours", he kissed his boyfriend's head as he said that.

Regulus only hugged him tighter, nuzzling his nose against Harry's chest.

’Together‘, was all he could think, and that brought a smile to his face.

Chapter Text

Lost in thought, with a letter hanging from his right hand — almost on the verge of falling down —, the only sound in the room was the crackles from the fireplace and the eventual flip of a page, coming from Regulus. 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't come out. Brows furrowed, he tightened his grip on the letter and looked at it again.

Lord Potter,

In no way this is a disregard for what you have done for our family. We are and will always be grateful for your help in keeping us safe, especially with pregnant Lily. However, I come to you to ask for your help once more. 

I'm unaware if you know of my brother Charlus and his wife Dorea. They are the reason I am sending this letter to you, Mr Peverell. My brother and his wife are not under the safest wards, and with the war as it is, I fear their life might be at risk.

Therefore, I would like to know if, perhaps, allowing both Charlus and Dorea to live with the rest of us in the safe house would be possible. If it is possible, then I'd prefer if you could accompany me in escorting them here.

Best regards, 

Lord Fleamont Henry Potter

Harry could feel a bit of sadness after reading the letter. He hadn't even thought of his great-uncle. After so long as the last Potter it was hard to imagine that he could've grown up with a family. Maybe in another life, Charlus would have taught Harry how to be a great potioneer like him; Or Fleamont would've taught him how to handle the Potter estate, and James would have taught him how to be better at Transfiguration like him.

The feeling of melancholia inside his chest came back after years of ignoring it. The sadness of never having anyone to rely on for so many years. So many years of crying inside the cupboard under the stairs and wishing for some unknown family member to come and rescue him. He had to stop a sob from escaping, but a tear still rolled down his cheek.

He jumped slightly when a hand fell on his shoulder. Looking up he saw his boyfriend with a concerned look in his eyes.

"What is it, Harry?", Regulus asked and tightened his grip on Harry's shoulders.

Shaking his head and opening his mouth, he tried to speak, but no words came. He put his hand to his chest and gripped his shirt. More tears came and he hiccuped. 

Regulus bridged the gap between them and hugged his boyfriend, feeling Harry's head now on his shoulder. Even with a robe on, he could feel his shoulder getting wet.

"Shh... Shh", whispered Regulus in his partner's ear, rocking him side to side. "I'm here, darling."

Harry raised his head slightly and another hiccup came from with mouth. His face was red and his eyes were red. "I can't, Reggie," he said in a sorrowful tone. "I want them to know so bad, but I don't know if I can."

Regulus caressed his boyfriend's head and gave him a small kiss on his cheek. "Know what, baby? Who do you want to tell something to?"

"The-The Potters. I wanna tell them, Regulus. I wanna have a family. I can't stop thinking about how it could've been if they were alive when I was growing up. I hate my childhood so much. I want to have a family so bad". More tears came down his face as he spoke.

"Then let's go to them, Harry. We can go together and you'll tell them everything. They'll love you, Harry. Even if you are from the future you're still a member of their family."

Harry buried his head in Regulus' shoulder and inhaled his boyfriend's scent a few times before looking up again.

"Do you think so?", he asked in a whisper. "Do you think they'll want me?"

"Of course, Harry," He said while touching his face. "You're a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their family."

Hedwyn then looked at him and gave him a small smile. Getting closer he touched their foreheads and sighed softly.

"I'd love that."

Regulus put an arm around Harry's waist and slowly helped him get up from the chair. The two then walked towards a desk in the corner.

"Let's write a letter to your grandfather then."

"He actually wants me to go with him to get Charlus and Dorea and bring them to the safe house. Maybe I can speak to all of them."

"Oh," Regulus said while watching Hedwyn sit on the chair by the table. "That can work. But I think it would be better to talk to the older Potters first. Your mother can get emotional when she learns about you and she should be as relaxed as possible now."

Nodding and getting parchment for the letter he answered "It's a good idea. Perhaps my grandparents and great-uncle Charlus can help me bring this issue with my parents after the other Harry is born."

Hedwyn didn't wait for the answer and started to write his letter. He then felt Regulus' hand on his shoulder; looking behind his shoulder he saw his boyfriend giving him an encouraging smile.

His chest felt warm now, and Regulus' support brought Harry new encouragement.

’I'll have my family back‘, he thought to himself. ’Me, Regulus, and everyone who should've never left.‘

-------------------------------------------------------

The sound of apparition echoed in the open country. The only building on site was a cottage made of old stone. The house is both old-looking and homely. Harry's heart felt more at peace at this place, and it was easy to understand why the Potters decided to build a home there

"Oh," Euphemia said with a smile. "We haven't been here in such a long time, Fleamont. Since your father still lived at Potter Manor."

Lord Potter's smile gave a feeling of when a child comes back home after a long time away. It was more clear than ever that the Potter family greatly cared for Pottery Cottage. 

"It's a beautiful home," Harry couldn't help but say, even if in a whisper. Fleamont was still able to hear him and smiled at the young man beside him.

In silence, both Fleamont and Hedwyn walked towards the cottage, the air of the British countryside making the men feel more at home than ever.

Regulus and Euphemia talked to each other behind the men. Both were very aware of the way the lords in front of them were visibly more relaxed. Regulus knew the reason why, of course, but Euphemia simply assumed a Peverell would feel the familiar family magic in the air.

A man opened the door to the cottage and waited for the group to arrive at his doorstep. The man's hair and round glasses screamed Potter and Regulus had to laugh.

"I see the family has a favourite style."

Fleamont and Euphemia let out a joyous laugh and Harry smiled.

"I'm afraid we have, Mr Black," Fleamont answered.

"Regulus is fine Lord Potter," the Black Heir said with a smile.

"We must let go of the formalities here," Euphemia shook her head while saying. "Charlus won't abide by them anyway."

Fleamont had a smirk on his face when he spoke "My brother refuses to have good manners. It drove my parents crazy," he laughed while speaking. 

"We have that in common, I'm afraid," Regulus said with a devious look in his eyes.

The four then smiled, knowing exactly how Sirius Black was.

"Walk faster, you old people," Charlus Potter shouted from afar. 

Fleamont rolled his eyes at his brother's antics while Euphemia pretended to cough to hide a smile. Regulus snickered and Harry laughed openly.

When they got to the Pottery, Charlus greeted the guests and they all entered the home. Dorea was inside — sitting in a chair —, and very much pregnant, which shocked Harry. She got up and greeted them, hugging her great-nephew Regulus.

Once they were all sat, Harry looked at Regulus and the boy nodded to him.

"Well," Harry turned to the Potters to speak. "I must first apologise for forgetting to contact you two," He told Charlus and Dorea. "With so much happening recently, I completely forgot that you could be in danger as well. I feel really sorry about this, and I hope we can mend things."

"There is no need to apologise, Hedwyn," Charlus said and his wife nodded. "We understand you have other things to care for. No hard feelings. You being here now is what matters."

Harry smiled at his great-uncle with gratitude. "Thank you, Charlus. I actually want to talk to you all about some things, other than the protection of Dorea and Charlus."

"Go on Hedwyn," Fleamont said and the other nodded to him.

"First I would like to propose that Charlus and Dorea stay here, and I can cast the Fidelius Charm on the Pottery Cottage. The safe house is big but I don't you to feel claustrophobic with all those people in one house. And I'd like to connect the Pottery's floo with the one in the safe house."

"Oh, thanks a great idea!," Dorea said. "With me so close to giving birth, it would be better to not travel."

"I thought so," Harry said while glancing a Dorea's very obvious pregnant belly. "I think Fleamont and Euphemia being able to visit you will be beneficial as well. I'll have cast the Fidelius today, then; But because I think Dorea can be the secret keeper this time. Just don't give the secret to anyone and you'll be fine."

"That'll be easy," Dorea said with a smirk. "Merlin forbid I have to deal with Narcissa bothering me all day again. At least now I'll have an excuse."

Charles laughed at his wife's jab and put an arm around her shoulder.

"It seems that the question of safety has been dealt with," Euphemia pointed out. "What else would you like to speak about, Hedwyn?"

"It's less talking and more showing," he said and looked at Regulus. The boy then took out a box from his robes and enlarged it. "I'd like to show you some memories, but first I should advise you to remain calm, especially you Dorea — since you're pregnant?"

"What could be so serious for you to be so cautious?," Fleamont asked a bit wary. "I hope it's nothing bad."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry tried to release some tension by smiling. He was not sure he convinced anyone.

"It's no bad, per se. It's more something you'd be very surprised about," he gulped at the anxious looks the Potters were giving him. "I'm not, er, technically, from this time."

The room was silent for a moment and then Charlus barked a laugh. He continued laughing until he realised everyone else was still silent.

Fleamont was the first to break the silence. "Uhm. I assume this isn't a comedy bit you're doing, right?"

"Right," Harry muttered while rubbing his forehead. "I was given the opportunity to come back to the past and make a new life here; And as you can see I accepted the offer. I came from 1999, actually."

None of the Potters said a word. Harry felt more and more uncomfortable in the room. His determination was slowly running away from him.

’Perhaps it's time to show them the memories, Harry,‘ Death said in Hedwyn's mind.

He gave a nod and signalled to Regulus with a whispered "Now".

The Black Heir then got up and placed the pensieve in front of the Potters, enlarged it, and then got back to his seat.

"Hedwyn did show me his memories before so I advise you to keep your nerves down, especially you Aunt Dorea. His life was not... conventional, so do keep that in mind."

The Potters said nothing but all got up and stood in front of the pensieve. One by one they entered the pensieve, leaving an anxious Harry behind.

-------------------------------------------------------

Fleamont was the first to come out of the pensieve. His face was white as a ghost, eyes dull and sad. The others came just seconds after. All are clearly distraught by what they've seen.

Each went back to their seats. Euphemia and Dorea's eyes were red and Charlus had tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Unbelievable...," Fleamont said in a whisper. Shaking his head and looking at the floor with a thoughtful expression.

"I-I understand that it's a lot to take in, so you don't need to say something now."

Regulus took his boyfriend's hand and intertwined their fingers.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but stopped when his grandmother got up from her seat and walked towards him. Before he could even think he was enveloped in a hug.

"Oh, my dear," his grandmother said with a sad tone. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that."

The woman was clearly crying now while rocking her grandson side to side.

"I'm sorry we left you all alone, Harry," Euphemia caressed her grandson's hair while speaking.

Harry started to blink to stop the tears that were threatening to come. He let go of his boyfriend's hand and hugged his grandmother.

In a whispered tone he said "You don't need to apologise. It's not your fault."

Grandmother and grandson stayed in an embrace for a few more seconds before breaking apart. Euphemia said "You're here now. That's what matters," then gave Harry a smile and kissed his cheek. 

Fleamont was the second to walk to Harry. The man didn't waste any time before hugging his grandson, so strongly that Harry lost his breath for a second.

Both men chuckled at the gasp Harry gave and hugged each other again. Fleamont then drew back and kissed Hedwyn's hair. 

"I'm so happy you're here no, Harry," Fleamont's eyes were filled with tears when he spoke. He gave Harry a smile before hugging him tightly again. "You don't have to be alone anymore, lad."

Harry gave his grandfather a look of adoration and said "Thank you," while wiping the tears from his face. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Suddenly he was taken from Fleamont's embrace and the air was squished from his lungs again. "I knew you looked familiar!," Charlus said while hugging him tight. "The red hair is definitely not a Potter trait but the face can hide the truth! You really are a Potter," he ruffled his great-nephew's hair as he said.

Letting out a cheerful laugh, Harry said "Thank you, uncle. I'm happy to be part of the family."

"Come here and talk to your aunt, Harry. I'm too tired to stand up again," Dorea said while making a hug gesture with both arms. Hedwyn didn't even think twice before going towards her and giving her a gentle hug.

The Potters — including the family's newest addition — continued to hug each other and talk. Harry asked Dorea what was the baby's name, to which she brightly replied "Cygnus Charlus". They asked Harry about how his life was going in this new timeline. Euphemia even joked about marriage, which made Regulus and Harry blush, and Fleamont and Charlus laugh.

Regulus watched from his seat as his boyfriend joyously talked to his family. The sight brought a smile to the young Black's face. Seeing his partner so cheerful and relaxed — surrounded by people who accepted him — almost made him cry with joy. This sweet moment is one he will never forget.

Chapter Text

The castle looks beautiful during the night, from afar — just as he remembers it. Just a year ago Regulus was but another student walking through its corridors. How naïve he had been then. Still fascinated by the Dark Lord's power and the desire to serve him. 

How things have changed in so little time, his mind goes through all the fast-paced changes as he thinks. From his first meeting with the disfigured lord — nothing like his father described him — to the moment he realised how mistaken he had been to let that monster brand him.

Regulus' life has changed completely, but Hogwarts stays the same. A bastion of Britain's glorious magic history. A never-changing part of both their country and their lives. 

“I missed being here, you know? To be a student there —” pointing to the castle with his head “— and walking all the way to Hogsmead. Merlin, how I miss that feeling.”

“I know that feeling. Even after going through so many bad experiences while at Hogwarts, I still love it. It'll forever be my home,” Hedwyn walks closer to Regulus as he says. Putting an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and bringing him closer — which the other boy does without thought — to share some warmth and fend away the night's cold wind.

Both men stand in the cave that once, in a future that no longer will come, Harry's godfather — Sirius — would've stayed hidden from the Ministry. The view from above brings a calm to their hearts that neither has felt in a while. Much like coming home after so long away, seeing the place that was once their home for so many years brings both nostalgia and sadness. Nostalgia of the incredible moments lived within the castle walls, and sadness from being taken away from the place where they've been, in their own way, at their happiest.

“Are you sure this plan is going to work?” Regulus raises an eyebrow and looks at Harry “Dumbledore has always prided himself on the fact that Hogwarts is ‘the safest place in Britain‘, so I'm quite sceptical of this plan.”

Harry ’tsks‘ and puts a hand on his hip. The mocking was quite clear in Regulus' eyes, making him nudge his boyfriend with his elbow in annoyance. 

“Where is your faith in me, Reggie —” putting a hand to his heart and fake gasping, and Harry's theatrical capabilities make Regulus think if it'll be rude if he hits the other man in the head “— This you'll be the greatest plan ever made! Write my words, heretic!”

Regulus' lips thin and brows furrowed to stop him from smiling. With each passing day, the behaviour that he once perceived as annoying now makes him smile like an idiot. 

“Oh!,” Now is his time to put his hand to his chest — mocking his boyfriend's antics “How could I doubt such marvellously thought out plan? Using your Metamorphmagus ability, which I'm most definitely not jealous of, to impersonate no other than Albus Dumbledore(!), and for no reason other than for your own amusement!“

“That's exactly what I'm saying! Thanks for understanding, love,” he kisses an unimpressed Regulus' and grabs him by the hand, dragging the Black Heir along as they start walking — while the boy mutters annoyed phrases under his breath.

-------------------------------------------------------

Under the Invisibility Cloak, they walk through Hogsmead, heading towards Honeydukes. The streets empty of people this late at night.

Once in front of the sweet store, Harry casts an Alohomora on the door lock, opening it. Inside the shop, the Cloak is removed, and Harry quickly guides Regulus through the sweet shop, towards the hidden passage that leads to Hogwarts. 

Inside the tunnel, with Hedwyn at the front with his wand lit. After a while walking the underground passage ends, and both men stop. Harry looks behind him, at Regulus, and the other boy just nods at him — neither feeling the need to speak, their plan already clear and simple. 

The two wizards go through the exit, one as fake-Dumbledore and the other under the Invisibility Cloak. Wasting no time, as soon as their feet touch Hogwart's floor they start walking again, and the statue of the One-Eyed Witch behind them goes back to its original place.

The empty castle feels the same as it has ever been for the two men. Even with the clear lack of students walking or running through its stairs and corridors, Hogwarts will always feel like home.

Dumbledore/Harry walks slowly, to Regulus' annoyance, to the Room of Requirements. As annoyed as he is with the slow walking, Regulus has to admit that Harry does make a pretty good job a pretending to be the Headmaster. From the slow walk to the way he carries himself — I all screams Dumbledore.

Even fake-Dumbledore's robes being just as garish as the real-Dumbledore ones, to the point that the portraits purposely avoid looking at him, just like they do to the real Headmaster. 

“Hogwarts is as beautiful as ever at night, yes?” He says to no one in particular, which makes Regulus roll his eyes and the portraits pretend they didn't hear. 

The Metamorphmagus chuckles while going up the staircase.

The wizards are coming closer to the seventh-floor corridor when a voice comes up behind them.

“There you are, Albus,” sounds of shoes tapping on the stone floor echo when the person comes closer. “What are you doing here at this hour, Albus? Our meeting will be in half an hour.”

Fake-Dumbledore suppresses a sigh as he sees Minerva McGonagall in front of him. The slightly younger version of the Gryffindor’s Head of House looks just as stern as Harry remembered her as.

“Ah, Minerva,” Dumbledore/Harry says, imitating the old man's senile smile. “I was just going to my office to have the meeting, of course.”

The Transfiguration professor's brows furrow. She lifts her left eyebrow, her face showing confusion. 

“What are you talking about, Albus,? The meeting will be in the Staffroom. It has never been in your office. And your office is quite far from here.”

The fake Headmaster gets red at the faux pas and laughs lightly. 

“Of course, Minerva,” he says as he brings his hands together in front of him. “You have to excuse an old man for forgetting things. You'll get there too, my dear girl.”

Regulus has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing and revealing his there.

McGonagall's face contorts in a way that makes it impossible for Harry not to laugh, making Minerva become even more annoyed.

“Is this a way to talk to your peers, Headmaster? And I have not been a girl for quite a while as well.”

“You have to excuse this old man, Minerva,” Hedwyn shakes his head and pouts, making the Transfiguration professor even more confused. “In my old age, I forget many things, my dear girl. The other day I thought I was on a date with Godric Gryffindor himself. So imagine my shock when I realised it was just a house-elf.”

The fake-Dumbledore has a sad look in his eyes and he shakes his head. Meanwhile, McGonagall's face can only be as total disgust at what she just heard.

“Is this some kind of joke, Albus?” The old professor asks in exasperation.

“In no way, my dear girl. At least the little elf was gentle if you know what I'm saying.”

Regulus didn't know if he wanted to gag or laugh at what Harry said. Maybe both. 

It was clear by Dumbledore/Harry's face that he wanted to laugh as well. Going so far as faking a cough to hide a smile after the face McGonagall made.

The professor went so far as to take a step back as if Dumbledore's presence made her skin crawl. 

“I-I think you're not feeling well, Albus. I'll go get Poppy and we'll see what's happening to you.”

Fake-Dumbledore took a step towards McGonagall, moving his arms in a way as to call her to him. “There is no need, Godric. Let's go have dinner and talk about this, yes?”

Harry had no time to react before the Transfiguration professor turned around and ran — supposedly to the Hospital Wing.

Only when they couldn't hear McGonagall's shoes hitting the floor that they start laughing.

It took a few minutes for the two men to recover. When the laughing stopped they realised McGonagall would probably be there soon with Madam Pomfrey, so they quickly turned around and started walking to the Room of Requirements.

-------------------------------------------------------

Piles upon piles upon piles, as far as the eyes can see. The Room of Hidden Things — a form of the Room of Requirements — keeps all that has been lost or forgotten in the castle. A place where house-elves store all they see as undesirable or unnecessary.

They go past books, clothes, tables, chairs and wardrobes. A neverending collection of the forgotten, Regulus called it after a few minutes inside the room. 

The books grabbed the attention of the Black Heir especially, it seemed. Many times he almost stopped to inspect the titles, but his boyfriend kept saying “later” again and again.

Of course, Hedwyn couldn't keep an eye on him at all times. If someone asked why some books suddenly disappeared, Regulus would simply say he didn't know.

So distracted with his search for books, Regulus failed to realise that Harry had stopped, ending with him colliding with his boyfriend's back, making Harry stumble at bit. The other boy muttered some not-so-nice words while trying to regain his footing. 

Looking back made Harry roll his eyes at his boyfriend, whose face had a fake innocent smile on. 

“Anyway. That —” Hedwyn pointed to a small wooden box while saying “— is where the Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem is in.“

“I can't believe he left a part of his soul lying around here.“

While his boyfriend rambled about the stupidity of Voldemort's abandonment of the Horcrux, Harry levitated the box and put it inside a pouch — for later to be placed inside a more protected warded box.

“You forget that he's the biggest egomaniac Britain has ever seen, love,” he said while going to Regulus' side. “He thought he was the only one who knew about this place. One thing we can rely on is that Tom Riddle will never think someone is more intelligent than him.”

“Thankfully. Let's hope it stays that way.”

Regulus then gave Harry a peck on the lips and put an arm around his shoulders. 

“So, let's get out of this old castle, shall we?”

Hedwyn only nodded and threw the Cloak on them. Together they walked all the way back, leaving the Room of Hidden Things.

Not being in a rush to leave, the two boyfriends slowly walked through the corridors of the castle; looking around, in silence, each reliving their own memories of Hogwarts.

They were close to the Great Hall when voices shouting about something could be heard from afar.

“-op this immediately, Minerva!“

The echo of feet hitting the stone floor, the clear sound of running, was also heard.

“Come here now, Albus! We will take you to Hospital Wing.“ Minerva McGonagall's shouting was unmistakable “Get him, Poppy!”

A faint shout of a spell being cast, and a sound of something big hitting the floor made Harry snicker and Regulus smirk.

‘Oh, how I wish the school was full of people to watch that. Maybe I'll send a letter to the Prophet’ Harry thought in amusement as they left Hogwarts through the One-Eyed Witch Statue.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Okay. So will need to wait a bit before making the ritual to defeat Tommy. But are you sure you can get Dolohov by yourself?” Harry asked his boyfriend, quite anxious about the other boy's decision.

“Don't worry, darling,” Regulus said while giving Harry a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I know Dolohov enough to be able to kidnap that psycho. I'll get him a week before the ritual is to take place.”

By the face he made, Regulus knew that his boyfriend still was not comfortable with the idea of him going alone against Dolohov.

A sigh escapes Harry's lips. Arms going around Regulus' waist, bringing him closer. Harry then leaves a soft kiss on Regulus' lips, making the Black Heir blush slightly, as he often does.

“Okay,” Harry says as he kisses his boyfriend again.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I trust you, Reggie.” 

Regulus doesn't say anything, only hugs Harry and puts his head on the other boy's shoulder.

They stay like that for a few minutes. In each other's embrace, without a care in the world. Just two boys deeply in love. 

“After we destroy Riddle —” Harry says, breaking the silence “— we'll be free to do whatever we want.”

“Already thinking about world domination, Harry?” Regulus says with a smirk on his face.

Hedwyn laughs and tightens his arms around Regulus' wait, making the boy let out a gasp.

“Not the world, no. I'm thinking more nationally,” Harry says with a fake evil smile.

Regulus only rolls his eyes.

“We'll have time for that, don't worry.”

“Well... There is another things I want,” Harry caresses Regulus cheek as he says. A blush on his face that leaves Regulus even more curious.

“And what does the great Hedwyn Peverell wants? Do tell.”

The sarcastic comment goes ignored by Harry, save a slight eye roll.

Hedwyn then pick Regulus right hand and brings it close to his own fave, and leaves a his on the knuckles.

“I'd like start courting you, Regulus.” 

A blush covers Regulus cheeks, his lips parted slightly in shock.

“H-Harry. You know what courting means, right?”

Harry chuckles at his boyfriend's sudden shyness. “Of course I do, Reggie. That is, of you wish for it.”

“Y-You want to m-marry me?” Regulus' eyes are now wide open, a beautiful world of grey that takes Harry's breath away.

“Of course, darling,” Harry says almost whispering the words.

Regulus closes his eyes for a second, unable to comprehend — fully — what's happening. Harry wants to actually marry him? The Hedwyn Peverell! Of course Regulus had thought about it, but he had never got the courage to ask his boyfriend about it. 

He opens his eyes again, a smile forming of his lips. He comes closer to Harry and gives him a kiss. A first it was small and sweet, but then it became passionate and hot.

Harry's hand went to Regulus' dark hair and started to move through the locks; his other hand went to Regulus' back, caressing it and slowly going down.

Regulus both hands were on Harry's face, bringing his as close as possible, while grinding his body against Hedwyn's. Both men gasped we their bodies came closer, but the kiss went on a second later.

After what it felt like hours, Regulus gave Harry a few pecks on his lips and put his arms around his boyfriend's shoulders.

Harry could swear that the smile that Regulus gave him made his heart stop. Maybe I've died and now I'm in Heaven, he thought.

“It would be an honour to start courting with you, Harry,” Regulus said, bringing Harry attention. “Nothing could make me happier.”

Harry didn't waste a second before bringing Regulus closer again; lips in a dancing haze. The world didn't matter now. No Voldemort, no Dumbledore, no plans were important now they were in an love embrace.

Nothing, not even death, would dare to take this moment from them.

Chapter Text

“May the session on The War begin,” Chief Warlock Smith declared. The whispers between colleagues and faction members stopped.

The members of the Wizengamot were meeting today to discuss the issues of the country. Matters of education, social care and, most importantly, the biggest foe of Britain — the war against Lord Voldemort.

Just two days before the current session a Muggle village close to Northallerton was attached in a raid by Death Eaters. It was reported that 26 Muggles died, and several more were injured.

The news of the attached came the day after and left the Wizarding World in a frenzy. More and more magical families — especially those of muggle-borns and half-bloods — were thinking of leaving Britain altogether, if nothing was done against the Dark Lord and his vassals.

Of course, the loss of dozens — if not hundreds — of families, left the Ministry in a uproar. The effect of such an event would make the country extremely vulnerable, both economically and in the number of wands available to fight a foreign adversary.

Tension was the most present feeling between all of the wizards and witches in the room. All members, including some purebloods, were already calculating the possible increase in prices — as well as the possible economic crisis resulting from a loss of people to neighbouring countries.

“I'm quite aware of the difficulty in planning a response for the troubles You-Know-Who and his war has caused —” Chief Warlock Smith told the Wizengamot, causing many of its lords and ladies to become even more anxious “— However, it is this council's duty to elaborate laws and a plan to deal with this hurdle.”

At the words of the Chief Warlock, an old lord stood up from his seat. Lorcan Moody is a man from a family known for their tendency to produce witches and wizards who swore their wands to work as Aurors. The man's face was stern even at his advanced age, and his presence was known in the Wizengamot as being one that always drew respect — even from some dark wizards and witches.

“My fellow colleagues of this honourable institution,” the old man began, signalling to his peers with his cane. “We are at a moment of reckoning, I fear. The efforts of the Ministry to crush You-Know-Who and his Army of Evil have proven, again and again, fruitless. So I speak with you now, with great regret, to bring to the attention of the Wizengamot the necessity of, perhaps, fighting fire with fire.”

Many of the people in the chamber began to whisper to each other. Lord Moody, of course, had already brought this issue up in the past, but it was squashed vehemently as a disgrace to even consider.

Today, however, with the Death Eaters taking more lives with each new raid, the parliamentarians were — maybe — more susceptible to the idea. One doesn't win a war with Expelliarmus, was a thought that many present in the chamber shared.

“Therefore, it is most necessary — for both the protection of our citizens, as well as the survival of our Auror Force — that those who guard and protect this nation can utilise all repertoire of spells possible to win this war, against the evil that ravages our country.”

Some members of the Light Faction started to open their mouths to protest the idea, but Lorcan Moody quickly hit his cane against the floor — silencing all of them before a word was even uttered.

“Yes. I'm quite aware of what I am proposing before some of you question me. Yet, this changes nothing!” he said as he hit his cane against the floor once more, startling the people closer to his chair. “I'd like to remember all of you who are the ones giving their lives for this war. The good witches and wizards of this country face Death every time they come across a Death Eater, and yet this body dares to forbid them from using all means necessary to protect not only themselves but the innocents being targeted by those lunatics. So, my fellow lawmakers, my fellow law enforcers, will you once more cast the needs of our fighters aside or will you finally join hands with them in this war?”

No one said a thing. Every person in the chamber got lost in thought. Thinking about the pros and cons of supporting Lord Moody's proposal.

“Perhaps —” Lord Edgard Bones was the first to break the silence “— It would be wise to allow the Aurors the usage of more... unusual spells.”

Some nods of agreement were seen, especially in the Grey Faction. Though most light wixen were still apprehensive.

“I'm afraid I'll have to agree with Lord Moody's proposal,” Lord Peverell spoke. Some eyebrows shot up, shocked by the agreement of a lord from the Dark Faction. The dark wixen were obviously quiet during Lorcan Moody's speech. Most people will interpret Hedwyn Peverell's siding with someone from the Light Faction as a distancing from the Dark Lord.

The witches and wizards from the Dark Faction were tense. Having someone who, in thesis, was a part of them going against Lord Voldemort so openly could never mean something good.

“With the toll of dead Aurors mounting more and more, it is clear than never the need for more, let's say, vicious spells to be used was as necessary as now. If not, I fear the number of Aurors will go down every month until we become completely defenceless.”

Many wixen of the Grey Faction were openly agreeing now, with the more lords openly supporting the proposal. Some in the Light Faction were still not sure, while the Dark was as quiet as ever. 

“I believe the honourable gentlemen to be correct,” Lord Arcturus Black spoke, making several of the members of the Dark Faction forget all manners and have their mouths open and eyes widen. The Lord of the Black Family, the oldest and historically dark family in Britain, positioning himself against the Dark Lord in front of the entire Wizengamot was unpredictable. “The frenzied terrorists have opposed this body for too long. It has come the time of penalty in this country. We, as the ones responsible for our nation's safety and security, must take back control over Wizarding Britain from the grips of those radicals.”

Lord Black's voice echoes through the silent chamber. The authority of a name like Arcturus Black was undeniable in moments such as this. No one voice of disagreement was heard. There was opposition, of course, but no one would dare to question Lord Black openly.

“I believe it's time for the voting,” the Chief Warlock said after a minute of silence “Unless someone desires to make their voice heard.”

No one said a thing. The members of the Light Faction were too shy to go against Lord Moody, and the Dark Faction was too afraid of the repercussions that could come if they spoke against Lord Black.

“Very, well. I will give time for consideration, and when I come back the voting will resume. I ask Lord Moody to present to the members of this institution a written proposal that, if passed, shall be made into law,” Chief Warlock Smith said.

Lorcan Moody then took a roll of parchment from his robes “This is the motion I wish to be ayed by your, honourable ladies and lords,” with a movement of his wand, the parchment started to copy and the copies flew to each wixen present. “In this proposal, you will see the list of spells that I deemed necessary for our Aurors to use.” With that, Lord Moody nodded to his fellow Wizengamot members. 

Sounds of parchment being handled started to go around, and whispers began soon after. Many people, especially the light wixen, were shocked by the spells in the list. Most were concerned with the Unforgivables being mentioned.

Seeing the thoughtful faces of the Wizengamot members, Chief Warlock Smith said nothing while getting up from his chair. Some eyes accompanied him as he left. The moment the doors closed the talking began.

Lord Moody went to talk with his allies, along with Lords Prewett and Longbottom. Convincing so many light wixen of siding with this proposal would be hard, but the talks occurred even then.

In the Grey Faction, Lords Shafiq, Greengrass and Bones started a debate with their colleagues about the need for such measures in times of war. The Grey wizards and witches were a lot more open to these talks than the light ones.

Silence ruled the Dark Faction. No one dared to speak up. With a powerful and influential as Lord Black and a rich one as Lord Peverell supporting the motion, it became clear that any voice of opposition would not be welcomed with open arms.

The tension was clear in Lords Malfoy and Nott's, even if they tried to hide it. Their stiff shoulders and slightly furrowed brows showed their real feelings. If the proposal passed, a certain self-proclaimed lord would not be very happy. The lords could practically feel the punishment they'd receive.

Once a few minutes had passed, the door to the chamber opened and the Chief Warlock entered — going straight to his seat and not looking at anyone.

“Attention lords and ladies of the Wizengamot. It starts now the voting for Lord Lorcan Moody's — ‘War Effort Spells’ Act. May the voting start.”

As soon as those words were uttered, several wands started rising. A majority of them coming from the Grey Faction. 

In the light wixen's side of the chamber, many were still reluctant, but one look from Lord Moody made many wands rise.

The Dark Faction had the most numbers of people opposers. Not even Lord Black gave them more fear than Voldemort. Some, however, did put the wands up — none connected to the Dark Lord, though.

“I see...” The Chief Warlock said.

Anxiety went through all in the room. A change such as this could, potentially, give the Ministry the upper hand against the Death Eaters. The more trained Aurors, using more ruthless spells, could be a force to be reckoned with.

A paper with the number of votes appeared in front of the Chief Warlock. All eyes were on the paper, even though no one could read it from afar.

“The ‘War Effort Spells’ Act is therefore passed. The ayes have it!” Exclaimed Chief Warlock Smith “The ayes have it.”

Tension both left and came into the room once more. Some members breathed out and relaxed, while others, became stiffer than they already were.

Some would've said they saw Lord Malfoy sweating, and Lords Nott and Lestrange looked constipated.

Two things were clear, the Ministry no longer would allow the Death Eaters to go unharmed; and, for some members of the Wizengamot, their lord would punish them severely for today's event.

------------------------------------------------------

Screams echoed in the room and travelled through the corridors of the manor. 

In the room that once was a library, hooded figures stood still. The fear of a small movement attracting the attention of the man in the middle sitting on a big white chair was enough to keep them quiet.

The man in question, with pale white skin, a face that seemed as if it was melting — features distorted beyond the point of saving —, and dark red eyes, continued to point his yew wood wand to the man at his feet.

His face was impassive, but the magic around him told another story — he was angry. He was angrier than he had been in a long time.

Abraxas Malfoy writhe on the floor of Lestrange Manor. The pain so strong he was considering death at every second, just so his suffering had an end. But he new, the Dark Lord would never give him such mercy.

The Cruciatus Curse that made Abraxas feel like his blood had turned into molten iron stopped, a sigh escaping his lips. 

“How have you disappointed me, Abraxas,” Voldemort said in a hissing voice.

A whimper came from the man on the floor, making some more courageous Death Eaters laugh. Slowly Malfoy got up, hands shaking and legs weak. Once standing, with his head lowered in submission, Lord Malfoy remained in silence — waiting for his lord to speak again.

“You couldn't even oppose that bill openly, Abraxas. Too afraid of what? The old Lord Arcturus Black?” A cackling was heard somewhere in the room. The Dark Lord's disdain for Arcturus Black being amusing to Bellatrix Lestrange. None paid attention to her madness. “Is he the lord you serve, Abraxas?”

A shiver went through Malfoy's body. His hands started to shake even more.

“N-No, my lord,” Lord Malfoy said in a fearful tone. “I have always only served you, my lord.”

The tall pale man got closer to Abraxas, putting a dead like cold hand on Malfoy's face. It took everything in Abraxas to not flinch at the touch.

“Yesss,” the almost Parseltongue making everyone in the room stiffen. “You have served me so, so well, Abraxas. A friend that has been by my side for decades, isn't that correct?”

Malfoy quickly nodded to his lord “O-Of course, m-my lord. I'll always stand by your side.”

A eyebrow rose on Voldemort's disturbing face “Is that so? Then how come you didn't serve me tonight, Abraxas?”

Too afraid to say anything that could anger the Dark Lord, Abraxas Malfoy decide to stay quiet and wait for his punishment.

Lord Voldemort, seeing his servant behaviour, only tutted. His hand tightened on Malfoy's face, making his sharp nails break through Abraxas' pale skin. The Malfoy Lord let out a small cry, the pain not unexpected and not unfamiliar to him.

“You have wronged your lord today,“ Lord Voldemort said at he let go of Abraxas' face with force, forcing the man to fall to the floor again. “All of you! All I see today is disappointment. Powerful, prideful lords and yet none on you dared to go against and old man. How pathetic,” The Dark Lord spitted the last word in disdain.

The Death Eaters all bowed their heads in shame. They expected this, of course. The Dark Lord hardly would let them go unscaved.

“The mistake of today will not be forgiven! You will remember who is your real lord,” Voldemort pointed his wand at Lord Raphaël Rosier while he spoke. No one could see, because of his mask, but Rosier's face went white with fear.

“Crucio.”

The screams started again in the room. Every Death Eater, while Lord Rosier was being tortured, was with their heads down and hands clenched. For now it was only Raphaël Rosier who suffered under their lord's wrath, but in minutes so would they.

Chapter Text

27th of August

DUMBLEDORE'S ORDER FLEE 

  You read it correctly, dear reader. Yesterday, during another of You-Know-Who's raids against Muggles, a duel between the former Chief Warlock's group of vigilantes and the Death Eaters took place in a town close to Manchester. Due to a delay from the Aurors, Dumbledore's soldiers took the upper hand in the fight with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's terrorists.
  But you may be thinking, reader, Don't they fight Death Eaters all the time? And you would be correct! However, as reported a few weeks ago, the Headmaster's pseudo-warriors have got out of the fight in strange ways. In the fight of yesterday, for example, a man, whom witnesses declared had a resemblance to Gideon Prewett, escaped the battle with a portkey. Apparently, Mr Prewett was severely injured and decided to run from the figh-

He throws the Daily Prophet away, sending it flowing across the breakfast table. 

Putting a hand to his face he groans, irritated. “I can't believe this excuse for toilet paper called us those ridiculous names!”

Rolling his eyes, his father answers “James, you are not part of Dumbledore's Order anymore.”

“Your father is right, dear,“ Euphemia says while pouring a cup of tea for herself. “There's no need for you to be so annoyed, Jamie.”

On the other side of the table, Sirius snickers at the nickname, making James glare at him.

Sighing, he puts more bacon on his plate. Still a bit annoyed at the Prophet's jabs, he eats with a frown on his face.

After finishing his breakfast, Sirius put his arms behind his head and relaxed on the chair. Regulus sees his brother's lack of manners and cringes at it. ’Mother would die if she saw this‘ he thought. Then he smirks at the entertainment such scene would bring him.

“At least Gideon is fine,” Sirius says with a smile on his face. “Thank Merlin he had that portkey.”

“Oh, yeah,” James says with a playful smile on his face, making Sirius narrow his eyes at him. “You wouldn't like something bad happening to your... what did you call him again? ’My Giddy‘, right?”

“Potter!” Sirius yells at his best friend. 

James laughed at his friend. Then the blush on Sirius' face makes Charlus — who was sitting by Fleamont's left — choke on his food while laughing, forcing Dorea to pat him on his back.

Euphemia smiles openly at her boys, and Fleamont hides his smile behind his teacup.

“Those portkeys were a great idea from you two. Even though you can't participate in the war, it is still good to know your friends you'll be safe” Fleamont says.

“I agree. All this young people putting themselves in danger is horrific. This way, at least, their parents will know they are safer” Dorea say while rubbing her pregnant belly. The new addition to the Potter family — Castor Charlus — was arriving next month.

Hedwyn and Regulus nodded at her. Both men decided to not say anything about Dumbledore's group since their opinions on the Order of the Phoenix caused some problems with James and Sirius. Avoiding the headache, Regulus told Harry a few days ago.

“Very much so, Aunt Dorea,” Regulus says as he taps the napkin on his lips. “Dumbledore's order doesn't accomplish much, as we all know. His people were dying left and right before the portkeys.”

Hedwyn nods at his boyfriend in agreement. James and Sirius roll their eyes at the slight jab.

“Enough of orders and newspapers. Now tell us, dears —” Euphemia says while looking at Regulus and Hedwyn “— about the project you too were working on.”

Hedwyn beams at his grandmother, making Regulus smile sweetly at the sight of his happy boyfriend.

“Reggie and I are designing a new magical village. We were going through some papers from the Peverell Vault, and we found a piece of land that was completely empty. And the place is quite big! So we are working we some muggle-born architects to come up with a new place for magical people.”

Fleamont's eyes go wide. “Oh, you don't say. That's an incredible idea, you two. It's quite honourable to give so much of your time to improve the Wizarding World.”

“What a beautiful idea, boys. Tells us everything!” Dorea said with pride in her voice. Seeing her great-nephew pursuing such goals made her incredibly happy for him.

Regulus smiled at her and started speaking “The first thing to do is to put wards all around the land. We, of course, went to the goblin and they are already putting up the wards. After they are finished the construction will start. From what the people told us, by the end of January next year, everything will be complete.”

Charlus raised an eyebrow "Really? Isn't that too little time?”

“Not really, actually. We decided to use the money from the investments we made in companies from the Muggle towards the construction of the village” Hedwyn answered.

“Do you have a name for the place?” James asked while stretching his arms above his head.

“It'll be called Caershire” Regulus answered with a smile.

“A good name,” Charlus said and Fleamont nodded.

“And what of the plans for the people who'll live there?” Lily asked after finishing her breakfast.

“Well, we want a place bigger than Hogsmeade. The builders told us the land is big enough for about 132 families” Hedwyn answered, and the Potters and Sirius all looked shocked at the number.

"Blimey! That's way more people than in Hogsmeade” Sirius said.

“How big is this place, mate?” James asked Hedwyn.

Harry felt as if his heart stopped for a second after hearing his father call him ’mate‘.

“Erm,” Hedwyn rubbed the back of his neck “A long time ago, apparently, some wizards sold all their lands to the Peverell and moved to another country. But it happened so far into the past that nobody remembered anymore. They lived so close together that it was all incorporated into one piece of land after being sold.”

“That's fantastic. What more do you plan for village?” Lily asked with a smile.

“The main reason for us creating this village is so that more people from magical Britain have a place to live in the magical world. The only fully magical village we have is Hogsmead and the prices there are criminal, to be honest. So we want to make Caershire a place where those seeking a home in the Wizarding World” Hedwyn replied.

“We understood that, although many wizards and witches wished to live around other magical folk, it was practically impossible if they didn't have enough money. It will be a place affordable and safe. A place where people can do magic without the fear of Muggles seeing them” Regulus' put his shoulders back and straightened his back more, a sign of pride for their project.

Sirius furrowed his brows at his brother's answer. “And what kinda people are going to live there?”

Regulus looked sideways at Sirius and answered “Everyone”.

“We want all people with magical blood to have a home,” Regulus continued “and yes, that applies squibs, magical creatures, light, grey and dark wixen. In Caershire they all will have a home.”

Sirius and James looked too shocked by Regulus' response to even speak.

“Even werewolves will be allowed?” Lily asked with a shine in her green eyes. Remus has to hear about this!, she thought.

“Yes, they will,” Harry said. “We actually have a plan for werewolves and vampires.”

“Oh, do tell us Hedwyn” Fleamont said 

“We're working with a great Potions Master, and he assured us that — with the resources we're giving him — he will be able to make a version on wolfsbane that will be way more affordable to make. So, when the new version of the potion is available, we will distribute it to all werewolves living in the village. ”

“And we will talk about the potion to every werewolf when they move to their new home. We'll also work with an Enchanter to make an additional room in werewolves' houses so that they have a place to change during the full moon” Regulus added.

Lily gave Regulus and Hedwyn a big smile. “That sounds great, boys. You two are spectacular!”

Harry blushed and smiled at his mother's praise while Regulus gave a small smile and nodded at her.

“We should tell Moony, Padfoot. He'll love this! Hey, Hedwyn, do you think we can help somehow? We can, like, raise funds for the werewolves that don't have much money.”

Sirius straightened up and nodded to James. “You're right, Prongs. I have a lot of money Uncle Alphard left me, so we can use it to pay for the housing.”

“Well, the werewolves that can afford a house will have a few options: they can work in one of our stores — that we'll have in the village — and rent a house; or, for those that don't have any work experience or are unable to work for whatever reason, can apply for the ‘Donation Housing’ program we'll start; and if there is someone that needs more of our attention to get a home, we will be more than happy to speak to them, so we can come to an agreement.”

“That's really thoughtful of you. It's quite nice to know that people will finally have options other than just being homeless” Dorea told Regulus and Hedwyn with a sweet smile.

Both boys smiled and blushed at the older woman's praise.

The chatting around the breakfast table continued. The Potters questioned Hedwyn and Regulus about their plan, and the boys answered each question eagerly.

Harry talked about the Blodhus — Blood House — they would be providing for vampires, and Regulus told the Potters and his brother about the school for children to go before Hogwarts.

Eventually, the conversation continued in the Drawing Room, where James and Sirius gave ideas for shops and Charlus and Euphemia talked about setting up a library in the village.

Dorea and Fleamont decided to contact Madeline Ollivander, Garrick Ollivander's niece, to open a branch of Ollivanders at Caershire. Everybody loved the idea, and Dorea also spoke about contacts that could open clothing stores at the new village and Fleamont said he would talk to a Potion Master about opening an Apothecary.

Ideas were flowing left and right, which Hedwyn and Regulus appreciated greatly. A journal on Harry's lap was already full of new ideas for their village.

Lily and Sirius said they would contact some of their friends who wanted to buy a house but couldn't afford Hogsmeade prices. 

When dawn came, Hedwyn and Regulus said their goodbyes to the Potters. The boys thanked them for their contributions and promised to use all of them.

On the way out, Sirius put a hand on Regulus' shoulder, making the Black Heir turn to his brother. “I'm proud of you, Reg. And, em, I'm sorry for being and twat.”

Regulus' face showed no emotion when he said “You'll need to do more than that for me to forgive you, Sirius.”

Sirius' face fell, but he nodded to his little brother. When he was turning around to go back to the room, Regulus grabbed his forearm, making Sirius meet his eyes. “But I appreciate the apologies anyway,” Regulus said and gave Sirius a small smile.

In turn, Sirius gave him a beaming smile and went back to the Drawing Room visibly more relaxed.

Regulus rolled his eyes and his brother and laughed softly. He met Harry by the fireplace and they floo'd home.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Who's that letter from, that is making you smile like a madman?” Fabian asked his brother.

Gideon gave the letter to his brother and said “I think our business will not go to Diagon Alley, brother.”

Fabian Prewett's eyebrows shot up when he read the letter. A proposal by Lord Peverell, who was advised by Sirius Black, asking the Prewett brothers if they were interested in opening an Alchemy-related store in a village that was being built.

Fabian smirked and said, “People will die of jealousy when they see what we can create with alchemy.”

“Oh, brother. I can hear their cries.”

The brothers wasted no time before writing a letter to Hedwyn Peverell, saying they'd ‘be delighted in participating in such endeavour’.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Alice? What are you doing, darling?”

“Frank! You're not going to believe this.”

“What is it, love?” Frank Longbottom asked his wife, who had a big smile on her face.

“I just got a letter from Lord Peverell. He wrote that Lily spoke to him abou my wish to open a Herbology shop! Lord Peverell said that he and Regulus Black are building a new wizarding village and are wishing to open a plant based ingredients store.”

“Merlin, Alice. Really? That's great!”

The couple than hugged and sat next to each other to come up with and answer to Lord Peverell and Heir Black's proposal.

-------------------------------------------------------

All around Wizarding Britain letters were delivered to witches, wizards and creatures with propositions of new and affordable places for people to have a home or open a new business. 

While everywhere in the country people were celebrating the letters, an heir and a lord are lying on their bed, sharing kisses and words of encouragement to each other and contemplating about the future they are building together.

Chapter Text

Three drops of blood on the rune in the middle of the wooden bird's chest make the ᛒ — shaped to the like of the Elder Futhark Berkana —, which is associated with the circle of life and death, glow for a second.

A chant starts, and the heavy weight of Death settles in the room. The magic of the realm beyond the veil was so thick around the two men in the Ritual Room that, for a moment, it felt as if they no longer were in the world of the living.

When the words stop, the magic of Death leaves the room, as if it was never there. The two men can breathe normally again. The ᛒ rune glows again, in a pale blue light, before it fades once more.

With three taps with his wand on the rune, Hedwyn closes his eyes and imagines the shape he wishes the bird to take. Regulus gaps, the wooden bird changes like a metaphor before his eyes, transforming from wood to a normal-looking, though small, bird.

A crested tit, Harry thinks after opening his eyes. He grins in contempt for his ritual and runecraft. The bird now shares his Metamorphmagus blood and becomes alive-like through his Soul Magic. 

He wastes no time, taking the small bird in his hands and bringing it to the closest room with a window.

Once the window is open, he tells the bird what it must do and releases it. Hedwyn and Regulus look at the bird as it goes to accomplish its task. Both men have a devious smirk on their faces.

-------------------------------------------------------

At Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's Office, the Order of the Phoenix is gathered. Dumbledore is sitting in his chair while his followers are standing around the table in front of the old man.

Dumbledore has a clear frown on his face, the war and the Wizengamot both bring the old headmaster a lot of problems.

“We have a lot more issues on our hands now, my friends,” Dumbledore tells the people in the room. “Not only Voldemort's raids have become more frequent, but now we also have the issue of the new Lord Peverell and his... partnership with Regulus Black. I fear which will strike first now. Lord Voldemort uses brute force, yes, but Hedwyn Peverell is now so incredibly influential on both the Wizengamot and in public opinion that I fear for the worst.”

“Oh, Albus,” Molly Weasley says, putting a hand on her chest. “Not only do we have You-Know-Who to fight against as also this Lord Peverell? Do you believe he's dark? He must be! Sitting by a Malfoy's side of all places. It's truly a disgrace to our country.”

Dumbledore nods to her in feigned nervousness. “I'm certain he is, Molly. You just have to look at his recent proposals to see it. Most Blood Magic is now legal again, and his defence of dark creatures is one more proof of his allegiance to the dark. With the Peverell fortune, Hedwyn is able to bend everything to his will.”

Andromeda Tonks frowns at that answer. “Are you sure of that, Albus? The man looks honourable to me. There are even talks of him and cousin Regulus building a village for less fortunate people. Maybe he's not all bad.”

“Don't let his nice façade deceive you, my dear girl,” Andromeda's left eyebrow twitches at the informal way in which Dumbledore addressed her. “Hedwyn Peverell is no good man, and neither is Regulus Black. Let's not forget how much young Regulus praised Voldemort while at Hogwarts. How could Lord Peverell not be evil? No, he is a dark wizard to his very essence.”

Andromeda pursed her lips but said nothing. It was true, her cousin was a known supporter of You-Know-Who and he has been like that for years, much like the rest of her family. The only sensible ones were Alphard and Sirius. Not even her most rational sister, Narcissa, was swayed away from this madness, but decided to marry a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“But what of Peverell, Albus? I think his support for Lord Moody's proposal was very sound,” said Fabian Prewett. “Why would he want to go against You-Know-Who if he's dark?”

Dumbledore fixed his glasses while thinking. “Do you know anything about the Peverell family, my boy?” The headmaster said in an ominous tone. Fabian Grimaced at being fall ‘my boy’, but remained quiet. “The Peverells were known for being necromancer abilities. For generations, the family have had this stigma.”

“And you believe Lord Peverell uses necromancy? It's very illegal magic after all.” Fabian asked.

“I believe he has the knowledge of Necromancy, yes. It would be hard to believe he doesn't, with the family's history and all.”

“But why go against You-Know-Who? Would they not want to work together?” asked Minerva McGonagall.

“I see it as a challenge, Minerva. Lord Peverell, as I see it, is presenting himself as an alternative to Lord Voldemort. Perhaps a more clean and presentable version of Tom, but evil nonetheless.”

Minerva's eyebrows shot up. “You believe the man to be the next Dark Lord?”

“I fear as much, my friend. His alignment with the Dark Faction, the way he votes and the laws he proposes, there is no doubt in my mind that Hedwyn Peverell is heading that way. A new Dark Lord is forming, mark my words. The third in this century”

Most members of the Order become uneasy by those words — the memories of Grindelwald's war still fresh in the minds of many of them —, save Andromeda Tonks and the Prewett brothers, who have some connection to Hedwyn Peverell, either from Regulus or Sirius Black. 

“Is there any news of the Potters?” McGonagall looks at Gideon Prewett as she asks, changing the topic of the conversation. The Potters and Sirius Black's disappearance was a point of contingency within the Order. With some believing they were being forced into hiding and others believing it was Lord Potter's doing.

“Sirius hasn't said much,” Gideon answers. “He just keeps saying they are in a safe place and to not worry about them.”

Albus Dumbledore frowns at that answer. The Potters leaving his side was a significant blow to his plans against Voldemort. A family with that much influence and wealth was not easy to come by.

“That's very concerning. I don't see why they would leave the war effort so suddenly. I'm certain something — or someone — is the cause of their departure,” Dumbledore shakes his head as he speaks. “Unfortunately, there is not much we can do but hope they will contact us. Their idea of using portkeys to escape if in danger was a remarkable one. I only hope they'll come back to us soon.”

“Is there a plan to deal with Peverell? My father tells me even some people from the Light Section are taking a liking to the man.” Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody narrowed his eyes as he asked. His father's concern over Lord Peverell's growing power in the Wizengamot never left his paranoid mind.

“I have something planned, do not worry. I see it as important that the public is made aware of Lord Peverell's dark tendencies. Without the people to support him, it will be easier to diminish his stance in the Wizengamot. I'm working with a few friends to make this knowledge widespread. Hedwyn Peverell will not become more powerful, that I can assure you.”

The Order of the Phoenix was too preoccupied with their plans and strategies that they failed to see the small bird by the open window. Not even Alastor Moody, with his ‘Constant vigilance!’ was able to see the deceitful little bird for what it really was.

In another part of the United Kingdom, Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black celebrated their enemy's stupidity, a begin to write a letter to one of Regulus Black's most esteemed writers. Albus Dumbledore's life would only get worse.

-------------------------------------------------------

DUMBLEDORE:
THE NEXT DARK LORD?

A week later after the Order decided they would try to sway public opinion against Lord Peverell, Hedwyn was found smiling while reading the article that painted Dumbledore as a possible Dark Lord, for his past with Grindelwald, reminiscing from a previous article, and his extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts. As well as a description of the types of books and trinkets he keeps in his office — some of them even banned in Britain.

The article also addressed the constant visits Albus Dumbledore made to Gellert Grindelwald. Sightings of a man close to Nurmengard were made just last week, which didn't help Dumbledore at all. Of course, Dumbledore didn't go to Nurmengard the week prior, but nobody needed to know that a Metamorphmagus was there as him.

If the Order thought they could bring Hedwyn Peverell down, they now would have a very difficult time. Opinions about Albus Dumbledore were less favourable now than they were in the past, so trying to attack a prominent lord who spent so much money on charity work was going to be very difficult.

“Perhaps now the old goat will learn to stay in his place,” Regulus says while reading his copy of the Prophet. “It's unfortunate we couldn't see his face when he read this. How entertaining it would be.”

Harry snickers and shakes his head. “I can always change to look like him if you wish.”

The face of disgust Regulus makes tells his opinion on that idea. “I'd not look at his old face while having breakfast, thank you.”

After finishing breakfast, both men move to the drawing room. Hedwyn picks up the book about Blood Magic he was reading, while Regulus tries to read his book about Ancient Runes.

However, Regulus' eyes go to a letter sitting on the table next to his chair. It had been delivered by a very familiar owl just this morning, and he was still trying to speak about it with Harry — but every time he started to speak, the words didn't come out.

As he sits there, his foot taps impatiently on the floor, a clear sign of his restlessness. An invitation has been sent to Hedwyn and him, and he can't help but obsess over how his boyfriend will respond. Will he be excited? Will he accept it? The anticipation is almost palpable, and he finds himself fidgeting with his hands as well. Every second feels like an eternity. He can see the sunlight streaming in through the window, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air, but he can't focus on anything else. All he can think about is Hedwyn's reaction.

“Reggie?” Harry's voice brings Regulus' attention to his boyfriend. “Is everything okay?” He puts his book down and focuses solely on Regulus.

Regulus can't seem to sit still. He squirms in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Suddenly determined, he sits up straight and locks eyes with Harry. Might as well deal with this, he thinks.

“I've received a letter, from my grandfather. He heard about our relationship, apparently. He and my grandmother are not very happy they didn't hear about from me.”

“Oh,” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. You know how old families are. We are expected to ‘show’ our intended to the Lord and Lady of the family. I should've told him already, but everything that's happened made me forget. Merlin, we still have my parents to deal with. They can't stay under Imperius foverer.”

“Unfortunately,” Hedwyn mutters. “We’ll deal with your parents after visiting Lord Black.”

“Yes, of course. It's reasona- Wait are you saying that you wish to visit my grandparents?” Regulus leans closer, his eyes showing how important this is for him. For an heir raised in such old traditions as Regulus, his lord's approval of his relationship with Harry is very important. “You will meet them, Harry?”

Harry raises an eyebrow, confused. “Of course, Regulus. Why wouldn't I? I know how important this is.”

Regulus can't help but grin from ear to ear as he hears his boyfriend's response. All the tension that had been building up in his shoulders vanishes in an instant, and he sinks back into his chair, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through his veins.

"That's- That's great, Harry. Thank you,” Regulus says softly. Harry smiles at him and shakes his head fondly.

“You didn't think I would decline the invitation, right?” Regulus looks at the floor, unable to answer Harry's question. “Reggie, darling. I would never do that to you. I know how your family is important to you, even the crazy ones.”

Regulus chuckles. “Come on, don't be so had on Sirius.”

Harry chuckles at the playful remark, enjoying the light-hearted teasing from his godfather.

“When does your grandfather wish for us to meet him?”

Sighing he answers “In two days. Fortunately, we will have a day off, so we can visit Château Noir with no problem.”

“I'll get my best robes. Merlin forbid I look like a peasant in front of the mightiest Lord Black.”

Regulus chuckles softly and adds “Or worse, look like a pompous Malfoy.”

That makes Harry throw his head back and laugh, making Regulus join him. The boyfriends sit there for a while, talking about how to apologise to Lord and Lady Black for the late revelation of their courting, and if they made more jokes at the Malfoy family's expense, no one was there to judge them for it.

-------------------------------------------------------

While a bird was chirping at his office's window, Dumbledore was red with embarrassment, while trying to explain to an angry McGonagall why the things in the Prophet were lies.

“I have not visited Grindelwald, Minerva. You must believe me! It's all lies.”

Minerva McGonagall grunts in response. “I am very concerned about you lately, Albus. Since the day you went mad around the castle, talking... profanities about house-elves that I-”

“More lies!” Dumbledore exclaims, interrupting McGonagall, which makes her even more angry at him.

“You told me is impossible for someone to have Pollyjuiced as you, Albus! That no one would be able to get hair from you,” McGonagall is almost frothing at the mouth with anger and annoyance. “So please enlighten me!”

Dumbledore mumbles, incapable of coming up with an answer — making Minerva straighten her back in triumph. The headmaster becomes even more red and embarrassed.

Then, out of nowhere, Dumbledore turns around and goes to his chambers, too frustrated with McGonagall to continue the conversation.

Minerva nods at herself and leaves the Headmaster's Office, going towards the Hospital Wing. Poppy will know how to take care of this madness, she thinks while stomping her feet on the stone floor.

The sound of the bird chirping in Dumbledore's office grows louder, almost as if the small bird was mocking the headmaster with its singing. 

Chapter Text

The state where Château Noir stood was a strong indication of how rich and powerful the Black Family was. Surrounded by a beautiful garden — purple, black and pink roses all around; the magic of the Blacks emanating from them — and in the middle of all this beauty was the château itself.

A grand palace-like structure that would make a Malfoy cry in jealousy. The 16th-century French architecture showcases the family's pride in their heritage. The cream-coloured walls contrast with the light purple of the mansard roofs.

The whole place screamed aristocracy and Hedwyn was more than impressed. The difference between Château Noir and Gwynt Keep was a testament to the two families' different heritage. While the Black family's ancestral home was undeniably French, the Peverell's keep was proudly Anglo-Saxon.

A house-elf ‘popped' in front of them, taking Hedwyn's attention from the Black State.

“Welcome to Château Noir, Masters. I is Tippy and I is taking you to Lord and Lady Black.”

Regulus linked his arm with Hedwyn's while they followed the elf. Heir Black had a smile on his face, reminiscing of the times he would visit his grandparents every weekend. It has been a while since the last time he came to the Black ancestral home — thanks to Walburga and Orion, both disgustingly recluse, even from their own family.

Inside the château, they passed through beautiful halls — embroidered with gold and silver. The interior walls of the palace were varied from room to room; some purple, some light blue, others black. All came together in a show of colour and good taste — a tribute to Renaissance-era France.

“It's a beautiful home,” Hedwyn says while looking at his boyfriend, a smile like Regulus' on his face.

“Yeah, it is,” Regulus says softly. His grey-coloured eyes shone like precious stones. “I missed this place so much, Harry. Grimmauld never felt as a home to me as the Château.”

Seeing how happy Regulus was to be here, Harry could not help but ask “Would you like to live here one day? It's your heritage after all.”

Regulus seemed momentarily shocked by the question, his eyebrows lifting slightly and his eyes widening for a second.

“Harry, I-I don't know. We never talked about this, so I just assumed we would live in Gwynt Keep after we married.”

Hedwyn's brows furrowed before he spoke. “But is that something you'd want? I can see how this place makes you happy, Regulus. If you wish to live here you just have to tell me.”

Regulus' face was controlled, but Hedwyn could see in his eyes that the words touched him. “I thought you would want me to live in your ancestral home. Honestly, though, —” he said quietly as if forcing the words to come out. “— I always dreamt of living here. My favourite childhood memories are the ones I have from being at the Château.”

Harry smiled sweetly at him. “Then I guess this is another thing to discuss before the marriage.”

Regulus smiled brightly at him and nodded. Starting to imagine how their lives in Château Noir would be distracted Regulus, to the point he didn't realise they were close to their destination.

“We is here,” The house-elf said, bringing Regulus back to the present. The doors to the White Drawing Room — where Lord and Lady Black would be waiting open, revealing the old couple standing in the middle of the room. “Lord Hedwyn Aelius Peverell and Heir Regulus Arcturus Black,” The elf announced.

“Grandfather, grandmother, is a pleasure to be invited to our ancestral home once more,” Regulus says after entering the room. He thought as appropriate to start things more formally, even if he was dealing with family, because Lord Black is not happy with not being told about the courting with Harry.

Hedwyn approaches with a respectful demeanour, offering a courteous bow to his hosts. "It is an honour to be invited into your esteemed household, and I express my gratitude to you, Lord and Lady Black. Thank you for your gracious hospitality."

As the couple stands before them, Lord Arcturus approaches them with an expressionless face, his eyes betraying no emotion. He is the first to step forward, his imposing presence casting a shadow over the scene. “My heir, Lord Peverell, is my greatest honour to have you both in my home. My wife and I have been most interested in speaking with you.”

Lady Melania Black walks towards them and stops by her husband's side. “Grandson, Lord Peverell, is a pleasure,” her words are courteous but short. Maybe Lord Black wouldn't be their biggest problem, Harry thinks.

Without saying another word, Lord Black turns around and walks towards the chair in the room. All others follow him. 

“I believe we have much to discuss, Regulus,” Arcturus says after everyone is sat down. “Your grandmother and I were most disappointed in you, keeping your relationship with Lord Peverell a secret for so long.”

Lady Black nods as her husband speaks, sipping on the tea Tippy has brought for them. For an untrained eye, Melania Black doesn't look displeased, but her eyes tell another story.

“Regulus —,” Lady Black starts and Regulus winces slightly “— may we have an answer to your... wariness in doing as you should have and informing us of your courting with Lord Peverell?”

On the sofa, sitting next to Hedwyn, Regulus tenses. The cold tone from his grandmother is like a knife to his chest — the disappointment clear in her eyes. Never having his grandparents speak and act to him in this manner leaves Regulus unable to come up with something to say.

Feeling his boyfriend's distress, Hedwyn puts his hand on top of Regulus'. He then turns to Lord and Lady Black, “I am afraid this is my fault,” Regulus' eyebrows shoot up at Harry's words. “I have taken a lot of Regulus' time, with our projects and plans, as well as me just wanting to spend more time with him. Not that this is an acceptable excuse, of course. But I hope that you can understand a bit of the reasons why we haven't met beforehand. You have my sincere apologies.”

Arcturus and Melania looked at each other without saying anything, then turned back to the men in front of them. Lord Black's face still told nothing about what he might be thinking, but Lady Black lifts the corner of her mouth momentarily — in a quasi-smile.

Hedwyn saw in the corner of his eyes Regulus' shoulders relaxing. He was quite confused, to say the least. The body language of the Blacks being more than foreign to him. 

Melania then faced Hedwyn, making the man unconsciously straighten his shoulders. “Although you taking the blame for both of your actions or inactions, in this case, we are not foolish enough to fall for that, young lord.”

Hedwyn blushed after being caught so early and smiles awkwardly at Lady Black. “Of course, Lady Black. I wouldn't presume that was going to be the end of it. Think of it more as a contextualising, more than an excuse.”

Lady Melania Black only hums at him, continuing to drink her tea. He's fairly good a getting out of difficult situations, Melania thinks.

“We will consider that, Lord Peverell. However, I think we have more... pressing issues to discuss,” Lord Black says.

“Yes, grandfather,” Regulus bows his head slightly as he says. “We would like to enlighten you on the progress of our courting.”

Nodding at them, as for Regulus to continue, Lord Black keeps his eyes on his grandson. 

“Well, as you can see we are in the third stage of our courting,” Regulus shows the silver bracelet with black diamonds around it, on his right wrist.

“The third? In such short time?” Lady Black interrupts Regulus. “Isn't it quite early for the gift giving stage, grandson?”

Regulus' cheeks show a small blush, but otherwise he still appears confident. Harry smiles at that; Regulus not showing any reluctance about the fast-paced courting process warms his heart. 

“Not at all, grandmother. I, for once, believe that if you find the right person, spaced courting can be a detriment to the relationship. And let's not forget that Hedwyn and I are already at the age where most purebloods marry — if betrothed, of course.”

Lord Arcturus Black nods and hums at his grandson. “You are correct in that. Your grandmother and I married at your age, so it's not uncommon.”

Lady Black looked contemplative but nodded nonetheless. “Indeed. Just a year out of Hogwarts, if I remember correctly.”

“Unfortunately, Hedwyn and I didn't have the pleasure of a betrothal contract like you, so we are taking things faster than they otherwise would be.”

Hedwyn smiled at Regulus and intertwined their fingers. “I didn't study at Hogwarts, as you probably know. So Regulus and I didn't meet until later in life. However, I can't say it's a significant issue, as we are doing the courting process.”

“Yes, I can see it,” Lady Black says. “Apart from that, we are pleased with the seriousness you are both dealing with this.”

“It is a serious matter for us. We understand the expectations as lord and heir of great houses, and the responsibility that comes with it,” Hedwyn says and Lord and Lady Black nod at him.

Melania then looks at both men and smiles at them. “Well, we saw the bracelet, which is a beautiful piece, if I may say. Now, Regulus, what have you gifted you intended?”

While unconsciously caressing the bracelet Hedwyn gave him, Regulus speaks, “I gifted Hedwyn the necklace Cepheus Lepus Black gave Caden Aidan Yaxley.”

On Hedwyn's neck hung the courting gift, a silver necklace, embroidered with small diamonds and with a purple sapphire as the centrepiece. Much like the bracelet that Regulus now wore, the necklace was a family heirloom. Both men exchanging heirlooms as to a their first courting gifts were a sign of the couple's desire to intertwine their families — a sign any dignified pureblood would understand.

“Oh, yes. I remember seeing it in the Vault. A beautiful piece indeed,” Lord Black said while looking very pleased with Regulus' choice. “Yours is a very elegant choice, Lord Peverell. If I remember correctly the Peverells had a preference for black diamonds.”

“You're correct, Lord Black,” Hedwyn said while nodding eagerly at Lord Black. The pride in his family's history is present in his body language. “The Peverells have the biggest collection of pieces with black diamonds in the world. Not many exist, of course, since this specific type of diamond is quite rare.”

“Is a beautiful bracelet, Lord Peverell. It looks almost alluring on Regulus' wrist,” Lady Black says, her voice full of respect for Hedwyn's choice. She would want nothing below what she deemed deserving for her grandson. Thankfully, Lord Peverell had the taste worthy of a Black.

“Thank you, Lady Black. Regulus deserves nothing but the best I can give him,” Hedwyn said with his posture straight and shoulders aligned. Regulus laughed softly at his boyfriend's declaration of affection. Both Lord and Lady Black did look pleased, having now a new level of respect for the man who seemed so dedicated to their grandson.

“There has been much talk about your project of building a village. I've heard many of our colleagues in the Wizengamot speaking about, Lord Peverell. It's the news of the moment, I fear,” Arcturus said.

“Oh, yes,” Hedwyn grinned while speaking. “Regulus and I are building a new magical village, away from Muggle influence — where our own can be ourselves without the fear of breaking the Statute of Secrecy.”

“It's an honourable ideal. Only having Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and the other alleys adjacent to it as places for wixen to live is a disgrace to this country. Other countries have much stronger magical communities, while Britain stays scattered,” Lord Black shakes his head in dissatisfaction. The Blacks once lived much closer to other wizarding families, but in recent centuries those people who were once neighbours have grown away from each other, with the expansion of Muggle towns and cities.

“Indeed, grandfather,” Regulus' tone dripped with disdain for the current situation of their country. “We have been at the mercy of Muggles for too long. We catn build new houses because of Muggles, we can't do magic outside of particular places because of Muggles. Our country has been completely overtaken by Muggles while the Ministry does nothing to stop it.”

Lord Black had a small smile on his face while his grandson spoke. “You're speaking like a true Black, Regulus,” Regulus' eyes shone with the compliment. “I'm thankful that the family mantle will be given to you. Not that I don't like your brother, it's not that at all. But Sirius has never had the same responsibility for his place in this family like you.”

Regulus bowed his head to his grandfather, in a sign of gratitude for the encouraging words. “Thank you, grandfather. I'll bring our family to our former glory again,” He then looked at Harry and smiled at his boyfriend. “Hedwyn and I, together, will leave our mark in this country.”

Lord Black's smile was more pronounced now with his grandson's words. “I have no doubt you will, Regulus. I have no doubt.”

They spoke more about how things have been in the passing months, with Hedwyn's work in the Wizengamot and Regulus' plans to become a Runes Master. Regulus asked how things have been at the château, with his Aunt Lucrecia and Uncle Cygnus, Great-uncle Pollux and Great-aunts Cassiopeia and Dorea coming for the Yule celebrations. As well as his cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix, who was a promise of an an uncomfortable atmosphere with her present — due to her being in thrall with the Dark Lord especially. His parents would come too, to Hedwyn and Regulus' displeasure, but his grandparents wouldn't allow Orion and Walburga to be cast aside from the family gathering.

Lady Black talked a lot about the new member of the family Castor Chalus Potter, whom the four would be meeting in a few days — according to Dorea. The baby's arrival was a reason for celebration for the Potters and Blacks alike. Both families knew how much Dorea and Charlus wanted a child and the news of Dorea's pregnancy had revitalised the families — who both had been without a new addition for a while.

As the meeting was coming to a close, Lord Black thought it necessary to alert his grandson of the Dark Lord's anger towards him. “I heard Bellatrix speaking about it with her husband and brother-in-law when they came here with Cygnus and Druella. She said the Dark Lord has been looking for you and that he had ‘a lot to discuss with the Black traitor’. I do not know what you've done, Regulus, but be careful nonetheless.”

Regulus looked thoughtful but nodded nonetheless. Hedwyn was the one to speak, “Don't worry, Lord and Lady Black, I won't allow any harm to come to Regulus. If the Dark Lord wishes suffering upon your grandchild he will need to go through me first,” Harry linked his arm with Regulus'. “Your grandson is the most important person in my life, and I won't let him go without putting up a fight.”

Arcturus and Melania looked very pleased with Hedwyn's stance towards their grandson. The young lord's fondness for Regulus was obvious, not only in his words but in the way he looked at Regulus as well. 

After saying their goodbyes — promising to see them when Dorea was to deliver the baby —, the men went to the floo, deciding it was better to go home that way home, instead of walking all the apparition point.

Arcturus and Melania went back to the White Drawing Room and talked more about the two men, and how happy they were with the pair. “A great addition to the family,” Lord Black said while his wife nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

18th of September

His heart couldn't take it. The longer he waited the more he felt like he wouldn't live to see it happening. Feeling like he was going to pass out, he decided to sit down before he fainted. Just a few more hours, just a few more hours and everything would be fine, he kept telling himself.

The people around him were calmly talking to each other, which just served to make Charlus believe he was losing his mind. How can they be so calm and quiet?, he thought to himself. I'm gonna have a baby today!

Putting a hand on his forehead dramatically, he left a frustrated huff. Arcturus and Hedwyn stopped their conversation about school reform and looked at him, both of them unimpressed. 

“Charlus, why in Merlin's name are you behaving like an anxious teenager? You're way past that phase,” Hedwyn sneered but the playfulness was clear in his tone.

“I'm going to die, Hedwyn! My heart is too old for this,” On the other side of the room, Fleamont rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatic behaviour. “Merlin! Why can't Dorea just push the boy out already? We've been here for a whole day.”

Sighing and putting down the magazine she was reading, Euphemia felt obligated to intervene before Charlus gave her a headache. “Charlus Potter!” She chastised him with a raised tone of voice. “You will stop using this ridiculous language while talking about your wife and son. Have you forgotten we are not the only ones here?”

When turning to look at the other people in the room, Charles saw that everyone was judging him with their eyes. The Blacks, specifically Lady Melania, were narrowing their eyes at him. 

After being called out, he gave a nervous laugh and pretended to observe the things outside the widow to his left. He couldn't see him, but Charlus was sure Hedwyn was smirking, ravishing in Charlus' public embarrassment. I'll put fobblerworms on your food. Just wait, he threatened Harry on his head.

“Do you already know where you and Dorea will be staying after the delivery?” Regulus asked, bringing Charlus' attention to him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, before speaking. “We will be at the Pottery. Dorea said it would be best, to not wake everyone else when the baby cries at night. Thankfully Fleamont gave us one of the elves that used to take care of James when he was a baby.”

“You know you can visit us at any time, brother. We'll always be a floo away,” Fleamont said reassuringly. He knew that having a baby at a later age was going to be difficult, so he wanted to make sure his brother knew he had people to help Dorea and him.

Charlus smiled at his older brother, thankful for the support he was being given. “We know, Mont. Dorea and I will come to you if we need something.”

“Pilly is a great elf. She helped me so much when we had James. You'll be in good hands, Charlus.”

Charlus nodded and smiled at Euphemia. Dorea and Charlus were happy to have help with little Castor. If this baby was anything like the other Potter children they'd need all the help. He shuddered just remembering Fleamont talking about baby James. The boy was a little gremlin.

“Has Dorea talked about the Hogwarts fee, Charles?” Lord Arcturus Black asked.

“Yes! We are very thankful for the generosity, Arcturus.”

Lord Black only waved his hand, dismissively. “It's nothing. The Blacks always pay the tuition before the baby is born. We are more than happy to give him this, as well as the trust vault.”

Hedwyn snorted beside Arcturus. ”Two trust vaults? You're not raising a Malfoy are you, Charles?”

The expression on Charlus' face made many people in the room laugh. “He'll only use one, of course. Merlin forbid I raise a Lucius Malfoy.”

James and Sirius snickered, remembering the fancy robes Lucius would wear to every occasion. Though it made him respected in Slytherin for his looks and expensive clothes, the rest of Hogwarts made fun of him for years — even if only when he couldn't hear them.

“Oh, to think we don't have any Black babies on the horizon. Never there was a generation in this country without any Blacks,” Lady Melania said in a dramatic tone, putting a hand to her heart.

Sirius and Regulus winced. Both men knew this tactic their grandmother used, but they still felt for it anyway. Denying their grandmother something was impossible for the two.

“Will have children, grandmother. They'll just come at a later date,” Sirius said while rubbing his hands together. By the look Lady Black sent his way, she was not convinced.

“I can't speak for Sirius, grandmother. But I can assure you that you'll have your grandchildren,” Regulus straightened his shoulders while speaking. The younger one was always trying to be five steps ahead of his brother when his grandparents were concerned.

Hedwyn blushed but said nothing. Just thinking about having children with Regulus made his belly feel weird and his hands started to sweat. Merlin, how I love this man, he said to himself. He couldn't wait for their marriage, which they decided to have in December. They were definitely rushing things now, but neither could care about it.

“Oh, you don't say,” Charlus' grinned at Hedwyn. At that point, Harry knew he was screwed. Potter would never let him forget this. “I can't believe you're already planning for babies, Harry.”

Hedwyn sneered at him, and he could hear James and Sirius laughing a few chairs to his right. “Some of us have titles to pass on, Potter. Not that you would understand it.”

Fleamont snickered and Charlus narrowed his eyes at his brother. At that point, Harry knew he had won. If Charlus didn't have him a retort immediately it meant that he had no good to give.

“Well, yes I don't. But what about it?” Fleamont was laughing openly now. He knew his brother had lost. And how easy Hedwyn had won. 

“Men,” Lily rolled his eyes as she said.

“Tell about, dear. Sometimes I wonder if they are five years old still,” Euphemia said to her.

“Oh, they most certainly are. Even if Arcturus likes to pretend he isn't, there is no denying it,” Melania said while looking at the men who continued to bicker.

Lily looked at Lady Black for a second. She still felt uncomfortable being around Lord and Lady Black. Even after Hedwyn had performed an inheritance test with her, which showed she was related to the Gaunts — therefore making her a half-blood —, Lily was a little colder with them. The Black family's past with Pureblood Ideology was very much alive, after all, and, even if she was not muggle-born, the pureblood supremacist rhetoric continued to bother her.

“My mother always said that men only age physically, but their minds stop at thirteen,” She rubbed her growing belly as she spoke. Her pregnancy was starting to show its effects on her, with the nausea and the tiredness, but she was loving it. The thought of bringing a life to this world was a beacon of light in her life. With the war happening around her and the fear she had of it, her baby was her and James' scapegoat.

“A wise woman,” Melania said as she sneered at Arcturus, who was now bickering with Sirius. “Sometimes I think we should run things and put them in daycare.”

Euphemia laughed softly and Lily smirked. “But you'd still need women to care for them there,” Euphemia said with a smile.

“Merlin, you're right. I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy,” Melania said while trying not to laugh too loud.

“I'll give you to the Thestrals, Charles!” Fleamont said to his brother, getting the three ladies' attention.

“Fleamont Henry Potter!” Euphemia called him in a harsh tone, making Fleamont blush and turn his head down. She then sat down again, acting as if nothing happened. 

Another day with the Potters, Lilly thought. God, help me when my baby is born. Please don't let him be like his uncle.

“This union of families will be the death of us,” The fear in Melania's eyes when she spoke made Euphemia and Lily laugh.

“If I remember correctly, the Blacks are known for having many male children. Prepare your poor heart, Melania,” Euphemia said with hidden amusement in her voice.

Lady Black's facial expression at the thought of dealing with more men was hilarious to the other women. Lily and Euphemia were suddenly thankful for the low number of Potters.

-------------------------------------------------------

She looked at the baby in her arms fondly. Feeling warm and calm like she hadn't felt in years, she kept rocking her body side to side, enjoying this calm moment with her baby Castor.

“You look so much like your father, dear,” she whispered to her son.

The resemblance to Charles was obvious for anyone to see. The light brown mop hair, the slightly round face — more than most babies — and even the little Potter's smile reminded Dorea of her husband's childish-looking smile.

The only difference was the grey eyes. Those were hers, and hers only. She wanted to cry the moment her son opened his eyes to show the pools of silver, the most prominent characteristic of her family line.

In this sweet moment, she didn't care about anything else. Her world was now her son and she would do anything to keep that smile on his face. Dorea felt rejuvenated in this new moment of her life. She closed her eyes and brought her baby close to her, listening to the small sounds Castor made and her breathing.

Nothing else mattered.

Chapter Text

21st of September 

The screams of Muggles did something to him. A desire for violence, a power-like feeling that coursed through his body when he saw the light leaving someone's eyes.

The bright green light of Avada Kedavra was the most beautiful colour in the world, he was sure of that. How could any other spell be necessary, when the Killing Curse was so effective, so powerful?

He looked around and saw several houses on fire. A mad-like smile came to adorn his face, and a maniacal laugh left his lips. One Death Eater to his right was torturing a Muggle man with the Cruciatus Curse. 

What a scene... Chaos and virulence. The sound of screams and pleas for mercy was his favourite music. The smell of burning flesh and the blood splashed everywhere was his most cherished scent and sight.

He turned to a Muggle who was cowering in front of him. The man was as big as a pig, as pitiful as any pathetic Muggle he had ever seen. “Disgusting,” he spat at the man. “Such a waste of life, all of you.”

The Crucio he sent towards the man resulted in the most beautiful scream he'd heard that night. He was sure the Muggle wouldn't be able to say a word after he lifted the spell. A smirk came to his face.

He stopped the Cruciatus Curse and the Muggle sighed in relief. Antonin's eyes were wide and wild-looking. A curse left his wand and a purple flame struck the Muggle's left leg. The scream that came with it sent a shiver through him. What a delicious sight, he thought.

Sounds of Apparition cut off his leisure time. He huffed and turned in the direction of the sounds. Five Aurors, three houses away. He gripped his wand and put on his mask.

The fight between the Aurors and two Death Eaters started instantly. Everything was happening like in every battle Antonin saw in the past. Everything was going like it usually did, until the beautiful green light left one of the Auror's wands and hit a Death Eater who was trying to curse the men. And there goes Frederick, he thought, gritting his teeth.

“In the past, these animals would never dare to throw and Unforgivable,” Dolohov muttered. “But look at them now. As deadly as us, as deadly as me.”

He pointed his wand at one of the Aurors and sent a curse that would make the man's skin peel off, but the damned man put up a shield and blocked the spell. Another Death Eater fell to the Killing Curse coming from a blonde Auror. 

The Dark Lord will not like this, thought Antonin. His men falling dead like flies by the wands of blood-traitors and mudbloobs.

The Killing Curse left Antonin's wand, aiming towards a shorter wizard. His eyes went wide with rage as he saw the man conjure a rock to shield himself. The Avada Kedrava hit the rock and it exploded into dust and fragments. 

Before he could cast another curse, a spell hit his left shoulder, making him hiss. He could feel the skin where the spell hit burning as if bathed in acid. Antonin turned around to look at who had hit him with the spell. Men who were clearly not Aurors had arrived. The Order of the Phoenix, Antonin realised.

He was so focused on killing the Aurors that he failed to hear the new Apparition sounds. Nine Order members were there now. They were scattered, fighting the Death Eaters who were still with Muggles under their wands. Apparently, as soon as the Order had arrived, most Death Eaters had fled. Only a few were left, including him. Two members of the Order were stood to his left and the short Auror cornered him by his right. He was trapped.

Trying to point his wand at one of the men of the Order left his other side vulnerable, which the Auror took advantage of, sending a curse that broke the bones on his left foot. He dared not to scream, even if he wanted to do it more than anything. Antonin would not give these pigs his delectable screams. Putting up a shield, he put his weight on his good leg. 

Putting up a shield, he began to think of ways to escape. No doubt he would be hit if he tried to Apparate now. Before he could think of an escape, one of the man to his right sent a spell at him, which crashed his shield and hit him. The spell left Antonin dizzy and nauseous. His shield had not been strong enough; He was not focused enough. The jinx had crashed his shield and hit him too easily. “Is this the best you can do?” He asked while barking a laugh, taunting the men.

The men didn't answer, but the Auror sent a curse at Antonin that made him vomit blood. He was disoriented now, the sounds around him became muffled and he only had time to grip his wand and Apparate when he saw the red light of Stupefy coming from the ginger's wand.

He was in no condition to Apparate, of course. However, he would never let himself be captured by those Muggle lovers. He'd rather die.

As soon as his body hit the ground outside of the wards of his small house, he felt more blood coming from him. He had splinched. Fuck, was all he could muster to think. The pain in his chest from the splinching was incapacitating. He tried to lift himself and walk towards the house, but attempts were futile.

Antonin felt his eyes starting to close when he saw the figure coming towards him. The man, or boy, was tall and with long black hair. Those features and the devilish smile on the man's face were the last things he saw before blacking out.

-------------------------------------------------------

His head was pounding like never before. The pain in his body was subdued but most of it was still there. Trying to open up his eyes made him hiss from the light, forcing him to shut them again. It's morning already, he thought.

Focusing on his other senses made him realise that there were people in the room with him, and, most importantly, he was tied up. His arms and legs were pressed together by what he imagined was a rope.

”...Easier than I imagined,” He heard from behind him. The voice belonging to a young man was all he could discern from it.

“Didn't even put up a fight,” A ‘tsk’ came at the end of the second voice's phrase. Another young man's voice, he thought.

Antonin opened his eyes slowly — adjusting to the bright light without hurry — and tried to move slightly to the left, to have a look at his kidnappers. A hiss escaped from his lips and the voices stopped. The pain in his chest flared up. The fuckers didn't even heal me, he cursed them in his mind.

“Our guest has finally awoken, dear,” The amusement in the man's tone was obvious, which only served to irate Dolohov even further.

The second man said nothing, only started to walk. Sounds of feet on the stone floor drew his attention to the runes beneath him. His eyes went wide when he saw the ritual circle all around him. Panic quickly started to build up inside him.

“I guess you're aware of your situation, Dolohov,” He looked up and saw a man standing, outside of the circle, analysing him. He was tall, with shoulder-length ginger hair, though not as orange as the Weasleys or the copper of the Prewetts. The man's features were soft but his eyes were sharp and unholy green. 

Antonin narrowed his eyes. He had seen this person before but when? “Who the fu-” He didn't have time to finish before his eyes went wide as he recognised the man before him. “Peverell,” The name left his lips with a hiss. What in Morgana's name was happening?

“Do try not to scare our visitor, Harry,” Another man walked towards Peverell and stopped beside him. When he turned, Antonin grunted.

“Black!” The yell made the pain come back again and he winced. “What the fuck do you think you're doing? When the Dark Lord get his hand on you he'll-”

“He won't do anything,” Regulus Black smirked at him when he said. That damned posh brat had that ‘bigger than thou’ expression on his face that Dolohov hated so much. It reminded him so much of his stupid and coward of a brother, Mikhail. “In fact, he'll never know what was done to you.”

A shiver went through Antonin's body. The cold tone in Black's voice was uncharacteristically frightening. He looked nothing like the small teenager who swore his allegiance to the Dark Lord at sixteen. 

“Now who is scaring who?” Peverell commented with a bored tone.

“You have to admit it's quite funny to see him like this,” Black retorted. “Not so powerful and intimidating now, Antonin?”

He could see Peverell rolling his eyes. “Anyway. We just came here to make sure you were not dead, Dolohov.”

Antonin had nothing to say to that. He only kept staring at the men, trying to figure out what they wanted from him. He would never ask, of course. He was never a man to ask things from people he saw as being beneath him. Nothing, no circumstance would change that.

“Can we go now?” Peverell asked Black.

Sighing, Regulus Black only nodded to the other man. It was clear he was disappointed about not being able to antagonise Dolohov more.

Before he could protest, the Stupefy hit him on the chest and he passed out again.

-------------------------------------------------------

The blade of the dagger glittered as the light touched it. 

Dawnlight engulfed the room with warmth. It was almost time. The new moon was bringing with it the perfect time for the ritual.

Owls would hoot and wolves would howl louder tonight. Magic would be more present between the stars, as the moon brought a new beginning for Regulus and Hedwyn. She also would offer a prelude to the end for Lord Voldemort.

As the two men prepared for the task ahead, Death observed and guided them in the proceedings.

Blood from a creature that lived in shadows, hair from a dead vampire and tears of a woman deceived by a loved one were the ingredients used for the potion. The potion in question was now inside a bowl, bathed in Draught of Living Death, and made of iron and bronze.

While Hedwyn meditated on the floor, he reached his magic towards the crystal ball in front of him. Regulus, on the other hand, read a book from the Peverell Library about the ritual they would perform.

Inside the crystal ball in front of Hedwyn, dark grey smoke took the form of a dagger, then the silhouette of a man with a hand to his chest and at last a faceless figure dressed in a shimmering black cloak. As Harry's magic reached for the crystal ball, the images kept repeating, again and again, but he kept his eyes closed.

In Regulus' book, the story of a man who once used a “soul-blessed blade” was told. According to the tale, in order to rid the town of a man-sized doll who was abducting small children and murdering them to feed off of their blood. The entire thing was gruesome, but the information about the ritual was essential knowledge to have.

As the sky turned dark and the stars began to twinkle, Regulus couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building up inside him. He knew that the box with the goblin-made blade was waiting for them on the table, and he couldn't wait to see what the future had in store for Hedwyn and him with this powerful weapon in their possession. With a thrill in his heart and a sense of curiosity in his soul, Regulus put down his book and made his way over to the table, eager to unlock the secrets that lay within the mysterious box.

With a gentle flicker of his eyelids, Hedwyn stirred from his meditative state. His gaze fell upon the crystal ball in front of him, and he quickly reached for a nearby cloth to shroud it from view. As he rose to his feet, he sauntered over to the side of his beloved boyfriend, standing tall and proud by his side.

Both boys held hands while they stared at the blade. Today things would finally start to change as they went further in their quest to destroy the Dark Lord. One more step towards greatness, Death had told Hedwyn. What this greatness the entity talked about was unknown to him, but he was sure as long he had Regulus by his side, nothing could stop them.

Harry let go of Regulus' hand and picked up the box with the dagger. Regulus followed his fiancé's lead and levitated the bowl, careful to not let even a drop of it spill. Both men then began their walk to the Ritual Room, with Harry in the front and Regulus a few steps back.

Once the room came into view, the men's eyes went to the candles on the walls that lit the red-coloured room — there were twelve of them, with flames frenzied and hot. In the centre of the room, the runes had been drawn in bone-white chalk — perfect for when the moonlight touched the white runes inside the circle.

In the middle of the ritual circle, Antonin Boris Dolohov was on his knees and was held by thick ropes. The man was still unconscious due to the potent Stupefy cast on him, as well as the exhaustion the blood loss from his wounds caused. From Dolohov's left hip to his right shoulder there was a painful-looking laceration — red and bloody. Hedwyn and Regulus didn't think it was necessary to heal Dolohov completely, instead preferring to let the Death Eater incapacitated from exhaustion, to prevent him from harming them or escaping.

Regulus moved towards the wooden table where the bowl should be put on. Beside the bowl, the wooden box laid open and the blade which would bring Voldemort to his knees before Regulus and Hedwyn shone beautifully.

While Regulus admired the blade, Hedwyn took off his robe and was left only with the black attire underneath. The black long-sleeved shirt, black trousers and dragon hide boots made Harry look more imposing than ever, with little resemblance to the shy boy he was during his time at Hogwarts.

He closed his eyes and focused on the magic around him. From the magic that was always present in the Ritual Room to the atmosphere of the day of the new moon. Today, more than any other day, was the perfect day to perform the ritual. The sacrifice they would give today could only be made stronger by the magic-filled rays of candlelight and the blessing of the Moon.

When Regulus' wand made a noise, signifying the time for the ritual had arrived, Hedwyn walked to the table where the blade and potion were. Next to Regulus, careful fingers touched the object's handle as Harry picked up the goblin-wrought silver dagger, feeling its heavy weight on his hand.

Turning to the bowl filled with the potion, he watched as Regulus got his wand in hand and started to cast a charm as the light from the candles — infused with the ambient magics of the room and the new moon. With careful and precise hand movements and well-spoken words, Regulus saturated the potion with the necessary sorcery, transforming it into the solution they needed.

After his part of done, Regulus moved to the side and Hedwyn took his place in front of the bowl. Cautiously, Harry immersed the blade in the potion, stopping before the liquid could touch the handle. An odd feeling went through Hedwyn's right arm, as the blade absorbed the content of the bowl, magic so strong it almost made Harry let go of the dagger in surprise.

Regulus watched everything with a scrutinising gaze. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he saw the level of liquid inside de bowl go down a bit. He supposed it was the goblin-made dagger's doing as it incorporated the content of the potion into itself.

As he felt the magic dwindled, Hedwyn slowly lifted the blade from the bowl. When he inspected it, not even a drop of potion could be seen on the shining silver of the dagger. Nothing different could be seen, but Hedwyn knew the object had changed, transformed. The same must have happened to the Sword of Gryffindor when he killed the Basilisk. The dagger metamorphosed into something else, something new and more powerful. 

“Soulscourge will be its title,” Hedwyn professed. “A weapon for those divorced from Death's embrace and for the enemies of the Reaper of Soul's Master.”

Regulus licked his lips as he stared at Hedwyn while his boyfriend held the ritual dagger. The faint light from the candles hit Hedwyn in a way that reminded Regulus of Caravaggio's paintings. It was such a dramatic scene with his fiancé holding a glistening dagger, dressed in all black while standing still in a blood-coloured room. How beautiful and terrifying he looked.

Regulus observed Harry as his future husband took step after step, the sound of his shoes echoing in the silent room. Hedwyn moved towards Antonin Dolohov like a predator, Regulus realised. Dolohov was now nothing but a wounded deer a the mercy of a starved lion. Green eyes shone as brightly as jewellery was fixed on the tied-up and vulnerable wizard. Like this, Antonin Dolohov was nothing. His pride, his malicious smile, his quick curse-casting abilities. On the floor, unable to fight against more powerful wizards than him, Dolohov was a mere mirage of what he was just a day before. The illusion of a strong and unbeatable man he believed himself to be was quelled so easily when confronted with real power. 

A pathetic sight, Hedwyn thought with disgust. The man who took such pride in his killings of those he deemed less than himself was now only a pig to be sacrificed. 

Turning his head and looking at Regulus, a quick nod was everything the other needed to raise his wand and send an Enervate at Dolohov. The man woke up with a panicked expression on his face. He turned his head left and right, as if trying to remember where he was. The widening of his eyes was the only indication of him remembering what happened to him. However, Antonin was given no time to react as Regulus started to call for the dark Deity.

“Death,” He started with a low voice. “We beseech Thee to become Nemesis to Antonin Boris Dolohov. Please, O Lord of Hades, welcome Thine oblation.”

The air in the room became heavy and cold. All three men could feel the sudden presence of the deity in the room with them. While Hedwyn and Regulus remained calm, having already been under Death's presence, Dolohov started to panic even more. His skin was pale and his eyes wide with fear. The Death Eater tried to scream but no sound left his lips. It was as if the words had been stolen from his throat.

Ignorant to the scared man, Regulus kept speaking. “May this soul, O Great Guardian, Lord of The Underworld, bless your Master's dagger — Soulscourge, Death's Blade.”

The runes around Dolohov started to glow in blinding white light. Antonin felt an ache deep inside his chest as if something inside him was trying to leave his body. The pain turned agonising as Dolohov tried, unsuccessfully, to free himself from the ropes. Tears rolled down his face as he felt like molten iron was flowing inside his chest.

“O, companion of mine, may this blade be my enemies Annihilator,” Hedwyn said as he entered the circle and walked closer to Dolohov. “Soulscourge, Harvester of Souls, Dēaþblæd.”

With a quick movement, before Dolohov could look past his pain and comprehend what was happening, Hedwyn Peverell stabbed him in the heart. The man instantly stopped writhing as the dagger pierced through his heart.

A guttural scream came from Dolohov, making Regulus flinch slightly and Hedwyn almost lost his grip on the dagger's handle. Dolohov's skin started to turn white, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Then the flesh around the stab wound became black and withering started to spread around the man's body. It was a horrific sight and Harry wondered for a moment if something had gone wrong with the ritual as the body in front of him began to resemble more a Dementor than a man.

However, with his hand still on the handle, Hedwyn could feel the magic starting to go to the blade. The pulsation sensation remained for a while, so strong it moved through his arm — a feeling of exhilaration and coldness ran in his veins. The feeling continued for a few moments more, until the body of Antonin Dolohov fell backwards, forcing Hedwyn to hold the dagger tight. When the darkened shell of what once was Antonin Dolohov hit the floor, the dagger came out completely out of the body and was free again in Hedwyn's hand.

Hedwyn's eyes were wide as he watched the dagger. A pale blue light coursed through the blade, a small sphere that felt oddly alive.

“His soul...” Regulus whispered behind Harry, startling his fiancé. But when Hedwyn's eyes went back to the blade, he nodded.

“It is,” He gulped as he said. Not knowing how he felt or what to do, Harry only continued to hold the dagger.

“Wait. Does it make it a Horcrux?” Regulus asked, alarmed. In Harry's mind, Death laughed softly at the suggestion.

‘No, it doesn't. No offering to me could be made into such a disgraceful thing,’ Death's voice said in Harry's mind before the man could start panicking with his boyfriend.

“N-No, it isn't a Horcrux. Offering the soul to Death, somehow, made it impossible for it to become a Horcrux.”

“How curious,” mused Regulus. “Maybe it is because the soul hasn't been divided also. The breaking of the soul is what makes a Horcrux, after all, and this one seems whole.”

Hedwyn only had the strength to nod a him. The ritual had drained him and now he only wanted to lie down. It was clear from Regulus' expression that the man wanted the same thing. Harry then, with a wave of his hand, he banished Dolohov's body. The lord then walked to the box and put the dagger inside it.

“Come on, darling. Let's rest,” He said while offering his hand to Regulus.”

His fiancé wasted no time before walking up to him and clasping their hands together. “Please. I need it more than anything,” Was all Regulus said as Hedwyn guided him to their bedroom.

That night both men slept soundly, despite the act they had just committed. Antonin Boris Dolohov was no more, and Lord Voldemort's demised was now more possible than ever. Weirdly enough, those two facts brought immense peacefulness to the couple. 

Though they would not forget what they did tonight, the men were less concerned with the morality of their actions and more interested in how their plans were going. Tonight was Dolohov, but in a few weeks, Tom Marvolo Riddle would be the one to wither by their blade.

Chapter Text

The portkey transported them directly inside Caershire's wards, just a few feet away from the statue that would be in the middle of the village. An impressive representation of the village's founders stood imposing and graceful.

The stunning sight of a murder of crows, not ordinary ones but made of a glistening white crystal, elegantly flying over a large marble pedestal. The birds were circling each other in an endless dance, each move of theirs appearing to be a carefully choreographed performance. As you look closer, you notice that each of the birds' chests had a carving of the Peverell coat of arms, which was coloured in black. The crows, representing the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, had the Deathly Hallows of the Peverells on their chest, which was a signal of an unbreakable alliance. The two most powerful families in Britain were joining hands together to form an unshakable bond.

All around the village's heart, men, goblins, and werewolves worked to bring Caershire alive. Wixen and werewolves erected the walls of future homes, stores and other buildings, while goblins gave the village's wards the necessary final touches. The foundations of a new order, more egalitarian and inclusive than the one offered by the Ministry, were starting here in this very land. The project of two wizards with the possibility of changing the entire country. 

Hedwyn was particularly proud when he saw wixen working alongside werewolves with no fear or disgust in their eyes. People were not even living next to each other yet and there was already a change in demeanour. Here, in a place separate from most of Wizarding Britain, different types of people felt comfortable enough to let go of old prejudices and embrace the unfamiliar. He would not be naïve, however, in believing that no discrimination was going to take place here. Hundreds of years of hate against magical creatures would not go away easily, but this was a step in the right direction. A change that Britain needed desperately.

The beginnings of a new country were going to start in this village and no one, not even the Ministry or Voldemort, could stop it from happening. “You cannot stop progress,” said Regulus a few days ago when Hedwyn forbade Aurors from entering the village's wards. After that event, both Hedwyn and Regulus agreed that an independent form of policing was necessary. A force that was incorruptible by the Ministry and their lackeys. The type of law enforcement agents, however, did not sit well with Regulus.

“What do you mean you want to use Inferi?!” Was the first question of a long and arduous day of arguments between the two men. It took an hour for Hedwyn to explain the meticulous ways he would change the Inferi into more of golems than to keep the creatures as corpses. Even after much explanation, Regulus was not confident about this idea, but after Harry told his fiancé that Death would oversee the process, the Black Heir stopped arguing against the plan.

“Why does Death's help have a more significant weight in your will to let this happen than your future husband's wishes?” Said Hedwyn, annoyed at the lack of faith from his fiancé.

Both men argued more and more for hours. The two only stopped when Ædda appeared and told her masters that dinner was read. Regulus winced when he realised none of them had lunch, since they stayed in Hedwyn's office, arguing all day about Inferi and golems. Let's hope Kreacher never hears a word about this, he gulped and looked left and right to make sure his elf was not there.

Now, one of the Inferi-golems was walking around the village — to make sure nothing bad happened. Regulus still shivered when he saw the thing walking around; and even Hedwyn looked at it with distrust. Thankfully, no one else was aware of the nature of the creature, since Regulus told Harry to incase the thing in white-coloured marble, enchanted to be flexible enough for the creature to chase potent criminals. It was almost funny to see something that otherwise would terrify people walking around the village like a big marble figure.

Walking past a four-storey building that would become the Caer School of Witchcraft and Wizardry — made to resemble the architecture of Hogwarts but with small French-inspired touches here and there —, the couple went towards Hallows' Square, a park close to the school where parents and children could have some time to relax together. The place was filled with beautiful greenery, benches made of oak tree wood, and statues of important Blacks and Peverells from history. 

Hedwyn and Regulus sat on a bench close to the statue of Lyra Black, a witch known for her invention of the Anti-Apparition Charm, and intertwined their fingers. Resting his head on Regulus' shoulder, Hedwyn let out a sigh and relaxed. The beauty of the place made the couple relax more against one another, with both of them only admiring the nature around them. They stayed like this for a while, comfortable and calm beside each other.

It had been just a few days after the ritual and the couple were still digesting everything that happened, as well as what they did. The news of Dolohov's body being found close to Knockturn Alley left many people in shock from the sudden death. Not that it was Dolohov's body, of course. After the ritual, the Death Eater had been unrecognisable, resembling more an Inferi than a normal wizard. It was thanks to Death that they had made a golem with Antonin's blood and bones in order to recreate a more believable and not-so-suspicious murder. Any wixen with a good eye that looked at what was left of Dolohov would know that the man had been used in a ritual.

Hedwyn had sent the spy bird to Knockturn to hear what people were saying about the man's death, and, fortunately, no one said a thing about rituals or realised it was not actually Dolohov. Most people were saying it was some sort of revenge against the Death Eater since Antonin was known in the darkest alleys of Knockturn for being a fan of torturing his victims. Thanks to that part of the man's history, a lot of people believed it was some family member of one of Dolohov's victims that ended the Death Eater's life.

The Ministry itself was not very concerned with Dolohov's death, especially after the Dark Mark was found on the man's left arm. Harry had looked smug for hours after recreating the Mark to such a perfect degree, which only made Regulus roll his eyes at his fiancé's behaviour. 

The matter of the Dolohov family was a different one, however. New and, thankfully, not Death Eater, Lord Mikhail Dmitry Dolohov did not even comment on his brother's death. The new lord and his pregnant husband, Edmund Thomas Dolohov (né Fawley) decided their presence at Antonin's funeral was unnecessary and stayed in Dolohov Manor with the rest of the family. No member of the Dolohov family went to the funeral, which was most definitely a conscious decision from the family to distance themselves from Antonin completely.

The Death Eaters, on the other hand, were visually unwell with Antonin Dolohov's death. The few Hedwyn had sent the bird to spy on were whispering in their own homes. Talks of assassination and conspiracies about who had killed Antonin were all they talked about since their colleague's death. Some even questioned the Dark Lord's lack of urgency after one of his vassals was murdered. Apparently, Lord Voldemort did not give a single thought to Dolohov's death or who might've killed him.

After listening to Raphaël Rosier, Theodore Nott and Ansel Gamp discuss the need for protection in case someone came after them, Hedwyn and Regulus couldn't help but start a new plan to, maybe, bring some of the Death Eaters with lordships to their side. In the beginning, Harry had argued that they would never betray their lord for no reason, but Regulus pointed out that none of the most prominent Death Eaters were there because they believed blindly in the Dark Lord's agenda. In reality, all these men wanted was power. Power to their families, power to control more of the Wizengamot and, in turn, Wizarding Britain as a whole. “They think of themselves as the most important people in the country,” argued Regulus. “They will do anything in their power to ensure they continue in what they see as the ‘right side’.”

One could not argue against the selfishness of wealthy people, thought Hedwyn. And after some more talking, the men agreed to try bringing some lords to their side, after they had the Voldemort situation under control. “We will not be ordered around by mere Death Eaters,” Hedwyn had said, making Regulus smirk. “Not at all, dear,” the smirk on Regulus' face became a devilish smile as he spoke. “We will make sure they know their place.” Hedwyn asked how they'd do that, which Regulus only told his boyfriend to read more books on Parseltongue while he read more about Soul Magic.

“Do you think is time to act against the old goat as well?” Hedwyn asked while the two walked through the park after getting up from the bench. 

Regulus thinks for a while but eventually nods. “It's probably better to do it now than to wait more. At least now we have some leverage, but who knows how things will be in the future.”

“Yeah, you're right. I'll call for a meeting of the Board of Governors. Do you think you can speak to your grandmother about it? Good. I'll send letters to Lord Greengrass and Lady Smith. I won't even waste time with Lord Longbottom and Lady Crouch.”

Regulus huffed at the mention of Lord Longbottom. Unfortunately, the man has been under Dumbledore's thumb for years. Although he remained more independent in the Wizengamot, going so far as voting to kick Dumbledore out of Hogwarts was something the man would just not do. “What about Madam Marchbanks? She sounded very independent from the Light Faction in the few times I saw her.”

While Regulus' thinking is not wrong, Hedwyn shook his head either way. “Griselda is fairly independent of the Light, and most importantly Dumbledore. But, in the few talks I had with her about Dumbledore's times as headmaster, she said again and again that dismissing a headmaster of Hogwarts was not something the country was in need of right now. She thinks we should strive for stability. I can see where sees coming from, I wouldn't say I do not, but we don't need stability right now. It would only hinder our efforts to take more control of Hogwarts if we allowed Dumbledore to stay and just made small reforms here and there.”

When he realised Regulus hadn't replied to him, Hedwyn looked at his fiancé just to see him with a smirk on his face. “What?” he asked his partner. “I just love to see you plotting like this,” replied Regulus. Hedwyn only shook his head and laughed.

After they left their seat and started to walk in silence while looking at statues of their ancestors, it was time to go back home. They had many things to do, and more plans to perfect. Not all of the plans had to do with power, though, the men's wedding preparations were coming together quite nicely. Lady Black basically forbids the two from hiring anyone for the preparation. “I will owl some of my contacts and take care of it, boys,” Melania had told them after they tried to deny the help. “It is a tradition in the Black family for the matriarch to help with the weddings,” said Lady Black, shutting both men right away.

After questioning Regulus about this family tradition, Hedwyn was told about all the weddings Lady Black had organised. “Bella's was a beautiful one,” he told Harry. “And Narcissa's! I've never seen so many white flowers in one place. We are in good hands, darling,” was all Regulus had to say to convince him. If Lady Black could make a wedding beautiful enough that no Malfoy had a hand in it, it would be good enough for him. The only thing Harry and Regulus asked Melania was for the wedding to be at Gwynt Keep, to honour Hedwyn's ancestors. Lady Black was sceptical of the decision but agreed after Hedwyn lent her a book about Peverell traditions — which talked extensively about weddings at Gwynt.

What the book didn't say, however, is the deity that would bless their marriage. The Most Ancient and Most Prestigious House of Peverell had embedded their ancestral home with Death's magic over the centuries. And after so long without it, Gwynt Keep would bless another generation of Peverells. Death's blessing would signify Hedwyn and Regulus's desire to befriend the deity like so many of Hedwyn's ancestors and their partners had done.

‘A friendship that will last beyond this plane of existence,’ said Death after Hedwyn asked him what kind of friendship it was. Weirdly, the deity's words had calmed Harry's heart. The news that he would always have Death as a friend was something he never knew he needed to know 

Chapter Text

He walks through the corridors of his old school, reminiscing about his years running, laughing and playing with old friends.

Belford stops for a second before the wooden door of the conference room. Sighing, he opens the door and enters the room, his eyes inspecting the others already inside.

He sees Lord Abraxas Malfoy talking in a corner with Lords Lestrange and Gamp. The trio seems to be questioning the reason for why a meeting of the Board was called.

Ignoring the men's presence, to not be dragged into talking to them, Lord Belford Greengrass goes towards the only wixen in the room that don't threaten to give him a headache — Lord Fleamont Potter and Lady Melania Black.

“Melania, Fleamont, well met,” He greets the two and slightly bows his head to them. 

Following Lord Greengrass' lead, Lady Black and Lord Potter give the man their greetings and bow to him in return.

“Fleamont and I were discussing the reason for why we are here, Belford,” Lady Black states, a devious smile on her lips. Belford sees the smile on the woman's face and quirks an eyebrow. 

Could she know the reason for the meeting? Belford questions himself. He wonders if Lord Peverell, who has sent him a letter two days prior to the meeting — explaining the reason for said meeting — and not so subtly asked Lord Greengrass about a possible alignment against Albus Dumbledore.

Imagining that Lord Peverell, who is to marry Lady Black's grandson in December, made Lady Black aware of the trial that will take place today is not a far-fetched thought. If if know Melania, and I do, she is enjoying this a lot, Belford mused.

“Oh, yes,” He nods his head nonchalantly as he answers the old woman. “Today's meeting is set to be quite... major in terms of change. Wouldn't you agree?”

Lady Black goes from devious to a little devilish, making Lord Greengrass shift his weight from one leg to the other. Melania Black, known for her defence of family and, most importantly, pureblood traditions, is set to be one of the most outspoken adversaries of Dumbledore today.

In his mind, safe for only himself to hear, Belford thanked the gods for not allowing Dumbledore to be in the meeting that day. The disaster that it would become, Belford shivers at the thought of Lady Black and Albus Dumbledore clashing.

“Major indeed, Belford,” Fleamont says while caressing his beard. “Many things will change after today. Let's hope that it is for the better, yes?”

Before Lord Greengrass could answer, Lady Smith and Madam Marchbanks entered the room, getting the attention of all the others waiting inside.

All the members are here, Belford thought to himself. Let's hope this goes fast and succinctly.

Without greetings or flattery, the members of the Board of Governors take their designated seats by the circle wooden table.

To Lord Greengrass' right, Fleamont Potter takes his seat — back strengthened and shoulders aligned. Though older than most current lords, Lord Potter's presence has always been one of power and respect.

To his left, is no other than Harvey Longbottom — to Belford's displeasure. The man, a semi-blind Dumbledore supporter, is set to annoy Lord Greengrass to death, with his oddly Muggle morals and defence of anything Light. A, and probably only, quality Belford could muster to give the man was his divergence from Dumbledore's agenda when it comes to safety — vide Longbottom's past as an Auror.

“Well met,” Madam Marchbanks, Head of the Board of Governors, greets. “We are here today for the trial of a member of Hogwarts very staff-” Her words cause a series of murmurs to go around the table. “and our decision will be final and incontestable.”

The shocked expressions that follow Madam Marchbanks' words tell Belford that Lord Peverell hasn't spread the word very far. In actuality, only himself, Fleamont Potter, Lady Black and, oddly, Lady Smith didn't look surprised.

“Who is it that we are here for, Griselda?” Helena Moody, a sturdy and strong Light advocate asks.

Pursing her lips, an action that does not escape Lord Greengrass' attentive eyes, Madam Marchbanks waves her wand and summons a large folder with many flat pages of parchment inside it. With a flick of her hand, Griselda Marchbanks then copies the folder and distributes it to her colleagues.

One by one, the members of the Board open their folders, examining its contents.

A gasp coming from Lenora Crouch echoes in the quiet room. The name on the first piece of parchment is eligible and clear. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was the person being judged today.

The others, aware of who was going to be judged today, only continued to read — ignoring the angry questions by Dumbledore's sycophants. Trying to block Lord Longbottom's rant about the good Dumbledore has allegedly brought to the country was a challenge, but they were more than happy to do it nonetheless.

Reading the folder's content, Lord Greengrass was becoming more and more disgusted with Dumbledore's doing.

Most shocking were the ones related to, the near or actual, death of students. The report about three particular students saddened Belford immensely.

1943 - William A. Breik, 13, allegedly pleaded with then Transfiguration Professor Albus Dumbledore to remain in Hogwarts, due to the bombings happening in London. However, Albus Dumbledore refused the boy's pleas, and young William gave up on asking for help.
• William A. Breik returned to his house in London after failing to convince both Headmaster Armando Dippet and Professor Albus Dumbledore.
• William never returned to Hogwarts for his 4th year at Hogwarts.
• Muggle authorities' documents state that the Breik household was destroyed during a bombing campaign, by the Germans, in August.

1943 - Sabrina Belmont, 16, allegedly asked for shelter from the war. However, Albus Dumbledore refused the shelter, and Ms Belmont had no other choice but to go back home.
• On the night of July 23rd, Sabina Belmont's family died in a fire after their neighbourhood was bombed. 
• Due to her magic, Sabina Belmont survived the fire, but died a few months after in a hospital — from lack of medical care.
• Sabina's friends were never aware of the reason why their friends never came back for her final year.

1944 - Tom Marvolo Riddle, 16, allegedly asked for shelter at Hogwarts, due to the escalation of the war and Mr Riddle's residence — Wool's Orphanage — vulnerability. Once more, however, Albus Dumbledore forbade another student from staying at Hogwarts.
• Wool's Orphanage was bombed less than a month after Tom Riddle went back, and the student had to live in a war shelter for the remainder of the summer. 
• Fortunately, Mr Riddle was able to return and finish his education at Hogwarts.

The words were imprinted on Belford's mind after he read them. Three students, two of them dying in the war, were never given shelter during the most dramatic and dangerous time in recent history.

Lord Greengrass became even more enraged with a note from former Headmaster Armando Dippet, stating that Albus Dumbledore convinced him that the students were safe and sound — going so far as promising the headmaster that he, Dumbledore, would keep an eye on them.

Before Lord Greengrass could even muster the thought of why Dumbledore would do such a thing, another parchment detailing the taking of funds from the Hogwarts Vault for students without the purse for school fees, and subsequent transference to Dumbledore's own vault was explanation enough.

“This is all ridiculous forgery,” Lady Moody spat, bringing Belford's attention back to the room. “Let's finish this at once, Griselda. I won't waste my precious time discussing falsities.”

Belford would swear he saw red at that moment. How he hated the woman. So head-stuck on her on leisure and gluttony. At that moment he felt sorry for Lord Moody, fort marry such a petulant woman must be a curse from the gods. 

“Stop this ridiculousness, woman!” Lord Potter spar at her, shocking many in the room with his anger. “Sit down or leave this room. Don't waste our time with what your destitute mind comes up with.”

Too shocked by the harsh words, Helena Moody looked around for support, but no one gave her any. The woman's antics were prone to make her into a pariah, not that seemed to mind the exclusion of herself.

Lady Moody sat back down and resigned herself to mutter angry words to the air.

“Is there proof for these accusations, Madam Marchbanks?” Asked Lord Malfoy, eyes gleaming at the mere thought of firing Dumbledore.

“Indeed, there is,” Nodded Marchbanks while speaking. The old woman's face was contorted into a grim expression. “All the information came with verified papers from from Muggle and Wizarding Worlds.”

Lord Malfoy only hum'd and relaxed on his chair.

“What of these accounts of bullying? Many of these are incredibly recent,” Said Lady Black, looking at a particular parchment. 

Lips tight and brows furrowed, Madam Marchbanks answered “Yes. Some of the reports are very disturbing to read. Decades on decades of bullying occuring daily — without any repercussion.”

Fleamont's fist tightened when he read his son's name coming up again and again. James, we will have a very serious talk when I get home, he swore to himself.

Lady Black was not very different, however. The names of both Sirius and Bellatrix were very prominent in the accounts. Perhaps we have been too lenient with those two, Melania thought. Her son, Orion, was set to hear a lot later in the day and she was already thinking about what to put in her howlers for Sirius and Bellatrix.

“It seems that the school's staff has become useless, yes?” Said Lord Lestrange while sneering at the parchment.

“Indeed,” Viviane Smith said, shocking Longbottom, Crouch and Moody. “Maybe a new deputy is also in order.”

“Very much so,” Belford Greengrass said, preventing Lady Crouch from starting an argument with Lady Smith. 

Signing, Madam Marchbanks asked “I believe it's time. All in accordance to start the voting?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, though Lord Longbottom and Lady Moody did it reluctantly.

Wand in favour in the air signalled an easy majority, which made the losing side red with anger. Lord Longbottom, specifically, was so red other people started to think his head would explode. Lady Moody almost tried to curse Lord Malfoy, after the man laughed at the result, but Madam Marchbanks told her about the penalty of attacking another Board member.

“With seven votes in favour, three against and one abstention, I declare that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is now dismissed from his duty as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. On this 3rd of October, the now former headmaster must leave the premises of Hogwarts by sundown, or else he is open to prosecution for going against the Board of Governors' decision.”

And just like that, the almost fifteen years of reign of Albus Dumbledore was ended. Once one of the most respect men, now Albus Dumbledore becomes a pariah — with no place in the Ministry and neither in the school he did so much to control. 

Chapter Text

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE DISMISSED:
A NEW HOGWARTS AMID WAR

 Dear reader, I have some significant news to share with you. As of October 3rd, something unprecedented has happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Albus Dumbledore, the revered and respected headmaster of the school, has been removed from his position by order of the Board of Governors. The reason behind this unexpected and unprecedented move is the discovery of a plethora of evidence detailing the alleged wrongdoings of the former headmaster over the years.
 These allegations include embezzlement, negligence towards cases of bullying, and the shocking claim of sending children to a war-torn Muggle world. The Board members were reportedly stunned by these allegations, which led to Dumbledore's dismissal from the position he had held for years. It is unclear what will happen next to the former headmaster, but sources indicate that Lord Potter has been seen at the Minister's office, requesting that Dumbledore be judged by the Wizengamot
 It is safe to say that this unexpected event is bound to change the Wizarding World in ways that are still unknown. As your trusted reporter, I will keep you updated with any news about this possible trial.

— Marcus Skeeter 

By the time the news had reached the people of Britain, fast-paced change was already happening at Hogwarts.

By the morning of the 4th of October, Professor Filius Flitwick was made Headmaster of Hogwarts, with Pomona Sprout as the new Deputy Headmistress.

Since Minerva McGonagall was found to be too close to Dumbledore, being aligned with the man for decades — as well as being a prominent member of the Order of the Phoenix —, her dismissal as deputy was an expected resolve. After losing her former post as deputy, McGonagall also was fired from her job as Transfiguration Professor — another consequence of her proximity with the former headmaster.

And although Minerva McGonagall left the school with her head high, it was impossible not to see the depressed expression in the woman's eyes. Decades of work, so much time preparing herself to become Master in Transfiguration, then more years to become Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House, to then Deputy Headmistress. All those years wasted for believing in an old manipulative man. 

The sad end of Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts, Headmaster Flitwick thought as he saw his former colleague leaving for the gates.

As new Transfiguration Professor, Flitwick chose an old acquaintance of his — Elis Afan Dyfodwg. “A powerful and humble man,” Flitwick told the Board in a letter. “Mr Dyfodwg is the perfect man for the job. With his wit, creativity and patience, I cannot imagine anyone more prepared to become Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor.”

When Professor Dyfodwg was announced during dinner as the new Head of Gryffindor, promising to help “every lion in need” and “always make sure that every Gryffindor is safe and sound”, Dyfodwg received and standing ovation from his lion — which made the man blush and smile at his new students.

However, the change in the Transfiguration teacher was not the only coming as by the morning of October 6th, the professor of Care of Magical Creatures resigned in protest for the removal of Albus Dumbledore as headmaster.

The replacement for the position came in the former of Colwyn Newton Scamander, son of none other than the writer of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them — Newton Artemis Fido “Newt” Scamander. 

The young man, with a drive for exploration and a passion for learning, had applied for the CoMC position  many times in the past but was denied the job over and over.

Colwyn was so excited to take the job that, on the same day the former professor for CoMC resigned and Flitwick sent him a letter — asking if Scamander would like to take the position —, Colwyn floo'd to Hogwarts by noon and, by night, was officially Professor Colwyn Scamander for Care of Magical Creatures.

The Board of Governors was not done with their changes, however, as they decided to fire Professor Cuthbert Binns from his neverending stay as History of Magic Professor. This change, though, was not met with sadness by the students — unless you count the ones that use the History of Magic class as napp time. 

Claus Berchtwald Zahm, the new History of Magic Professor, arrived at the school on the morning of October 8th. From the moment the students stepped into class, they knew their easily deceived professor was no longer there. “The days of you sleeping in this class are gone, I'm afraid,” Professor Zahm told the class as he saw their defeated expressions. The sorrowful signs the students let out made the professor laugh, and the class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs joined in.

“Maybe it won't be that bad,” A Hufflepuff said to the Gryffindor next to him, and the other boy nodded in agreement.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10th of October 

The Wizengamot, a solemn and imposing hall, was filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement. The air was thick with speculation and whispers of change, and the many wizards and witches gathered there could feel that something significant was about to happen. The walls of the chamber were adorned with ornate carvings and tapestries, each depicting a momentous event from the wizarding world's rich history. The judges, dressed in their long robes and pointed hats, sat on a raised dais at the front of the room, listening intently to the various arguments and proposals being put forward.

As the proceedings continued, it became clear that change was indeed on the horizon. Many of the wizards and witches present were eager to see what the future would hold for the Wizengamot, which had long been the cornerstone of the wizarding world's legal system. Some spoke of new laws and regulations, while others were more focused on the Wizengamot itself, speculating about the introduction of new procedures and members.

As the discussion wore on, it became clear that the Wizengamot was poised for a period of significant change and evolution. The wizards and witches present could sense that they were on the cusp of a new era, one that would bring both challenges and opportunities. As they left the chamber, many could not help but wonder what the future held for the venerable institution that had served the wizarding world so well for so many centuries.

Lord Hedwyn Peverell, a prominent figure in the wizarding world, made a bold move by proposing a groundbreaking legislation known as the Creatures' Protection and Integration Act. This act marked a significant turning point in the history of the Wizengamot, as it granted equal rights to both wizards and non-human creatures under the law. This move was met with a mixed response, as it garnered both support and opposition from various factions of the Wizengamot. Nevertheless, Peverell's proposal, undeniably, could pave the way for a more inclusive and just society, where all beings are treated with dignity and respect.

During the parliamentary session, there was a lot of commotion in the chamber when a group of individuals from the ICW and numerous representatives from various magical creatures clans arrived. Despite the controversial nature of the proposed legislation, it was this unexpected arrival that stirred up the most excitement and attention in the room.

The chamber was abuzz with activity as a diverse array of creatures made their way inside. From vampires and werewolves to veelas and elves, goblins, centaurs, and many others, all had been invited by the esteemed Lords - Hedwyn Aelius Peverell and Arcturus Cetus Black. As they entered, the room became more and more crowded, and Arcturus couldn't help but comment on the unprecedented turnout. "I've never seen this place so full," he whispered to Hedwyn with a mixture of awe and curiosity. Hedwyn, ever the enigmatic host, simply smirked in response, clearly enjoying the anticipation and excitement that filled the air.

At first, the Minister was going to demand that everyone be escorted out of the chamber, but, as Harry pointed out “We wouldn't want to cause an international crisis, would we?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a palpable tension in the room. The Minister of Magic and the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation exchanged a quick, worried glance. It was clear that they were both acutely aware of the potential consequences of what had just been said.

Bartemius Crouch Snr., the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation , was the first to speak up. His voice was strained and uneasy as he stammered out a response. "O-Of, course not," he said, though it was clear that he was struggling to keep his composure.

The discussion that followed, between the members of the Wizengamot, was a very uncomfortable one. Harry would've called it coerced. 

As the members of the Light Faction looked upon the creatures in front of them, a sense of disgust filled their hearts. They could not fathom the thought of sharing a place with such beings. However, despite their inner turmoil, they remained silent, unable to utter a single word against the presence of the creatures. It was only when Harry reminded them that these creatures were actually the heads of clans, that the most disagreeable among them kept their mouths shut.

During the Wizengamot meeting, the Greys stood out as the voice of reason amidst the uptight members. They seemed pleased, if not a little bit smug, with the presence of the ICW and the creatures ahead of clans. Meanwhile, Lord Ollivander and Lord Boot wore devious smiles as they glanced at the discomfort of the Light wixen who were present.

In the current political climate, the Light Faction found themselves in an uncomfortable position. They were facing a difficult decision regarding the rights of magical creatures and their place in society. In a surprise move, the Dark Faction decided to support the motion, which would grant more rights to magical creatures. This was not entirely unexpected, as the Dark Faction has always been known for their pro-magical creature stance. Consequently, they chose to align themselves with two influential Lords, Peverell and Black, who shared their views on the matter.

The head of the ICW, invited to speak by Lord Black gave a speech about how fortunate Britain was for “aligning with the rest of Europe” about creatures' rights. The man gave his full support for the Creatures' Protection and Integration Act, going so far as calling it the most significant moment in modern British history. 

Hedwyn had orchestrated today's audience in a manner that left the Wizengamot with no choice but to pass the Creatures Act. The setup was carefully designed to ensure that the Wizengamot could not vote against it, regardless of their personal opinions or reservations.

When the time for voting began, the lords and ladies had no choice but to for the reforms to pass. Controversy would follow the vote, especially with the part that allows creatures to acquire wands and even study at Hogwarts — though the former would not happen until the next school year.

Applause took over the room as the Chief Warlock declared the motion as law. The creatures and members of the ICW cheered the historical decision, hugging and celebrating with one another.

The members of the Light Faction were visibly upset, their discontent etched on their faces. Their expressions were marked by a mixture of anger and frustration, with some even clenching their fists in displeasure. It was clear that they had suffered a significant setback in their political careers, and the disappointment was palpable.

As the Head of the ICW, Kristoff Viljarson, announced a celebration party at the ICW's headquarters in Britain, the witches, wizards and creatures all flooded the hallway outside the chamber, and into the elevators.

“Today we celebrate,” Viljarson's voice echoed through the Atrium as the crowd gathered around him in celebration. Excitement filled the air as they prepared to floo to the headquarters for the party, a long-awaited event that promised to be a night to remember.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, news of the celebration began to spread far and wide. By morning, the entire world was abuzz with talk of the incredible party that had taken place in the headquarters, leaving everyone eager to learn more about the festivities they had missed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

16th of October

The Board of Governors sent Headmaster Flitwick a letter, detailing necessary changes that will be done to the school's curriculum.

The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will introduce some new courses in its curriculum, one of which is Ritual Magic. This fourth-year class is designed for students who already have a basic foundation in Ancient Runes, and are interested in learning the ancient and powerful techniques of performing magic through rituals. The course promises to be both challenging and rewarding, offering students a chance to explore the depths of magical knowledge and hone their skills in this fascinating area of study.

The distinction between Dark and Light magic is being recognized with separate classes for each, instead of simply forbidding Dark Magic altogether and solely teaching Grey and Light spells. This approach allows for a more comprehensive education in the magical arts, catering to the unique properties and applications of each type of magic.

The courses on crafting spells and objects will cover a wide range of techniques, including the intricate art of creating magical artefacts. Specifically, the classes on Runecrafting are tailored for those interested in fashioning potent objects using various types of runes, while Wandcrafting is designed for individuals with the unique talent of crafting wands. Through these courses, students will learn the skills necessary to create powerful magical items that can assist Wixenkind for decades to come.

One of the many fascinating aspects of the integration of magical creatures is the emergence of Astromagic, a new class that delves into the fascinating realm of celestial spells, rituals, and their association with the stars and other astrological bodies. This intriguing subject will be taught by a skilled member of a centaur herd from Greece, who will guide students through the different types of spells and their intricate connections to the cosmos. The students who choose to embark on a journey of wonder and discovery will explore the magical world of Astromagic.

The Board, following the wave of change that came from the Ministry, opted to add a Creatures' History class, in order to teach wixen students about the histories and traditions of the various species of the magical world. With a dark elf or dökkálfar, as the course's professor, the new class was a necessary addition to Hogwarts — to promote the integration and understanding between beings. 

A myriad of different magical languages will also be taught as, for example, Mermish — whose professor will be a member of the merefolk colony in the Black Lake —, and the goblin language Gobbledegook, or Dûrkhar, as well as elven languages and many others.

The study of Magical Arts was also a promising addition, with painting, music, sculpting and photography being the divisions inside the course. With Hogwarts never providing a way for students to express themselves through arts, magical Britain has suffered for many years with the lack of personnel for artistically related jobs.

Duelling, a class mirroring the existing classes with the same name in other magical schools, will provide a way for students to put the defensive and offensive spells they learn in Defence into practice. And speaking of Defence, previously known as Defence Against the Dark Arts, the re-envisioned class will be a place where dark, grey and light wixen will be able to learn magic — without prejudice against a certain magical affiliation.

Divination, a course that has been controversial since its inception — for its difficulty to those without a seer gift — will become a class taught by the best teachers in Divination in the world and not one taught by only those with the ability to deliver prophecies. Headmaster Flitwick guaranteed the Board of Governors that he knew the perfect teacher for the course, a witch from Thebes, Greece.

Another change in the current curriculum will be the seventh-year Alchemy class becoming a third-year course. The alteration came after none other than Perenelle Flamel, after the woman read about the changes happening in Britain from a French newspaper — which resulted in her sending a letter to Headmaster Filius Flitwick, asking the half-goblin teacher to encourage the learning of the old art of Alchemy. 

In the upcoming academic year at Hogwarts, students in their sixth year will have the opportunity to enrol in three captivating courses - Blood Arts, Elemental Magics, and Wandless Magic. Among these courses, Blood Arts is the most intriguing one, as it demands a comprehensive understanding of Dark Arts and Ritual Magic, and allows students to explore a potent form of magic. With Blood Arts, students can learn to manipulate, ward, and detect the most fascinating and extraordinary forms of magic and magical beings.

Elemental Magic is a fascinating and complex form of magic that requires a deep understanding of both Charms and Alchemy. As the name suggests, it involves the manipulation of the elements - fire, water, earth, and air - to create powerful and versatile spells. Those who master this form of magic, known as Elemental Masters, have the ability to transform these elements into almost anything they desire. They are particularly skilled at developing both defensive and offensive spells, making them formidable opponents in any magical duel. With their knowledge and expertise, Elemental Masters are capable of creating a wide range of awe-inspiring and intricate magical effects.

The last class to be added to the next year's curriculum caused a big stir in the Wizarding World, because the Magical Customs and Traditions — a course made for those who are muggle-raised — was labelled as preposterous and ‘anti muggle-born’. The Light Faction in the Wizengamot, specially, spend the day professing about the dangerousness of the course and how muggle-born students would feel with being told to seat in a class about wixen culture.

Of course, when several muggle-raised people came forward talking about how they'd wished for a class during their time at hogwarts that explained them about this new world they were entering, the Light witches and wizards became utterly silent.

“Defeated even by those they supposedly defend," Marcus Skeeter wrote on the Daily Prophet after the debacle.

After such a clear loss, the Light Faction become quiet in most issues about Hogwarts. The atmosphere of change was just too much for their old minds to handle, so they opted for silence.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“One defeat of many,” Heir Regulus Black told his fiancé Lord Hedwyn Peverell as the two talked about the recent events that were happening across the country.

“One of many indeed, my love,” Hedwyn Peverell said with a devious smirk on his face.

The two man spend the day celebrating the way their plans were going as intended, as well as preparing for the Halloween night — when the most important part of their plan would happen.

Chapter Text

21st of October 

Regulus strokes the front of his silky robes, his fingertips feeling the embroideries of light-purple and light-pink flowers on Acromantula Silk fabric.

Looking at himself in the big mirror in front of him, Regulus couldn't help but smile at the sight of himself wearing his wedding robes. The white of the material and the purple and pink of the flowers gave him such a youthful look, that Regulus could only think about the date that was coming closer and closer every day. It also brought him the realisation that, yes, he was getting married.

No longer it was a matter of plans or words let out to the wind. He, Regulus Arcturus Black, was getting married, soon, to the man of his life. 

With his thoughts drawn to his fiancé, Regulus hoped that Harry was having an enjoyable experience choosing his wedding attire.

Morgana knows Mr Tatting is most overbearing when dealing with important customers, he thought. Let's hope Hedwyn doesn't curse the man, too much.

A devious smile came to his face as he imagined the scene of his beloved sending Calvin Tatting straight to the closest wall and casting a Sticking Charm on the man.

He was still smiling a little madly when he took off the wedding robes and walked towards the door. Casting a last look at his future attire, Regulus smiled sweetly. Soon, he thought and opened the door — leaving the fitting room.

When he got closer to the reception room, Regulus caught sight of Harry sitting on a red and gold armchair. He had to swallow a laugh as he saw his fiancé's angered expression. Mr Tatting's graceless work, most definitely — he thought.

“I fear not all went well, yes?” Regulus said, getting Hedwyn's attention. The other man just sneered at Regulus' cheek.

“That man is lucky I have some self-restraint,” Hedwyn looked at a door while he spoke. Presumably, Mr Tatting was behind the door and hopefully not dead. “If I were to stay there for a minute longer this place would lose its Tatting.”

Biting his lip, so as to not smile, Regulus replied, “At least there would still be a Twilfitt, wouldn't it?”

Before Harry could reply, a sound came from the room Mr Tatting was in, making Hedwyn get up from his seat and take Regulus' hand.

“Let's leave!” Harry said while glazing at the door. He then pulled Regulus with him, leading his fiancé to the exit and leaving the shop.

“I do hope you did not curse him, darling,” Regulus said when the two were a few feet away from Twilfitt and Tattings. “As entertaining as it would be, I do not wish to marry a soon-to-be prisoner.”

Smirking at Regulus, Hedwyn only squeezed the other's hand and continued walking.

On the main street of Diagon Alley, a cold wind of Autumn passed through the people strolling around. Wizards and witches wore more layers of clothing, a signal of the winter yet to come.

Not many families perambulated through the principal alley, or the adjacent ones, even though Sunday afternoon was the perfect time for it.

It must be the war, Harry thought. 

The Ministry fought the war in the best way possible whilst the people tried to keep some normalcy in their day-to-day lives. However, the people were yet to feel as safe as they once felt.

Looking at the people around him, Hedwyn could only hope that his and Regulus' plan would be able to give wixenfolk some comfort and sense of security.

The two men continued walking until they stopped by Flourish and Blotts. Swiftly, Hedwyn opened the door to Regulus and waited for the boy to get inside before getting in himself.

Inside, Harry called Regulus' attention by caressing the back of his fiancé's hand with his finger, “I won't take too long, love,” Hedwyn said, kissing Regulus and walking towards the bookshelf away from the front of the store.

Glancing at the books closer to him, Regulus wrinkled his nose at the sight of shelves upon shelves of children's books. No wonder there are only little kids here, he thought while looking at the children close by.

Preferring to wait for Hedwyn instead of go seek some book, Regulus stayed where he was — his mind drifting away from the bookstore.

There was much on his mind as of recently. Their plan to bring down the Dark Lord and take control over the Dark was closer than ever. Just a few more days, he thought. And while he was confident in the plans, Regulus couldn't help but feel anxious due to the wait. 

“Well, well, well. Look at what the hippogryph has brought me,” A recognizable voice said behind Regulus. Turning around, the Black Heir came face-to-face with the voice's owner.

“Evan,” The words left Regulus' mouth with a twinge of disdain. “How... unexpected it is to see you here. I didn't know you were adept at reading.”

The retort made Evan Rosier grit his teeth. “How funny, Regulus. I didn't know you had a flare for comedy.” 

Giving Rosier a smile with no warmth, Regulus shrugged. “I have become more... infatuated with this sort of thing as of late.”

Dropping his unwelcoming expression, but keeping a hardness to his eyes, Evan said, “Don't you think it is odd for you to decide to become cheerful nowadays? If I were in your shoes, and thank Merlin that I am not, I would not be so cocky. There are many people angry with you, Black.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Regulus faked confusion. “Angry at me? I can't imagine what for. I don't recall doing anything wrong, Evan. Are you sure it is me that these ‘people’ are angry at?”

Tightening his hands into fists, Evan got closer to Regulus — their noses almost touching. “I would drop this act if I were you, Black. You know very well what I am talking about. Our lord is very displeased with you, but you're name brings respect whenever you go to. I'm sure the Dark Lord would push all of this aside if you bent the knee once more.”

A sneer came to Regulus' face. With all his time preparing to become Lord Black, Regulus learnt to never bow to men beneath himself. 

“I have no lord, Rosier,” Black hissed. “It will do you well to remember that. A Black never kneels before inferior men, Evan. You're pathetic lord will never have a leash on me ever again.”

With his fists so tight that his nails began to dig into his skin, Evan put a foot forward to try to intimate Regulus. But, before he could open his mouth to spill more of his nonsense, a hand grabbed the boy's forearms.

“I would rethink you're next spets if I were you, Mr Rosier,” Hedwyn's voice said behind Evan. His tone was cold and dangerous, making Rosier shiver slightly.

Evan Rosier looked back, trying to make eye contact with Lord Peverell. When Rosier's blue eyes met Peverell's green, though, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread crawling in his chest.

The man's magic was controlled, too controlled, around him. Darkness so strong and cold enveloped Rosier completely, making the man put his head down to avoid Peverell's gaze.

Letting go of Rosier's arm, Hedwyn approached Regulus, putting an arm around his fiancé's shoulders. “Are you okay, darling?” He asked.

Snuggling closer to Harry, Regulus only nodded and smiled at him. Hedwyn smiled at him back and caressed his lover's cheek.

When his eyes left Regulus and went back to where Rosier was, Harry snorted at the man's stance — still with his head down and scared stance. 

“You will learn to behave before those above you, Rosier. I would hate to go to your brother with a complaint about you.”

Snapping his eyes to Harry's face, Evan looked terrified at the mention of his brother. “N-No, please. I won't do it again. Please don't tell my brother.”

Sneering at Rosier, Hedwyn didn't answer him as he put the book he was carrying inside his pocket and turned around with Regulus — exiting the store and leaving a fidgeting Rosier behind.

Regulus only looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow, but the other boy just shrugged. Though Regulus was disappointed that he didn't get a chance to annoy Evan more, he was sure that by the end of the month, Rosier would be screaming in rage.

The thought made Regulus smirk as Hedwyn guided him to the Leaky Cauldron, so they could floo to Château Noir — where Lady Black was waiting for them.

Passing through the pub's clientele, the two men went to the closest fireplace. 

Throwing the flood powder at the fireplace, Regulus was engulfed by green fire and soon the same happened to Hedwyn.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come, grandmother will be in the Blue Room,” Regulus told Hedwyn as soon as he came through the floo.

Shaking his head to regain his senses after going through the floo network, Harry nodded to Regulus and the two walked out of the White Drawing Room, into the hallway.

In the hallway, Regulus continued to walk — with Hedwyn right behind him — as the portraits around them observed the couple silently.

Harry eyed some of Regulus' ancestors as they passed by the portraits. Most of them were pretending to be asleep, certainly to avoid interactions with others, but some of them were looking between Hedwyn and Regulus.

As the couple walked by the Black family portraits, Harry couldn't help but feel as if the stern faces were silently appraising them. He wondered if they were judging the couple's worthiness of each other or simply being curious and nosy. Harry tore his gaze away from the portraits as he noticed that Regulus' steps were gradually slowing down, indicating that they were getting closer to their destination.

“Oh, there you are,” said Lady Black behind them, making Hedwyn jump, surprised. Melania Black passed by the two, smiling at the couple, and made a sign with her hand for them to follow her.

“I had to tell the elf to get me more flowers, you see,” the old lady pointed to a large table close to the window. Harry's eyes went wide with the number of flowers exposed, with the most variety of colours, shapes and sizes, the table made the room more akin to a greenhouse than to a normal sitting room. “The lack of blue was just appalling, I tell you, but I believe we have all we need now.”

As Lady Black continued to talk about blue flowers or rather the lack thereof, Hedwyn took his time to look around the room. Painted with a high-pigmented blue, the walls were a marvel to see, filled with unmoving paintings and ornate by golden intricate shapes with complex patterns and details.

The room's decor, Harry mused, was alike those seen at the Palace of Versailles — if the old pictures he saw on his Muggle school books were to be trusted. Getting closer to a cream-coloured chair, with golden leaves and stems, Harry wanted more than ever to sit on the chair and relax after all the fussing around at Twilfitt and Tattings.

Yet, Harry knew that he was not here for relaxation, and he also didn't want to look lazy in front of Lady Black. So he turned away from the comfortable-looking chair and went to the table of flowers.

Not willing to be dragged into Regulus and Melania's conversation about vases, Harry decided to pass his time by focusing on the flowers closest to him. 

Apart from interesting colours or shapes, there wasn't much to be looked at, Harry mused after inspecting some of the many flowers on the table. Even though he did quite well at Herbology, none of these flowers were magical so there wasn't much to interest him.

When his eyes fell on a certain type of lily, however, he couldn't help stop himself from picking one flower up from its similars. With white ends and light-pink-coloured inside, the trumpet lily in Harry's hand was just like the ones he used to see at the Dursley's home.

Bringing the flower closer to his face, Harry inhaled its sweet fragrance. Just like I remember it, Harry smiled to himself as he thought of the times he would go closer to the vase on the top of the dinner table, just so he could smell the pretty-looking flowers.

Twirling the flowers on his fingers, Hedwyn mused about the reasons why his aunt had this specific flower at home. It not being a common species, as far as he knew, only made his memories of it seem even more strange.

Could it be because of mother? he questioned himself. He shook his head, unable to accept that the person who mistreated him for so long could ever do something so thoughtful. Even if Lily had been Petunia's sister it didn't mean that there was any love between the two.

After all, if there was some sort of affection between the two sisters, then why would Petunia hate her sister's only child? No, that can't be why, Harry thought to himself. No amount of theorising would make him believe that Petunia had missed Lily. 

Putting those thoughts aside, Hedwyn looked at the other flowers on the table, some inside beautifully ornate vases and others just in bouquets of their own kin. Harry wondered if any of these were also lilies and if they would be at his wedding.

For a moment, he thought about asking Lady Black if it would be possible to have lilies at the wedding, but he didn't want to answer any questions as to why he wanted lilies specifically. Sighing, Harry turned around and left the table, flower still in hand, and headed to the chair.

Let's hope Lady Black doesn't chastise me for it, he thought as he sat down, relaxing on the chair.

As Harry continued to look at the lily on his right hand, he failed to realise that the sounds in the room had stopped. He also failed to realise that he was being watched by his fiancé and his grandmother.

On the other side of the room, holding a white and blue coloured vase in his hands, Regulus couldn't help but smile at his fiancé. By his side, Melania Black was holding a bouquet of orchids and looked from her grandson to her soon-to-be grandson-in-law.

A small smile came upon the old woman's face as she saw the love in Regulus' eyes as he looked at his beloved. 

Perhaps this union will be better than I thought, Melania thought as she moved back towards that table and left her grandson to admire his lover.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the evening descended upon the world outside, its warm glow seeped through the half-open curtains, casting a soft, gentle light on the otherwise dark and quiet bedroom. The Black Heir, dressed in his all-blue nightwear, sat at the edge of the bed, watching his lost in thought fiancé. The latter was seated in a wing chair, with a forgotten book resting on his lap, but his gaze was fixed on some unknown point in space. The silence was only interrupted by the occasional rustle of the pages as the light breeze from the open window turned them.

Regulus raised from the bed, moving with a graceful calmness towards Hedwyn's side. As he reached the other boy, he gently laid a hand on his shoulder, imparting a sense of comfort and reassurance. Hedwyn startled slightly at the unexpected touch, but as he looked up at Regulus' face, he sensed a warm and soothing presence emanating from the older boy's eyes, and he relaxed under their gentle gaze.

“What is bothering you so much, Harry? No, don't look down; keep your eyes on me, darling. You've been quiet since we visited the château and I'm getting worried, Harry.”

Hedwyn moved in his seat, uncomfortable due to the questions. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came. At every failed attempt, Harry could see Regulus becoming more and more distressed. The Black Heir's mouth quivered at the corners and his hand on Harry's shoulder became less soothing and more desperate.

Brows furrowed and letting go of his attempts to explain himself, Hedwyn tried to comprehend his fiancé's uncomfortable behaviour. He raised his hand and put it on top of Regulus', and used his thumb to caress the soft skin of his lover.

“Reggie...” came out of Hedwyn's mouth in a strained tone, a whisper. “What's wrong, love? Look, I know you deserve an explanation but I assure you that the reasons for my sulk is nothing to get so concerned about. I mean, not that you shouldn't feel concerned for me but I-”

Harry's rambling stopped as Regulus' hand tightened on his shoulder, unconsciously. In turn, Hedwyn took his fiancé's hand from his shoulder and brought it closer to his lips and left a soft his on its knuckles.

Regulus let out a deep sigh as he found a spot on the armrest of the chair, settling down into it. He held Hedwyn's hand tightly for a moment before slowly releasing it, placing his own hand on his lap with utmost care. As he did so, he took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Hedwyn's face once again.

“You cannot ask me for answers when you give me none of your own, Hedwyn. You have been silent for hours now. So no, I won't be giving you an answer before you give me yours.”

As Harry sat there, feeling overwhelmed by the situation, he lowered his head and gazed down at the floor. He could feel the fabric of his robes brushing against his legs, and he instinctively gripped it tightly with his fingers. The soft material provided some measure of comfort, as he tried to push aside his feelings of anxiety and uncertainty. His mind raced with thoughts and questions, but for the moment, all he could do was sit there and wait for what was to come.

“My mother,” he let out in a whisper.

“Your mother?” Regulus asked, one eyebrow up in confusion. “What about Lily Potter? Do you wish to tell her the truth?”

Hedwyn shook his head, negating the question and dispersing his insecurities in a quasi-desperate gesture. Shaking hands came to his hand as he hid his eyes from view.

“My mother... Today, while choosing the flowers, I couldn't help but think of her. My mum, the woman who gave her life away, just so I could live. I will never meet her, Regulus. I will never hear stories of her time pregnant with me, of memories from times before I could speak,” Harry let out an anguished sound. “I will never meet her.”

Feeling helpless and unsure of how else to comfort Harry, Regulus instinctively moved closer to him and wrapped his arm around him. He gently pulled Harry towards himself and began to sway back and forth, while softly stroking Hedwyn's red hair. In a soothing and tender tone, Regulus whispered words of kindness and support to his anguished fiancé.

“I'm so sorry, Harry,” said Regulus in an upset tone. “I-I wish I could help you with this, to relieve you of your pain but I can't. I assume telling the truth to Lily and James won't help, right? I thought so... I'm sorry you can't meet your mother, Wyn.”

“It's okay, Reggie,” Hedwig said, voice fatigued and raspy. “I shouldn't have expected to let go of my loss just by being able to meet them in the past. I should've known they would not be the same people.”

“No, Harry. There is nothing wrong with wishing to meet the parents you lost, even if it was a past version of them. You should not put yourself down for wanting to meet the people who mean so much to you, Wyn. If I were in your situation, I would want to meet my parents as well, even knowing Orio and Walburga are not the most pleasant to be around.”

Hedwyn let out a small laugh at Regulus describing the Blacks. “Unpleasant is the kindest way of describing them, Reg.”

Regulus chuckled. “Maybe it is, but it is the truth. I would want to meet them either way. They are my parents, just like the Potters are yours, so I would still want to meet them.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Hedwyn said after sighing and relaxing in Regulus' warmth. “I guess is not silly to want to meet them. I'm still disappointed they are not my James and Lily, though. Yeah, I know I'm not wrong in being disappointed.”

“Good,” said Regulus while leaving kisses on Harry's face.

The silence lingered between the two companions for a while. Hedwyn's mind was consumed by the memories of the photographs of his long-gone parents. He knew he would revisit those images later, as the photo album had fortunately accompanied him on his journey from the future. It was a relief to know that he wouldn't have to solely rely on his memories of his loved ones' pictures to see them.

As for Regulus, only anticipation reigned over his thoughts as he waited for Hedwyn to question him for his behaviour earlier. He knew the question would come sooner than later, so he sat quietly, letting his fiancé digest all that was said before the change in topic came.

In the corner of his eyes, Regulus saw Hedwyn's mouth opening slightly, so he moved a little so they were facing each other.

Ignoring the way Regulus knew he was about to speak, Harry put a hand on his lover's lap before letting the words out.

With a calm expression and a kind tone “Why were you so upset earlier?” was all Hedwyn asked Regulus.

Regulus' eyes left Harry's face as he shifted on the armrest of the wing chair. He sighed and turned his gaze back to his fiancé.

“I-I thought you were having second thoughts about the wedding. No, let me finish. Today, while at the château, I thought you were simply lost in thought so I didn't concern myself with it. But when we got back home, you came back to the bedroom and stayed silent, not even looking at me for a second.” Regulus hands clenched on each other for a second and then he flexed his fingers. “I know it was a silly thought, but I couldn't shake this uneasiness. I thought- I thought you were having second thoughts. Our wedding is happening before a year into us knowing each other, after all. So, with every hour that passed with you in silence, I couldn't think of anything else but that you wanted to leave.”

Hedwyn, with a sorry-full expression on his face, moved closer to his partner and wrapped his strong arms around Regulus' waist. Gently but firmly, he brought Regulus to his lap, where Harry welcomed him with open arms. Hedwyn hugged Regulus tightly, feeling the warmth of his partner's body against his own, and brought their faces closer together. With a gentle touch, Harry left soft kisses on Regulus' cheeks and forehead, giving the love and affection his fiancé needed.

“I'm sorry, Reggie. I would never want to make you think I doubt my commitment to you. Look at me, darling. I want this wedding to happen, more than anything else. More than defeating Voldemort or increasing our influence in the Wizarding World. All of those things are secondary to me, Regulus. You, you are my priority and will always be. Never doubt that for a second.”

Regulus was struggling to keep his composure as he listened to Hedwyn's words. His lower lip quivered uncontrollably, betraying the depth of his emotions. He felt a lump form in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. His heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty, as he grappled with the overwhelming flood of feelings that threatened to consume him. At that moment, he needed the support of his partner more than ever. He leaned his head onto the crook of Harry's neck, seeking comfort and solace in his embrace. His arm tightened around Hedwyn's chest, holding onto him tightly, as if he were afraid to let go. Despite his inner turmoil, he was grateful for the love and support that surrounded him, knowing that Harry would be by his side.

“I love you, Regulus',” the words were said quietly and with calm. When they reached Regulus, the boy's mind stopped and he focused solely on Harry and the warmth coming from him.

“I love you,” Harry said again, as to make sure that Regulus heard him clearly.

Regulus' body was paralysed, unable to move after the confession. He lifted his head, to look at his fiancé. Harry's face was apprehensive and red.

A smile took control of Regulus' face as he understood Harry's fear of relating his feelings to him. Leaning closer, a stream of kisses was left on Hedwyn's face as Regulus tried to convey his feelings in a kind gesture.

“I love you too,” Regulus said loud and clear. He then kissed a wide-eyed Harry on the lips and it then became a passionate embrace between two lovers, desperate to be closer and closer to each other.

Chapter Text

26th of October 

The echo of his shoes tapping on the marble floor resounded on the empty halls of the manor. With each spet, his heart also tapped fast, anxious.

His eyes fell on a white door by the end of the hall. His heart raced quicker. As the door became more and more distinguishable, he couldn't help but to glaze over the various ornaments on it. A way to distract his mind, certainly. 

It wasn't working.

The tap of his shoes on the cold floor became muffled as the door came just a few feet away now. His heart beating fast against his chest reverberated the sound through his body and went to his head, making him clumsy and ungainly.

He picked up his pocket watch, examining how long it took to arrive. His stomach felt warm and nauseated when he saw how long he was making him wait.

His hands started to sweat inside his gloves. His heart was racing and his mind was lost to mist. A trickle of sweat came down from the back of his head, down his neck and inside his shirt.

His feet stopped, his heart was pounding. His ears started to hurt as if the pressure was too much for his body to handle.

He lifted a shaking hand and knocked on the door. He took a cloth from inside a pocket and tapped it on his forehead.

Breath in, breath out, he told himself.

The door opened on its own and had to suppress a whimper. He was not ready to face him.

He didn't feel his own feet moving, his heart and mind were too scrambled for him to understand what was happening.

Inside the room, his feet led him to the table where the others were. All eyes were on him and the weight of them made him want to vomit.

His feet stopped behind his chair. He then looked to the head of the table, but the sight made him tremble. Red eyes were set on him, staring impassively.

“My lord,” the greeting left his mouth in a whisper that resonated in the silent room. He bowed his head in submission.

When no acknowledgement of his existence, other than the stare, was said, he took his seat. Head down and hands clenched on his lap — Ansel waited.

His heart was still racing and his stomach felt worse than before. Please, let me get out of this unscathed, he pleaded to no one. 

“Ansel,” the hissed words left the monster's mouth and Ansel shivered. “How privileged we are to be delighted by your presence.”

His soaked gloves felt awful on his tight fists, but he could not find relief in any other way than by pressing his fingers tightly together. His head was pounding so harshly that he wanted nothing more than to rest it against the table in front of him.

“M-My lord?” the words struggled to leave his mouth as he wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the room and out of this manor.

He could feel the red eyes on him, but he dared not to look at them. Ansel mused his nausea would only get worse if was required to look at that disfigured face. Even though not gazing at the man, the images of him from past encounters were vivid in Ansel's mind.

The inhumanly pale skin, so white it looked dead, to the distorted features. The disfigurement of the worst of all, Ansel always thought. The eyes to apart, the nose that was almost gone and the thin colourless lips. A revolting sight to anyone's bowels, definitely.

“I just assumed you thought of your time between us as a grace you gave, Ansel,” he could feel the amusement in the thing's voice. Amusement at his humiliation.

He gulped and shook his head. Ansel knew that anything he said would only bring punishment to himself. Eyes cast down and head lowered, he refused to look at the man.

As his mind began to clear from the mist, Ansel's anger started to build. His disgust with the situation came up in his throat, a snot he wanted to spit on the monster's face.

How dare he humiliate me in this manner? he asked himself, appalled by the situation he was in. He, Ansel Serpentus Gamp, lord of one of the most ancient houses in Britain, a serve to a half-blood boggart.

Has my House fallen so much? he couldn't help but wonder. The house that has been in Slytherin since Hogwarts' conception. Taught by Salazar Slytherin himself, no less. Loyal to Slytherin's vision of our world since the very beginning and look where we are now. Disgusting!

He was not stupid to the point of letting his distaste towards the Dark Lord show on his face, however. To anyone looking, Ansel Gamp was cowering with his head low.

“Nothing to say?” the Dark Lord's eyes bore on him like hot iron. Ansel's throat felt tight and his breathing became heavy.

Through the corners of his eyes, he saw the monster lift his wand. Ansel shivered and a whimper escaped through his lips. He felt his eyes starting to water and his hands felt numb inside his damped gloves.

Please, let me go back to her, he pleaded. Let me go back to my Anna.

His mind had no time to process the curse coming at him as his body screamed at pain prematurely.

A screech left his throat as his body felt like it was pierced by a thousand invisible nails and as the blood in his vein became molten metal. The suddenness of the pain was so strong in his body that he fell back and his chair followed his move.

The loud sound of the heavy chair hitting the marble floor echoed in the room and joined the screams — with the writhing of Ansel's body united with the other sounds in a dreadful choir.

Ansel's body was in such a state that his mind was unable to think or to beg the Dark Lord to stop. He didn't realise that he had broken the left arm of the chair and was now with half of his body on the cold floor.

The 25-year-old was watched by the others in the room with looks of pity and fright. For so little of a mistake, a nuisance in the minds of the other Death Eaters, Ansel Gamp was humiliated and tortured for all to see.

When the curse stopped, Ansel let out a cry as his body felt heavy with exhaustion. His mind, feeling trapped in a feeble body, shouted for the limbs to move in order to prevent another attack from the Lord of Serpents.

Slowly, he moved away from the chair, to stand up. His legs felt weak and glass-made. Ignoring the chair lifting itself from the floor, but internally thanking Nott for the goodwill, Ansel walked to the chair.

He thanked Nott in his head again as he saw the repared arm of the chair. Ansel's body fell on the chair with a thud, so tired after suffering under the Cruciatus that all his limbs felt like they were made of iron.

“Ferdinand,” the Dark Lord said, making Goyle stiffen in his seat. 

“My lord?” Goyle asked in a tight tone. The man's face presented a calm façade, but the gulp he took betrayed his acting.

“What of my mission to you?” Lord Gaunt asked, succinctly. The Dark Lord, an adept of intimidation, even with his loyal followers, amused himself in saying few words, but with a menacing tone — and with the down glance Goyle gave, the Dark Lord knew he achieved his sadistic goal.

“I have n-not been able to get clo-closer to Regulus Black, my lord. H-He isn't seen much outside of wherever Peverell has been hiding him,” with every word Goyle's demeanour seemed more and more anxious. He wouldn't dare to look him in the eye, but Goyle knew the Dark Lord would not be looking at him contentedly.

An unimpressed sound comes from the head table, and Ferdinand lowered his head in fear. His shoulders fell and the man's face got white with anticipation. Another gulp went down Goyle's throat. He stopped himself from tapping on the floor to relieve his uneasiness. 

A few seats down, Ansel heard the exchange with his eyes closed, too tired to keep them open. Just Crucio the poor bastard and let us go, he asked in his mind. His gloves were now gone and his nails were digging on his palms. He tried to control the twitching on his face, but the aftermath of the Unforgivable was too much for him to handle.

It hasn't been this bad since Snape vanished, he mused.

That was a day Ansel would never forget. For the first time in his life, he thought death would take him. Nightmares still came to him from time to time, images of a cloaked figure above him, laughing. A mockery of his weakness. Ansel was sure that after that night, any Death Eaters who saw Severus Snape would kill the man at first sight.

"I wonder...” the Dark Lord's hissing voice brought Ansel back to what was happening around him. With some difficulty, he opened his eyes to spy on Goyle's reactions to Lord Gaunt's taunts.

But by the expression on Ferdinand's face, the man was nowhere near comfortable with the Dark Lord's scrutiny. White-faced and shivering slightly, Ferdinand Goyle was far from his normal confident self while in his lord's presence.

“I am so merciful in giving you the easiest of tasks, yet you cannot even accomplish that,” the Dark Lord's bony finger tapped on the table as he continued. “What use do you have if you can't deliver on the simplest of tasks, Goyle?”

The red eyes bore on Ferdinand, and Ansel could see sweat forming on the man's forehead. At the sight of one of his acquaintances being humiliated, a man who fought beside him before, Ansel started to feel bile rising in his throat. All the unnecessary intimidation, all the suggestive mockery, and all other of the Dark Lord's tactics to torment his followers were leaving Ansel sick and detached.

I've cursed myself to this, he thought melancholically. Now I'm here, chained to this madman, persuing who knows what at this point. May my ancestors forgive me for bringing this disgrace upon our family.

“I'm so sorry, my lord,” Ferdinand responded with a sorrowful expression, whether it was for not capturing Regulus Black or for his own pitiful situation was unclear. “Black is just too hard to come across these days, my lord. Peverell keeps him close at hand.”

At the mention of the Peverell name, a wave of angered magic passes through all in the room. Ansel raised an eyebrow at the Dark Lord's feelings towards the Wizarding World's newest addition. Could it be jealousy? The thought amused Ansel and he had to prevent a smirk from coming to his face.

His mind had no time to make Ansel's body recoil at the red light coming from the wicked yew wand as Goyle let out a piercing scream.

He flinched at the sound and tried to control his breathing which suddenly became harsh as his mind became frantic with fear of suffering under the Unforgivable once again. He did feel sorry for Ferdinand at the moment, he truly did, but Ansel was thankful that he was not the one under the curse.

Goyle let out a muffled cry as the Dark Lord lifted the curse. The Death Eater put a shaky hand on his mouth, presumably to stop any sound from coming out.

At the sight, Ansel's nails dug into the flesh of his palms, drowning blood. That was not even a minute under it, he shouted in his mind, revolted. I went through much worse because of a late coming! Is not accomplishing a task less troublesome than arriving late?

Ansel's mind was frantic as he cursed the Dark Lord for torturing him for ridiculous reasons while others got away with much less. He was so focused on his anger that his ears blocked Goyle's pleas for forgiveness as the Dark Lord belittled the man.

“My lord,” a high-pitched voice called from the end of the table, drawing Ansel's attention back to the room. Bellatrix nouvelle-Lestrange. Ansel recognised the new addition to the Death Eaters with distaste. Foolish girl, he spat. “Let me bring my traitorous cousin to you, my lord!”

The Dark Lord stared at the young woman, and Ansel heard Bellatrix's sister — Narcissa — calling for her sister to remain quiet.

In those emotionless eyes, the Dark Lord showed no predisposition to grant the woman her wish. The disfigured man only lifted his wand and sent a purple curse towards Lestrange, which made the woman grab her head and clench her fingers around her hair.

“Do not speak before I allow you to, girl,” another wave of anger passed through the Death Eaters as their lord gave his order. “You will do no such thing. Do you believe yourself capable of besting your cousin?”

The Dark Lord let out a 'tsk' as he mocked the witxht. “Regulus Black is no weak wizard. An impulsive girl like you would never be able to overpower Black's tactical duelling method. Don't waste my time with childish wishes.”

Bellatrix let out a whimper and lowered her head, defeated.

For the next several minutes, the Dark Lord gave his orders for the raid that would happen later that night. As more and more lower-level Death Eaters were dying to the Aurors, the plans for the raids became more intricate — in order to avoid more losses.

As the Death Eaters stood up by the end of the meeting, the Dark Lord stared at them as they gave him their goodbyes and left the manor.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I do not know what to think of it, Nagini,” Voldemort hissed to his companion.

Slithering towards the fireplace, seeking warmth, the giant snake hissed disapprovingly to her master. Coiling around herself, Nagini bathed in the small hot waves of air coming from the fire.

“Master always knows what he is doing. Don't be silly, Marvolo-” Lord Voldemort hissed at the name, but the snake continued, unconcerned. “All is happening in your favour, yes? Then why bother about it? Relax and watch your enemies kill each other... and then you strike.”

Voldemort rubbed his pale forehead with two fingers and sighed. His mind was disturbed, even after his companion's words. Yes, all was happening in his favour — Dumbledore was out of Hogwarts, dark-aligned legislation was being passed on the Wizengamot, and he had more vassals to replace the ones he'd lost.

And yet, he could not relax his defences. Deep down, he knew someone was afoot. Somewhere, outside of his sphere of influence, plots against him and his desired regime were being made. By who? Dumbledore had plans, of which he was certain. However, the old man was not his only foe.

Voldemort could feel it in his veins, the way his magic became more and more unsettled, suspicious. From what side would the first blow come from? His spies would tell him nothing, for they were just as ignorant about what lurks in the shadows. Vigilante was the only precaution he could fathom at this moment. Lord Voldemort would not coward in the face of danger, no. He, the Heir of Slytherin, would not let himself be consumed by wariness or fear.

The Dark Lord Voldemort is no cowa-. He stopped, eyes wide and wary. There, on top of the console table by the window, a pale wooden box sat. So naturally and unimposing one would think it has always been there. But no, Lord Voldemort knew better. He knew every single object inside the room, remembering detail by detail of every single thing inside from the day Avery showed him the room that became his temporary office.

Curse-detection spells were immediately cast on the box. Nothing came of it. His suspicion only rose higher, however. No one becomes a Dark Lord without keeping both eyes open.

Slowly, with cautious steps, Voldemort approached the table — eyes narrowed and scrutinizing for potential dangers.

A spell was cast and the box's lid is opened. 

Voldemort's eyes go wide with fear and apprehension.

It's not possible, he tells himself.

He blinked, once, twice. It is still there. A cautious step is taken, to analyse it better.

His hand was shaking slightly as he lifted his wand once more and levitated. It looked nothing different from just a few months ago. Still made of gold, with an S-shaped serpent in green jewels. Salazar Slytherin's Locket. The piece from his mighty ancestor looked just like when he hid it away in the cave.

“Impossible,” he hissed as he grabbed the locket, letting go of any reserve or apprehension.

But it was the same. Just as heavy and filled with Salazar's magic. A hiss and the locket opened. A noise close to a gasp came from the Dark Lord's throat as the object behaved just like it always had.

Inside, a piece of paper was folded and waiting. He picked up the small piece of folded parchment and opened it slowly. In his mind, only denial could be found as Voldemort refused to believe what was in front of him.

To Tom Marvolo Riddle 

- We thought you would want this back. Enjoy our humble gift.

- R.A.B. & H.A.P.

The Dark Lord's magic flared with anger, shattering the window in front of him and sending all objects closed by flying. On the flood beneath him, a charcoaled ring formed around his body as his power sought a victim to disperse its rage.

Coiled by the fireplace, Nagini hissed in displeasure at her sleep being interrupted.

“What is it, master?" the snake asked.

Voldemort, however, ignored his snake and started to pace around the ravaged room. He stepped past fallen furniture and broken trinkets, the Dark Lord thought and thought, and his mind worked through every scenario possible. The locket could be a fake, of course, even though it was opened by using Parseltongue. Is there another one out there? he questioned. As far as he knew, no other descendants of Salazar Slytherin lived. He was the only one, the unique one, the only one with Salazar's gift.

However, no option could be discarded. After all, two initials were there in the message left for him. “R.A.B.” he mumbled the initials. “R.A.B. and H.A.P.”

“Who can those be?” he asked himself. “Should I task Abraxas with finding these thieves? No, he would ask too many questions and if I didn't answer them he would become suspicious. Lestrange? No, he's an imbecile. I need someone knowledgeable enough in purebloods since there is no way a mudbloob could escape my traps. I just need to find the perf- Orion! Of course, how did I not think of him before? The Blacks know every pureblood in this country."

Voldemort nodded to himself, complementing himself in his thoughts for his realisation. He passed by Nagini and ignored her once more when she asked him to stop with the noise.

“Yes, Orion is the perfect person for this and when I get my hands on these thieves... They will regret the day they dared to intimidate the Dark Lord Voldemort. Oh, they will, certainly. Black will-” he stopped, feet anchored on the marble floor. He went to his table and went for a charmed drawer — which prevented anyone but him from opening it — and picked up an old journal of his.

He went through the names, Abraxas Damian Malfoy (A.D.M.), Alaric David Avery (A.D.A.), Julius Marc Lestrange (J.M.L.), Theodore Bjørn Nott (T.B.N.), Orion Phineas Black (O.P.B.). Voldemort stumbled back, aghast. O.P.B., R.A.B..

“Black...” he whispered. “Regulus Arcturus Black,” as soon as the name left his mouth, the Dark Lord unsheathed his wand from its holster and sent an Exploding Curse towards the empty box on the table. The box, the table and the window itself exploded into pieces. The very wall of the room at the Avery's became rubble on the garden outside.

Voldemort turned towards the door, his magic like a whip around him, leaving destruction in its wake. He walked through the halls of the manor, in order to leave. He passed through the front door and walked to the gate that closed around the Avery state, and once out of the manor's Anti-Apparition Ward, he Disapparated away in a loud crack that echoed through the quiet landscape.

In his irate state, the Dark Lord failed to see the small bird coming through the wards and going to where a window once was. He also didn't see the little bird retrieving the locket from the office and flying away into the night sky.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sound waves cascaded through the dim space, stirring the inky waters of the cave's lake. With each reverberation, small waves shifted, responding to the forceful impact of the auditory assault.

The dismantling and ripping of the protective wards resonated throughout the sinister confines of the cave walls, each removal echoing like a sinister symphony orchestrated by the wards' own creator.

As the cave's ceiling trembled, fragments of stone plummeted, colliding with the solid ground and sending ripples across the cursed lake below when meeting the water.

Then, a deafening roared, akin to thunder, silencing all other sounds within the cavern. Massive rocks tumbled from above and the walls, plunging into the murky depths. The dark water swayed in rhythm with the falling debris, its surface mimicking the undulations of natural waves outside, yet tainted by the dark magic within.

In the eeriness of the cave, where green light from the middle of the lake made shadows dance upon the rugged walls, the small island reigned on top of the murky waters. It was a desolate spot, marked only by a lone, weathered basin, which was chosen to contain a locket — the vessel of Voldemort's fragmented soul.

As if conjured from the very darkness itself, Voldemort materialized upon the island, his presence heralded by a chill that seeped into the air. His crimson eyes glinted with a malevolent gleam as he approached the basin, his gaze fixed upon it with an intensity that bespoke a twisted sense of ownership.

With a flick of his yew wand, a counterspell shot from the wand and the potion inside the basin vanished. A locket was revealed on the bottom of the basin. Voldemort sighed. Maybe it is my locket, he thought. As Voldemort's fingers closed around the artefact, a sense of dread engulfed the dark wizard. The piece of jewellery, though equal to his own, felt empty and barren. The old magic of the great Salazar Slytherin never touched the object, Voldemort knew.

Rage came to him again, as his fist tightened around the fake locket. His magic flared once more as fire encompassed the island around him. The water close to the island started to boil with the power of the flames and the air inside the cave became more and more diminished. Unbeknownst to Voldemort, the fake locket on his palm started to melt as his fury grew.

The fire dimmed as Voldemort tried to take control of his anger, but the chaos the frenzied magic created inside the cave left no chance of mending the damage. After so much magic being ripped from it, the very integrity of the cave was forever marred by attrition.

Opening his hand to inspect the forgery, Voldemort ignored the melted parts of the locket, now missing its chain. Not knowing why, the Dark Lord felt the urge to hiss to the locket even though he knew it was a fake. An open in Parseltongue later, the object opened and revealed a piece of parchment inside. Voldemort's left eye twitched as he realised there was an unknown Parselmouth somewhere.

He picked up the parchment and let the fake locket fall to the floor, where it clinked as the metal hit the stone.

 To the Dark Lord

- Know we will be long gone before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who was the first to discover your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it and all the others if you do not adhere to our demands. In the possibility of your denial of our terms, you will be mortal once more.

- R.A.B. & H.A.P.

Voldemort read the note again and again, unable to comprehend it fully. His mind was foggy and unwired. He was so distracted by his own muddled mental state that he didn't realise when magic coursed through his hand and enveloped the parchment, setting it on fire.

“Regulus Black,” the name came out in a raspy and hissed voice. “Be certain that I will kill you, Regulus Black. You and your thieving boyfriend will pay for this with your lives,” Voldemort promised as his hand tightened around his wand.

With a chilling resolve, he deliberately pushed aside the consuming flames of vengeance, knowing that today, others would bear witness to the unrelenting fury of Lord Voldemort.

With a surge of potent magic that seemed to warp the very fabric of reality, Lord Voldemort Desapparated away, vanishing from the confines of the cave in a whirlwind of dark energy. As his form dissolved into the ether, the surrounding cavern convulsed, the walls quivering with the residual echoes of his departure.

Then, in a spectacle of destruction, the cave succumbed to the overwhelming forces unleashed within itself. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone walls, fissures splitting open like scars upon the ceiling. With a deafening sound, the ceiling crumbled, great slabs of rock hurtling downward in a cascade of chaos.

And when the tumult finally subsided, and the dust settled upon the shattered remnants of the cave, all that remained was the yawning expanse of a chasm — a gaping wound on the earth.

Chapter Text

27th of October 

As the sun rose upon Britain, a veil of fear and apprehension was set on people's minds as details about the events of last night came out. The news reached most wixen in the country by breakfast time, as the Daily Prophet was delivered to hundreds of waking families.

Yesterday, during the night of the 26th of October, in the city of Durham, a ravenous attack was perpetrated on the Muggle and muggle-born population of the northern city. Dozens of Death Eaters descended on a quiet neighbourhood of terrace houses, bringing with them unmitigated chaos and killing.

According to Muggle authorities, at least 112 people lost their lives during the raid — though the police didn't know about the Death Eaters' assault and were confunded, by a squad of Obliviators, to believe the death toll was caused by the IRA (Irish Republican Army). An emissary from the Ministry of Magic made sure that the Muggle news publications, such as the BBC, broadcasted the Obliviators' version of events as facts. The Ministry's version, however, also had unexpected consequences in the Muggle Britain government as the fake death toll was deemed as the highest by the IRA — which caused harsh consequences from the Muggle prime minister, Margaret Thatcher, as she imposed more measures against the Irish rebels.

As for the Wizarding World, a sense of dread encompassed the wixen public as they heard the real accounts of the bloody night. A detail, standing above all else, was the appearance of none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself at the raid, causing mass hysteria in pockets all over Magical Britain. With the Daily Prophet stating the majority of deaths were caused by You-Know-Who, many witches and wizards went out of their way to avoid huge populated places, such as Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

Many members of the political class tried to take advantage of the people's fear, including the dishonoured Albus Dumbledore, who tried to rally wixen around his Order of the Phoenix. However, the opposite reaction was earned, as wizards and witches filled with fear and anger due to the worrying times, cast jinxes and hexes at the former headmaster.

The public became so angered by lunchtime that talks of resignation were had about the Minister. But the only part of the country's government that was not attacked, at least openly, were the Aurors since they were seen as being at the forefront against the Dark Forces. The DMLE, bathing in public support for the day, spent the evening calm and collected, apart from the rest of the government — which had been trying to refute the attacks sent towards them since the morning hours.

In the other part of the United Kingdom, hidden in the mountains of Wales, Hedwyn Peverell mused over the events of yesterday while pacing back-and-forth, uneasy. As the early afternoon light touched the library of Gwynt Keep. The smell of the centuries-old books and parchments enclosed the room, thanks to the closed windows — to prevent the cold mountainous air from coming in.

“Hedwyn, you'll drill a hole in the floor if you don't stop passing,” Regulus sighed as his words met deaf ears. Since the morning Harry had been this way, tense and troubled. Especially after a letter from James Potter, that talked about what his few friends still in the Order of the Phoenix told him about what they saw at Durham. The accounts had been so terrible it made Hedwyn lose his appetite and put his breakfast aside.

“Bodies upon bodies of innocents layered the street,” said the copy James sent, from the letter written by one Dorcas Meadowes. The letter talked of blood-bathed streets, so much to the point of drenching the ends of robes, as the members of the Order arrived too late to help. “Dorcas said most of it appeared to come from You-Know-Who's personal victims,” James wrote. Apparently, Riddle had been bloodthirsty that night, in a way no one had ever seen him. Meadowes wrote of the fear members of the Order felt when faced with the crimson-eyed wizard. Thankfully for the Order, Dumbledore had put himself in front of his followers as the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named raised his hand to attack them.

Though no member of the Order was severely injured, their encounter with the Dark Lord marked a serious moment of reckoning for the group, and after the moment of reckoning, important members like the Longbottoms, the Prewett brothers and Edgar Bones left the vigilante group. The decision came with an uproar, as other people in the group tried to convince the departing members to stay, but their efforts were ignored.

Now, as Hedwyn paced around, with James' letter tight in his hand, Regulus sat on a chair close to a shelf about Lunar Magic. Rubbing his nose bridge, the heir to the House of Black tried to come up with something to distract his fiancé from worrying about the upcoming confrontation with a very angry Dark Lord. Though the Patronus with a message to Riddle would only be sent days from now, Harry ignored reason and turned to the nonsensical action of pacing endlessly.

The two thought about contacting the Dark Lord by sending him a letter, but no other way they thought of was as secure as a simple Patronus. Regulus, especially, did not want to send an owl to the dark wizard, arguing that the man would most definitely kill the poor bird.

Regulus let Hedwyn with his dramatics and went to the balcony, to breathe some fresh air. With his fiancé lost to his own thoughts, their plans to confront the Dark Lord and the warm air inside the room, Regulus' nerves were bothering him with every passing second.

He closed the door behind him and inhaled the cold Welsh air. His tight shoulders relaxed a bit, and he allowed his body to lean against the closed wooden door. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to bring himself out of his bad mood. His finger curled and released with tension, and his left eye twitched.

Everything seems to be happening so fast, he thought. So, so fast.

He shook his head, trying to make his apprehension leave his mind. It was clear to him that he was afraid of things going wrong today. Who wouldn't be? He, Regulus Black, heir to the House of Black, was going to threaten the most powerful Dark Lord in recent British history. One would be mad to not be afraid.

But Regulus knew, deep down, that Hedwyn would never let him be harmed. The Dark Lord held no power over him, he was powerful, yes, but Regulus had the Master of Death to shield him. If that was not enough to secure his safety, then nothing else was. 

He signed and inhaled the cold air again. He raised his arms and stretched. He let out a groan put his arm back down and shook his head. Regulus turned around and put his hand on the door handle. I can do this, he thought before opening the door and stepping inside.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He observed the sigils and runes interwoven in an incredible display of precision. Hedwyn looked down at the book in his hand, inspecting the writing inside and looked back to the rune circle.

He saw Regulus rise from your crouched position and shake his wand hand. All this precision left him with hand pain, Hedwyn thought. He put the book inside his pocket as he walked towards his fiancé, careful to not step on the rune circle, and picked Regulus' hand up. He began to massage the hand, trying to make the pain go away.

“Do you wanna sit down?” he asked but Regulus shook his head. “Come here,” he said and hugged Regulus from behind, letting his partner rest against his chest, all the while continuing to massage Regulus' hand.

He heard Regulus groan and giggled. “You shouldn't have stayed crouched for so long, Reg,” he kissed his fiancé's neck and nuzzled against the soft skin.

Regulus let out a tired sigh and leaned more against Hedwyn's chest. Harry then caught both of Regulus' hands, intertwined their fingers, and brought Regulus' arm to his chest in hug.

“Don't worry, darling. When the day is over, I'll take you home and we'll go to bed. What do you think?” Regulus mumbled a ‘yes’ and Hedwyn smiled.

The cold wind passed through the couple and went on around the property. Corvsden, another of the Peverell estates in Wales, was described in a tome about the history of the Peverell family, some family spells, and better times of the year to perform dark rituals, such as the one that would be done on the Dark Lord in a few days.

In a clearing dedicated to rituals, far from the main building and surrounded by ancient-looking trees, there was a ritual circle drawn on a stone platform. The circle was inside a big square with four pedestals placed at each corner of the square, and in each corner the pedestals held a brazier on top, emitting a faint glow that illuminated the clearing dimly. The intricate symbols and patterns on the floor seemed to be etched into the very fabric of the stone underneath it, giving off an otherworldly energy that was both mesmerizing and eerie. The air was thick with the scent of incense, adding to the mystical aura of the space.

“Do you think this will be enough for the ritual? That he won't, somehow, disrupt it?” A concerned Regulus asked.

“Honestly? I don't know, Reggie. Anything can happen when so much magic is being cast, but I do know that we've done our best to prevent it from happening.”

Regulus groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “We decided to not just kill the bastard instead of using him to our advantage?”

Hedwyn laughed a little when he saw a small pout on Regulus' lips. “We are both too ambitious to let this chance go. But don't worry, darling, after he's gone we'll be free to do as we please.”

Regulus shook his head slightly, but a smile was evident on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep yawn. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at his boyfriend's expression, but Regulus paid no attention to it. Instead, he walked towards the rune circle, his gaze fixed on the stone floor.

As he approached the circle, Regulus looked up to see if he could spot the moon in the sky. As expected, the new moon phase was preventing the celestial body from being seen from Earth. Calmly, he shifted his focus to the runes on the stone and waited patiently. He didn't have to look to know that Hedwyn had moved to the other side of the circle, facing him.

Regulus kneeled on the floor and Harry followed his move. The two closed their eyes and waited. In his mind, Regulus worked on his Occlumency Shields as he did every day for the past month, in order to be more focused during the rituals. As for Hedwyn, he focused on the sounds around him — the weak sound of leaves rustling around the stone platform, the leaves in the trees moving with the wind, the creaking of the old tree bark and his and Regulus' breathing patterns.

With their wands in hand, the boys relaxed their bodies and kept their senses on alert for the right moment. A cold wave of wind came from among the trees. Regulus and Hedwyn stopped breathing for a second. More wind came and blew away the leaves around the stone platform, sending them back towards the trees.

The two men open their eyes, their gaze trapped on each other. “Now,” Harry said while lifting his wand hand, and Regulus followed the motion.

Regulus, with a superficial cut on his left palm, raised his hand and left it right about his sigil. Drops of Regulus' blood dripped on the sigil that represented protection, strength, barrier, and quelling. Meanwhile, Hedwyn's blood dripped onto another sigil that symbolised inhibition, restraining, thwarting, and extinguishing. The drops of blood on the sigils seem to merge with the intricate lines and shapes, creating a mysterious aura around the symbols.

The symbols started to glow a pale carmine, and the wind got colder and harsher around the ritual clearing. Sounds of crows echoed through the woods, though no animal could be seen.

“Mortis inimicum cohibe,” Said Regulus as he lifted his wand and pointed it to the glowing sigil. A dome of pale-coloured red light formed around the rune circle, a prison made of pure magic.

"Corpus suum nobis legavit,” Hedwyn said when he put his wand against the light of the dome. The sigils, runes and symbols all glowered carmine, bathing the inside of the dome in blood-coloured light.

The dome shone in a blinding light so strong it forced Regulus and Hedwyn to close their eyes tightly. When the light dimmed, they two opened their eyes and looked at the ritual circle. Every symbol inside the circle was crimson-coloured. 

Harry smiled so wide it almost hurt and Regulus exhaled and relaxed his muscles. It worked. The ritual worked, and now they were one step closer to defeating the Dark Lord.

"We did it!" Harry exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement as he enveloped Regulus in a sweet embrace. The euphoria of their success filled the air as they drew closer to each other. "Soon we will be free of him, love," Harry murmured, his voice filled with hope and tenderness, as he gently brushed his fingers against Regulus' cheek, his touch warm with affection.

Regulus leaned into Harry's touch, savouring the warmth and comfort it brought. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to bask in the tranquillity of the moment, feeling the weight, the anxiety about failing to do the ritual, lifting from his shoulders. In that embrace, amidst the whispers of freedom and the gentle caress of Harry's touch, a profound sense of love and relief washed over them both.

Chapter Text

28th of October

He sighed as he entered the house, his mother's high-pitched voice echoing in the hallway. He cursed himself for not bringing a Headache Relief potion and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Regulus changed his posture to look the least intimidating as possible as he walked towards the Drawing Room, his mother's voice getting higher and higher as he approached the room.

“...has become! A disgrace, Orion. Our two sons have shamed this family in every way possible,” Walburga's words almost made Regulus turn around and leave, but he knew he had to confront his parents at some point so he kept walking.

His mother had her back turned, but he could see the grim expression on his father's face as he nodded at everyone his wife said. Regulus wanted to rub his forehead to calm his nerves in some way, but he didn't want to look meek and act like a little boy in front of his parents. He was certain they would use it against him if he did. Just try being respectful, he thought.

His father was the first to realise he was there, and by the look on the man's face, Regulus' visit was not a welcomed one. He stepped inside the room, shoulders tense, waiting for his mother to notice his presence.

The look on Orion's face must have alerted her as she turned around to see just who was behind her. Regulus stopped himself from making a sour face as his mother's eyes widened and her face got red. Merlin, help me, he pleaded in his head.

“You! Decided to finally show your face, haven't you? You should be ashamed to even come to this house, you blood-traitor," Regulus couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the insult, but said nothing. “How disgusted your father and I are of you, Regulus Orion Black. All of the years of teaching you how to behave correctly and it all was for nothing. Have you no regard for your family? You're the heir to one of the most powerful houses in this country, and yet you behaved like a mere peasant, a nobody. Is that what you wish to be? A nobody, just like you brother?! You both disgust me, if I knew when you were children that this was how you'd become I would've made sure to put you two in line.”

Regulus sighed and walked towards a chair, which only served to enrage his mother more as he turned his back to her. He ignored his father, not willing to spend a second looking at such a powerless man. He looked around the room, trying to find something to occupy his mind with as his mother berated him. Regulus looked at the Black Family Tapestry, tracing the many names of his ancestors. He ignored it again as his mother started to pace the room and curse every name under the sun, preferring to look at the current living generation on the tapestry. His eyes passed by his cousins, lamenting about the charred spot where Andromeda's face used to be. He looked at another burned spot, this one where Sirius used to be, and he felt conflicted about his feelings regarding his brother. They were still not on the best of terms, even though their relationship was better than it had been in years.

He looked at his own name and gave a small smile when he imagined Hedwyn's name being there with his, as well as the names of their future children. Regulus was distracted by thoughts about the future when his mother got closer to him, making him jump from the surprise. He looked at her face, still red with anger, and couldn't help but sneer at the sight. Regret almost came as he saw his mother's eyes widening more as she took on his expression, but he decided to continue to look at her in disdain.

“Take that expression out of your face, young man! Just who do you think you are to disrespect your mother like this?" Walburga's voice only got higher, making Regulus ears hurt and his annoyance grew. His nails dug into the chair's armrest and he scoffed at her.

Before he could berate again for his insolence, he got up and stepped close to her. Walburga took a step back, surprised by her son confronting her. “Will you shut your mouth for once in your life? No! I'll be the one speaking now. I'm tired of you belittling me in this manner. Tired! Who do you think you are, mother? I am no longer a child and I demand to be respected as the adult that I am. Not only that, but I am also the heir to this house, therefore my position in this family is higher than yours,” the walls of the house shook as his words sank into them. “For too long I have allowed you to treat me like nothing more than a pet for use to control, a marionette for you to play with and decide its every move. I will no longer stand for this disrespect! You will learn how to respect me as your son and future lord, or I swear I'll cast you out of this family when I become Lord Black.”

Walburga was so taken aback by Regulus confronting her that she couldn't come up with something to say. Her face was no longer red but pale, afraid after her son's words were heard and acknowledged by the house. She tried to look at her husband in a desperate attempt for support, but Orion was just as shocked as her. She took a step back, bumping on a sofa, and losing her balance for a second.

Taking in his wife's shock, an expression he truly could not recall ever seeing on her face, Orion cleared his throat in an attempt to call attention to himself. When Regulus' gaze went to him, Orion had to stop himself from shivering as his son's eyes showed nothing but anger. “Regulus, you should never talk to your mother like this. Even if you're the future lord of our family, that is no excuse to attack your mother."

By the way that Regulus looked at him, Orion knew he had made a mistake by getting his son's attention. He approached his father, forgetting about his astounded mother for now. “Attack her? She was insulting me the moment she put her eyes on me, but I am the one in the wrong? I could say I'm surprised by you defending her, father, but that would be a lie. Always the meek husband cowering behind his wife, aren't you? You are not better than her. You, father, are nothing but a coward. You cower behind your wife, you cower inside this house. Do you have no self-respect at all?”

Orion couldn't come up with any excuse as Regulus insulted him. The man looked at his wife, who was still standing beside the sofa, but she gave him no help either. He looked at his son, his mind still trying to come up with something, but Regulus' stare only made him more uncomfortable.

Regulus scoffed at his father. “Nothing to say, yes? I thought so. So this is what is going to happen: you will sit down-” he said while looking at his mother. ”-and I will tell you the reason why I am here.” He waited for his mother to take a seat next to her husband before he took the invites from a pocket and gave them to his parents. The two looked at him with confused looks but he said nothing to them.

Walburga was the first to open it, being followed then by Orion. As she read, Walburga's eyebrows rose and got lost behind her thick black hair. Orion looked at the invite, then to Regulus, and back to the card in his hands.

“A wedding? You're going to marry this man?” Walburga said after a while. “Do you even know him? It has not even been a year since this man arrived in this country, so I know you haven't known him for longer than a few months. Has he expressed what his ideologies are? He could very much be nothing more than a mudbloob. Is that what you want for this house?”

Regulus refrained from insulting his mother again and only left out an annoyed sound. “Hedwyn and I are together and that's all you need to know. As for his blood status, my fiancé is very much a pureblood. Not that is any of your business, of course. All you need to know is that the wedding will be in December and that is better if you attend because I won't allow you to shame me and make people spread rumours about your absence. My grandparents, especially, told me that, in the case you decide not to attend the wedding, the two of you might as well consider yourselves disinherited.”

He knew that he was being quite harsh with his parents, but the knowledge that they would not take him seriously or treat him with respect if he just lowered his head and let them talk over him was very present in his mind. His mother especially would not respect him if he did not put his foot down.

One thing that eased Regulus' concerns about his parents' acting was the memory of when he lifted the Imperius Curse, setting them free after a long time under his control. The image of the shock on his mother's face as she cowered away from him was one he should revisit in a Pensieve. Even though Walburga acted like she had not been under Regulus' control, it was clear from every time he stood his ground that she remembered the experience very well. As for Orion, Regulus didn't bother with him as it seemed that, after decades of kneeling to the Dark Lord, the never-to-be lord the House of Black had no spine to stand against his youngest son.

Regulus didn't say a word to his parents as he got up and left the room, heading to the stairs. His fingers touched the many objects in his way towards the stairs, something he did often as a child and that brought many memories to him now. He nodded the portrait of great-grandfather Sirius Phineas Black II, someone Regulus had spent many days talking to after it became clear to him that his brother would never hold the title of Lord Black.

He stopped in front of the door to the two bedrooms, on his and the other Sirius', and he couldn't help but feel a tightening in his chest. Even after years since Sirius had been cast out of the family, bitterness still filled Regulus' thoughts. It still felt unreal to him that, after years of being prepared to become the lord of their house, Sirius would no longer hold the title.

Opening the door to his room and stepping inside, he put the thoughts about his brother to the side, choosing to pay attention to himself instead of Sirius. The room looked the same, not that he wasn't expecting to. Regulus knew that Kreacher, an elf so devoted to him, would not allow his master's bedroom to become a dust-filled space. He silently thanked the house-elf for that, for he had no will to clean an entire room today.

An old feeling of relaxation engulfed him as the place where he felt the safest throughout the years felt just the same as it always had. He sneered at the pieces of newspapers on his wall, all detailing a raid by the Death Eaters or an apparition of the Dark Lord himself in some Muggle village or town. With a flick of his wand, all the news pieces vanished. He looked around his room, taking in the memories of how his life, and perception of the world, had changed in less than a year.

It was still odd to him, to feel that his views on matters he thought he was so sure about changed. All because of one man. He smiled as the mere muse over his past led him to the man who transformed his life so completely. No longer he was a follower, a vassal to an egoistic and demented man. Now he was free, and his future never looked brighter.

That's not to say that all his views, particularly on blood, had changed. How could they after he spent years listening intently to his parents' every word? It wasn't as if he hated mud- muggle-borns and half-bloods, he just felt uneasy speaking about them or talking about blood in general. He had been a blind follower of the Dark Lord, after all, even before he took the Mark. The now-vanished pieces of newspapers, a weird-looking place of worship where he had spent hours looking at and imagining himself appearing in them, were a testament to his old beliefs.

He sighed and sat on his bed, hands caressing the silk bedding. One of his views that had not changed was his opinions on Muggles, as he still thought of them as beneath witches and wizards, as well as believing them to be a danger to Wizarding society — with the bombs that could destroy entire cities. Oddly enough, that was something Hedwyn didn't seem to have a problem with, but perhaps they only had not discussed the matter in detail.

In the corner of his eye, as he glanced over the snakes on his wallpaper as they moved around, Regulus could see a small figure by the bedroom door. “I know you're there, Kreacher,” the elf jumped as his master spoke. “You may come in, there is no point in waiting by the door.”

“Kreacher is sorry for spying on Master Regulus,” the elf rubbed his hands in a circular motion as he stepped inside the room. He then fixed the old pillowcase he wore, maybe trying to look more presentable for his master.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at the small creature, not believing that excuse for a second. “Do you have something to tell me, Kreacher?” he asked as he saw the house-elf change with weight from one foot to the other.

The elf shook his head, so Regulus just let it go. It was not the first and maybe it wouldn't be the last time Kreacher came to Regulus' bedroom just to walk around, putting things into place and cleaning any speck of dust he found.

“Hem-hem,” he stopped himself from groaning as he heard the very familiar sound of his mother clearing her throat. He turned around, moving his eyes from the family crest painted over his bed and towards his parents who were already entering his room — uninvited.

“Yes, mother?”

“We are here to discuss your... marriage, Regulus,” Orion was the first to speak, which made Regulus curious. Maybe they were going for an amicable approach?

“And what is there to discuss, father?”

He saw his mother roll her eyes, annoyed about her husband not going straight to the point. “Your father and I wish to know if there is any contract between you and Peverell. As you do know, that's the way of our family, therefore we wanted to know what — if you do have a contract — the expectations are.”

“We do not have a contract, mother,” he answered with a bored tone, not interested in the conversation at all. Regulus' mistake was not realising how much his mother's opinions on the matter were close to obsessive. 

Regulus found himself enduring a relentless succession of what he considered to be the most excruciating, mentally draining, and headache-inducing thirty minutes of his life. Walburga engaged in a relentless stream of impassioned arguments, fervently advocating for the absolute necessity of a marriage contract and meticulously outlining why it was crucial for Regulus's protection. Each argument seemed to stretch on interminably, punctuated by moments of intense frustration and escalating tension, as Walburga articulated her unwavering stance on the matter.

At one point, when his mother turned her back to him to do Merlin knows what and Regulus took that as an opportunity to drink a Headache Relief Potion, he also noted that his father was doing absolutely nothing to stop his wife from going on about contracts forever. Regulus was certain his father was enjoying his torment. 

“Mother,” said Regulus, trying to get his mother's attention and make her stop speaking for a second. “Mother!”

Walburga turned around slowly, a questioning expression on her face as she locked eyes with Regulus. Silence hung in the air for several seconds. Regulus, feeling the weight of the quietness, sighed with relief, grateful for his mother giving him a few moments of peace. He then extended his arm and pointed towards a chain in the corner of the room, silently indicating his desire for his mother to take a seat.

To his astonishment, Walburga complied without complaining. She walked over to the chair with an unusual calmness and seated herself gracefully, refraining from bombarding her son with the usual barrage of questions or complaints. It was a rare moment of tranquillity, one that Regulus deeply appreciated. As for Orion, standing still close to the window and observing the two others, was left where he was, as Regulus was not feeling such generosity towards his father.

"I'm glad you care enough about my relationship with Hedwyn to think about giving me some reassurance by writing a marriage contract for us, but it is not necessary. No, let me speak. Hedwyn and I will be married by the end of the year, Mother. I understand that, in your eyes, my situation seems quite unstable, but I can assure you that my relationship with Hedwyn is nothing but honest. I understand that, for most families, contracts are important to protect both parties from potential issues, but I know that isn't the case for us. And, I mean this in the nicest way possible, Hedwyn and I are above this. While I appreciate your concern, my fiancé and I are not marrying for political or financial reasons, as many pureblood marriages are, but because we simply love each other. Not all marriages are the same, Mother. Actually, your marriage with Father was a lot like mine with Hedwyn, as we are together not for any grandeur ideas or goals but simply because we love each other."

Regulus recognized the expression on his mother's face and knew that she was trying her best to find the right words to say. He was relieved that she didn't immediately start screaming at him, which meant that she didn't think what he had said was outrageous. He eyed his father, more as to let his mother think for more time than because he cared for what the man had to say. What he found was the man nodding silently, eyes lost in thought. 

“I do think Regulus is right in this regard, dear,” Orion said while looking at his wife, shocking his son as the heir did not believe his father would agree with him ever. But as surprised as he was, there was no way he would let that opportunity go. He was a Slytherin after all.

“Thank you, Father,” he gave the older man a nod. “Do you see now, Mother? Again, though I appreciate your concern, I do not believe Hedwyn and I need a contract.”

Letting a defeated sound, Walburga seemed to realise that no matter what she said, her son would not go on with her wishes. She just nodded at Regulus, no deceit or anger in her eyes.

“Very well, Regulus. I'll let you take care of your marriage without interfering. Come on, Orion, it's almost tea time.”

As his parents left his bedroom, Regulus threw himself on his bed, tired from all the arguing and listening he had to do. He closed his eyes and allowed himself some rest. As for Kreacher, the elf continued to dust every object in the room, all the while eyeing Regulus to make sure that his master was sleeping soundly.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know how dangerous this will be, Orion. With the Dark Lord more powerful every passing year, Regulus will not remain untouched. Not after his betrayal and I doubt the Dark Lord would ever forgive him,” Walburga Black quietly passed around the Drawing Room, careful to not wake her son sleeping in his bedroom.

Orion rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He shook his head, frustrated with the situation they now had to live with. “No, he won't forgive them. Tom was never the forgiving person,” he ignored his wife hissing at him as he said his old housemate's true name. He sat on a chair with a view of the Black Family Tree. Orion looked at his ancestors and silently pleaded for them to protect his legacy. “But Regulus didn't seem concerned with any possible attacks against him or Peverell, did he? That's the oddest part in my opinion. As the Slytherin that he's always been, Regulus would first try to find a way out before jumping into a dangerous alliance.”

Walburga stopped pacing, a concerned look on her face. “You don't think he's been... bewitched, do you? I've heard from Lady Rosier that her husband spoke of how strong Peverell's magic felt. If someone so powerful could have the heir to the House of Black under his control...”

Orion shook his head. “Impossible. I put new wards in the house to detect any mind control after our unfortunate episode,” the two adults shivered as they remembered being under the Imperius Curse for what felt like years.  He would never admit how proud he was of his son since he came back to his senses. To maintain two people under the Unforgivable for so long is no easy feat. Their son truly was gifted.

Walburga's opinion was not so different from her husband's as she respected Dark Magic above most things. Even if she was the one suffering under the curse, it had been worth it just for her to realise her son did not shy away from his roots.

“If Regulus was under any curse or potion I'd be the first one to know,” Orion continued. “It does raise the question, however, about what the reason for his calm behaviour is. If feels as if he knows something that we do not. Something crucial. Could it be that they are planning to leave the country?”

Now it was Walburga's time to disagree. “No. Arcturus would never allow his heir to leave his country of birth. Can you imagine the disgrace? No, there is something else we cannot see. Something that would allow Regulus and his future husband to stay, perhaps? I also doubt Peverell would come to the country, claim his lordship, and then just leave. Nothing makes sense.”

“Well, we know some things, don't we? Regulus is our son, not a stranger. We know he would never to someone like Dumbledore, not even if he was desperate, so it's no refuge he has. As you said, he's not leaving the country either. Two possibilities are gone then. We just need to find out what keeps him here, confident enough to not lock himself somewhere forever.”

Walburga was nodding as her husband spoke. “You don't think that...?” she turned her head to him, waiting for Orion to finish. She analysed his face, a thoughtful look adorned his features and, for some reason, that intrigued Walburga. “You just told me that Raphaël believes Peverell to be powerful, yes? And, as opportunistic as Rosier is, I don't see why he would lie about this.”

“You think Lord Peverell is powerful enough to go against the Dark Lord?” Walburga had a sceptical look on her face.

“I would now, really. But what if Regulus believes so? Wouldn't that be a good reason for him being so nonchalant about having a target on his back? He must know the Dark Lord wants him dead for leaving his side.”

“That could be the case... But certainly, our son would be so foolish as to be so restful about it if he didn't have a definitive answer about Lord Peverell's powers, don't you think? We talked again and again about Regulus not being a witless boy. He's so different from Sirius in that regard... No, Regulus wouldn't be with Peverell if he didn't know, for sure, that the man could protect him.”

“If you're right, Walburga... You know what that means, don't you? Yes, if there is someone more powerful than the Dark Lord then it means that the balance will shift. If Peverell reveals his true powers then the pureblood families will flock to him in no time. With him being a dark wizard, it only helps him in that sense.”

“The children they could have,” Walburga whispered and Orion almost rolled his eyes but, as he thought about it, he couldn't help but agree with his wife. If a powerful wizard like Peverell were to have children with their son, the two lines becoming one would turn us into a powerhouse. Peverell and Black. Unimaginable.”

Chapter Text

29th of October

“Let the woman breathe, Charlus,” the man in question jumped back as his older brother chastised him. A groan left the man's lips as he went back to his seat, his wife letting out soft giggles behind him.

“You're so mean to me, Mont,” Charlus pouted and shook his head. On the couch in front of him, Fleamont and Hedwyn laughed while Euphemia shook her head.

When Harry had been invited by Charlus and Dorea to spend the day with them, he should've known that Charlus would do nothing but be around his wife and son like a dragon taking care of its eggs. The reason was unknown to him but, by the way his great-uncle was behaving, it seemed that Charlus was scared of even the dust particles when it came to the protection of his family. Morgana only knew how Dorea was dealing with her husband's antics without cursing him. She was blessed with the patience of a saint.

“Is the little man well?” Hedwyn asked, shifting their attention away from a brooding Charlus and to baby Castor in Dorea's arms. “He's so cute, the little star.”

“Oh, he's brilliant,” Dorea said with a slime. “Honestly, I thought it would be incredibly hard to take care of a baby for the first time, but Castor has been nothing other than perfect. He sleeps well, rarely waking us at night even. He doesn't cry a lot either, which I'm thankful for. I thought that I would relive my time when my nephew Cygnus was a baby, but our little Potter is as calm as one could wish for. All of the babies in the Black family are incredible criers, I must say. Even Narcissa and Regulus cried a lot from what I remember.”

“Oh, did he?” Harry asked with a devious smile. “I had no idea my fiancé had been a crybaby. I must bring it up to him someday, to see what his answer will be.”

Dorea sent him a glare, but the corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Now, don't be mean with poor Regulus. My great-nephew did come out of his crying times as he got older, much different from his brother. Merlin! And wasn't Sirius the biggest crier I've ever seen? The boy would wail day and night until Walburga gave him some food or a toy.”

Fleamont chucked. “Really? I can't say I can't see Sirius being like that,” the sarcasm in the man's voice was so obvious Euphemia couldn't help but snort.

“Now, darling, don't speak ill of poor Sirius,” Euphemia said defensively, but the devious smile on her face told otherwise. “Let's not forget that James was no different. Though I don't know where he got that from, since neither you nor Henry were said to be hard to take care of as babies. Your mother told me once that your grandfather would always brag to his friends about how his son was an angel, not crying during all hours of the night.”

Fleamont had a warm look on his face as his wife spoke about his family. “Father was awful to his friends, the poor men. Lord Henry's bragging knew no bounds,“ he chucked as he said. “And how my mother hated that. She would always say that it would curse the family with bad-behaving babies with all the jealousy coming from his friends.”

“Was Charlus a well-behaving child?” a smirk came to Hedwyn's face as he looked at his Great-uncle. Immediately Charlus straightened his posture and scoffed.

By the way Fleamont laughed while looking at his brother, it became clear that Charlus Potter did not behave well as a baby. The pout on Charlus' lips did not help his case, and with his wife and sister-in-law joining Fleamont, it became clear that he had lost before even starting.

“You're all so mean to me,” Charlus fake-sniffed and shook his head. “You're just jealous because I have the best personality here. You are all a bunch of old people.”

“Now, boys. Do stop the teasing,” Euphemia said while reaching for her cup of tea on the small table in front of the couch. She sipped her tea and rolled her eyes when she saw her husband and time traveller grandson pretending to not laugh at Charlus, who was now trying to beg Dorea for aid against his brother and great-nephew but was being ignored after calling the woman old. Despite the jokes, seeing her family interact with each other so happily made Euphemia relax in her seat, thankful for having this sweet time with the important people in her life.

Dorea was shaking her head and ignoring her husband's pleas when the baby in her arms moved. She looked down, smiled, and rocked him back and forth. “Hello, sweet,” she said in a calm and warm full tone. “Your father awoke you, yes?” She giggled when Castor mumbled incomprehensible noises. She heard her husband scoff and deny her claim but ignored it. Now she only had eyes for her little baby.

“Your fault,” Hedwyn told Charlus, a smirk on his face. “Don't you feel bad about disturbing your son's sleep? I wouldn't show my face here again if I were you, Charlie.”

“I did not do such a thing! And don't call me Charlie, it's humiliating. Nowadays no one respects fathers anymore, that's the problem. Don't look at me like that you goblin,” Charlus' fake anger only served to delight Harry more as he shook his head at his uncle's and laughed.

The three men continue to bicker and tease each other, while the two women decide to head to the porch outside, wishing to get some air. While Dorea went to get a coat for herself, Euphemia wrapped Castor in a warm blanket. However, when seeing the women going outside, the overprotective father followed his wife and sister-in-law, leaving Hedwyn and Fleamont alone inside.

“How are Lily and James?” Hedwyn asked after a while in silence. He sipped on the hot cocoa the house-elf had brought and waited for his grandfather's answer. For a second he thought the older man hadn't heard him, but then Fleamont turned to him. He first sighed, brows furrowed, before answering Harry's question.

“They are fine. Both of them are fine. But, as you know, James is getting... fidgety with being locked inside the house all day. I thought of asking him to come here to Potter Cottage, but he just shook his head. Not even Lily or Sirius can make him sit down and relax, he's too preoccupied with his friends fighting You-Know-Who. He receives letters from them quite frequently, of course, but not even that seems to pacify him.”

Hedwyn nodded, not surprised by the news. He could hardly blame his father for his desire to help in the war effort. After all, he too had done the same thing, even though it had all been orchestrated by Dumbledore. A sour taste came to his mouth as he remembered the former headmaster's machinations, controlling every aspect of Harry's life, even his eventual death by Voldemort's wand. “I understand him. I know how awful it feels to stay put while people you care about are fighting a war that you see as your war as well. Though I'm thankful that James won't be feeling like that for longer, as the Dark Lord's demise is getting closer.”

Fleamont's eyebrows shot up, not anticipating this development. “Truly? It's finally happening then? To be completely honest with you, Harry, I didn't think it would happen this year. Euphemia and I, as well as Dorea and Charlus, believed you'd wait until little Harry's birth.”

“Regulus and I wanted to deal with him before he did too much damage,” Hedwyn explained. “We haven't lost as many people as we would have, especially with the little interventions I did here and there, so we thought that it would be better to get rid of him as soon as possible. By the end of the month, we will all be freed from him, grandfather.”

Fleamont smiled at Hedwyn, happy for being called grandfather by the boy. Even if Harry was not a Potter by name, or even from this timeline, he was still the young man's grandfather by blood. No magic or deity could change that. “You don't know how glad I am to hear that, Hedwyn. I'll share the news with everyone when we get home and I'll tell James, Sirius and Lily to make sure to keep quiet about it.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled at the older man, pleased with his grandfather's understanding nature. “I'm glad we'll finally have peace as well. It's good to know that little Harry will not have to go through the same troubles as I did. Is Lily well? How's the pregnancy going?”

“She's doing well, though a bit nauseous some days. She absolutely hates not being able to make potions most of all,” the two men laughed at the comment, both very aware of Lily Potter's obsession with potion-making. The woman could rival the likes of Severus Snape with her skill and dedication to potions. “James has to remember her every day that she won't be able to get her mastery before the child is born. But other than that she's fine.”

“Does she have someone to get her an apprenticeship? I imagine that after the war things will go smoothly in regards to education since people won't have to deal with fear and anxiety. Does James still plan to get a mastery in Transfiguration? It's unfortunate that McGonagall won't be able to get him an apprenticeship, I heard he expected that she'd be available. Perhaps the new Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts will accept an apprentice?”

“I believe Slughorn will be the one to give Lily the apprenticeship. And he'll have more time as well, with his retirement next year. As for James, I'm unsure. He did expect that McGonagall would be his Transfiguration Master, but her antics while working for Dumbledore were just appalling. He was sad when I told him to no longer talk to the woman but agreed after a while. I did think about Professor Dyfodwg, though. I'll have to talk with James about it, to see what he thinks.”

The two men talked more for a long while, discussing Harry and Regulus' plans for after Voldemort's fall. Fleamont was curious about what would be done with the Death Eaters, as Harry promised that they would be dealt with. Hedwyn told his grandfather that the most bloodthirsty of the Dark Lord's followers would be given to the Ministry, though the most influential ones would have another fate. That piqued Fleamont's interest, unrolling into a set of arguments Harry made about the importance of his plans for the Wizarding World. Not all of Hedwyn's reasons were accepted with no counterargument, but Fleamont — even though still considering himself a grey wizard — did not disagree with the need to uphold the Statute of Secrecy.

Someone not aware of the history of the Potter family would've believed that Fleamont Potter would not agree with the idea of separating from Muggles, forgetting that, even though open to muggle-borns and half-bloods, the Potter were still a pureblood family. Not all of the Potter descendants were purebloods, as the family was much like the Malfoys — accepting of half-bloods sometimes —, but just because they were more accepting than the Blacks it didn't translate to ‘let’s embrace Muggles and their culture’. And as the two men spoke, it was clear to Harry that his family was not so different from other purebloods in Britain, which was not a disappointment to him. After all, the Potters could take part in his plans of sharing more of the old beliefs and customs wixen used to have, before the takeover by Muggle ideals and culture.

“I believe our future will be secure in your hands, grandson,” Fleamont said as he patted Hedwyn on the back and went to find his wife.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you tell him what exactly we're planning to do?” the sleepy tone in Regulus' voice didn't escape Hedwyn as he watched his fiancé putting on his nightwear and slowly walking towards their bed.

Regulus got on the bed, finding comfort in the warmth coming from Harry, and scooped closer to his partner. He put an arm around Hedwyn's shoulders, bringing the other man closer to himself.

“Not necessarily. There are a lot of things I don't feel comfortable discussing with my grandfather. Even if he's an understanding person, I doubt he'd like our ideas about legalising more of the Dark Arts. But I also don't believe it is his place to give us any reprimand, so I would like to avoid any conflict with my family. I wouldn't say I'm concerned with him getting angry or excluding me from them, but I don't want him to be disappointed in me.”

“I understand,” Regulus said while nodding. “I also don't think it would be a good idea to tell your family everything. I don't see a reason to tell them either. This plan of ours should stay between us, just in case some people try to stop them. We don't need this kind of pressure right now anyway.”

Hedwyn nodded and sighed. He looked at his partner, the other man was tired from a day of revising every aspect of their plan and brought himself closer to him. The content noise that Regulus let out made it clear how much he needed this. Every day that passed Harry could feel the other becoming more and more appreciated about the 31st of October. Not that it was an odd thing. Hedwyn thought Regulus' reaction was normal and even expected, but it still irked him that his fiancé was perhaps thinking something would go wrong. The worst part, for Hedwyn, was that he understood that, no matter what he told Regulus, the other would not accept his logic. ‘Fear triumphs over logic,’ Death had told Harry after the man became more concerned with his partner's state of mind.

Understanding that nothing could be done in order to make Regulus have more faith in himself and their plan, Hedwyn decided to just be there for his lover, in case Regulus wished for someone to talk to. As Regulus brought his other arm around Harry, hugging his future husband tightly, Hedwyn's mind went to his visit to the Potters today. Even though he didn't have his partner there, Harry was able to appreciate the moment of peach with his grandparents and great uncle and aunt, as well as with baby Castor. It was unfortunate for him that the baby was not yet old enough to start playing, so he just stayed with his mother the whole time. The thought of seeing Castor grow up brought a smile to Harry's face, as the thought of more Potters running around filled him with joy.

The thought of Potter's children also came with the question of how many children he and Regulus would have. As they never discussed the issue in depth, it was still something of a curiosity to him. Hedwyn knew that Regulus liked the size of his family, even with the number of relatives that trumped most noble and ancient houses, so imagining a big family for themselves was not a stretch. Harry knew he always wanted a big family, not wishing for any child Regulus and he might have to feel the same loneliness he felt growing up at the Dursleys.

One thing he knew, however, as he looked at the man of his life, was that they would be happy no matter what, as long as they stayed together.

He gave Regulus a sweet kiss, smiling during it, which turned into a passionate embrace as the two men shared warmth and love on the cold night of October.

Chapter Text

31st of October, 1979

The room fell silent as an ominous presence filled the air, pulling everyone's gaze toward the entrance to the Dark Lord's wing in the Averys' estate. Evan shifted in his seat, his eyes wandering over the figures of the estate's owners, Alaric and Sapia Avery. A pang of jealousy tugged at him as he envied the privileged family that hosted their lord. Not once had his lord favoured the Rosiers in such a manner, for reasons unknown to him. He often blamed the Dark Lord's unwillingness to request anything from him nowadays on his former friend Regulus. Alone in his room at night, with nothing else to do but think, Evan regularly pondered how Regulus' betrayal had affected his position in the Inner Circle.

Nails dug into the palms of his hands as he balled his fists, the only way he could relieve his anger without raising eyebrows. No, he couldn't bring shame to his family's name. Evan, in the most discreet way possible, tried to control his breathing. His short temper was known by all who were acquainted with him, which had led his mother to teach him to breathe in moments such as this. The scent of old wood and faint incense filled his nostrils, grounding him.

As his gaze passed through the other Death Eaters, he couldn't help but notice a paled and terrified-looking Lucius Malfoy, sitting beside his equally paled father. There were whispers of punishments against the Malfoys, Evan knew. No one was sure what could have been the reason for the Dark Lord to punish the two Malfoys, but it couldn't be anything minor. He looked at Bellatrix, certain about who had spread the rumours of the consequences of failing their lord. Evan was sure the new addition to the Lestranges had not consulted her sister, Narcissa, before smearing the image of her sister's new family. He shook his head, unable to comprehend the obvious treachery. By the glare Narcissa was giving her older sister, the blonde was very much aware of who the culprit behind the rumours was. She truly is a Lestrange, Evan thought bitterly. A family of backstabbers.

Evan swiftly took his eyes off the Death Eater as the door opened. He straightened his back and tried to hide his nerves. The Dark Lord's bloodlust had been greater in recent days than Evan could ever remember. Not even the losses to Dumbledore and his excuse of a vigilante group had enraged his lord as much as he was now.

The Dark Lord entered the room, one lazy step after the other. Evan tensed as he saw the man walk towards his chair, and he could tell by the atmosphere in the room that he was not the only one. The waves of rage and dark magic passed through him like a wall of bricks hitting his magical cores. Many of the other Death Eaters flinched and cowered away.

It was almost imperceptible, but he could see the anger in the Dark Lord's red eyes, and it took all his willpower to look at the man's eyes, even though the Heir of Slytherin's gaze was not on Evan. The man sat there in silence, staring at nothing. The desire to let out an awkward cough to lessen his internal struggle to remain in silence was only stopped by the glare his older brother Raphaël sent him. Evan checked his Occlumency walls to make sure he was not letting anything out and sneered at his brother for reading his intentions so easily.

“Bellatrix,” the hissing intertwined with actual words left the Dark Lord's mouth, making the people closest to the man stiffen. “Have you brought me what I bequeathed you?”

The woman froze, her eyes wide as she looked at the Dark Lord. Evan felt something was wrong instantly. No longer was the eagerness to please her lord present in her grey eyes, and her entire demeanour had changed. She moved slightly to her left, as if trying to put more space between her and the Dark Lord. Evan saw the moment the Dark wizard narrowed his eyes at Lestrange, as well as the woman lowering her head.

“Bellatrix, you'll answer me now. I gave you something for safekeeping, as a prize for the dutiful way you behaved in the raids, and I wish for it back. Will you deny your Lord this?” the man's crimson eyes were locked on the woman, who shivered at the attention.

Morgana, she'll be dead before sunrise, Evan thought. Bellatrix Lestrange was conducting herself in a way so unlike the prideful and pretentious woman she was known to be. It was interesting to see how much she had changed, just by not adhering to the Dark Lord's wishes. Perhaps she knows she'll be dead soon.

“N-No, my lord,” the woman shook her head, her eyes pleading. “The goblins, my lord. Someone took it from my vault and those filthy creatures did not notify me. It was the same day the dragon escaped! I did not know, my lord. Gringotts was supposed to be the most guarded place in the world, but the goblins, they-they are,” screams left Lestrange's throat, as if ripping their way out, as the Dark Lord sent the Cruciatus Curse on the woman. She thrashed in her seat. Blood started to run down the sides of her mouth, and Evan could only assume the woman was biting her tongue to stop the screams of pure pain from escaping.

To her right, Rodolphus Lestrange looked more concerned as time passed and the Dark Lord continued to torture the woman. Evan made himself smaller in his seat, not willing to draw his lord's ire towards him. Tears left Lestrange's eyes as she tried to stop her chest from hitting the wooden table, but the pain from the curse seemed too much for her to be able to control her own body.

“My lord!” Lord Julius Lestrange pleaded, the old man's eyes pained as he saw his daughter-in-law suffer more every passing minute. “Please, my lord!”

As Lord Lestrange rose from his seat, Bellatrix stopped her flailing against the chair and table, and the old lord screamed. Julius Lestrange was not expecting to be hit with the curse, and the pain from the unexpected Cruciatus caused his body to fall back on the chair behind it. However, as the man's weight hit the chair, the force from the impact made the dark wooden chair fall back. The loud sound of the chair hitting the floor echoed through the room together with Lord Lestrange's screams.

Evan's eyes were wide in shock as everything happened around him so fast. His gaze went to a now weeping Bellatrix Lestrange, to the lord of the House of Lestrange screaming on the floor. He almost got up and ran out of the room in fear of being the next to be tortured, but his brother gripped his arm and held him in place.

I'm gonna bloody die today, he cried in his head. The screams, together with the Dark Lord's dark energy engulfing the room, made Evan's head spin, disoriented. He bit his lower lip and cowered behind his older brother, putting a hand on the man's shoulders to signify his need for shielding from everything happening in the room.

When Rodolphus and Rabastan both got up from their seats and ran to shelter their father from the Dark Lord's curse, Evan gasped. He could almost not believe what they were doing and was sure the men would be killed right away. He even closed his eyes and shifted closer to his brother, too afraid to see what was happening. The screams from Lord Lestrange and the shouted pleas of the brothers were enough to make him whimper.

The screaming stopped, replaced by the Lestranges' hushed breathing. Evan dared to open his eyes again and saw the three men on the floor — the two brothers embracing their father and shaking their heads. While the other Death Eaters glanced between their lord and the three Lestranges, Evan felt the need to look over at Bellatrix. One eyebrow rose on his sweating forehead as he saw Narcissa Malfoy casting something at her sister's stomach area. Lestrange was biting her lips to not cry out loud — perhaps to avoid drawing the Dark Lord's wrath against her once more — while her younger sister whispered something to her. He saw Bellatrix nod at her sister, mouthing ‘thank you’ and putting her arms around her belly in a protective action.

Evan's head snapped to look at his brother, and he winced with the sudden motion. His brother, however, did not see the interaction between the Black sisters. He shook his head and pursed his lips, deciding to focus on the other Lestranges.

Rabastan and Rodolphus lifted their father from the floor and helped the man back to his seat, all the while under the Dark Lord's furious gaze. He saw Rabastan gulp and mouth something. Rodolphus said something to their father, and the man only answered with a nod, which prompted the two brothers to go back to their seats.

Silence reigned over the room as the Dark Lord remained impassive. The Lestranges had their heads lowered, ashamed. No one dared to move an inch, too scared of possible consequences. Evan tried his best to control his breathing, too aware of his surroundings and scared of getting anyone's attention. The young Rosier was still protecting himself from the Dark Lord's view, using his brother's wide shoulders as a wall between himself and his lord.

“I will decide on the proper punishment for your actions at another time. The House of Lestrange has displeased me greatly,” the Dark Lord's eyes were shining blood red as he looked at the Lestrange. Evan had to close his eyes for a second and tell himself he was not the one under scrutiny, yet. Opening his eyes again, he saw his lord eyeing Bellatrix with distaste, but not before casting the same look at Lucius Malfoy. How curious, he thought.

“Corban,” he saw as Yaxley stiffened after suddenly being addressed by a still-angry Dark Lord. The aura of darkness around his lord only got stronger, as if every second was an internal battle to not kill someone. Yaxley visibly gulped and bowed in acknowledgement. “What of your task at the Ministry? I wish for the information you've gathered now.”

“O-Of course, my lord,” Evan eyed the man curiously as he saw Corban lift a light brown wand with a shaky hand and summon a paper file. When Yaxley passed the file to Walden Macnair, Evan could not help but shift closer, ignoring any self-preservation. “These are all the information of accounts about Albus Dumbledore the Ministry has gathered over the years. However, something is still unknown concerning the former headmaster. For example, the Ministry hasn't been able to find Dumbledore's place of residence — only speculating about it being somewhere in Scotland.”

Evan half listened as his lord talked about how paranoid Dumbledore was as Raphaël sank his nails into his wrist, making Evan wince. He glared at his older brother and bit his lip to stop himself from cursing at him. He ignored the wave of humiliation as his brother tried to control him in such a public place, deciding to focus back on his lord, Raphaël and his controlling behaviour be damned.

“Walden, you are to speak with your acquaintances and try to learn more about Dumbledore's whereabouts. Since none of you are able to find an old man outside being humiliated by him on the battlefield then I have no option but to rely on creatures. Fortunately, Dumbledore has a soft stop for creatures like the ones you're known to engage with, Walden, therefore you'll be the one to bring me more information about Dumbledore.”

“I won't disappoint you, my lord,” the sick smile Macnair gave the Dark Lord almost made Evan gag. Together with the thought of why the Death Eaters would have any relation with creatures made him wish he hadn't eaten anything today. And by the looks of the other around the table, he was not the only one to think so.

“Be sure that you don't,” the Dark Lord answered lazily and changed the topic to discuss a raid that would take place today. As his lord explained the reason for choosing a Wednesday of all day was, apparently, because of the moon. Evan listed as the Dark Lord compared the refinement typical of Waxing Gibbous Moons to the cleansing of blood, as they would rid the world of the mudbloob filth during the night. His lord also talked about the preparations for a new Wizarding World, one where purebloods would be given back control of over the Ministry and where real witches and wizards would reign again. “As the great Salazar Slytherin wanted,” his lord told them.

When the plans for the raid were looked over, and the Dark Lord gave them his usual speech to boost their confidence, Evan gulped as red eyes glared at him. He dared not to look away, especially as his brother stiffened next to him. He tried his best to remain still and not bite his lip, not wishing to anger his lord or show weakness next to his colleagues.

“Our little Rosier,” the hissed English made Evan's skin crawl and he fought a shiver. He was so confused as to why he was being addressed that he only realised he gave his lord no answer when his brother side-eyed him. Evan respectfully acknowledged the man seated at the head of the table with a slight bow. Despite the nagging voice in his head reminding him of the impropriety of someone other than the head of the family occupying that particular seat, Evan chose to disregard it. “What do you have to tell us about your treacherous friend, Evan? I heard you and Regulus Black were rather close while at Hogwarts, were you not? Imagine my delight when I found out about that information from someone else, Evan. Do you have nothing to say in your defence?”

The desire to close his eyes and wait for the punishment to come was eclipsed by the knowledge that such action would only serve to bring shame to his name, so he straightened his back slightly and bowed his head. “Regulus and I haven't been friends for a while, my lord. Though we were quite close at Hogwarts, that friendship didn't survive outside of the school walls. The last time I saw Regulus, the new Lord Peverell had sunk his claws on him already. I did try to send him a letter, telling him about the mistake he was making but it came back unopened.”

“What a tragedy,” the Dark Lord said. The sarcasm in the man's tone was so obvious Evan feared his peers would laugh at him. “It's a shame none of Regulus' former friends were able to show him the truth, don't you think? Not even your dear Barty was able to do it. Unfortunately, he couldn't be here today because of his despicable father, but I fear you're quite aware of that fact,” with every word that left the man's mouth, the mockery became more and more obvious to Evan. It wasn't unusual for his lord to pick one of them to humiliate, supposedly to humble them, but he never thought he would be the target of it. And to speak about Barty, of all things! It took everything in him to not blush and curse at everybody around him. His infatuation with the son of the head of the DMLE was no secret, but it was just crude to discuss it so openly without his or Barty's consent. Evan could only be thankful his boyfriend was not here to hear any of this. “Another unfortunate reality is that only Severus was mildly close to Regulus. Two of my most praised followers turned traitors. It does raise some suspension over other people who were also close to the heir to the House of Black, don't you think, Evan?”

His body froze, Evan glanced at his brother for help but the man was facing the other way. No way of getting himself out of this situation came to mind. His mind started panicking, divided between preparing for the punishment and trying to come up with something to say. Evan opened his mouth but closed it as no words came out.

“Nothing? How pitiful,” the pain in his left arm started before he could beg for forgiveness. First, it felt as if someone was dripping hot water on his Mark. Then, as if hot oil was being spilt on his arm, he screamed. Evan could feel his skin and muscles melting with the heat, making his cry louder. The sensation of his bones liquefying was something he never thought he would ever experience, but he had little more than a second to ponder over that after the feeling crept on his entire arm. Sweat dripped off his forehead, forcing him to close his eyes. He forced his magic to prevent his body from going into shock, only to feel the strain on his magic as it tried to fight the pain. Suddenly, the pain was gone and he was left panting in his seat. All eyes were on him, more piteous than delighted. He couldn't bear it. Humiliation was something he knew, but not pity. Evan refused to look at his brother, not willing to suffer under Raphaël's glare. Only then did he realise his right hand was gripping his left forearm. It took a second for his fingers to work and release his arm. Though he knew his arm had not melted away, the ghost pain was still lingering on his mind, and the fear of lifting his sleeve was too much for him at the moment.

The Dark Lord said nothing to him before starting to ask something to Jude Tremblay. Whatever it was the two were discussing, Evan's mind decided it was too much work to pay it any attention. He could still feel his laboured breathing and the spasms on his left arm. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to be taken home by his brother and to hide underneath his thick white duvet. The raid of today was now of major concern to him, as he felt too weak to venture on a killing spree. In such a frail state, even a Muggle could take him down. Evan could feel someone poking his leg, someone to his right. Stop it you fucker, he could only muster a response in his mind. He knew Ansel was the one on his right, poking his leg for whatever reason, but Evan couldn't care less about what Gamp wanted.

“You're gonna get punished again, you sod,” Ansel hissed in his ear while glancing towards the Dark Lord to make sure the man was not looking at them. “Sit straight, for Morgana's sake,” Evan rolled his eyes lazily, too comfortable in his own misery to give Gamp any mind. He flinched when Raphaël's hand gripped his knee and tightened his grip, probably annoyed with both Evan and Ansel for daring to speak. Reluctantly, he did as he was told, but not before glaring at his brother and kicking Ansel on the ankle. His ears were still refusing to pay attention to his lord's words, so he let his eyes go around the table. Lucius Malfoy's eyes met his and Evan couldn't help but send him a kiss, mockingly. Hopefully, the Malfoys would not gain back their place beside the Dark Lord, so the fear of retribution was a feeble one.

Merlin, how he missed Barty in times like this. The fair-haired boy understood Evan like no one else and vice-versa. He groaned internally at the thought of his boyfriend having to deal with his obnoxious father damped his mood even further — if such a thing was even possible at that point. The prospect of seeing Barty was enough to keep him going, though. His boyfriend would finally leave Bartemius Crouch Sr. to the flies and join Evan somewhere else, in a place only theirs. Rogue memories of him, Barty and Regulus promising to be always there for each other threaten to come up, before he squashed them. There was no way he would allow those memories to come back now, not while in the presence of such deceitful people. Later, when alone in his bedroom, he could think, again, about why their friendship fell apart, but not now. Not now. Neither Barty, nor Regulus, would want for him to be in a vulnerable position while in the presence of the Master Legilimens Dark Lord.

“...gather more information about the Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black's whereabouts,” for some reason that caught Evan's attention. Something in the Dark Lord's tone was off; as if the man was... distressed? It was most likely not a concern about the two men, that was for sure. Evan's eyes flickered back and forth, from the Dark Lord's face to that of some Death Eaters. No one but Evan seemed to see through their lord in that moment. “I wish for a detailed assessment of Peverell's day-to-day routine. If you can't find his damned residence then find me anything else you can about that man. I want to know where he studied, which classes he took, who his friends were, and what his relationship with his parents was like. Desecrate their place of rest for all I care, but you'll find me everything that there is to know about Hedwyn Aelius Peverell. And if you fail me on this... the consequences shall be severe. I tire of all the talks and praises about that man in the papers. He's become a stone on my path and I intend to turn him into sand. Too much allegiance has been given to him, with the Shafiqs, Macmillans and Boots joining his crusades in the Wizengamot. Peverell already has the Blacks and many others on his side, and I won't allow any more power to be given to him.”

By Salazar, the man is jealous, the thought came to him before he could stop it from forming. Thankfully for him, he was not looking at the Dark Lord in the eyes. One could hardly blame the Dark Lord for feeling envy towards a powerful player like Peverell, of course, but to show it so shamelessly was on the brink of prudish. He daren't to look around, too cautious about being perceived as someone who's ridiculing their lord, even if it is done in thought.

When the Dark Lord rose from his seat, signifying the end of the meeting, Evan started to dread the raid that was to come. Though he felt better than before, the strain on his body was still there. Before he could quietly complain about it to his brother, however, a silver figure entered the meeting room. All eyes were on the shining creature made of light. A crow. A silver crow invaded the Averys' home, and by the look in the Dark Lord's eyes, it was not an expected visit. Evan shivered as the dark aura of his lord passed through him. When the distinct and all too recognizable sweet but dried tone Regulus Black often used when addressing those beneath him echoed through the silent room. Evan knew for sure that someone would die that 31st of October.

“Lord Voldemort, your foe sends you his regards. After all, your power and strength shall serve him well in his quest to become the legitimate lord over the House of Slytherin. The true and honourable Heir of Slytherin will guide the Dark to a new age of unrestrained magic, guarded by his Noble Hand's behest — both in the Ministry and in the country at large.
To the Inner Circle, composed of our nation's proudest heirs, heiresses, lords and ladies, be assured the prejudice and persecution many of your families have dealt with over the centuries by the Muggle-loving Light will come to an end — by the hand of the true Dark Lord of Wizarding Britain, The Conqueror of Death, Lord Hedwyn Aelius Peverell.”

Before his lord could even react to the message left by Regulus' Patronus, a small bird came sailing through the room and hit the Dark Lord in the face. In less than a second, a light shone on the room and where their lord stood there was no one anymore. Panic arose.

Chapter Text

31st of October, 1979 

As he watched his fiancé's Patronus fly away, Hedwyn tightened his grip on the dagger in his right hand. He looked down and saw as the moonlight touched the shiny metal and the small sphere of blue light that travelled through the blade, Dolohov's soul, became more visible. Soulscourge was shinier today. A testament to Death's powerful presence on this All Hallows’ Eve. Harry could feel it in the thrumming of the blade on his hand, as well as in the light from the mighty Moon above, ineffable forces were at play that night.

The very wind around the clearing where they were going to perform the ritual was unusually cooler, and the trees seemed unaffected by it. Their leaves and branches appeared petrified and dull in colour. The air felt heavier. The elements of nature were all anxious with anticipation.

“Today,” the word left his lips in a quasi-whisper, travelling through the clearing.

“...will mark the beginning of our new lives,” he heard Regulus finishing his phrase. A shy smile appeared on his lips as his partner's presence reassured him. He would not go against Voldemort alone. Regulus would be by his side.

The sounds of leaves being crushed under dragon hide boots as Regulus came closer to him soothed him in a way. His fiancé stopped to his left and joined their hands. The warmth of Regulus' hands and body grounded him even more, and the tension he didn't realise was there before left his shoulders. Hedwyn moved the dagger from his right hand to the other, and the two men both grabbed the weapon at the handle.

“It's all going to be fine, Wyn. You worry too much, darling,” Regulus' words were calm and sweet, a necessary reminder to an apprehensive Harry.

“I know, Reggie. But I cannot help but worry. What if something goes wrong and you get hurt? I would not be able to live with myself if something bad happened to you.”

Regulus shook his head and smiled. He brought his left hand to Hedwyn's cheek and softly caressed it with his thumb.

“Again, you worry too much. Everything will be fine, my love. We have the most powerful entity by our side, the very being the Dark Lords fears more than anything else. And, let us not forget, you are still the Master of Death, so Death can't touch me if you tell them not to.”

Harry knew it was true, all of it. His powers were unparalleled in the matters of Necromancy since the day Death came to him and explained their almost limitlessness. Death itself would never touch his lover if Hedwyn intervened. His fears and concerns were illogical, but that was the nature of fear.

He nuzzled against Regulus' hand, feeling the warmth from the soft skin against his cheek, and kissed the palm. For a second, he wished more than anything they could stay like this. If Regulus were to ask, Hedwyn knew he would leave everything behind, all his plans and aspirations, just to please his lover. He would do anything for Regulus. No one, maybe besides his parents and Sirius, had ever loved him as his fiancé did. And for the continuation of that love, he would do anything to appease his partner.

“Thank you, my prince,” he kissed Regulus' hand again before letting it fall from his face. “I could never do this without you. Now, let's wait for that bastard. He will be here soon.”

As soon as the words left his lips a shiver ran through his body. The mere acknowledgement of what was to come was enough to make him uncomfortable. To face Voldemort again was something he would never be willing to do if the benefits did not win over the losses. Damned the day we thought about this plan, he thought grimly.

His eyes went to the ritual circle, still covered by the dome of light from the ritual they had done days ago. He breathed with more ease as the magic was still strong to his senses.

Above, he saw the Waxing Gibbous Moon standing guard over the clearing. He nodded as if giving the celestial body a signal they were both familiar with.

When his gaze met the glistening blade, he grinned. Inexplicably, a confidence that was not there before coursed through him. Perhaps it was the dagger in his hand that radiated a type of magic only associated with Death himself, or maybe it was simply Regulus' presence by his side, he didn't know. He would not let it go away, however. Harry realised quickly he would need all the support he could muster, even if it came from himself, his lover, or an inanimate object.

He wondered if Regulus was truly confident in their plan, or if his fiancé was just trying to not feed his concerns by looking doubtful. Whatever the case was, he was thankful for Regulus' antics today. Harry was sure he would never be able to pull this out by himself, anxiety would've eaten him alive. The desire to bring his lover closer and keep him there was a strong temptation to avoid. Regulus' answer to such action was the only thing that stopped Harry from doing it. He knew his partner would not like for them to be distracted by the time Voldemort arrived.

He shook his head. They could do anything after the ritual was over, so he would wait. After today, the world was theirs. No more dark lords or old headmasters to worry about. Their plan would continue, of course, but nothing would be as hard as dealing with mad old men. Harry swore that, after today, only his wedding would be the thing he would focus on. Nothing else mattered other than ensuring his and Regulus' relationship advanced to the next step.

The wind got stronger and colder. Rustling leaves scattered around the clearing and the tree branches moved once again. Though still dull, the green of the leaves on the trees became closer to their natural state.

A blinding light appeared in the middle of the ritual circle, forcing Hedwyn to look away. His heart started to beat faster, the anticipation was a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Voldemort was here.

The first thing he saw were the dark robes, dyed in an inky black colour. Then the rest of the figure became clear and Hedwyn fought the urge to gag. Voldemort looked just as horrendous as in his previous life. Though not entirely serpentine, the distorted features on the sickly pale face were enough to make Voldemort look monstrous. How someone could do such horrid magic on themselves Harry didn't know.

Voldemort was bound. Ropes of white light were all around the man's lean body as if they were snakes constricting his moves. The resemblance to serpents preventing the so-called Heir of Slytherin from moving his bony limbs could have brought a smirk to Hedwyn's face, if not for the seriousness of the situation.

Before he could process what was happening, Regulus started to move forward, forcing Harry to follow. His grip on the dagger tightened as Voldemort's face became clearer.

“Voldemort,” the name coming from Regulus' mouth shocked Harry. He even looked left and right to make sure no Death Eater would Apparate around them. No sound of Apparition could be heard, and he wondered if the wards of Gwynt Keep were strong enough to prevent unwanted people from getting in. “How do you feel, your Darkness?”

The sarcastic tone in Regulus' voice brought his attention back to the scene in front of him. Regulus with a devious smile on his face and Voldemort looking at him with angry red eyes.

“Regulus Black,” the half-English half-Parseltongue sent a shiver down Hedwyn's body, and he shifted his stance to try to appear less uncomfortable. “The traitor comes back to me once more. I should've known you would try something as ridiculous as this, dear Regulus. Why don't you release your lord from this mockery of a prison and accept your due punishment, Regulus? As the fair Lord that I am, I won't punish the House of Black with death. End this now, boy, before regret becomes all you know.”

Regulus seemed to find the situation quite amusing, and his laughter suggested to Harry that he wasn't the only one who thought Voldemort's strategy of trying to compel Regulus to do his bidding was utterly insane. The man was perhaps too surprised by being kidnapped to think about a proper intimidation tactic.

“I am no longer one of your vassals, Riddle,” the name made Voldemort's eyes widen. Once the man focused his gaze on Regulus' left forearm, the Black Heir laughed again. “You can't punish me with the Mark either. That horrid stain is no longer on my skin.”

Regulus lifted his sleeve, revealing his unmarked arm. That seemed to enrage Voldemort more than being trapped. The man's magic made the dome shake slightly and the ropes of light tightened around him.

“How?” Voldemort's tone was laced with both anger and disbelief.

After witnessing Regulus openly ridiculing their enemy, Harry felt a newfound sense of assurance and decided to actively participate in the revelry.

“How do you think, Tom?” it took a second for the understanding to pass through Voldemort's face, but when he realised Hedwyn's words were not spoken in English his face contorted into an ugly surprised expression. “It was quite easy to take the Dark Mark off of Regulus' beautiful skin. You should've made it harder to take it off if you planned on enslaving your followers forever, Tom.”

“So you are the other Parselmouth, I see. Why do you fight against me, Hedwyn Peverell? Aren't we related if you are also gifted with Slytherin's blood? Don't you believe family should stay together, young man? I imagine you are most lonely without your deceased parents by your side, Hedwyn. I could be a figure in your life. A relative for you to rely on and to help you improve yourself. I could make you great, untouchable.”

“Your words mean nothing to me,” he answered in English, for Regulus' sake. “And do you think I would believe you care about family, Tom Riddle Jr.? The man who killed his father and grandparents is really trying to speak to me about family. The man who sent his only uncle to Azkaban. Don't make me laugh.”

It was clear by Voldemort's expression that the deformed lord was not expecting Harry to know a thing about what he had done in his youth. The widening of his eyes and the clenching of his teeth told everything Hedwyn needed to know: Voldemort would try to manipulate him in every way possible.

The disgust he felt for Voldemort was immense. An old familiar hatred returned to him as he remembered how the man had tried to deceive him when he was eleven, by promising to bring back Harry's parents — the same ones Voldemort himself had murdered.

And for the man to use family to try to manipulate him once again was just incredible to hear. It was at that moment that Hedwyn understood how awful of a human being Voldemort really was. Nothing was sacred for his nemesis other than to keep himself alive.

“Hedwyn,” Regulus' voice brought him back to the present. “Let's finally get rid of him, love.”

Harry gulped but nodded. This was it. They would defeat Voldemort for good, and build a new life for themselves, together.

Regulus was the first one to go through the dome of light, with Harry just slightly behind him. The dagger in their hands glistened and Voldemort's red eyes seemed to finally see the blade for the first time. If the way the man tried to move away from the approaching wizards was because of fear, Hedwyn and Regulus chose to not comment on it.

The stone platform shook again as Voldemort's magic reacted, though the man's face was impassive. Steam came off from the areas where the ropes touched the pale skin, as if the ritual magic was fighting against Voldemort's will to break free.

Careful to not step on any runes or sigils, Hedwyn and Regulus advanced towards Voldemort until they were close enough to touch him.

The atmosphere within the enclosed dome was heavy with an almost suffocating thickness, oppressive under the weight of the ritual magic's attempts to contain Voldemort and dampen his dark powers. Harry felt an unseen force pressing down on his chest, causing him to instinctively place a trembling hand over the centre of his heaving chest in a desperate bid for relief.

By the expression he saw on Regulus' face when he turned to his lover, the other man was in a similar situation, though he looked more composed than Hedwyn. Their eyes met and Regulus gave him a sharp nod, which he answered in the same manner.

In the sky above, the Moon looked almost like a dimmed star as its light seemed stronger than before. Harry wasn't sure if it was due to the light of the dome or if his own mind was playing tricks on him, but the Moon's intense presence comforted him in a way.

Jointly, the two men raised the arms which carried the dagger and raised it above their heads. The moonlight hit the blade and caused it to gleam more than ever before. Regulus cleared his throat before speaking.

“Oh, Death, mark this blade as yours once more. Bless it with your binding strength and your commanding might, to inhibit our foe and subject his followers to us. Bless us, your Great Master and his Noble Hand, as the holders of Tom Marvolo Riddle's soul and power.”

Voldemort's body twisted with Regulus' words and his magic started to cause cracks to appear on the stone underneath him. The light of the dome shone brighter, making the man hiss and close his eyes. A muffled scream left Voldemort's thin lips as the ropes restraining him burned his skin through the thin fabric of his dark robes.

The smell of burning flesh and the groans Voldemort let out instead of screams brought a twisted sense of accomplishment to Hedwyn. He did not realise it at the time, but the fact that Voldemort died so easily in his former life was a great disappointment to him. To see the man who had caused him so much pain die easily had been too dissatisfying. Now, however, a new opportunity for revenge arose and Harry would not let it be wasted.

“I call upon Death, as your master, to bring the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle the suffering he is due. Oh, companion of mine, punish the one who defied your might by severing his soul and who brought me, your chosen, unimaginable pain. Punish him, Death, and gift my beloved and me the chains the so-called Dark Lord uses to control his followers.”

The handle of the dagger started to heat at the same time a wave of magic came down his arm. He heard Regulus gasp at the feeling but refused to look anywhere but at Voldemort's face. Though the man tried to hide his fear, the look in his eyes was enough to make Harry grin.

“May your soul serve us well,” Hedwyn and Regulus said in unison. “May your body never know death. We curse you with eternal life. Suffering, never ending. Your magic shall be ours to wield and consume. Hollowness, your last and only acquaintance.”

As they lunged forward with the blade aimed at Voldemort's chest, a surge of panicked energy from the dark wizard created a powerful barrier that separated Harry and Regulus from Voldemort. Despite the formidable magical obstacle, Harry and Regulus pressed on with their attack, relentlessly driving the dagger towards Voldemort in a desperate attempt to shatter the protective wall. Cracks on the stone beneath them started to become more visible, though they never touched the runes or sigils. The light of the dome was almost burning to the eyes as the ritualistic magic attempted to thwart Voldemort's attempt to free himself.

“You foolish boys,” Voldemort hissed. “Cease this in this instant. Weak wizards such as you will never be able to defeat Lord Voldemort. I am the heir to Salazar Slytherin himself. I am the last of the greatest lineage in Magical Britain.”

Hedwyn could feel his anger building with each passing moment, fueled by the unforeseen complications of the ritual and the triumphant gleam in Voldemort's eyes. When he lifted his wand and aimed it at the barrier, Hedwyn could sense a surge of magic welling up inside him, as if in response to his feelings.

A harrowing, gut-wrenching scream reverberated through the air as Harry's magic carved a path through the imperfections in Voldemort's mystical shield. In that crucial instant, Hedwyn's mind raced to comprehend the situation, realizing that Voldemort had funnelled an excessive amount of magic into the barrier, inadvertently forging a link between his own magical essence and the energy shield.

He could see in the corner of his eyes that Regulus started to do the same thing. As a screech came from Voldemort, he silently thanked his fiancé for the help. It seemed that, for reasons unknown to him, Regulus magic was more aggressive against Voldemort than his own.

The barrier exploded with a deafening noise reminiscent of shattering glass, causing the ritual magic to tighten the ropes around Voldemort even further. As the ropes seared through the fabric of the man's robes, parts of his robes burnt away, leaving underneath it only charred, blackened skin riddled with deep fissures. Though the sight was disgusting to witness, Harry refused to look away. He found solace in Voldemort's torment, thinking that every moment of pain the dark wizard experienced was well-deserved.

As Voldemort's screams echoed through the clearing, he turned his gaze away from Riddle and locked eyes with Regulus. The silent understanding between the two of them was all they needed as they shared a nod. With unwavering determination, they tightened their grips on the handle of the dagger before simultaneously driving it deep into Voldemort's form, breaking skin and bones as the blade disappeared inside the dark wizard's chest.

The sounds Voldemort let out were almost deafening. Screams mingled with pleas and curses come from the man in a barrage of tumultuous-like words and noises.

The skin surrounding the dagger's point began to wither and turn a sickly shade of black, while a web of cracks resembling decaying flesh emerged and snaked from the centre of Voldemort's chest to the entirety of his torso.

The noxious stench alone nearly caused Hedwyn to heave and involuntarily loosen his grip on the handle. Yet, Regulus, sensing his distress, nudged his shoulder and attempted to draw his attention away from the ghastly spectacle unfolding before them.

As Voldemort's body deteriorated, his anguished cries reverberated through the clearing, dominating every other sound. The blowing wind and the rustling of leaves were mere whispers against Voldemort's screams. Faced with the oppressive cacophony of Riddle's cries, the two men abandoned any hope of exchanging words, realizing that it would be futile against such overwhelming noises.

The handle grew unbearably hot, slightly burning the palms of the two men's hands and compelling them to release their grip. They swiftly stepped back, a mixture of anticipation and caution took over Hedwyn's eyes as he watched the handle intently. The air around them seemed to hum with energy, signalling the ritual's progression.

Without hesitation, Regulus reached out, his hand finding Harry's with practised ease. Their fingers intertwined naturally, providing a shared sense of comfort and solidarity amidst the uncertainty. Standing side by side, their hands clasped tightly together, they waited for the ritual to reach its conclusion, hearts beating in synchrony.

When Voldemort finally lost his voice, being left with only whispers of screams, Harry breathed out. He chuckled when he heard Regulus doing the same thing and gave his partner's hand a light squeeze.

He had not noticed before the tears rolling down Riddle's face, but the sight brought a smirk to his face. Seeing his biggest enemy suffering for all he had done, as well as what he would do, was a private spectacle for Harry. 

“Getting the pieces out of the Horcruxes will be a walk on the part in comparison to this,” Regulus' words made him laugh and shake his head.

“I can't say you're wrong, even though I want to do nothing else right now but go to sleep.”

A tiny blue light appeared on Voldemort's chest, drawing their attention back to the ritual. The light slowly travelled towards the dagger, disappearing as it touched the blade. Immediately after the light was gone, the ropes of white light faded away and Riddle's body started to thrash around. It hit the floor hard and the sounds of bones breaking made Harry wince.

Voldemort began to mutter indistinctly, his voice barely audible due to the strain on his throat from all the screaming. Meanwhile, his body contorted on the floor, seemingly independent of his will. The bizarre spectacle came to an abrupt halt when Regulus unleashed a stunning spell on the man, eliciting a quiet chuckle from Harry.

“I'm not gonna lie, I fully expect something going terribly wrong,” Regulus rolled his eyes at him.

“You have no faith in us,” said Regulus. “Now get the Horcruxes while I get Riddle's blood. And be quick because I do want to sleep before all the madness of tomorrow.”

He watched with a grin as Regulus pursed his lips while walking closer to Voldemort's body. Yeah, tomorrow will be a mad day, he thought while laughing to himself and ignoring Regulus' raised eyebrow. But it will also be worth it. 

Chapter Text

1st of November, 1979

The screams startled the people closest to the fountain with the statue of the witch and wizard, in the Atrium. Without knowing what else to do, people started to run. Shoulders bumped against backs, chest and other shoulders as panic grew. Aurors arrived and started to shout at people to get out of the way as they tried to approach the fountain. It was a futile tactic. There were just too many people in the Atrium and too little space for them to hide in.

The fear in the eyes of those who were closer to the statue concerned the Aurors as they got closer and closer. What could be the reason for all the teary eyes and paled faces? Several of the Aurors looked grim as they moved forward while others were openly shaking with anticipation and fear.

“It's him!” one of the Aurors shouted as he saw the figure by the statue. Some of the man's colleagues tried to grab him when they saw the Auror running away. Though the man's reaction caused some of the other men and women from the DMLE to proceed with caution, they refused to not investigate the reason for all the chaos.

Shock and dread coursed through the bodies of the Aurors when the figure became visible. This time, the screams came not from the public as they cowered in fear, but from the Aurors who, just seconds ago, were resolute in finding the cause of the madness. 

“It's You-Know-Who!” Auror Oscar Worrall shouted and stepped back, bumping into his colleagues as he tried to create more distance between himself and the dark wizard.

“Wizards and witches of Britain,” the hissed voice echoed in the Atrium, silencing all other sounds. No one dared to breathe or move as they waited for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to continue speaking. Many people were crying in silence, the horror they felt too great for them to withstand without showing any emotions. “I come here today with an offer. Put down your wands and kneel before Lord Voldemort and your lives will be spared. Fight against me and you and your families will suffer the consequences. You will soon learn that I am a benevolent leader, but only towards those who follow me withou-”

“Voldemort!” two voices shouted in unison, drawing everyone's attention to the two wizards passing through the crowd of people.

“It's Peverell and Black,” Worrall whispered to his colleagues Francisca Acker and Jasper Atteberry. The two only nodded faintly.

“They are mad,” Acker said while shaking her head and watching Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black approaching You-Know-Who.

Without saying a word, a flash of green light lit the Atrium, causing people to stumble against each other as they tried to flee while still looking at the three wizards by the statue.

Regulus Black was quicker than the Killing Curse, however, and conjured a mirror to shield them. Cheering echoed as the people rejoiced in seeing the next Lord Black's quick thinking. The cheerfulness soon died as the dark wizard aimed his wand at the crowd. However, before You-Know-Who could cast a spell, a beam of purple light collided with him. The man took the unknown curse from Peverell without showing how much pain it caused him.

The battle unfolded as a captivating spectacle for all the onlookers. Hedwyn Peverell's tactics exuded power and aggression, as he lunged forward with forceful strikes. In contrast, Regulus Black fought with a composure that was as striking as it was effective, executing his moves with deliberate precision and keen awareness of his opponent's every move.

Flashes from cameras all around the Atrium documented every moment of the battle. From You-Know-Who's never-stopping Killing Curses to Peverell and Black's intertwined attacks that forced the dark wizard to put on shield after shield.

As the minutes passed, the strength of the foe of the Wizarding World was clearly diminishing. Eyes followed the man's every move as the people waited for the end of the fight. People were either biting their lips, tapping their feet or sweating nervously as they became more impatient to see who would win. And if they would suffer under the victor.

Eyebrows raised as Black and Peverell lifted their wands at the same time and shouted an unknown spell. The tip of their wand shone a bright blue light that went sailing towards You-Know-Who, hitting the man on the chest.

Everyone stopped breathing and it felt as if time stopped. Black and Peverell stood still, their eyes fixed on the wizard in front of them.

The wizard's body hit the floor and people all around the Atrium gasped.

People started to cry and others to cheer. Many hugged others around them and some dropped to the floor, crying and laughing at the same time. It became hard to speak as no particular sound could be heard in the cacophony of happy and relieved noises. Not even the Aurors cared about anything else at the moment other than hugging their colleagues or crying with them.

At some point, someone levitated Voldemort's body and left it levitating above a cheering crowd. Small fireworks of all colours could be seen as people relished on their new freedom.

Regulus Black and Hedwyn Peverell were lifted and paraded around on men's shoulders as people thanked them and called the two heroes. The couple was waving and smiling at the witches and wizards around them.

The festivities continued for hours as an increasing number of witches and wizards gathered at the Ministry to unite with their fellow countrymen. As time went on, it became evident that the names Peverell and Black would be revered as titles of great honour, with the two men being celebrated as the saviour of the Wizarding World." 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was filled with an air of celebration as the Minister's voice echoed around the chamber. "We gather here on this glorious day, mere hours after our liberation," he proclaimed. "to congratulate our saviours, Regulus Arcturus Black and Hedwyn Aelius Peverell!"

The words were met with thunderous applause from the diverse crowd gathered in the chamber. Journalists, Ministry workers, and members of the esteemed Wizengamot alike had all come together to honour and pay tribute to Hedwyn and Regulus for their heroic efforts.

As for the couple, they sat on conjured chairs placed where the Minister's seat used to be. Both chairs were transfigured to appease the two heroes. The symbol of the crow with the Deathly Hallows on its chest was chosen by the couple to represent them, and was plastered all around the room — in banners on the walls and flags people waved left and right.

Harry smiled and waved at the people while Regulus gave them a thankful look. Glancing around, Hedwyn made sure to meet the eyes of the wixen from the Inner Circle. Malfoy, Lestrange, Rosier and the others all looked extremely uncomfortable to be there.

“Do stop staring at them, darling,” Regulus whispered in his ear. “We’ll deal with them tomorrow, but you're making it too obvious that we know something. Don't spoil our fun.”

“The Ministry and the people of Britain all thank our heroes for their magnificent duel against You-Know-Who. Not only Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black defeated the man who, for years, created chaos in our country, but they also gave us the list of every single Death Eater. Every single one! And I tell you now, with great relief, that our Aurors are already hunting those criminals.”

The Minister waited for the applause to go down before speaking again. “But the reason for us being here today is not to talk! We are here to compensate our heroes for their marvellous display of magic and the subsequent fall of Lord Voldemort. First, our saviour will be given the Order of Merlin. First class! Then, in accordance with our Chief Warlock Albert Smith, as well as a majority of this chamber, our heroes will appoint someone of their choice as the new Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. As they were already part of the Wizengamot per their noble names, Lord Peverell and Heir Black are acquaintances with the inner workings of our esteemed institution. I can assure your their choice will be nothing but great.”

Hedwyn would have to thank Death for suggesting he put that idea in the Minister and Smith's heads. There would be some not-so-pleased noises from the Light Faction, but he knew they would not dare to question one of the saviours of the Wizarding World. Turning towards Regulus, the two men exchanged a look and then turned to the crowd.

“For his knowledge of the workings of the Ministry, as well as his honourable character, our choice could not be anyone but Lord Arcturus Cetus Black,” as expected, some of the light wixen groaned or huffed at their choice, but the sounds coming from them was quickly overpowered by the applause. “Lord Black has worked in the Ministry for decades after succeeding his father, Lord Sirius Phineas Black II. For many years Lord Arcturus Black has brought forward important pieces of legislation, such as the Magical Forrest Protection Act and the inclusion of a program to bring more children from impoverished families to Hogwarts. In my and my fiancé's mind, there is truly no other illustrious figure as trustworthy and competent as Arcturus Cetus Black III.”

“A great choice indeed!” said the Minister. The man then proceeded to acknowledge the resignation of Albert Smith, which went swiftly, as expected. It had not been as easy to probe Lord Smith's mind and convince him to step down, but Harry was determined to make as many changes as he could in a short period of time. He knew how susceptible to change public opinion was, so he didn't want to risk losing any opportunity.

Lord Smith rose from the seat designated for the Chief Warlock and made his way to the esteemed chair of the House of Smith. Arcturus stood up from his seat and proceeded to the centre of the grand chamber, where he would formally take the oath of office.

“Do you, Arcturus Cetus Black, swear to uphold the morals and ideals of this body with faithful deliberation and with consideration towards your own ideologies and wishes?” the Minister asked Lord Black.

“I do,” Lord Black said with his wand to his chest. A golden glow formed around the man, signifying the acceptance of the oath. The man then walked towards the seat assigned to the Chief Warlock and sat down. 

To the shock of many after his grandfather finished his initiation, Regulus raised his wand and pointed it to the chair of the House of Black. The tip of the wand glowed purple and the Dark Faction clapped in respect. Regulus would now be Lord Bearer to the House of Black, in the Wizengamot. His duty was now to oversee the matter assigned to his house as the current lord occupied a new role. Harry looked at his fiancé with shiny eyes and a beaming smile. Watching his lover show his new political power did something to him that it was impossible for Hedwyn to not worship Regulus with his eyes.

“The chamber recognises Heir Regulus Arcturus Black as Lord Bearer to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” the new Chief Warlock Arcturus Black acknowledged Regulus' claim.

When the additions and the flattering were over, the Minister and most of the public left, leaving only the members of the Wizengamot and some reporters. The Chief Warlock then began an emergency meeting, asked by Hedwyn before the Minister had left. As Chief Warlock Black asked Hedwyn to come forward and present his thoughts he rose his seat and looked around at his colleagues.

“Honourable members of the Wizengamot. I first would like to apologise to you for an emergency meeting on a day such as this, but the issues I bring forward must be addressed in order to avoid the problems that brought us Voldemort,” many in the chamber shivered at the name. “I would like to propose that all wixen are to be introduced to the Wizarding World at the age of four. I know such an idea is controversial, but I ask you to hear me first. As some of you know, part of the reason for the reluctance our majority pureblooded society feels towards those raised under Muggle ideologies is the newcomers' refusal to learn more about our world. Of course, now we have a class in Hogwarts for those raised in the Muggle world, but I believe that is not enough to appease tensions. My belief is that, once children are introduced to our world before Muggle thinking can take root in their minds, the new generations of muggle-raised children will no longer try to force changes in our world. I am aware not all children will choose Wizarding traditions over the Muggle way of life, but I do believe most will. It is not a perfect solution, far from it. We should all aspire to change the conditions that led someone like Voldemort to gather so many of our own. None of us here are powerless or naïve, therefore there is no reason for us not to pursue the necessary changes to protect our traditions and lifestyle.”

A discussion took over the chamber as Hedwyn sat down and waited for his colleagues to deliberate about his proposal. Most members of the Grey Faction seemed interested in the idea, including prominent members such as Lord Amir Shafiq and Lord Constantine Boot look, who even tried to sway the opinions of their fellow factioneers.

Lord Shafiq, who Harry thought was the most reasonable person within the Greys, formed a group with Lords Boot and Smith to bring more of their fellow faction allies to their side. Amir Shafiq truly behaved like a factionist, dividing groups within his faction in order to speak first with those who were reluctant to vote in favour of the proposal.

As he saw the Greys and even the Lights discussing his idea, Hedwyn glanced over the Dark Faction. Now, without Voldemort, many of his colleagues would be more confident in voting for his proposals without the fear of the dead lord going after them. There were people debating the proposal, but he knew it was only so they didn't look odd waiting in silence as the other two factions discussed his idea.

“Lord Peverell,” a voice called his attention. To his surprise, it was none other than Alice Longbottom, or Fortescue-Longbottom, Lady Fortescue, who called to him. He acknowledged her call with a nod. “Where would the children learn about the Wizarding World? Do you propose they are sent to Hogwarts?”

“No, I believe Hogwarts would have too much trouble having all of those children,” he explained. “I would propose children are to be sent to one of the two new schools being built in Caershire, Springhill Academy for Magical Children would be my preferred choice.”

“But how would the muggle-born and other children that live in the Muggle world travel to a school in a magical village?” Florence Rosier-Burke, Lady Burke, asked from the side of the Dark Faction.

“Well, I believe it's a matter of logistics. We would have to get to a solution that is both simple and safe for the children. For example, we could give them a portkey, but that could come with unforeseen problems, or hire a teacher or member of the academy's staff to collect the children. We don't have many muggle-born or muggle-raised children anyway, so I don't think there would be many kids for someone to pick up and Apparate to the academy with them.”

“The second choice does seem more reasonable,” Lady Fortescue said. “Indeed, we do not have many wixen children that live in the Muggle world, if I'm not mistaken only five to nine muggle-borns go to Hogwarts every year as first years, so it's not as if it would take hours to get all the children.”

Alice Fortescue-Longbottom's words seemed to have an interesting effect in the Light Faction, as many of the people in it looked a lot more agreeable towards Harry's proposal. It isn't an odd occurrence, he thought. All of the Wizengamot was made of a majority of purebloods and only a few half-bloods, so even the Light or Light-adjacent witches and wizards were not fierce supporters of Muggle traditions.

As the debate period ended, Chief Warlock Black called for the voting that would reveal if Hedwyn's proposal would pass and who would be responsible for creating a system to implement it.

The Dark Faction was the first to lift the wands, unanimously voting in favour of Harry's plan. As the most prominent member of the Dark, together with the Black and the Malfoys, the name Peverell put Hedwyn in a position where very few in his faction would dare vote against him in matters of upholding wixen values. Though some of them might resent him now for the defeat of Voldemort, the purebloods knew an influential man like Harry could do great things for their cause.

The Greys followed soon after, also with a unanimous vote in Hedwyn's favour. Though their reasons were not completely the same as the ones the Dark had, they thought the implementation of a way to prevent someone like Voldemort from arising was necessary enough to side with Harry. With more children from the Muggle world respecting and even participating in wixen traditions, it must seem reasonable to them that part of the animosity between people of different blood status would diminish, mused Harry 

With the Darks and Greys all voting in favour of the proposal, the Light Faction's vote mattered very little since a majority had already been reached. But, to the shock of many, a sizable number of members of the Light decided to vote in Harry's favour. People closer to Dumbledore did not look as if they agreed with some of their colleagues' decision. Both Harvey Longbottom and Elphias Doge were so red one could think the men were about to explode. It took everything in Harry to not laugh at the men's faces, but he did smirk at them.

“A majority has been formed!” Chief Warlock Black announced. “I will immediately send to Ms Elisaria Pyrites from the Department of Magical Education and Mr Dominic Max from the Department of Magical Transportation letters informing the need for, first, the creation of classes for those children who are either born from Muggle parents or live in the Muggle world to teach them about our ways and traditions, as well as a way for them to travel — safely — to Springhill Academy for Magical Children, in the Black and Peverell village of Caershire.”

The members of the Wizengamot, tired of the eventful day, wasted no time before getting up from their seats and leaving the room. For many of them, the rest of the day would be filled with celebrations, but for others, particularly those who were Death Eaters, they would probably hide in their homes and hope their names were not on the list Hedwyn gave the Ministry.

Hedwyn and Regulus sat alone in the chamber after everyone got out, too tired by all that had happened to move and go home. With their fingers intertwined and shoulders pressed against each other, the two men stayed in silence. In Harry's mind, there was only happiness in their plan which was succeeding at every step.

Though their work was hardly close to over, Hedwyn knew the next part of their plan was nothing in comparison with the work that was defeating Voldemort. But that hardly mattered to him. As long as Regulus was by his side, Harry knew they could take on the world and win.

Chapter Text

2nd of November, 1979

Theodore almost fell from the chair when his arm started to burn. Still feeling the torment of exhaustion, his mind worked hard to understand what was happening. Trying to look at his forearm while rubbing his eyes, he realised the pain was faint now. For a second he thought he had imagined it, that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. As exhausted as he was, it wouldn't be an unbelievable theory.

The pain started again, and Theodore gritted his teeth. It was real. His lord called for him. But how could it be? He was there to watch the man he knew since the two of them were at Hogwarts die by Peverell and Black's wands. Could the Dark Lord be immortal? It seemed almost as inconceivable as two young wizards defeating the most powerful Dark Lord in recorded history. It was hard to believe his lord was truly immortal. No one can foil Death, that was the law of existence.

Not willing to undergo a Cruciatus so early in the morning, however, Theodore put his concerns aside as summoned his cloak and started his nervous walk. His steps echoed around his manor, fighting against the sounds of rain outside. The coldness of the Notts' ancestral home had always been something akin to an embrace to him, but now he felt the atmosphere inside Stormheart was nothing other than oppressive — as if Death himself watched his every step.

Rain poured on him as he reached the Apparition point outside the stone walls of his home. He fought a shiver, not bothering to wonder if it came from apprehension or fear. Drenched from his long dark hair to the inside of his boots, he disappeared, leaving the cold early morning air behind.

His eyes instantly moved around when he felt the ground underneath him. Theodore did not know this place, that was for sure. The most unrecognisable part above all was the massive structure in front of him. Stone walls that could stop a giant stood against the green of the hill and mountains around it like an intimidating figure. Seeing a huge wooden door, possibly the only entrance to whatever was inside, he walked forward. He ignored the bothersome noises coming from his soaked boots and walked closer and closer to the door.

When the patterns on the wood became more noticeable to his tired eyes, a thundering sound made him jump back. The door suddenly divided vertically in the middle, all the while looking as if that was its natural state, and opened.

The sight before him made him lose control of his jaw. If his mind was not so muffled by lack of sleep and fear of punishment, perhaps he would have realised the expression on his face was most unbecoming of a lord of his status.

If someone told Theodore that there was a structure bigger than the Blacks' ancestral home in Britain he would have laughed, but the castle-like building in front of him was enough proof for him to believe.

A sudden sound made him drag his gaze away from the place in front of him and look down. An old house-elf stood there, looking at him with a bored expression. If he felt rested and calm, maybe he would have sneered or even cursed at the small creature, but his mind could not muster the need to do so.

“I is Ædda,” the wrinkly thing said. “Please, follow me.”

Too weak to argue, Theodore followed the elf inside the thick walls of the unknown place. Inside, the medieval influence was so strong he assumed the entire building came to be during the Middle Ages. It was odd enough to see such a massive structure, so to think the place was also new was a stretch.

The walls were all stone, resembling the old castles of Great Britain and Ireland, as well as Hogwarts. Though the decorations were shy in comparison to somewhere like Malfoy Manor, it was not just barren walls. He recognised many figures from history standing in beautiful-looking portraits. Huge tapestries depicting the most varied things also adorned the walls: knights fighting mighty dragons; beautiful fields of green filled with people dancing; lakes with all magical creatures imaginable, Merefolk, Sirens, Kelpies and many more he did not even know existed. It was an endless display of art and taste he rarely saw these days. Swords and-

“We is here,” the house-elf's voice brought him back to reality. In front of him, a door made of light brown wood stood, decorated with tree branches and small birds. With a snap of their finger, the creature opened the door, revealing many known faces inside. People looked at him when he stepped inside, but no one approached him. It seemed everyone else was in the same position as him, either nervous or too tired to care about the others around them. 

The hall everyone was in was as big as the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Many portraits filled the walls, but he didn't recognise any of them. He could swear, however, that there was a resemblance to someone he had seen before. All the portraits were impassive, and staring at the Death Eaters in the room. To say Theodore felt uneasy in the room was an understatement.

“Theodore,” a voice whispered his name behind him. Turning around, he saw Abraxas and his son Lucius. The two did not look as bad as the others in the room, but that could be because the Malfoys had become used to being called by the Dark Lord. “What is this place? Where are we even? Did you know the Dark Lord owned this estate?”

The barrage of questions was hardly comprehended by Theodore's mind. He shook his head, trying to concentrate more on Abraxas. “I don't know,” he said. “I have never been here and I didn't know our lord had any estate at all. And I just go here, Abraxas, so calm down.”

“I think we are in Wales,” young Lucius said. Abraxas looked at his son questioningly, and Theodore just stared. “I did learn things about our country, Father. It's not hard to recognise the mountains of Wales, once you know what to look for.”

“I see...” said Abraxas. The blonde then turned to Theodore, he had to suppress a groan. “Have you seen him, Theodore? I have to say, I did not believe he had achieved immortality, but now there is no questioning it. Do you know how he did it? It must have been incredibly dark magic.”

Theodore rolled his eyes and wondered if there was a place for him to sit instead of undergoing Abraxas' never-ending questions while standing.

“I do not know how our lord did it, Abraxas. And do calm down, will you? Your unashamed curiosity is unbecoming of a lord.”

Abraxas sneered at him, but he just waved it off. He looked away from his childhood friend, unwilling to feed Abraxas' need for attention. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Lucius smirking, enjoying his father's humiliation.

“I'm sure the Dark Lord will reveal how he returned, Father. We just have to be patient,” Theodore nodded to Lucius, agreeing with the young man. Abraxas sneered again but said nothing more.

“I do wonder who the people in the portraits are,” began Lucius. “I'm certain they are purebloods by their features. But, oddly, I have never seen anyone that resembles them. Some of the portraits outside of this room do look familiar to me, but these do not. Do you happen to know any of them, Lord Nott?”

Theodore scrutinized some of the portraits before answering. The brown hair and dark eyes said nothing to him and neither did the soft facial features. He then turned to Lucius Malfoy and shook his head. The Malfoy Heir seemed disappointed by that, but there was nothing Theodore could do. 

More people arrived as Theodore and Lucius discussed the possibility of the keep belonging to a foreign wixen, while ignoring Abraxas' interruptions about Irish warlocks and wealthy English sorceresses.

The Averys and Gamp arrived and joined their group. Gamp seemed anxious about being called after thinking his lord was dead, while the Averys seemed confused with the whole situation. Theodore ignored all of them.

A 'pop' echoed in the room, silencing everyone. The house-elf that led him to the room was standing at the far end of the room, underneath two massive portraits of a witch and a wizard.

“Ædda is told you to kneel before Masters,” eyebrows rose on the faces of the Death Easters, as well as sneers appeared on some faces. The shock and immediate disagreement are thrown away, however, when a Death Eater closer to the elf kneeled. All others soon followed. Theodore, though kneeling as well, did not ignore the elf's words. The ‘Masters’ instead of the title in singular made him, for some reason, dread what was to come. “Masters Regulus Arcturus Black and Hedwyn Aelius Peverell welcome his servants.”

As soon as the words came out of the house-elf's mouth, the two figures of Peverell and Black appeared as an Invisibility Cloak unveiled the men; and all the Death Eaters got to their feet, wands pointing to the two men and cursing at them. Theodore watched as some of his colleagues cast curses against Black and Peverell, but all the spells hit a shield in front of the two men.

He saw Alecto Carrow stand in front of all Death Eaters and cast the Killing Curse at Regulus Black. All the sounds died in the room as the green light went towards the Black Heir.

In a quick motion, surprising everyone, Hedwyn Peverell got in front of Black, allowing the curse to hit him on his chest.

Peverell smirked.

Nothing happened.

Theodore felt as if the floor was taken from underneath him, his eyes became unfocused. His first action was to question reality, becoming sure he was dreaming. Merlin, I have truly gone insane. Who knew lack of sleep could do this? He shook his head, eyes focusing on Peverell. The man was still there, in all his glory. Alive. How?

After his first moment of shock, Theodore saw no other choice than to bend the knee. “Do not ever fight against a more powerful wizard than you, Theodore. The continuation of our clan is more important than your ego,” his father's words from when he was a teenager came to mind. Lord Cantankerous Nott was many things, Theodore knew, but a fool was not one of them.

As he kneeled on the stone floor, he heard Abraxas let out an indignant noise. He once more ignored the man. This was not the time for indulging Abraxas' need for feeling superior. Now I just have to survive, he thought grimly. He was almost surprised when he saw Lucius Malfoy kneeling beside him, but his mind was too occupied to really pay attention to the young man.

He no longer could see Peverell or Black as the people standing were obstructing his view. Theodore could now only hope no mass killing would happen. Maybe that's the plan? To kill us all while we are trapped here.

Screams caught his attention. People were falling. His heart was beating fast, its pace so quick the sound muffled all other sounds around him but the screams. Theodore knew he was shaking, he could feel it in his hands.

They are touching their Marks, he realised. Hope gleamed in his chest. Maybe he would not die today. He watched as the other Death Eaters kneeled and grabbed their forearms. How is he using the Mark? Is the Dark Lord alive? Has everything been a plot? What even is real at this point?

“Let that be your first lesson,” Peverell's tone sent a shiver down his spine. It was so cold and uncaring that even the Dark Lord would have been intimidated. “If you try to harm Regulus or me again I won't be so kind. Now, we would like to show you something,” the smile on Peverell's face made Theodore want to run away from that place and never come back. He saw Regulus Black take his wand out of its holster and mouth something.

The sight in front of Theodore almost made him pass out. It was his lord. The great Lord Voldemort. The body was levitating above Black and Peverell, most of his dark robes were done, looking like it burnt away. The flesh on his chest was blackened and rotting. The Dark Lord's eyes were wide as if he was seeing Death himself in front of him. Theodore forced himself to not vomit at the sight. Many of his colleagues were not so strong.

“This is what happened to your lord. Voldemort is gone now. Nothing but a shell of the wizard he once was,” said Regulus Black. A grin adorned the young man's face. He is loving this. “Voldemort tried to go against us, and for that reason, we ended him. We took his immortality from him and took his power as ours,” Peverell touched a dagger on a holster as Black spoke. An odd feeling came to his Mark. He gulped. “You are no longer the followers of Lord Voldemort. Now, from this day onwards, you will follow Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black.”

“I will never follow you animals! My lord is the only one I will ever follow,” the shouting came from Macnair. Theodore suppressed the urge to rub his forehead. Always the idiot. “You can both die! Avada Kedavra!”

People gasped as the curse left Walden's wand and went towards Peverell. Once again, the Killing Curse hit the man and nothing happened. He saw people cowering away from Peverell.

Peverell looked amused.

He saw as Regulus Black walked to Peverell and put his hand on the dagger. Macnair let out a pained noise, his body stiffened as if petrified.

A thud echoed in the room as Walden fell to the floor, eyes and mouth opened.

Dead.

The man was clearly dead.

Someone started to cry loudly, and Theodore had to check if it was not him. He then saw Regulus Black taking the holster with the dagger from Peverell and putting it around his own waist.

“As I said...” said Peverell with an innocent smile. “I will no longer treat your attacks kindly. You will accept your new roles as our followers and nothing bad will happen to you. Do remember that we were responsible for letting you go free by not letting the Ministry know you were Death Eaters. Show us some gratefulness, yes? It's not as if we will treat you like slaves. All you will need to do is support our changes in the Wizarding World, be they in the Wizengamot or otherwise. It isn't difficult, is it? We are all dark, after all. All the changes we want to do align with your wishes for our world. Of course, some things will have to change. First, you will no longer be known as Death Eaters.”

Black touched the dagger, and everyone stiffened. Theodore could feel that oddness return to his Mark before it stopped. “Lift your sleeves,” commanded Black. When Theodore did as Black told them to, a gasp left his lips.

The skull and the snake were gone. Now, in black and white ink, a crow made of white feathers with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows in black in the middle of its chest marked his skin.

“That is the Mark you will follow. The Black-Peverell Mark now shows your new allegiance. Be thankful for our kindness in ridding Voldemort's ugly Dark Mark from you. You are no longer branded by a half-blood madman, but by the two most powerful wizards in Britain.”

“Half-blood?” the words coming from Bellatrix Lestrange were followed by Rodolphus partially shielding her from her cousin's view.

“Yes, Bella. The man you followed was a half-blood by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle, which becomes the anagram for I Am Lord Voldemort. A ridiculous choice if you happen to have real taste, but what can be expected from an orphan boy living in a rundown orphanage? He should have used his Slytherin or Gaunt surnames, but Riddle was always too fearful of people finding out about his real blood status if they looked at the Gaunt family tree. Not that there weren't people who did know. My father, as well as Lords Malfoy, Nott and Lestrange all knew the truth, as they studied with Voldemort at Hogwarts.”

Several pairs of eyes glared at Theodore, Abraxas, and Lestrange. “Yes, yes. I believe they will have a lot to tell you, later,” said Black. “Returning to what matters. You will now be called Knights of Walpurgis. This name has been used by many dark wixen in the past for their covens. Voldemort even used it as well, before deciding to change it to Death Eaters.”

More people stared at the former year mates of the Dark Lord and Theodore openly sneered at them. For a man who despised attention, all the looks he was given were more than annoying.

“Of course, there are many other things we wish to discuss, but it would be best for those talks to happen on another day. For the last of your tasks, Hedwyn and I decided the number of dark pureblood children is unsatisfactory. I believe you understand what I'm trying to say?”

“You want us to have children,” Ansel Gamp's quiet tone resounded in the silent room.

“Indeed, Ansel,” Black answered. “All of you followed Voldemort because you wished to uphold pureblood ideals, yes? But how can you do that if you die childless? What will happen if all of you die without an heir or heiress? Our houses that have existed for centuries will vanish and only those of Muggle upbringing will remain. We are lucky, however, that we have not lost many of the ancient families. And do not believe this duty to our world will be ignored by Hedwyn and me. We will make sure our houses continue and prosper, and we want the same for yours.” 

“The fact that muggle-borns are actually descendants of squibs will also be used to our advantage,” said Peverell with a smirk on his face. “We will save those children from a life of ignorance towards their ancestries and raise them to bring those lost ancient houses back.”

Murmur started after Black and Peverell's words. It was clear to Theodore that, even if their former lord's body was levitating in front of them, people were optimistic. Perhaps it was lack of sleep, the fear of going to Azkaban or simply being too willing to trust powerful wizards, but the witches and wizards around the room were anything but unwilling to follow Peverell and Black.

Peverell started to open the way for himself to pass. When his new lord stopped in front of Macnair's body, Theodore's eyebrows shot up and got hidden by his hair. Peverell crouched beside the body and put his right hand above the body's chest. The man was murmuring something but Theodore was not close enough to distinguish any words.

The gasping sound made everyone in the room back away from the scene. “Dear Merlin!” someone shouted and that was followed by many ‘impossible’s and ‘unbelievable’s. Theodore himself could not believe his own eyes.

The bastard is back.

Walden Macnair, dead for minutes after dying by an unseen source of magic was now back from the dead.

“You will all learn,” began Peverell, rising and leaving a disoriented Macnair on the floor. “that Regulus and I have many gifts for those who are loyal to us. Of course, that was not our dear Macnair's case, but he is to be an example of what we can give those who are trustworthy. Be by our side, my Knights of Walpurgis, and not even Death will be able to touch you if we can stop him.”

Theodore was salivating. All that power, all the possibilities. He licked his lips and sighed. How unfortunate it was that Black had got to Peverell before him. Not that he believed a young man like Peverell would want an older man like Theodore Nott, but he would have liked to have tried. 

“Go now, my dear Knights. Soon I will expect a display of your loyalty before the Wizengamot, but now go to your homes and rest,” Peverell saw some people eyeing Macnair and stopped. “Oh, don't worry about our good old Walden. The House of Macnair will have to be on a leash for a few years, but I do hope they will show their undying loyalty once again one day. Focus on the task we've given you and plant the seeds of a new world. Today will be blessed in that regard, for those that worship magic above all else. Do not waste this opportunity.”

His lord's words were all Theodore could think of as he went home. His tiredness was forgotten as he called for his wife and bedded her. The magic that coursed through his body was so powerful and present that he lasted only a few minutes before spilling his noble seed inside his beloved Sigríður. Theodore felt it when Lord Peverell's blessing gifted his wife and him with a new life. “A new age for the Notts and Britain as a whole is already here,” he whispered to his wife as they relaxed next to each other.

All for my lords, he thought, his mind filled with thoughts of devotion and worshipping. My lords Hedwyn Aelius Peverell, The Conqueror of Death and his Noble Hand, Regulus Arcturus Black.

Chapter Text

6th of November, 1979

“No.”

The short and sharp answer made him let out an awkward laugh. He glanced over at the other two people in the room, but no help would be given if the pitiful looks in their eyes were anything to go by. The silence after the rejection and the lack of support from the other two men made his heart beat fast. His mouth was dry and his throat felt soar with unspoken pleas. No, was the only word in his mind, repeating again and again as if his brain was mocking him. No. A weak smile came on his face, though the sadness in his eyes was obvious. No.

Her eyes were set on his, no regret visible. Nothing in her posture told him it was all an act, a cruel performance aimed at hurting him. His lips quivered and his eyes felt teary but he refused to look anywhere other than her face.

“Why?” the sound was so weak he thought she hadn't heard him. When she sighed, he understood she was unwilling to give him an answer.

No.

“If you cannot guess the reason why, then I think you are blinder than I thought,” he winced at her words. The feeling of weakness was so strong at that moment that he felt as if he was a little boy again. He hated it. Hated how cowardly he was behaving in front of her and how dejected the situation made him feel.

No.

He pursed his lips and clenched his hand into fists. Her rejection of him was so clear he felt sick. Trying to control his breathing proved futile, his body refused to obey and his mind was not totally under his control anymore.

“Please, you have to understand. I know it is hard for you to be around them but they are-” he stopped speaking when she scoffed and looked away from him. When she rose from her seat and left the room something inside him broke. Maybe it was his childhood dream of having her look proudly at him that disappeared into nothing or an ideal of how his relationship with her would be, he was not sure.

No. No. No. No.

Her rejection hit him again and again. He rested his head on his hands and rocked back and forth. Numbness took over him as his mind tried its best to shove his sadness into a forgotten corner inside his head. No sounds reached him, nothing mattered to him more at the moment than to let himself sink into his grief. He could not even feel the way his breathing became frantic and his body almost fell from the couch as his rocking became faster and faster.

“Hedwyn!” a shout brought him back to the room. He took a second to take in what was happening. “Harry, look at me,” he knew that voice, it was one he carefully put in a special place inside his mind the first time he heard it. James. James Potter. Dad, he thought. He looked up at the man and saw the look of concern on his father's face.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, shame showing on his face. His father moved so fast that his tired mind did not comprehend what the man was doing. It was only when he felt the weight on James' arm around his shoulder and the new warmth of his left side that he understood what his dad was doing. He stopped a sob from coming out and he leaned on James' half-hug.

“You don't have to apologise for anything, Harry. It's just that... Lily is sensitive when it comes to socialising with families like the Blacks. She is getting better, more confident. Especially after finding out that she's related to the Gaunts. But Lily suffered a lot with the hatred directed at muggle-borns. Let's not forget her best friend called her a ’mudbloob’, which, even though she says otherwise, broke something in her. She's still struggling to move past the betrayal and accept her new place in our world. I'm sorry to say that I don't think she will change her mind about not going to your wedding, though. All the Blacks and other pureblood families will be there, and she would be too uncomfortable,” James rubbed his back as he spoke, pity clear on his face. “And honestly? It's better if she doesn't go, she's pregnant after all. The stress would not do her any good.”

He nodded his head absently, understanding showing on his face. “I get it, James. I won't pressure her or anything. Merlin, you must think I've gone mad, yeah? Crying just because your wife won't go to my wedding. We don't even know each other that well,” the awkward smile and the hand leaving his back showed he was correct, James did think it was odd. Sirius probably thought so too, but he couldn't care enough to look at the young version of his godfather. “I have a reason, though,” the words left his mouth before he could stop them. The tiredness from the crying ate his constraints away. James raised an eyebrow and Harry laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I-I... It's just that... Fuck! Forget about it,” he was sure his face was red with embarrassment.

“No, no, no,” the voice made him jump. He turned to the door to see Lily standing there, staring at him. “What reason do you have, Hedwyn? We have enough time, so go one,” she walked inside the room, one hand rubbing her belly. “Go on, Hedwyn. Do tell us what this reason is,” she sat back in the same seat as before, right in front of him. Now, however, Harry was not thankful to have his mother's attention so easily.

A million thoughts passed through his head as he tried to find a way to get away from the questioning. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable without anyone by his side. Damned be the second I told Regulus I could come here alone, he cursed himself in his head. He looked at James to find the man moving his gaze from his wife to him. Sirius was still in the same seat he took when they got into the room. He felt bad for the man as he had a confused and uncomfortable expression on his face.

“I-I really didn't mean anything, Lily,” he shifted on his seat, oozing discomfort. Lily gave him no leeway to end the conversation, and neither did James or Sirius. The two men were maybe too apprehensive in contradicting Lily. Cowards, he spat. By the way she was looking at him, Lily was unimpressed by his failed attempts to close the conversation. “I mean, there isn't anything important to talk about. I-I guess I should go,” Harry slowly got up from his seat.

“No,” that made him tense and look at Lily. “Seat down. Now,” he did as he was told, not really knowing why. “This situation is getting ridiculous, Hedwyn. First, you went to meet us in Potter Manor after days of defeating Voldemort,” James and Sirius flinched at the name, but Harry was internally proud of his mum's courage. “telling all of us that we could finally leave confinement and live our lives. I'll be honest, I felt so thankful towards you and Regulus that day, and I'm sorry I didn't express it, but today you came here talking about a wedding — attended by all those awful people who hate Muggles and muggle-borns —, just to get upset after I told you I won't go. I admit I should have given you a good answer as to why I would not like to go and not let James handle it, but that's beside the point. My point is, your behaviour makes absolutely no sense. Like, it really is insane when I think about it. Why are you so upset about it, Hedwyn? I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, but this situation is too absurd for me to just let this go.”

Hedwyn opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, the words escaped him every time. He couldn't help but glance at James, his eyes pleading for the young version of his father to help him. James rubbed the back of his neck and smiled faintly at him. No help then, he thought bitterly.

“Well?” Lily asked, boredom laced his tone.

“I-I think it would be better if we had Fleamont and Euphemia here as well. They will be able to explain everything to you. Maybe we can call them and I go home? I mean, they know you better, so they will be able to explain it in a way that will make it easier for you to understand.”

Lily's face was enough of an answer for him. Harry cursed in his mind and bit his lip. The alternatives were being discarded too fast for him to come up with something.

‘Why not tell them already?’ Death's voice made him jump. The others in the room looked oddly at him and he just smiled awkwardly.

I can't! It's not the right time, he shouted in his head, the voice inside his mind filled with anxiety. Hedwyn had to control his facial expression so as to not reveal his internal struggle. 

‘When will this “right time” be, Harry? After your wedding? Maybe after Caershire’s construction is finished? Perhaps after little Harry is born? When, Hedwyn? When will you reveal the secret to your parents?’

Hedwyn gritted his teeth. How he wished he was alone so he could yell at Death. The entity was not provoking him, he knew that, but the way the questions were asked irked him. The worst part was: he had no definitive answer to give. Harry didn't know when he wanted to tell the truth to Lily and James. There were times he even pondered about not revealing anything, leaving his parents unaware of his true origins. He felt so misplaced when he thought about telling them the truth. And how could he not? Hedwyn was a stranger to them, someone they did not even know existed a year ago. The awkwardness that engulfed him every time he imagined how the conversation would go was just too much for him to handle. He didn't want to make things weird for them; he didn't want to make their lives harder when they found out about him being a dark wizard; he didn't want to feel their judgement-filled gazes on him. Harry was not sure he could handle their rejection, their failed attempts at reconciling with having a son that was, basically, the same age as them.

‘Why not just tell the truth now and think about the consequences of it later? It's not like Lily and James Potter will behave normally with you after today. Wouldn't it be better to be in an awkward situation, but with your parents knowing who you are, then the opposite where they just believe you're a weird man? And about them knowing you're a dark wizard... so what? It's not as if they believe you are the beacon of the Light, Hedwyn. Do you believe neither of them know about your proposals that have turned into law? They did have access to the Daily Prophet, you know?  James might not be the most enthusiastic about his duties, but he is still the heir to the House of Potter, and that means he is knowledgeable about Politics. As for Lily, the young woman is nothing if not astute. She is both muggle-born and a woman, Hedwyn. Do you think she doesn't have an understanding of what is happening in the world she lives in? She was not one of the best students in her year because she was good at remembering things she read in books. Real knowledge comes from understanding the subject you are learning about and coming up with a way to put that knowledge to other uses after all and Lily is nothing of not ingenious.’

“Hedwyn?” he jumped slightly in his seat as James' concerned voice brought his attention back to the conversation. Harry looked at his father and smiled at him, then turned to his mother. Lily's face was otherwise impassive, save for a quirked eyebrow.

“I need a minute,” Harry got up from his seat and left the room, ignoring the people behind him calling his name. He got inside the bathroom and closed the door, locking it before thinking.

Do you really think I should do it? he asked Death.

‘I told you what I think, Harry. The choice is yours now.’

Hedwyn passed his hand through his hair and sighed. Resting against the bathroom sink, he tried to come up with a way to get out of this situation or the best way to reveal the truth.

I can always tell them the truth and run, he thought. Death's silence was all the answer he needed. “Stop judging me!” he cried out loud. “You're lucky to not have to deal with things like this.”

‘I have to deal with you, don't I?’

Ouch.

A groan escaped him as he tried his best to regain his tranquil demeanour. Allowing his feelings to overtake him would only lead to trouble. Turning to the mirror, he examined his appearance, wincing when his gaze fell on the wrinkles on his robes, red face and dishevelled hair. A quick wand movement fixed his image, soothing his worries somehow. His hands found the cold porcelain of the sink and his fingers gripped it.

If I do this, there is a possibility they will hate me later on when they find out about the types of policies I want to put forward, he thought bitterly. It is already a marvel that my mother does not despise me for what I've already put forward on the Wizengamot. I wonder how much she can allow herself to ignore before it becomes too much. Do you believe I could lose her, lose them? My father and Sirius never liked Dark Magic after all. I do not want to lose my family again...

‘Harry,’ Death's tone was gentler. ‘Your parents are united in their compassion for others. Do not forget these are the same people who, before reaching adulthood, put themselves in harm's way in order to prevent a madman from taking hold of their world. Even though Lily and James Potter were being manipulated by Dumbledore, their will to fight for a better world was genuine. Remember as well the sacrifice your parents took just so you could live. James and Lily faced death to protect the person they loved the most, you. Don't underestimate their love, Harry.

Those words hit Hedwyn harder than he thought possible, for since he came back to build a new life for himself he had not made the connection between the parents he lost in his old life and the Lily and James just steps away from him now. He wiped the tears rolling down his face with the back of his hand and straightened his posture while looking back at his reflection. A new determination rose from within him, a feeling of hope for a better, more kindly future.

“Ædda,” a ‘pop’ sound followed his call. The Peverell house-elf stood next to him in the bathroom, waiting for his command. “Go to my office and bring my pensieve to the room where Lily, James and Sirius are in.”

“Yes, Master Hedwyn,” the elf bowed to him and disappeared.

The short walk back to the room echoed his determination in the hallway. He walked inside the room, his gaze falling briefly on the pensieve then on Lily's inquisitory green glare, to James' confused expression and Sirius' tired eyes.

Harry sat down and, without an explanation, closed his eyes to focus on the memories he wished to show them before putting the tip of his wand to his temple, withdrawing the hair-like wisps that resembled silver and dropping it on the cloud-like liquid.

“We are all going to go inside to view the memories, so you may have your explanations,” his tone left no room for questioning, but Lily raised an eyebrow nonetheless.

One by one they entered the memories, leaving the room behind as their minds disappeared inside dark and silvery smoke.

Darkness was all that could be seen, and for a second Harry felt his heart give away. He heard the others letting out noises of confusion but made no effort to explain where they were.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...”

The raspy words of a woman were followed by a young child's cry and sounds of hands banging on wood. Lily asked what was happening, worry clear in her voice. Harry said nothing. In the darkness, the child's cries echoed in the small space.

“born to those who have thrice defied him,”

“Shut your mouth, boy,” the voice of an angry man followed by a loud noise of cracking wood made the young boy's crying diminish, though muffled breathing could still be heard. 

“Hedwyn, where are we?” James' was clearly in distress by the tone of his voice. “Where the fuck are we?”

“born as the seventh month dies...”

“That voice,” whispered Sirius, speaking for the first time. “Do you know who that is?” asked James, possibly trying to find sense in what he was hearing.

Sirius didn't answer him.

They could feel as the memory changed, but nothing new appeared before their eyes. The darkness was all encompassing still.

“and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,”

“Hello?” tapping was heard against wood.

“What the-” James started but was interrupted.

“Is someone there? Can I have some water, please? I'm thirsty,” the young boy's voice was different now, older, but still no more than a child.

“What the bloody hell is happening?” Harry's eyebrows rose at Lily's words, though no one could see them in the dark.

“I don't like this,” Sirius was clearly upset, but Hedwyn chose to keep quiet.

“Hello?” the boy's voice faded as the memory changed.

Harry saw the others shielding their eyes away from the sun that appeared with the new memory.

They were in a garden now, in a neighbourhood filled with similar-looking houses. Crouched with his little hands on the dirt, a little boy his dishevelled black hair and dressed in sweaty baggy clothes, had his back to them. Not looking a day older than six, the boy was sweating profusely on his oversized shirt, making Harry's heart hurt again.

He ignored the others as he stared at the boy, waiting for what was to come. When the noise of a door opening, followed by Lily's cursing, reached him, he rocked himself to look at the woman who was approaching the boy.

“You, boy,” the woman, Petunia, walked to the boy, a disgusted expression on her face, and pointed a bony finger at him. “Get inside now and go make lunch. Dudley is hungry, you useless boy.”

He heard Lily's indignant cry, but his eyes were on James as he surveyed the boy. When his father's eyes widened and moved towards him Harry knew he had understood. A sad smile adorned his tired face as he looked at his father. He said nothing as they all followed the boy inside, Lily cursing at her sister while he, James and Sirius stayed in silence.

Young Harry was in the kitchen making lunch while they watched him. James and Sirius were glancing from the small boy to Hedwyn, distress clear in their eyes. The boy yelped when he tried to hold the pan closer to the side, burning himself and letting the pan fall in the process. He quickly began to apologise to Petunia, before she even entered the kitchen, saying how heavy the pan was.

The memory changed when the woman, enraged, got closer to the young boy with an empty pan ready to hit little Harry.

“Wha-What? Hedwyn? What's happening? Please,” Lily's tone was filled with anguish and Hedwyn almost forced them out of the pensieve out of pity for her, but Death's voice in his mind told him to remain strong.

“but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...” the woman's voice echoed as the smoke transformed into a zoo, where the young Harry stood in front of a large glass separating the boy from a huge snake on the terrarium on the other side. The scene of the boy hissing at the snake morphed into the inside of a wooden cabin, with its front door on the floor, and a tall man forcing his way inside. “Yer a wizard, Harry,” the half-giant's voice boomed as the memory changed once more, showing the Sorting and the Hat screaming “Gryffindor!”;  to Harry wearing his family's Cloak for the first time, to him venturing inside a room filled with life-threatening defences; to him facing the parasite-spectre of a mad wizard-lord — all the while not one person stopped the visibly frail boy from getting hurt.

Lily, James and Sirius had given up on speaking at that point, allowing the memories to pass before their eyes without so much as a flinch, or a rare smile when the boy received some form of care or had fun while playing Quidditch.

They saw petrified students, a duel that turned Harry into a pariah, heard hisses behind stone walls and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Lily started to cry when the image of her son in another life faced Salazar Slytherin's beast alone, relying only on Dumbledore's bird and the old Sorting Hat. James put his hand around her, trying to calm his wife, while Sirius stood there looking ashen in the face. Both Potters cursed at the old headmaster as he congratulated the boy instead of chastising him for putting his life in danger and Sirius looked close to trying to strangle the memory of the old man.

When Harry's third year appeared, after his escape from the Dursleys and his encounter with Sirius in his animagus form, the former heir to the House of Black looked more and more depressed. As all witches and wizards started to accuse Sirius of betraying the Potters, James got closer to his best friend and hugged him, whispering something Hedwyn couldn't hear.

Lily looked gloomy when Lupin appeared battered and lonely, a shadow of his time at Hogwarts. All four smiled when the Weasley twins gave the Marauder's Map to Harry. The smiles turned into sneers as they saw young Harry reading Peter Pettigrew's name on the Map. As the scenes from the confrontation between the last three Marauders were viewed, Hedwyn shook his head, realising once more how naively they acted. Instead of making sure Pettigrew could not free himself, they had used mere ropes to restrain the man and Lupin's forgetfulness was also a point of annoyance to him. One would think everyone would remember to take a potion that prevented a beast from attacking innocents, but, apparently, Remus Lupin was not everyone.

James let a few tears escape him when the image of his son casting his animagus form as a Patronus was shown and Sirius laughed when he saw himself flying away on Buckbeak's back.

The images of his fourth year passed quickly around them. They saw the Globet of Fire, the Hungarian Horntail, the Black Lake, and the challenges inside the labyrinth. Voldemort's resurrection was clearly a hard scene for them to watch as Lily, James and Sirius started to shout and cry at the memory of Pettigrew killing Cedric Digory, and then taking Harry's blood forcefully. Sirius and James looked sick when Voldemort appeared, gaunt and deformed. Hedwyn saw an expression on his mother's face we did not want to see ever again: pure terror.

Hedwyn felt that they were all emotionally exhausted by the time Harry's fourth year ended, as well as when everything around them morphed into somewhere in a suburb. No reaction was given as the dementors showed up, just to be driven away by Harry. The arrival at Grimmauld Place, and the trial before the whole Wizengamot, were both watched expressionlessly. The reactions occurred when Umbridge tortured Harry and other students with her Black Quill — in the form of more curses being uttered by the Potters and Sirius —, as well as when Voldemort's false vision made Harry invade the Department of Mysteries, leading to his godfather's death. At that moment, with tears in his eyes, as he saw his godfather die before his eyes again, he felt an arm around his shoulder. He turned to see Sirius bringing him closer, comforting him.

The memory distorted once more into black and silver-like smoke, turning in what was Hedwyn's sixth year. Images of a suspicious Draco Malfoy in Borgin and Burkes, the arrival at a shadowy Hogwarts, Potions lessons and a secret-ridden professor, memories of memories of Tom Marvolo Riddle's rise as Lord Voldemort and the horrors inside a dim-lit cave. Distrust and foreboding that culminated in the Death of Albus Dumbledore by Severus Snape's wand, all was watched with worry and tiredness-filled eyes.

Once again the world around them changed, a time deprived of Hogwarts and any feeling of safety.

“and either must die at the hand of the other,” Trelawney's words come back again, and with them the images of Harry and his struggle to complete Dumbledore's mission. A fear-stricken Harry appeared, the cheerful persona he had a Hogwarts long gone as he walked through Grimmauld Place, a ghost without a path to the light.

Umbridge returned after the trio marauded around the Ministry, just to end up stealing the Locket Horcrux from the pink woman's neck. Views of camps in cold and unforgiving woods, the Horcrux's cursed influence and the subsequent shattering of the Golden Trio are watched by a grim-looking Lily, a disgruntled Sirius and a sad James. The brief visit to Xenophilius Lovegood and the tale of the Deathly Hallows left James wide-eyed and glancing at Hedwyn from time to time. They saw the trio, accompanied by Griphook, invading Gringotts and freeing the dragon after stealing another Horcrux.

“for neither can live while the other survives...”

The cheerful moment after the escape transformed into a sorrowful one as the return to Hogwarts became a battle where many young witches and wizards lost their lives, as well as when the Fiendfyre's cursed flames burnt the Room of Hidden Things — taking the life of Vicente Crabbe as the others flew away on brooms. Blood, dust and misery followed as Harry brought Snape's memory to the Hogwarts' pensieve, which showed the true extent of Dumbledore's manipulation. Sirius, James and Lily were left crying in silence as they saw Harry give his life away, alone, in the Forbidden Forrest.

“the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies....”

The group was too numb to appreciate Harry's rebirth, as well as Voldemort's defeat and Death making himself present in Harry's mind. They left the pensieve with empty eyes and worn out, overwhelmed by what they saw. None of them reacted when Hedwyn called for Ædda and asked the elf to take the pensieve back to their home. Not even when he got up from his seat and went into the kitchen to make them tea they acknowledged what was happening.

Hedwyn poured each of them a cup of tea and waited for them to take in all they watched a few minutes ago. James was the first to reach for his cup, followed by Lily, with Sirius being the last one to take the tea.

“I understand you have a lot on your minds right now,” Hedwyn said quietly. “so I believe it is better if you go and rest for some time. Especially you Lily. I'm sure pregnancy is tiring enough, so we don't need to have a conversation today. I'm sorry for the stress, by the way. The last thing I would want is to put pressure on you and harm the baby in the process.”

“I-I'm sorry,” Lily's timid tone made him look questioningly at her. “I'm sorry for what you went through... My-My own sister- she- I can't believe it.”

“I think what Lily is trying to say is that we are sorry for leaving you to fend for yourself, Harry,” James' tone was more confident than Lily's, but it carried even more grief. “We cared more about the war than about our baby.”

Their demeanour made Hedwyn's chest hurt, not expecting them to be so impacted by the memories. Not that he didn't expect them to be sad, but he was not certain they would be regretful about something they didn't do — though they would if not for Hedwyn's intervention.

“I don't blame you,” Sirius' confused expression made Harry laugh weakly. “I really don't. Blaming you for falling for Dumbledore's manipulations would be like blaming myself for doing what he told me to do. You gave your lives for me... All of you did. There is nothing that matters to me other than that.”

“Of course we did,” said Sirius with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I just can't believe I would leave you all alone. My godson...”

He shook his head. “Don't blame yourself, Sirius. You suffered just like everyone else did. And you did save me, you gave me hope. If I had not met you... I don't know what would've happened to me, honestly.”

A teary-eyed Sirius made his way out of his seat and sat next to Hedwyn, hugging him close. When his father rested his hand on his back he allowed a few tears to escape, too tired emotionally to put on a tough façade.

“I can't believe my kid is the bloody Master of Death,” James laughed while saying, ignoring Lily chastising him for his language. “Does my dad know about it? I'm sure he was giddy about it, though I doubt he said anything to you.”

Hedwyn laughed with Sirius and James, with Lily shaking her head fondly. They stayed in silence for a while, rejoicing in the joyful mood James brought.

Looking out the window, Hedwyn noticed the sun was coming down. Glancing at his parents and godfather, he saw them relaxing in their seats — though he was sure their minds were anything but calm.

He sighed and slowly got up from his seat, drawing the other's attention to him. “I better go home, Regulus will be waiting for me. I do hope we can speak again soon, even if this situation is quite a weird one for you.”

James wasted no time before getting up from his seat and approaching him, putting an arm around Harry.

“If you wanna go home is no issue,” his dad's grin made him smile and shake his head. “Just remember that we won't forget about you, alright? This entire situation is bonkers, but that doesn't mean we don't want you in our lives. We'll always be your family, Harry.”

The tears in his eyes from his father's words made him miss when his mother got close to him and engulfed him in a hug. “I'm so sorry for all you've been through, Harry,” his mum's melancholic tone made him hug her back after the initial surprise. “I know we have so many things that make us different, but I won't allow any of it to stay between us, okay? I may be the most sensible one, but I can be as stubborn as James, so don't even think about us not wishing to have you in our lives. And don't think about politics or anything like it now. I won't pretend some of the things you believe in are hard for me to understand, but that doesn't mean I won't have you beside us either.”

It was Sirius' time to comfort him as his godfather put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a beaming smile. “I can't do anything but thank you, Harry; and don't give me that look! You saved us, Harry. If not for you, my friends would've die and I would've gone to Azkaban for twelve years. You also saved my brother from dying, even if it would've been for a good cause. I could have lost my little brother-,” Sirius' broke down as he spoke and his grip on Hedwyn's shoulder got stronger. “-and I will never be able to thank you enough for not only saving him but also for giving him a new reason to live. The two of you will always have me by your side, remember that.”

Hedwyn said goodbye to them, though not before giving each of them a big hug. Though he could feel they still felt the situation was bizarre, he couldn't blame them for it. It was not every day one met their son that came from the future after all. Harry's only wish was for the four of them to be able to pass this awkward phase and become closer. ‘Do you wanna bet it'll happen faster than you'd think?’ Death provocation made him bite his lip to stop himself from smiling and making his parents and godfather think he was crazy. I'm in, he answered as he approached the fireplace and shouted “Gwynt Keep”.

“Hedwyn!” Lily calling his name made him turn towards her. “It'll be an honour to attend your wedding.”

He was sure the smile he gave his mother was the biggest to adorn his face in a while. “I'll make sure you'll have the best table,” he said with a grin before disappearing in green flames.

Chapter Text

“But I still don't get it,” groans were heard around the room as Sirius tried his best to understand what was said. “Why does Death need a master? It's Death! Does he have nothing else going on? There has to be something for him to do other than watch over you. Or is he like a submissive entity? Cos there is no way I would just follow a random bloke — Sorry there, Hedwyn — if I was not the most bored creature in existence. Does Death like to be commanded by you? It has to be sexual, right?”

Hedwyn had to stop himself from bursting out laughing as Death started to curse Sirius repeatedly. It was one of the few moments he wished they could all hear the deity as well.

“You are so crude, Sirius Black,” said Dorea as she closed her book and used it to hit Sirius in the back of the head. “Enough with this language in the presence of my poor son.”

Charlus, who was gently rocking the baby back and forth, smiled and tried to stifle his laughter.

“He can't understand me yet!”

“Merlin, help us all,” a tired Fleamont said while rubbing his forehead. Harry chuckled at his grandfather's words and shifted in his seat, getting closer to Regulus. The boy in question was having a conversation with Euphemia about a new potion that was, apparently, a cure for Dragon Pox.

No doubt it's Snape's doing, he thought. As the, now, former Death Eater had all the free time in the world, it wasn't a far-off assumption that he was the one responsible for the cure.

Hedwyn was still not aware of what Regulus told Snape a few days ago when his fiancé went to Snape's house to inform him of the changes happening in the shadows, but he was sure — by the annoyed expression on Regulus' face when he came back — that Severus Snape would not appear in public any time soon. A “ridiculous recluse” was what his lover called the Potions Master when Hedwyn asked him how their conversation went.

One thing Harry was sure he would never understand was how Severus Snape saw no problem in living as a hermit, only caring about potions and nothing else. The exception to that rule was his mother Lily — that thought made him shudder. No wonder his mother wouldn't want to be in a relationship with Snape if the man's only interests were her and potions.

He listened with a smile on his face as his great-aunt argued with Sirius about how to properly behave in the presence of a child, which was an issue Dorea seemed quite passionate about. It certainly did not help that Sirius looked amused with how easily he was able to annoy Dorea, causing her to promise to teach him a lesson in the future.

Away from everyone else, Charlus was still with Castor in his arms, nursing the baby. Hedwyn smiled when he saw his great-uncle with the new addition to the family. With the amount of things to be done during October and early November, the visits to see the baby were few are far between, something that he and Regulus did not enjoy. Now, however, with fewer problems to address, perhaps they would have more time to be with family. 

The only concern in Hedwyn's mind was Dumbledore. With Voldemort no longer being an issue, he expected the former headmaster to come out of his hiding and try to regain his lost glory, but there was no news of Dumbledore's whereabouts. He knew the old man would not stay quiet for too long, as his ego would never allow the once beloved Albus Dumbledore to die in the shadows.

When he comes out of hiding I'll be there to crush him, Hedwyn grinned as he thought of finally putting an end to the man responsible for so much manipulation and abuse.

‘You know there are other ways to find him, yes?’ Death said in his head.

He rolled his eyes. Of course I do. But where is the fun in destroying him where no one can see? I want his reputation to be destroyed forever. I'll make sure his story will be told in the worst light possible. Albus Dumbledore will be remembered as a monster and nothing else. A ghost of an uncaring past.

‘Will you use the former lord to your advantage as Regulus advised?' he felt a wave of joy coming from the deity.

I will. Regulus is very sharp when it comes to destroying someone's reputation. He's brilliant.

Hedwyn could feel Death rolling his eyes, even though he didn't have any. He couldn't help but smile at his companion's antics. Those who feared Death may tremble at the thought of having the entity inside the walls of their minds, but Harry found his friend's presence incredibly comforting.

“Sirius, do stop speaking,” said Euphemia, momentarily bringing Harry's attention back to the scene of his godfather bothering his Aunt Dorea. His grandmother apparently was tired of Sirius' antics, as she stopped her conversation with Lily to make Sirius go quiet.

He smirked when Sirius started to argue that everyone was against him and how unfair it was, but it just resulted in Euphemia looking unimpressed and annoyed.

“Why don't you go outside and play catch with Sirius?”  he asked his father, who was pretending to read a book so Fleamont wouldn't drag him into another conversation about potions.

James laughed at his comment and shook his head. “What do you think, Padfoot? D'you wanna play in the snow?”

“I'm not actually a dog, James, and you know that!” Sirius said trying to sound angry but a smile betrayed him.

The two bickered for a few minutes, with James talking to Sirius as if the man was a puppy and Sirius claiming no one respected him. When the two friends started to wrestle on the floor, after James called Sirius a “grimy ugly mutt”, Fleamont and Dorea threw the two men outside. Harry laughed out loud and Death felt vindicated.

Harry snuggled closer to Regulus as the hours passed and the morning turned into evening. He watched calmly as the others talked, laughed and enjoyed their time together. At some point Castor was given to Regulus and his fiancé smiled sweetly while looking down at the baby in his arms. A smile adorned Hedwyn's lips as he watched his future husband with the baby. The talk of children was not one they often had, but he was confident they would become more frequent after their wedding. It was obvious by the way they couldn't speak about the subject without smiling that having a family was something both of them wanted, which warmed his heart every time he thought about it.

It was also clear that their family would not be a small one, since both Black and Peverell families needed heirs, and neither he nor Regulus wished to put the pressure of being the head of more than one noble house on one child. The Potters were in a similar situation, as James was the heir to the House of Potter and Lily the heiress to the House of Gaunt, therefore they also needed more than one child — if they hoped to keep things balanced. Hedwyn had to admit that finding out that his mother was the new head of the Gaunts after the death of Voldemort had been a shock, but not an unwelcome fact.

Sirius was the one lucky one in this situation, as he was no longer the heir to the Blacks, but, if James' taunts were to be believed, he would not remain a Black in name for long. Apparently, a redhead from a well-known noble family and Sirius were often seen together after their period in hiding ended. Hedwyn could only hope Gideon was nothing like his sister because he wanted nothing more than to be as far away from Molly Weasley as was humanly possible.

The thought of the nex generation of magical children came often to him, as the next generation of witches and wizards was soon to be born. He knew Narcissa was pregnant with Draco, though it seemed the woman was not divulging the information to anyone but those closest to her. The Lestrange would also welcome a new member to their family, if Cygnus were to be believed. Regulus thought his uncle was telling the truth when he visited the man a few days ago, but Harry was not so quick to believe the three Black sisters' father.

Many things seemed different from his former life, especially concerning who was and who was not pregnant, so Hedwyn found it hard to understand what was happening. The most simple explanation was that Voldemort was somehow responsible for Bellatrix losing her child in his first life.

The Notts would also have another child that didn't exist in his past life, as Lord Theodore Nott would no longer die childless, but pass the heirship to his son instead of his nephew. He did not remember a lot about Theodore from his past life, but he hoped the boy would not grow up resentful about losing the heirship to the House of Nott.

Castor was also a new addition, as Charlus and Dorea had died before the boy was born. That was a change he was immensely thankful for. The House of Potter would no longer be one marked by grief and loneliness. Now his parents would watch their children grow, and Charlus and Dorea would have an opportunity to live.

Many of the children from the new generation would only be born due to Regulus and Hedwyn's intervention, of course, since their blessing was the reason so many of the dark witches and wizards were now expecting. The feeling of accomplishment that came with the knowledge of their plans going well was enough to bring him an immense sense of joy.

He closed his eyes and relaxed in his seat, resting his head on Regulus' shoulder. If there was one thing Hedwyn would never regret he would decide to allow Death to bring him to the past. Never again he would suffer the loneliness and abandonment as when he was Harry Potter. Hedwyn Peverell would only know love and togetherness.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He watched as Regulus rose from his seat with all the grace that his ancestry demanded from an heir. Not even the gaudy purple robes every member of the Wizengamot was required to wear veiled the poise and sangfroid the Lord Bearer of the House of Black showed to those around him.

Marginal noises of discussions or conversations stopped, Regulus' presence demanding their full attention. No factioneer, no matter how antagonist to the heir, dared to disrespect such an important member of magical society.

Next to him, a long folded parchment floated. Without a word spoken, Regulus did a swift motion with his wand and the parchment copied and distributed itself — all others in the chamber watching it silently. Hedwyn smirked, his fiancé's antics bringing him a kind of sadistic satisfaction.

“The proposal I bring forward today pertains to the utter disrespect, disregard and humiliation of those who make use of the darker ways of magic to further our society,” people listened to Regulus' words with the written proposal in hand, waiting for the Lord Bearer to finish his speech. “Not many decades ago Wizarding Britain was united with the rest of the continent in the matters of our people's abilities to utilise, virtually, all types of magic to improve the lives of witches and wizards everywhere. However, after the fall of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, a man with too many blameworthy ideas decided to plunge our country into a swamp of stagnation. I, of course, am talking about the disgraced Albus Dumbledore. For decades, law after law restricting all forms of Dark Magic transfigured our world from a fountain of innovation into a contaminated puddle of water where only mediocrity festered. All because one man decided the despicable ideas of his former lover reflected the immensely diverse field of Dark Magic. With that in mind, I chose to put forward a proposal that will rid our country of the prejudice transmitted by a man with a dangerous ability to convince people that all he viewed as lesser should be eradicated.”

By the time Regulus' speech was over Hedwyn's eyes were glowing, his desire to bend the knee and worship his lover was all he could think of. He ignored the parchment in his hand, finding it useless to read something he would vote in favour of. Nothing mattered more in that moment than to admire that man he was going to have by his side for the rest of his life. He's perfect, he thought and subtly licked his lips.

Regulus sat down when the Chief Warlock allowed the Wizengamot members to read the bill and Hedwyn saw him putting his left hand inside his pocket.

Around him, he saw the other wixen from the Dark Faction shift in the seats, with some cautiously touching their forearms.

He grinned, enjoying their discomfort.

Several minutes passed and Chief Warlock Black opened the chamber to the period of discussion. Firstly, some people talked only with the people around them, particularly those from their own factions. Only after a few more minutes, the more confident one started to ask questions.

“I found it odd that this is your first piece of legislation, Lord Bearer Black,” Elphias Doge's tone of mockery was not lost on Hedwyn's ear. “For decades now our country has dealt with dark wizards swiftly and rightfully. Why change it now? This-” Doge pointed at the parchment on his lap and looked at it with disdain. “-is nothing if not a wish to bring old dangers back to our coun-.”

“Do you have any questions about my proposal, Lord Doge? I believe the period of discussion has passed,” asked Regulus, unwilling to allow the man to keep going.

Doge seemed startled by the interruption but said nothing about it. The man's face was red, but if it was from rage or embarrassment Hedwyn wasn't sure.

“Here you say the restrictions could be those of the laws before many of these types of magic were banned,” Lord Gabriel Ollivander spoke and Hedwyn was thankful for not having to continue to pay attention to Elphias Doge. “However, Blood Magic and, well, Necromancy have not been legal for generations, so new safeguards must be added to the law to prevent those who wish to harm others from feeling that there will be no repercussions if they do so.”

“You're correct, Lord Ollivander,” Regulus nodded to the man while saying. “Our old laws regarding darker types of magic are outdated, so we will have to bring laws by the modern world. I would suggest then, if agreed by you all, a change in my proposal. I believe it could be beneficial to our country that we become signatories of the Treaty of Copenhagen, made by the ICW after the fall of Grindelwald. The Treaty is responsible for limiting the more harmful forms of the Dark Arts, ensuring nothing too dangerous remains regal. There we find perfect and modern limitations to the use of Dark Magic, not the prejudice and antiquated one we have in our country today.”

“We would need the approval of the Minister, as well as their presence to sign the document,” said the young lord, Pallas Carrow. “It would be an advantage, however. The talks that preceded the signing of the Treaty lasted a few years because there were too many fields in the Dark Arts to create regulations about. The text is incredibly comprehensive. My late father always said how unfortunate it was that we never signed it, for the laws were incredibly thoughtful and fair.”

“If the proposal is passed then the Minister will sign it regardless of personal opinions,” Chief Warlock Black said. “If this body decides to move forward with this then the Minister will uphold your decision, as it's required of them.”

“Indeed,” said Hedwyn with a smirk on his face, the pinched expressions on some of the Light Faction members being a delight in his eyes. “Britain must be a part of the modern age, and not a pariah like some would wish us to be.”

“This is preposterous!” a red-faced Harvey Longbottom rose from his chair. “Is it not enough that our children will have to learn Dark Magic at Hogwarts? Do you wish for our country to descend into madness as more and more of our people fall victim to curse-casting and sacrifice-making? You should be ashamed!”

“The children of this country don't have to learn Dark Magic, Lord Longbottom. They are free to choose if they wish to learn the Dark Arts or not. And do you believe the people in our country are imbeciles? You cannot envision how more power the liberation from Dumbledorian constrictions will turn the people of this country into respectful witches and wizards, and not the ordinary type your lord forced them to become.”

Regulus' voice was so filled with disdain that Hedwyn almost felt bad for Longbottom. Almost.

“Gentlemen, do remind yourselves of your positions and place in society. Such a crude kind of behaviour is undignified of lords of the Wizengamot,” the Chief Warlock's words made the two men close their mouths and look away from each other.

“Correct me if I am mistaken, Lord Bearer,” the calm voice of Lady Florence Burke called Regulus' attention to her. “Your proposal will only turn all Dark Magic legal, but not legislated on them, yes? I see... Well, then I believe we should not make this matter into law, yet. If we do it before the signing of the Treaty of Copenhagen, I fear many people will use the lack of laws dictating what can and cannot be done to cause harm to others.”

“It's a fair point, Lady Burke,” said Regulus, nodding to the woman.

Hedwyn rested his back against his seat while Regulus continued to explain the intricacies of his proposal, as well as the advantages of the ICW's Treaty of Copenhagen. He was quite bored with all the discussions and questions people brought to his fiancé.

I thought the time for discussions was over, he thought while rolling his eyes.

“May the voting begin!” he almost jumped in his seat when the Chief Warlock's voice called for the end of the questioning period and the beginning of the voting one. He was so lost in his own boredom he failed to realise the questions had all been answered. Not a twinge of remorse was felt by him.

He lifted his wand lazily, wishing he could just force everyone to do what his lover wanted and be done with it. Maybe Voldie was right. All this pandering is making me want to sleep for a thousand years. Maybe we should have become dictators... Is it too late to go back on our decision? Shit, it's over. Focus, Hedwyn!

There was mumbling and groans of disagreement after the proposal was passed, though it would only become law when the Treaty was to be signed. He cared very little about what the few that went against them thought, especially those who were nothing more than Dumbledore's puppets.

“Do you think they'll run to Dumbledore to tell the old coot the news?” asked Regulus, his grey eyes focused on an angry-looking Harvey Longbottom, who was leaving the chamber with Elphias Doge trailing behind him.

“I don't know, but if they think the old man will be able to do anything about it they're insane,” answered Hedwyn. “Anyway,” he took Regulus' hand while speaking. “let's go home, we have a victory to commemorate, Mr I-Just-Passed-My-First-Law.”

Regulus grinned and got closer to him. “What a lengthy name, darling. Dumbledore will be jealous,” he laughed at Hedwyn's face when the ex-headmasters name was mentioned during their flirting. “Do be like that, love. Do tell what do you have in mind” he whispered in Hedwyn's ear, making the man suppress a groan.

He put Regulus' arm around his waist and kissed him. “Let's say you will be quite tired by the end of it.”

Chapter Text

His days blended into each other in an amalgamation of boredom-filled hours spent in the presence of his colleagues at the Ministry of Magic, with endless discussions about the most mundane of things — such as reforms in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and the changes to the statues of the Atrium. It was an adaptation to bring Britain to the international standard, the modification of the statues, especially with non-humans being slowly integrated into the Wizarding Society, but discussing what kind of statue was acceptable or not — or of it was not golden enough, to Hedwyn's ire — was too much for him to handle.

It also did not help that Regulus took his newfound annoyance towards the political side of things as a source of amusement. Many times, Hedwyn imagined what would happen if he took down the Ministry and instated an anarchist, Ministry-free country. But, alas, at the end of every session, he was persuaded otherwise by his very convincing fiancé. If he was too weak to continue his brooding after a few hours of being with his lover, then that was between him and the gods.

The upcoming wedding was also a good distraction from the boredom, though Lady Black refused to give details about how the ceremony was arranged. It had been decided that Hedwyn and Regulus would no longer stay at Gwynt Keep to prevent them from seeing the wedding preparations — even though they would not happen inside the main building. Hedwyn suspected another reason for them having to leave at Grimmauld Place, to his immense displeasure, was that Melania wished to speak to the Peverell portraits about ancestral wedding customs.

Though he sometimes wished he could have more of a say in his wedding other than choosing flowers or French dishes he had never heard of, he had to admit that having someone take on the weight of the ceremony was quite a nice way of just enjoying his wedding, and not having to spend hours upon hours stressing about every little thing.

Hedwyn spent most of his days with no politics intruding on his peace, with Regulus by his side. Even in Grimmauld Place, so close to Orion and Walburga, he was able to relax and enjoy the company of the man he loved. Lunch, teatime and dinner were the only moments of the day he spent with his fiancé's parents and for that, he was immensely thankful. It was not as if he hated Orion and Walburga, he actually cared very little about them, but the two were so boring to him that being in their presence was quite a challenge. How Regulus was able to deal with them he did not know.

Not all were flowers and sunlight, however, as the Wizengamot was not the only thing Hedwyn was finding more than annoying to deal with. At least once a week Regulus had to basically drag him to a meeting with the Knights of Walpurgis, so the self-important members of Wizarding Britain's most affluent families did not forget to whom they held allegiance. Hedwyn didn't do much in those meetings, other than ordering his Knights to infiltrate more into other departments or offices in the Ministry. “There is no such thing as enough power,” Regulus told him after he questioned the reason for more control inside the government's infrastructure.

In all honesty, Regulus was the one playing the cards. Hedwyn mostly stood beside his fiancé, looking as intimidating as possible, which was not very hard to do once your subjects knew you could control death. He was quite pleased, however, to witness the confident way Regulus behaved towards their Knights. No one dared to move or speak before Regulus, and every time he touched the dagger in his new baldric — which he insisted on buying — just so everyone could see it and not forget who had the power to punish them. It was curious, however, that not all Knights were wise enough to not step over implied boundaries.

Evan Rosier, with the desperation to rise above the other Knights of Walpurgis clear in his eyes, tried many times to talk to Regulus as if they were the best of friends, but Hedwyn always made sure to make the younger man cower away with one look. Others, such as the Black sisters and Crouch Jr. tried to get into Regulus' good graces by talking amicably to him, but the Black Heir never gave them more than a bothered glance. 

Politics aside, Hedwyn and Regulus' days were passed by visiting as many new places as they could. Their trip to the Isle of Skye was, perhaps, the most mesmerizing one. As soon as they portkeyed to the Ministry-designated spot, which prevented visitors from appearing in a possibly dangerous — random — location, Regulus and Hedwyn's gaze moved to the enormous beings far away on the water.

Three figures stood closer to the beach, all with their backs to the couple. One — a man — with long dark brown hair and a complete lack of garments, was crouching on the water, though only his knees touched the surface. His hands moved inside the water as if he was searching for something. The tips of the giant's hair brushed the water, creating a cloak-looking cover between the giant and his unadorned body. The second tallest of the giants, a woman with red hair — just as long as the man's —, had her gaze set on the ocean before her, looking for someone, or for something, that the two humans could not see. The smallest of the three, a boy with hair as red as his assumed mother, played in the cold ocean water as if it were the best toy in the world. The boy splashed water on the two adults, causing the man to let out a gruff noise, which seemed to entertain the boy immensely.

Regulus laughed softly when the boy, in all his 10 feet of height, started to run on the beach, his feet splashing water everywhere as he ran. The mother stopped her staring contest with the ocean for a moment, glancing at the cheerful boy. A smile adorned her face before she looked away.

Both Hedwyn and Regulus jumped when the man let out a barked laugh, his giant hand rising from the water in clenched fists.

The man and the woman left the water, both mumbling incoherent noises as their feet touched the sand, only stopping their stroll when they got closer to when the grass met sand. The ground shook as the two sat down, looking unconcerned by the cold wind running through their naked bodies.

The woman groaned loudly and hit her fist on the ground, making everything shake in the process. Hedwyn had to hold onto Regulus in order to remain standing, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

More shaking occurred as the boy started to run and jump towards the two adults, though he wasn't big enough yet to cause the same earthquake-like effect as the woman. The boy sat next to the other giants, his big hazel eyes staring at the man's hands. As soon as the man opened his hands, the boy quickly dug his hands into whatever it was in the man's palms.

Regulus watched quizzically as the boy shoved the contents of his hands inside his mouth, chewing it eagerly. “Best fish in the world, I'd guess,” he heard Hedwyn murmuring. Absentmindedly, he nodded, his mind too concerned with watching the giants eat to pay full attention to his partner.

Knowing how rare it was to see giants in nature, especially ones feeding, Regulus could not waste the opportunity to watch their every move. Even as his legs hurt from standing in the same place for too long, he refused to move.

Hedwyn on the other hand, was more interested in the familial aspect of the giants' interaction with each other. A smile appeared on his face when the boy, after finishing eating, crawled towards his mother and laid his head on her thigh. Cute was all he thought of as the boy yawned and closed his eyes, relaxing as his mother put her hand on his red hair.

“I wish more people could see this,” Regulus whispered, not wanting to disturb the giants. “Can you imagine a world where they could walk around free and undisturbed? It used to be like that, peaceful. Now there are so few of them... and our world cares more about them not being seen by Muggles than about helping giants to regain the freedom and numbers they've lost. It's so unfair.”

Hedwyn put his arm around Regulus' shoulders and brought him closer, “I know, darling. It's beautiful to see them having this moment, unconcerned about how few of them there are.”

“Do you think we can help them?” Regulus laid his head on the crook of Hedwyn's neck, looking away from the giants for the first time in a while.

“Help them? I guess? We can do a lot now, you know that. I'm not sure what we can do, since we cannot just bring giants to Caershire, but I'm willing to do something to help them.”

Hedwyn flushed when he felt soft lips leaving a kiss on his neck. He nuzzled against Regulus' dark hair, softly inhaling his sweet scent.

The help given to the giants came a few days after the couple visited the Isle of Skye, in the form of a new doctrine for the British Wizarding World. With a chamber full of journalists, common folk, and representatives from many beings' and creatures' communities, the Wizengamot introduced the Dogma for Magical Preservation and Spurring to the Wixen World.

The new set of credos for the country, which was to take place after the New Year, would set a new precedent for Britain. For the first time in the history of the Ministry of Magic, the ideology to govern the land was the one of preservation and incentivization of the culture, fauna and flora of the country. No longer would the Ministry's reason to exist be to act as a barrier between wixen and Muggles, but as a bastion of all that pertains to Magic.

“Forget the fear and cowardice towards those devoid of our gift,” Regulus' voice resonated around the chamber, as well as on the many wireless across the country. “We will now preserve everything that is magical in our world, and we will ignite a new fury inside of us. No longer will we watch as our world withers away, but we will persevere and thrive, as we always should have.”

As the new ideology of the Magical Ministry dictated, no more concessions were to be given to preserve Muggle populations from creatures and beings that have inhabited certain places for centuries before any humans. To guarantee the preservation of magical fauna, Muggles residing too close to magical habitats would be spelt to leave the location and seek homes elsewhere.

There were some concerns about what a response from the Muggle Prime Minister would be when he learnt about people being forced out of their homes, but Regulus reminded them of who held the real power in that case. He pointed out how organised and centralised the Wizarding World was, in contrast to when the witch hunts occurred, and that the Prime Minister was dealing with bad opinion poll numbers. Many in the chamber quirked an eyebrow at the implication that the Prime Minister would care more about polls than about their citizens losing their homes, even if the number of Muggle leaving in magical habits was low, but Regulus stood his ground and urged the Minister to do everything  in their power to guarantee the Muggle Minister's understanding.

The new dogma also dictated how the International Statue of Secrecy was to be upheld.

“To bring a new age of magic to our country, we need to guarantee the protection of every witch and wizard that resides in the Muggle World. Beginning in the next year, our usual modus operandi in relation to our own people will change drastically. A new set of protections will be added to the homes of those living in proximity to Muggles, to ensure the privacy of those who wish to do magic more freely, as well as for children to — under the guidance of the parents or guardians — learn magic outside of a school setting. For too long we have allowed our children to remain untethered from our gift while outside of Hogwarts. I say enough! Enough of denying the youngest of us something intrinsic to them, while allowing those that live fully in the Wizarding World to do magic without restrictions,” Regulus said every word with care and confidence, making eye contact with several people in the audience. “Wards will be placed around the homes of every wixen that live in places where Muggles may see magic being cast. Security and Privacy will be the motto of the new Department for Secrecy and Soundness of Magic.”

Regulus' words travelled around the country in a wave of both excitement, for those wishing for more thoughtful politics regarding the protection of the magical world, and apprehension, for people too scared of sudden structural changes. Both sides, however, would observe all the changes with watchful eyes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the cusp of the change of months, the last thing she thought of experiencing was the curious or disdainful eyes of her world's most powerful people. The robes she wore, hideous as they were, with the weight they brought with them, did nothing to diminish her worries — quite the opposite.

As soon as she saw their faces — first of the older man she was quite familiar with since marrying his son, and then of the two imposing figures, a couple known for their power, both political and magical — she understood the shield she would have to mould around herself.

This was not a place for the weak.

“State your name, my lady, together with your title and then swear your vow,” the old man's voice, clear and commanding, shook her today more than ever before. His grey eyes pierced through her, making her wonder if the man's wintry gaze was laced with either hatred or pity.

She cleared her voice before speaking, not too keen on relying on her body's goodwill to not embarrass her.

“I, Lily Clarice Potter, Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient of House of Gaunt, hereby vow to uphold the morals of this institution — as well as those I see fit for my house.”

Murmurs and whispers travelled around the room with the last line of Lily's vow. To have someone so openly stating they would exert more control over their houses rather than abide by ancient traditions was almost unheard of. In a place where people considered tradition to be above most things in life, going against such a concept was pure solecism.

The sounds of chattering and the light coming from the chair with the silver symbol of a viper, all felt too much for Lily at the moment. She felt as her legs moved against her will, a necessary betrayal her body was carrying out against her brain. She was thankful for the natural way her instincts prevented her from making a fool of herself in front of those who were now her colleagues.

So clouded by anxiety was her mind that she did not realise the chair she sat on was rooted in the Dark Faction's side. It was for the best, perhaps, to take the seat — passed down from the Slytherins to the Gaunts — out of the grips of the Dark would be a laborious task Lily was not in the correct state of mind to perform.

In her mind, she cursed and chastised herself for her novice-like behaviour. She explained to herself all the books she read before today were not for nothing, while her other side shouted in insecurity about how she remembered nothing; and as the chamber opened to discuss a law proposed by Lord Ollivander, about less regulation pertaining to wand components, Lily's was occupied playing a seemingly endless game of a tennis-like debate with herself.

The lords and ladies moved from Wand Regulation to a motion by Lord Longbottom, about censuring a few subjects of the new Dark Arts course at Hogwarts. However, people were so tired of the man after his many attempts to forbid dark-leaning knowledge that hardly anyone bothered to pay attention to him.

While that was happening Lily seemed to be clearing the fog that vexed her thoughts, lifting her mind from a cloudy veil of self-doubt. Her eyes moved to those in the chairs beneath hers, seeking a momentary distraction from her recent mental sobriety. Heads with thinning curls, others with luscious dark, blonde, or brown locks of hair. It was hard for her to discern who was who, especially since no one wore anything other than those garish purple robes.

A quiet sigh left her lips, the feeling of being drained by the mental battle she had gone through proving to be a challenge to deal with while in the Chamber of Boredom, as she quickly called it.

She glanced at Fleamont, but he was too absorbed in Lord Macmillan's speech about the need for more funding for the Floo Network Maintenance Office to notice her eyes on him. At a glance, Hedwyn almost made her laugh, as he was a master at expressing annoyance. The young man's face was a perfect example of distaste for the monotony of the Wizengamot. Lily herself was finding it hard not to leave the room in search of something more interesting to do.

Lily's heart hurt for a moment; the man who was also her son was a source of trouble within her. On one hand, knowing that such a great person was her son brought her a joy she hadn't known was possible to feel, but she also felt deeply conflicted when she thought about the changes he was promoting for their world. Many times since the truth was revealed to her, James and Sirius the only word that came to her mind was regret. Regret for a version of herself, that she knew was not so different from the woman she was now, and for how that other Lily chose a war over her son. Why did they not leave the country? They could have asked for shelter, begged another country for asylum, or disappeared to one of the many Potter residences around the world. Alas, they chose to remain in the United Kingdom, possibly to continue fighting the war in the future.

They did not choose their son, and that pained her immensely.

Her eyes moved away from Hedwyn, now was not the time for languishing in regret again. Green met grey as she looked at the man beside her son. Regulus Black — and he was looking at her. Her mind immediately thought something was wrong, that maybe she committed a faux pas that only the Lord Bearer was a witness to.

He nodded, a small gesture, then turned away.

What in the-, she was confused, utterly so. Her insecurities were washed away as puzzlement took centre stage.

Regulus Black was never one for explanations, that she knew, but why did he acknowledge her? Perhaps it was mockery? A small, almost imperceptible sign, that only the noble and pompous would understand? Lily knew Black was a man of his class, deeply unenthusiastic about giving those beneath the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black any scrap of the knowledge families such as his have guarded for centuries.

But the gesture didn't feel malicious, did it? No, it was most certainly not. Why then? Maybe he wishes to make peace? A good gesture for the mother of his future husband? she suppressed a groan, too aware that the people around her would interpret it as nothing more than the gaucherie of the newly discouvered half-blood.

She put her thoughts of Black aside. Now it was not the place for such considerations. Any strong feelings could make her react in an unbecoming way. Lily would not make a fool of herself. She was there to show the pureblood lords and ladies of Britain that a half-blood had just as much competence and the right to be there with them.

Straightening her shoulders, and moving her gaze to the Chief Warlock, Lily listened as the man spoke of an ancient procedure that forbade Lord Carrow to bring some sort of magical device inside the chamber. She would show them. If there was one thing she, Lily Potter, first every lady of the House of Gaunt, was capable of demonstrating that thing was her aptitude. She did not bow at eleven to those who thought to be superior to her, and she would not bow now.

Unknowingly to her, there was another red-haired watching her now. The man smiled at the sight of the woman, looking as if she had been in a thousand meetings before, and thought to himself how glad he was to call her mother. After all, if there was someone he was inspired by that person could only be Lily Clarice Potter.

Chapter Text

“Nature, magic and family,” the brown-haired priestess' voice travelled around the floral clearing, with the sunlight touching the colourful flowers and the white robes of the guests. “Love, Rebirth, and Strength” the red orchids, white lilies and the Leatherleaf fern, gracefully entwined around the white pine of the wedding arbour, seemed to brighten as Priestess Róisín's words evoked a feeling of calm and joy in the life around her.

“Earth,” her words were lilting this time. The green grass beneath people's feet gained a new look — dark but lively; greener but tamed for the season. Across from her and between the many seats, a path of polished grey stones formed.

“Water,” her tone came mellower, her words carrying a refreshing aura with them. To the right of the crowd gathered in the clearing — closer to the trees but still in clear sight of the attendees —, a fountain depicting a nymph resting on top of a rock came to life. The statue raised an arm to the sky, and from the palm of her hand came a serene stream of water.

“Sky,” the last word the Druid priestess let out came in melody with a slightly cold breeze. Priestess Róisín raised her arms, the long sleeves of her green robes falling to her elbows. Above the seated guests, two large birds flew from the trees in front of them and towards the path that led to a small stone building. Two red-crowned cranes, symbols of Hedwyn and Regulus' relationship, flew away together.

In front of the priestess, draped over a three-legs table that reached her chest, a white cloth appeared. On the part visible to the people in their seats, a green three-cornered symbol appeared — the Trinity Knot.

“Three parts, the perfect number for balance and stability in our world. The triquetra encompasses the three material domains — earth, sea, and sky —, as well as the realm of the spirits — Earth, Heaven, and the Underworld. Today, however, it symbolises the love felt between Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black; their rebirth, as the two of them shed from their old skin and became new beings, intertwined souls; and the strength of their bond, blessed by Nature and Magic.

The most sacred number, three, will grace the couple with the balance necessary for two souls to become one. By sundown, no longer there will be a Regulus Black or a Hedwyn Peverell. After today, Black and Peverell will become one. One house, one soul, stabilized by Magic. On the morrow, a new alliance will bless the world as Love encompasses all.”

The fiddle sang as a man, with an auburn beard and hair, started to play. The flute, played by a woman with dark blonde hair, and the Celtic harp, delicately played by a brown-haired woman, soon followed — interlaced together in a beautiful wave of sound.

Small creatures emerge from the grass and trees, shining meekly in pink, green, yellow, and purple. Fairies. The tiny creatures fly leisurely around the clearing like fireflies of pure magic.

In the distance, the sun slowly descended from the sky, casting yellowish-orange rays of light on the people below.

“As the fog obscures the path a couple must follow,” started Priestess Róisín. “No other guide will come forward to aid in their journey but Love. No force in the universe is more powerful or all-encompassing as the primary force that drives humanity forward. The essence of Care and Kindness. After all, what is stronger than the love of a mother or a partner? What kind of sacrifices are the strongest if not those of things we hold dear? Magic takes on our feelings to determine how powerful a spell or ritual will be, so why wouldn't it understand the strongest of feelings as the most powerful source of sorcery?”

The bodhrán joined the melody of intertwined sound art. On the ground, the polished stone path began to extend towards the stone building with a white wooden door, in the distance. From said building, a small figure appeared.

The figure, dressed in a long white dress, strolled down the stone path towards the altar. As she walked, pink flower petals were thrown onto the stone — draping the grey in a youthful colour.

“As the flower girl adorns the path Hedwyn and Regulus will take, we cherish the natural and the magical,” the girl walked between the aisle of chairs, bringing all eyes to her as people surveyed her appearance. It was clear now for the guests that the little girl was no human, as her darker lips, pale skin, and brown horns revealed her true origins. “A Fae, symbol of love, magic, and the point where the magical meets the mundane. A being blessed, just like us, to carry within them the most graceful of gifts. Magic shines from us all today.”

The girl went to stand beside the priestess, smiling softly at nowhere in particular. “There is no force more respected and revered in our world as the words interlined with magic,” Priestess Róisín's voice sounded gentle but mighty. “And there is no other instance of the power of words than vows. Regardless of affiliation or status, all of us understand and honour the bonds that bind us. Wedding vows, however, are not conventional. For centuries witches and wizards have studied the reason as to why wedding vows are so powerful, but very little was found. I, though, have a guess. I have talked a lot about love today, have I not? I told you about how Love is the most powerful force in our world, so strong even the brightest in our country study it eagerly. Well, wouldn't the love between two people strengthen a connection created, if said connection was made, especially, to bind the two together?”

As the Druid priestess seemed to finish her line of thought, leaving the guest to ponder over her words, another person came out of the same white door the little Fae girl came from. All eyes moved to the figure of a boy with hair shiny as gold, dressed in white robes, carrying one basket with rolled parchment in one hand, and another basket with something people could not see properly. The golden-haired boy passed by people with grace and calm, his blue eyes set on the table in front of the priestess. With care, the boy deposited each basket on the table and went to stand on Priestess Róisín's side. Many eyebrows were high, and many frowns were seen as the people tried to figure out what the boy was. It was clear he was not human, as his pointed ears and overly delicate features could tell, but what exactly he was remained unclear.

Only Priestess Róisín and the Fae next to her were knowledgeable enough among everyone present to notice the evident Aos Sí features and demeanour.

“Many are the tales of love in the world, all of them very different from each other. In ours, however, no other love story is more well-known than the one of Merlin and Viviane. Many are the versions of the love between Merlin The Great and the Lady of the Lake. Even Muggles have their own versions! The real story, however, is much less unfortunate than most versions,” the leaves on the trees moved, appearing to edge closer to where the priestess was — looking eager to hear the story.

“In a day of unutterable loneliness, after a morning of love-filled air, Merlin walked through the tick green forest just outside of King Arthur's castle. A sad thing was his lone stroll between the interwoven roots of the trees. But Merlin's glum mood would not last! Just as he left the ancient trees behind, his tired eyes met the light blue water of a lake. A lake that, knowing the lands of Caerleon as well as the palms of his hands and the magic in his veins, astounded Merlin greatly. Never before had the wizard seen such beauty. The land around the lake was just as mesmerising as the aquamarine-coloured loch, with lilies, roses and tulips of the most beautiful colours adorning the shoreline.

The view was so hypnotic Merlin failed to realise his feet were moving without his order. The forest behind him got further and further away as he approached the shore. His mind was lost in beauty and nature. It was sudden when it happened... A figure rising from the centre of the lake, draped in an aqua dress and glistening golden jewels. The Lady of the Lake, Viviane, forced Merlin to regain control over himself. The wizard watched, enchanted, as the woman walked above the waters and towards him.”

No one made a sound in the audience, men and nature together awaiting the moment the wizard and the Fairy exchanged words.

“Viviane bowed her head slightly as Merlin's visage became clearer, her dark hair following the motion gracefully. ‘Myrddin Wynn Emrys,’ the wizard's true name fell out of Viviane's mouth like a song, luring the druid to step inside the lake. ‘Many are the stories your name carries, my lord mage. Even here in the realm of Nature, your deeds are known to both beasts and beings. King Arthur's advisor; sorcerer and healer of the ruler of Camelot. What brings you here, Kindly Merlin?’ It took a moment for the wizard to comprehend the lady's words, so lost in her beauty he was. ‘I fear I did not come here guided by my will alone, my lady’, Merlin answered after recovering his mannered mind. ‘Never have I seen such a place before, of that I am sure, for I would not forget such beauty.’ Viviane smiled kindly at the wizard, jolly mischief in her eyes. The Lady of the Lake explained to the wizard how Nature, sometimes, enjoys playing tricks on men. The reasons why for the ploy? Viviane did not know. The two talked more, of life and magic and the random belle that is nature.

Hours passed, the sun casting its orange light upon the world. ‘Will I see you again?’ Merlin asked — apprehension in his tone. The hours shared with Viviane had invigorated the man in such a way that the mere prospect of never again seeing the Lake's Lady was a reason for distress. Without a word, Viviane crouched and submerged her delicate hands in the cold water of the lake, retrieving something from it in a few seconds. ‘Take this’, Viviane told Merlin, her palms opened to reveal a flower made of turquoise crystals. ‘When your heart desires to find me once more, hold this in your hand. It will guide you here, back to me. Go now, lord Merlin, before the dark seals you here.’

And so Merlin went, back to Camelot, back to loneliness. His sorrow did not last long, however. Every day, as the morning turned into evening, Merlin went to the forest — crystal flower in hand. For the hours they had together before twilight crept on their sacred place, Viviane and Merlin shared memories and magic. Merlin told the Lady of the Lake stories of the rigours magic of magical societies and Viviane told him about the carefree arts of Nature. A fortnight passed before King Arthur enquired Merlin about where the mage went every day. The wizard, shy though respectful of his king's curiosity, told Arthur of the lake beyond the woods and the fairy woman.”

The music changed tune, the Celtic harp taking centre strange and the other instrument turning quieter.

“Merlin told King Arthur of his loneliness and the hollowness he felt. In a time where wizards and witches were scattered around the world, refusing to mingle together for fear of drawing Muggles' attention to them, Merlin had no other companion of his kind. The magical kind. He told the king of his days with Viviane and the magic they shared. The wizard opened his heart to his friend, no longer willing to wallow in solitude. The king, righteous as always, told Merlin to seek the Lady of Lake and ask her to be his, for if her answer was favourable, Merlin would be let go of his duties to the crown. The wizard, of course, was taken aback by such proposals, declaring his willingness to remain by Arthur's side. King Arthur, however, refused to listen to Merlin's words about continuing to serve Camelot and sent the wizard to meet Viviane.” 

The sound of the white door opening drew people's attention as the silence left by Priestess Róisín forced the guests' senses to pay closer attention to every little noise.

An older couple came out of the small building, followed by a man draped in long white robes. Although the man was far from the guests' close line of sight, his shoulder-length ginger hair made it clear they were looking at Hedwyn Peverell. The couple each stood on one side of Hedwyn and took his hand.

The three started to calmly walk towards the wedding arbour and the priestess behind the table with the white cloth and the two small baskets on top of it. The harp and the fiddle calmly accompanied their stroll, a musical representation of their state.

Hedwyn looked both elegant and beautiful, people could tell, as he walked past them. His robes seemed as if made of the softest of silks and as white as the most precious pearl. Fleamont and Euphemia by his side had the most prideful expressions on their faces as they walked with him to the altar. The evening sun touched Hedwyn's garments and some people felt the need to look away from the brightness of the reflecting robes.  He wore no jewellery; there was no need for one. Beauty and poise, natural and youthful, those were his adornments. 

Priestess Róisín smiled at Hedwyn as he approached the altar, “And Merlin did go to Viviane,” she said with a tender tone. “The two spoke for hours of wishes and aspirations — of love, companionship and friendship. Viviane, aware of Merlin's ability as a wizard, urged the man to find a way to make sure they would never be apart again. Her heart ached every time she was left alone in the dark; no longer did she feel as if she could sustain their routine.”

Hedwyn gave the Potters each a kiss on the cheek and allowed them to take their seats in the front row, beside Lily and James. The bodhrán joined the fiddle and the harp, tuning with the priestess' change in tone. Anticipation grew with the music and the woman's words.

“It was then that an idea hatched in Merlin's mind. He told Viviane of a type of magic known to few mages, an art that distorted reality and opened a door to a new world — made only of the ideas in someone's mind. It is said that Hogwarts has a place similar to the one Merlin created, although it remains but a rumour from the Founders' time.”

Three other people left the stone building, all with hair as dark as night. Orion and Walburga were instantly recognisable as members of one of the oldest and most noble families in the country. The young man between them, Regulus, was just as well known as his parents. They were all dressed in white, though Regulus' robes were far more distinct and graceful.

“Then, as the next day came as his and Viviane's planes became an inevitability in their minds, Merlin spoke to King Arthur with both sorrow and hope. The wizard told Arthur how unhappy his life had become, without another of his kind to make him company in Camelot and how he had found in Viviane an unexpected companion.”

A silk cape draped over Regulus' shoulders and cascaded down his back, its fluid movement and the gentle breeze causing the fabric to billow behind him, as ethereal as the legends of the elves spoke of their appearance and demeanour. Different from Hedwyn's robes, Regulus did not rely solely on the quality of the material to convey the flawless but serene spirit of the ceremony. On the ends of his robe, close to the hemline, the Nemean lion made of silver sauntered. The beast with stars for its eyes moved as gracefully as the man wearing the robes, a sign of Regulus splendour.

On the right cuff of his robes, the constellation of Boötes stood in all of its glory — made purely of small diamonds —, with only Arcturus represented by an imperial topaz. On the left side, the Gemini constellation gleamed as the sunlight touched the diamonds that comprised its stars. The only colours visible come from the aquamarine representing Castor and the yellow sapphire representing Pollux.

“It was then that, encouraged by his old friend, Merlin went to see Viviane later that day with a purpose,” Róisín's soothing voice travelled above the music and reached the people in the audience — although their eyes were set on Regulus.

The smile on Hedwyn's face as his fiancé walked closer and closer could eclipse the sun. The same could not be said about Regulus, however, as the poor boy was too occupied with stopping tears from coming out. Hedwyn's smile softened as he saw how emotional his partner was with the ceremony.

“A door was assembled, comprised of evergreen wood and chalcedony crystals that Viviane made sprout from the ground, forming a triangular-shaped door,” the music dimmed and the sounds of the nature around the clearing became clearer. The rustling of leaves and the babble of the water in the fountain set a tranquil mood in everyone's mind.

Regulus kissed his parents' cheeks like Harry had done before him and went to stand facing his fiancé, his side profile being all the guests could see. He took Hedwyn's hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. Regulus' heart beat fast as he saw his lover's eyes glowing, the love in them almost blinding him from everything around them.

Hedwyn, on the other hand, was not paying attention to anything that was not his beautiful fiancé. He caressed the back of Regulus' hands with his thumbs, enjoying the warmth coming from the other boy's hands.

“Merlin then took Viviane's hand and walked forward towards the door. However, before the two crossed into their new private world, they left a seed planted in the middle ground between the lake and the forest. Beyond the door, a world of crystals, rivers and white light welcomed the couple — immortal and glorious, an icon of Merlin and Viviane's love. 

The door behind them closed, sealing the two inside a world of endless joy and companionship. Never again would Merlin or Viviane know loneliness, as their love and magic tied the two together. It is said, however, that there is a way for the two to leave their world. If one day the love between Viviane and Merlin dwindles, the door will open once again and give them the chance to return to our world,” Priestess Róisín smirked before speaking again. “Something I doubt will ever happen since we're yet to see Merlin walking around our world again.”

The priestess looked at the couple before her with a gleam in her eyes. “Merlin and Viviane's story, at the end of the day, was one about finding the one perfect for you and shedding off the things causing you to feel alone and unaccomplished. It's a story about Love, above all.”

With a gentle hand gesture, Priestess Róisín got Hedwyn and Regulus' attention on the basket with two pieces of rolled parchment lying inside.

Hedwyn was the first to reach for the parchment, taking it in his hand and carefully unrolling it. He cleared his throat and moistened his lips. His eyes travelled to Regulus' before he started to read, getting a nod from his partner.

“I knew of you before I ever thought I would have the chance of meeting you,” Hedwyn began, eyes going from the parchment to Regulus. “Back then, when I found out about how courageous you truly were and how far you would go to give the world a chance to live, I felt reinvigorated and inspired by you. I felt both seen and understood. How alike we were before we met. I often think about it. The both of us had a path laid out before us, bringing us together and apart at the same time. Men older than us would have sworn we were nothing but pieces on the chessboard. How wrong they were,” he felt his lips form a smirk, involuntarily. “Many people saw us as weak and malleable, two boys too scared to face the dangers of the world without help. How wrong they were. The first time we met, you were about to give up on something too important, for the sake of the world — just as I had once. Thankfully, I was there to lift you and show you a new path. A path not only towards freedom but towards a future none of us was allowed to dream about before. And since then, since that day we first met, you have never left my side. I cannot describe how grateful I am for that. Together we have come up with crazy plots and even crazier acts. Together we have achieved our freedom, but not without falling in love in the process. I cannot express to you enough how thankful I am for that happening. With your calm and sweet way of moving around the world, you have captivated me, Regulus. Having you beside me, holding my hand at all times, has been the best experience of my life. Getting to know you, and being able to see the real Regulus other people could only dream of knowing was the best gift life ever gave me. You gave me a chance to be happy, truly happy, and for that I will cherish and love you to the end of my days. I solemnly vow to do everything within my power to ensure your happiness, every single day of our lives together. I promise to love you deeply and stand by your side in every moment. May our families unite as one, just as our love has woven together the threads of our ancestors and the magic that binds us. I am and will forever be yours, Regulus Black.”

By the end, Regulus was bleary-eyed and his lips were quivering. As a tear rolled down on his left cheek, Hedwyn's hand rose and caressed Regulus' cheek, wiping the wet path the tear left behind softly with his thumb. He ignored the guests, not caring about showing too much affection in public. He wanted, needed, Regulus to know how much he would be cared for.

Slowly, after his eyes were cleared of tears, Regulus took his parchment and unrolled it. He exhaled and inhaled, preparing himself for another emotional moment. “We met at the most tumultuous moment of my life. I cannot say I was expecting to see you that day,” he chuckled softly. “It was not my best moment, I must admit. However, even after everything that happened on that glum day, I can tell you with all the conviction I can muster: I would not change a single thing. All the moments before I met you, as bad as they were, led me straight to you, and for that, I am grateful. I am grateful for the opportunity to meet you, get to know you and learn to love you. You have no idea of how much you mean to me. You not only showed me how to be a better version of myself — more confident and more powerful — but you gave me my freedom back. For years I thought my future was set in stone, a reality created by others without my consent. Yet, as you helped me regain my freedom, I have grown into someone I never thought I could be. With you, Hedwyn, I have become someone I'm proud of. And how I love you for it," Regulus' voice got stuck, overwhelmed by emotions as he declared his feelings. “You are the sun responsible for shining life into me. You are the one who gives me the strength to not keep going, but to thrive in life. You're the guiding light in my life, Hedwyn. I may be named after a star, but you are the one who truly shines. I will cherish you just as you cherish me. I will be by your side at every moment, good and bad. My love for you will never waver, in life or death. I solemnly vow to do everything within my power to ensure your happiness, every single day of our lives together. I promise to love you deeply and stand by your side in every moment. May our families unite as one, just as our love has woven together the threads of our ancestors and the magic that binds us. I will always love you, Hedwyn, and with you, I will always know happiness.”

The couple placed their wedding vows back inside the basket and joined hands once more. Regulus squeezed Hedwyn's hands as he saw the tears threatening to fall.

Priestess Róisín smiled at them, “May your vows be blessed by Nature. May your magic grow ever strong.”

The wind passed by the altar, and some of the flower petals from the ground travelled with it. Some on the little fairies let out small giggles and followed the wind. The stream of water from the fountain seemed stronger and the trees took on a more vibrant colour.

“Now, the couple will share the wedding rings, made of carved and polished cherry wood — a symbol of Regulus and Hedwyn's love for nature,” the priestess gestured to the basked with the rings and both men picked up their respective ones.

Regulus held Hedwyn's ring between the fingers of his right hand, “With this ring, I unite our families and magic,” he put the ring on Hedwyn's finger, leaving a kiss on the back of his beloved's hand.

Hedwyn did the same as Regulus, carefully placing the ring on the other boy's finger, “With this ring, we become one. From this day forward, we are reborn.”

The guests clapped and smiled as a white glow surrounded the couple, sealing the two of them together.

“With the grace granted to me by Magic and Nature, I declare you Regulus and Hedwyn Black-Peverell. May your time on this Earth be blessed and full of fortune and love,” Priestess Róisín's arms lifted and the palm of her hand turned towards the trees. “And now, as is dictated by the Peverell family tradition, the couple will plant the seed of a tree that will represent their love. Just as Merlin and Viviane did before them, Hedwyn and Regulus will give Nature a sign of their devotion to each other. The tree will then live way past the couple, growing and thriving — becoming an icon of their love.”

Hedwyn took the brown seed from Priestess Róisín's stretched hand and joined hands with Regulus. The two left the altar and walked a few steps to the right. Regulus took out his wand and pointed to the ground, flicking his wrist in a swift motion. A small hole formed as the dirt moved. The couple moved into a crouched position, so Hedwyn could place the seed on the dirt more easily. When the seed was put in the soil and covered up with dirt, Hedwyn pointed his wand to the nymph's fountain and a small stream floated towards the patch of brown soil surrounded by green grass.

A familiar cold breeze passed through the couple, and Regulus gasped quietly at the sudden temperature change.

'May this ash tree symbolise not only your enduring commitments to your ancestors but also the eternal power of the love you both share. I bestow upon you and your descendants the blessing that your family so rightly deserves. May your love for one another flourish, even beyond the bounds of this life,’ Death spoke the two, causing Regulus' eyebrows to rise as he heard the deity's voice for the first time.

Hedwyn put an arm around Regulus as they stood up, comforting his obviously emotional husband. As the word passed by his mind, Hedwyn couldn't help but smile brightly. Husband, he brought Regulus closer as he thought about the significance of the word. I have a husband.

“I love you, and will keep loving you forever,” he whispered, looking into Regulus' grey eyes.

Regulus' answer was to put his hands on Hedwyn's cheeks and bring him closer, kissing his husband fervently. Cheers could be heard coming from the guests, but the only thing the couple cared about in that moment was to enjoy each other's warmth.

In the crowd, both Lily and James were crying, too emotional to care about hiding their feelings. Their son was married, and nothing more mattered in the world. Even Walburga and Orion shed a q few tears, although neither of the two would ever admit doing so.

Sirius was smiling brightly at the sight of his brother, happier than he had been in years. The wizard lifted his wand, a devious smile on his face, and conjured tiny fake diamonds to fall on top of the couple, making the two gasp in surprise. Regulus glared at his brother, without any real anger, and Hedwyn laughed out loud.

Arcturus and Melania, as well as Fleamont and Euphemia, smiled at them. To see their family so happy was unimaginable a few months ago, so they would enjoy the scene as long as they could. Fleamont did stop Charlus from casting something at his grandson and his husband, receiving a nod of approval from Dorea and a giggle from Castor.

In the celebration that followed the ceremony, the newlyweds and the guests all danced until the moon encompassed the sky. Hedwyn and Regulus were the first to dance, all eyes and smiles on them. The two glowed under the light of the Gwynt Keep's ballroom, showing their love and connection through intricate but elegant dance moves.

Hedwyn and Lily were the next to dance, with Regulus and Dorea a few feet from them. The boys then danced with Euphemia and Walburga, respectively. The hours followed, and everyone ate and drank until their feet grew tired and minds became drained. The guests began to leave and Hedwyn and Regulus gave everyone their goodbyes.

After saying goodbye to their families, the couple took a portkey to France, where they would spend their honeymoon. At a glorious room in Mont Saint-Michel, with a beautiful view of the moon illuminating the ocean dimly, Regulus found Hedwyn's body once more. Although that was not their first night together, it was definitely their most special. And Regulus would make sure his lover understood how important that night was, and how important Hedwyn was to him. He would show his love in the way he liked best, making Harry whisper his name and whimper in pleasure. No other night before that one would be as incredible or significant.

Chapter Text

The hallway was filled with the lively sounds of chattering and laughter as Hedwyn made his way towards one of the drawing rooms. He couldn't help but suppress a groan, feeling a sense of fatigue as he walked, arm in arm, with his husband. Despite his weariness, the title of husband brought a genuine smile to his face, making his mind put aside the reason why he was walking through the fancy hallways of Château Noir. He tightly held onto that feeling, knowing that he would certainly need it in the time to come.

The man beside him was in a mood quite opposite to his own, for which Hedwyn was oddly grateful. Seeing the faint smile on Regulus's face and the calmness of his stride was the most important thing to Harry. To see his husband happy about visiting his family to celebrate Yule would be enough to counter the need to go home and avoid some of the particular guests of today's celebration.

As they arrived in the room the others were in, Melania quickly rose from her seat to meet them. Hedwyn was thankful she was the one to greet them and not one of Regulus' weird family members. The lady hugged her grandson and gave Hedwyn a kiss on each cheek, a small smile on her face.

Hedwyn's gaze wandered curiously over the members of the Black family. He observed Lycoris, Cassiopeia, and Lucretia, who appeared to be engaged in a heated argument about a matter he couldn't decipher from afar. Meanwhile, in a corner of the room, Orion, Cygnus, and Dorea were speaking to a man in a painting. He relaxed slightly upon seeing how calm the family was, which was in contrast to what he had expected. If anyone were to call him prejudiced, Harry would simply say that his notion of the Blacks being an exasperating family to be around was Bellatrix's fault. He was so sure of the convincing power of this excuse that he failed to realise he had never spoken to her before.

He acknowledged them with a bow, as well as Walburga, Pollux and his wife, the Black sisters and their parents, and all the others — even those whose names were unknown to him. Melania did introduce him to everyone he either did not know personally or had no idea even existed. By the end of the many greetings, his cheeks were hurting from forcing smile after smile and he had to stop himself from massaging his sore face.

Regulus walked them to a couch beside one Charlus and an older woman were discussing a new potion for heart problems. It did not miss his attentive eyes the fact that Lucius Malfoy was in the furthest side of the drowning room from them — in the seats Regulus chose. To that he smiled, thankful for Regulus' quick thinking.

“Oh, Hedwyn!” Charlus exclaimed with a beaming smile, melting Harry's heart. He would always feel more alive when one of the Potters gave him a warm welcome. “This is Dorea's cousin, Callidora Longbottom. A wonderful woman! She was the youngest pioneer to receive Rowena's Medal for Notable Minds, did you know? Isn't it marvellous? Oh, Fleamont will go red with envy, I can tell you that. He always wanted to meet Mrs Longbottom. To create a potion that cures most types of lung damage is no easy feat, as I'm sure you can imagine. Do sit down!”

Harry pretended not to see Callidora trying to chug her tea so as not to laugh at Charlus' lack of manners, though he sent the greying woman a knowing smile.

Regulus, on the other hand, did nothing to pretend not to be shocked by the suddenness of the influx of words coming from the Potter man. The Black Heir looked at his husband as if asking for help to deal with Charlus, but Hedwyn only gave Regulus a smirk.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Peverell,” said Callidora as she handed him and Regulus each a cup of tea. “I must say I was most curious to meet you. It's not every day that little Regulus meets the man of his life, of course,” she chuckled at her comment, and Regulus' cheek tinted pink. “It was a beautiful precision, your wedding. We are long gone from the day when those types of processions were the norm, unfortunately. And to have it done in such an old and magic-filled home as the Peverell Keep was superb.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Charlus looking around as if searching for something more interesting than the new direction the conversation had taken. Wisely, Harry chose to ignore his great-uncle and focus on Mrs Longbottom instead. He took a sip of his tea and gave Callidora a warm smile. “Thank you, Mrs Longbottom. I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s truly a shame that so few weddings adhere to wizarding traditions these days, but I hope that changes will come in the future.” Callidora nodded at Hedwyn and was about to speak when an irritated sound from the portrait Dorea, Cygnus, and Orion were speaking to caught her attention. Harry seized the opportunity to gently nudge Charlus’s shoe with his own, preventing him from escaping the conversation by playing with his turquoise robes.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Charlus, catching Callidora's attention, who looked wide-eyed at him from the suddenness of his loud exclamation. "Oh, I remember my wedding with Dorea... My dear never looked more beautiful than on that day."

"Never? Is that so?" Dorea's voice made Charlus jump in his seat and blush with embarrassment. She took a seat next to her husband, smiling politely at her cousin Callidora, who was pretending not to grin at Charlus’s flushed face, as well as at Regulus and Hedwyn. The men greeted her in kind, also ignoring the flushing Potter.

“How are you, Dorea?” asked Hedwyn, wondering how the woman was dealing with motherhood. “Not too tired, I hope.”

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, it’s going much better than I expected, to be honest. Castor is such a calm and quiet baby that I don’t feel nearly as exhausted as I imagined I would. I thought I’d be worn out all the time, but it hasn’t been nearly as difficult as I anticipated."

“That's good,” he said and started to drink his tea before it got cold. Callidora and Regulus nodded, agreeing with him.

“You're lucky, darling,” said Callidora. “The gods only know how exhausting it was to take care of my Tobias. He would cry for hours, I tell you. And the only thing that would make him stop crying? Food! Can you believe it? No wonder he loves to eat to this day — it's a habit he's had since before he even had teeth.”

Dorea laughed at her cousin, and Callidora soon joined in. Hedwyn smiled as he watched Dorea enjoying herself, keenly aware that she hadn’t been able to do so in his former life.

Hedwyn looked at his husband when he felt Regulus taking his hand and lightly squeezing it. He relaxed as he saw the understanding in his partner's eyes. It did not surprise him that Regulus was able to know what he was thinking about. As more time passed, Harry was sure the two of them would be able to communicate with glances only.

“Thankfully, Melania was kind enough to make sure there was a room so I could take Castor for when he was tired,” said Dorea. “He's there now, actually. With our house-elf, that is.”

“Grandmother did tell me in a letter about some of the preparations for today,” said Regulus as he put down his cup. “It has been a while since I've seen all the family together. It's... nice. It's quite nice.”

The sweet smile Regulus had on his face almost made Hedwyn stop breathing. I love you so much, he closed his eyes as he said, unable to keep looking at his husband without doing something embarrassing.

He sat back and let the others speak, comfortable enough with just watching. It was a rare opportunity to see how people from such noble families interact with each other in a more... familial setting.

It was odd, in a way, to see people he knew were the furthest from demonstrative — in public — interact so genuinely with each other. To watch, as people removed their masks and showed who their true selves were, would always be intriguing to him.

His left eyebrow lifted slightly when Orion and Pollux joined their group, though the two remained behind the couch. Hedwyn watched the two men with curiosity as they joined the conversation. While Orion tried to change the conversation to a topic he preferred, Pollux always seemed to know something about whatever the others chose to speak about.

“I do think you are right, Dorea,” said Pollux to his sister, one of his hands on her shoulder. “There are more important things than the greedy accumulation of money some families are obsessed with.” His eyes momentarily moved to Lucius Malfoy, who was having a conversation with Arcturus and Charis Crouch. “But we must remember that maintaining a family as big as ours is no easy feat. Arcturus takes this fact to heart. We cannot always remain on our ideological endeavours when the very balance of the Family is at stake.”

Dorea furrowed her brow as she pondered her brother's words. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, Orion voiced his thoughts.

“Why should such matters be of any concern? We are one of the most powerful families in this country, and we should remain so. Is it so hard to allow ourselves some selfishness? The world is a never-ending competition, and we have come out on top. Is it in our interest to give away our leisure in order to gain more power in the future? Fortunately, no. Be thankful we are not fighting for crumbs like the Weasleys do. Our ancestors gave us the comfortable life we enjoy now and we should help maintain it. Unless you wish for your descendants to struggle in life.”

Dorea only pursed her lips, though Harry did see the look Charlus sent Orion. He smiled slightly as his great-uncle looked as if he would tear Orion's head off for upsetting his wife.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Callidora, Pollux and Dorea left to speak with the others in the room. Orion tried to ask Regulus about his ambitions for the future but only got a shrug for an answer.

"Why does it matter what he plans to do? He is already rich and powerful, isn't he?" Charlus asked Orion, his tone laced with sarcasm. Despite the clear irony in his words, Orion's thoughtful expression suggested he did not grasp the jibe.

Regulus rolled his eyes in exasperation as his father continued to bicker with Charlus, despite Orion's persistent failure to grasp the other man’s provocations. Each time Charlus made a pointed comment intended to provoke Orion, the man responded as though it were a perfectly ordinary observation.

Deciding to leave before he started to laugh out loud, Hedwyn took Regulus' hand and left Charlus to deal with Orion by himself.

Harry immediately regretted his decision when he saw Bellatrix approaching them, with Rodolphus trailing closely behind her. His eyes were drawn to her belly, where her pregnancy was unmistakably evident, leaving him with no choice but to take notice.

Her walk was calm, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her true feelings. Apprehensive? he wondered. Hedwyn couldn’t help but smile at the thought. To have someone like Bellatrix Lestrange feel any degree of fear towards him was the highlight of his day. He intended to savour it a little longer.

Bellatrix halted a few feet away, Rodolphus by her side. Harry turned to glance at Regulus, eager to gauge his husband's reaction to the couple's arrival. However, instead of curiosity or concern, he found Regulus gazing at them with a palpable air of disinterest. His lips were pressed into a thin, unimpressed line, while his grey eyes, usually sharp and attentive, were half-lidded and devoid of any spark. His brow remained unfurrowed, exuding a calm detachment, and a faint sigh seemed to escape him, as though even acknowledging their presence was a tiresome chore. The entire expression was one of practised indifference, clearly designed for Bellatrix and Rodolphus to see, signalling that their approach had failed to elicit anything more than mild irritation.

“My lords,” Bellatrix and Rodolphus said while bowling their heads slightly. Hedwyn only raised an eyebrow, not willing to speak.

“Hello, Bella,” said Regulus after a few seconds. “Rodolphus.”

The awkwardness that set on them as silence took over was so thick that Hedwyn was sure the others in the room could see it. He said nothing, however. For some odd reason, he found the atmosphere amusing. Perhaps he liked the way that Bellatrix looked at her husband, probably trying to make Rodolphus speak and break the silence. Or maybe he was just a cunt. He didn't know and didn't particularly care.

“We would like to thank you for granting us our freedom, my lords,” Rodolphus' voice came out almost as a whisper. The man's hands were, undoubtedly, sweating, as he kept rubbing his palms on the sides of his robes. It was pitiful. Hedwyn would be feeling sorry if not for his memory of what this man could do. What he did do, even if in another life. Thankfully, the Longbottoms would never know such horrors now, and the Lestranges and Crouch Jr would be under his and Regulus' foot until the day they died.

“We are very merciful lords, Rodolphus,” Regulus's tone was thick with disdain, even as his face remained impassive. “Just remember to whom you owe your allegiance, and all will be well. Oh. One more thing. We trust you will teach your child to be honourable, not to relinquish his status or grovel at the feet of those stronger than him. That is a vital lesson for a child, wouldn't you agree? Dignity is something only animals are indifferent to. Make sure they learn that well.”

Without waiting for a response, Regulus swiftly turned on his heel, guiding Harry away from the couple without so much as a backward glance at his cousin. His movements were purposeful, almost dismissive, as if being in their presence any longer would be a waste of time. He led Harry through the room, weaving between the guests until they reached the white round table where Cassiopeia, Lycoris, and Lucretia remained engrossed in their conversation. The trio barely seemed to notice their arrival, caught up in their own discussion, their voices a low murmur against the backdrop of the gathering.

They sat down, and Regulus called for a house-elf to bring them some refreshments. Moments later, a small, timid house-elf appeared with a tray laden with tea, scones, and a selection of delicate sandwiches. The elf bowed deeply, setting the tray on the table before scurrying away, its ears twitching nervously.

Regulus poured the tea, the faint clinking of china breaking the silence. He offered a cup to Hedwyn, who accepted with a polite nod. They sipped their tea, each lost in their own thoughts, the crackling fire and the conversations being the only sounds in the room.

As they finished the last of the scones and sandwiches, Regulus set his teacup down with a soft clink. Harry followed suit, carefully placing his cup on the saucer. The house-elf reappeared almost instantly, eyes downcast, to clear away the empty dishes. With a quiet word of thanks from Regulus, the elf vanished as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving the table feeling more spacious without the tray.

Regulus leaned back in his chair, the warmth of the tea settling comfortably in his stomach. "Do you think I did the right thing? With Bellatrix, that is." he said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. Hedwyn nodded with a faint smile, dabbing their lips with a napkin before replying, "It was perfect, darling. It is essential for us to remind our knights of who their new lords are. It's a bore, of course, but a necessary thing to do. They may fear us, but I don't doubt some of them resent us for killing Voldemort."

Regulus unconsciously nodded, his eyes lost in thought.

As the silence between them resumed, Hedwyn's ears caught snippets of the conversation between the three ladies seated in front of them. He heard Lycoris mention something about a man she had recently visited, prompting Cassiopeia to utter something that sounded like, "Were you kind?" or perhaps "Are you kind?" As the latter didn't make sense to him, he guessed his first deduction was correct. A name that sounded like Rius slipped from Lucretia's lips, though it was not someone Hedwyn recognised. He did, however, find it odd the way the two women seemed to be trying to calm Cassiopeia down, or at least that was how it appeared.

He glanced at Regulus, curious to see if his husband had overheard the women’s conversation, but found him still lost in his own thoughts. Hedwyn sighed, resigned to his failure in uncovering what the ladies were discussing.

Once more, his eyes roamed the room, searching for something to occupy his mind. He observed the Blacks, whether by surname or origin, along with those accompanying their spouses. Longbottom, Crabbe, Prewett, Potter, Crouch, and many others brought a variety to the room, a contrast to the uniformity of the Blacks. He saw Druella Rosier and Harfang Longbottom leading Herbert Burke and Pollux towards the balcony, while Lucius Malfoy, the elderly Cygnus Black, and Hesper Gamp spoke quietly in a corner. Everywhere he looked, he saw the intricate web of families — scenes his former self could never have imagined witnessing.

He relaxed in his seat, comfortable with the atmosphere going around the room. Perhaps this is a more amiable group to be around than I had predicted. His eyes closed and the sounds around him gained more space as he savoured his peace.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I would like to thank you all for coming to our beloved château to celebrate this glorious day together,” said Arcturus, holding a glass of champagne and raising it to the other guests at the large, formal dining table. The man sat at the head of the table, with the former Lord Sirius II positioned on the opposite side. “For some years our great family has drifted apart, which brought my father and me an awful feeling of imbalance. However, as we can see from the marvellous scene before us, that is no more. Now, as we celebrate the grand night of Yule, with the Yule log burning in our hearth, I wish for us to enjoy this moment of togetherness. Much has changed in our world, but the Blacks are and forever shall be united!”

Glasses clinked and people cheered as the feast commenced. Hedwyn wasted no time digging into the golden duck breast on his plate, served with potato purée, roasted carrots, sautéed spinach, and plum sauce.

“I see you’re enjoying it, darling,” said Regulus to his left. He replied with a shy smile, and the look in Regulus’s eyes almost made him melt. He subtly moved his left leg so that his knee touched his husband’s. A grin threatened to appear on his face as he noticed Regulus relax his shoulders and felt his knee press against his own.

“The meal is absolutely delightful, Arcturus. The duck is beyond wonderful,” Hedwyn said to the Black Lord. The old man put down his glass and grinned at him.

"Melania insisted on it, you know? And, as always, she was right." Arcturus gently took his wife's hand and placed a kiss on the gold ring adorning her ring finger. “A great hostess is the most modest compliment I can give her.”

“Cheers to you, my lady,” Hedwyn lifted his glass and saluted Melania, who gave him a flushed smile.

Hedwyn resumed eating and initiated a conversation with Regulus about Caershire, while also ensuring to include Walburga, seated to his right. He carefully balanced the discussion between them, though his attention naturally gravitated more towards Regulus. Nevertheless, he was mindful not to let Walburga feel disregarded. Failing to acknowledge the woman who would one day become more important in the family's hierarchy would be a faux pas Hedwyn was determined to avoid. Despite Regulus being the one with greater influence and power as the future holder of the Black family seat in the Wizengamot, it would be unwise to overlook Walburga and Orion. Although Orion lacked political ambitions, maintaining a measure of respect towards them was essential to maintaining peace.

Orion inquired about the more intricate aspects of establishing a wizarding village, while Walburga was more interested in the defences of Caershire. Hedwyn answered their questions as thoroughly as he could, though certain details remained the exclusive knowledge of the goblins, who were responsible for creating most of the magical defences.

Walburga was quite taken with his idea of using golems to patrol the village and ensure no illicit activities took place. However, he chose not to mention the Inferi, sensing that doing so might pique her curiosity more than was prudent.

As the dinner drew to a close, Arcturus and Melania ushered everyone into the room where the grand hearth was ablaze with the Yule log. The flickering flames cast a warm, inviting glow, reflecting the ancient pagan traditions that celebrate the rebirth of the sun during Yule.

In the room, they all rested for a while, enjoying each other’s company. No one raised their voices as they spoke quietly, allowing the sound of the flames to consume the log to be the most prominent force in the room. Hedwyn sat next to Regulus, arm in arm, listening to his husband talk to Lycoris about the school for young witches and wizards. He let Regulus’s voice calm and soothe him as he closed his eyes, not caring for a second about what others might think. There, with his lover’s warmth enveloping him, Harry allowed himself to simply be. The chill of the night, the fire in the hearth, and Regulus were all he cared about at that moment.

Chapter Text

The library was bathed in a soft, dim light that emanated from the flickering candles, casting warm, dancing shadows on the weathered books lining the shelves and the polished wooden floor. Hedwyn and Regulus sat side by side — in front of the largest window in the room — gazing out at the distant silhouette of the mountains against the backdrop of the glowing night sky.

Regulus held his husband's hand while pointing at the stars with the other, recounting tales of old Blacks named after the heavenly bodies above. Hedwyn listened to every word that came out of Regulus' mouth with a smile, content with the endearing way the man next to him spoke of his family's history. At times, he felt it was more akin to mythology than real history, but he enjoyed hearing about it nonetheless.

It was close to New Year’s, just an hour away from 1980. According to an old wizarding tradition, one Hedwyn hadn’t been aware of until Regulus explained it, the couple were to spend the beginning of the new year together. “The magic of time will be stronger tonight than any other,” Regulus had told him when asked why the New Year needed a tradition of its own. Apparently, for reasons unknown even to those who study the theories behind magic, the beginning of a new year had been a special day for wixen since records of magical origin began.

And so, they marvelled at the world outside from the comfort of Gwynt Keep. Even with the winds stronger in December, the fortress stood unyielding to the forces of nature, which made Hedwyn smirk. A strange sense of pride passed through him as he thought of his ancestors who had built the keep.

Regulus continued to speak, recounting the story of a boy named Arcas and his discovery of a hidden room within Hogwarts, believed to have belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. Hedwyn found it amusing that his husband seemed to have forgotten about the stars and had now descended into stories concerning any of the Blacks.

His gaze shifted from Regulus, though his focus remained on him, and wandered towards the landscape outside. The walls of the keep obscured his view of what lay beyond, leaving only the trees nearest the main building visible. He was glad the grounds inside the walls were large enough not to feel claustrophobic, however. He watched as the trees danced in the wind, their leaves battling against the strong gusts of air that blew down on them from time to time.

‘A storm must be on the way,’ Hedwyn mused as he noticed the way the trees swayed in the wind.

There was something else as well, he could tell. Something... beyond the wards. He tilted his head slightly, as though focusing more intently on the spot from which the odd feeling seemed to emanate.

‘This will be interesting,’ Death's voice almost made him jump from the surprise.

Hedwyn sat up straighter in his seat, not noticing the look Regulus sent him. ‘What do you mean? What is it that I'm feeling? Death? Death, come back here! Death! What’s happening to my wards, you old bag of bones?!’ He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned. That was not the day for the entity to be vague and mysterious, that’s for sure.

“Um, what's wrong?” Regulus’ voice brought him back to the room.

However, Hedwyn wasn’t sure what to say. Death obviously knew what was happening but had made no effort to explain why the wards were behaving oddly. It couldn’t be dangerous, could it? The deity wouldn’t stay quiet if there was any real cause for concern. Or so he hoped.

He rubbed the back of his head before answering, not quite sure how to explain Death's weird behaviour. “Oh, it's just Death. He was just, um, messing up with me. Or is that what I think he was doing? I dunno.”

A dark eyebrow lifted on Regulus' face. It was clear he was not convinced by the explanation, but maybe he decided to not say anything to insult the entity or his husband's intellectual capabilities.

Instead, the Black Heir just leaned back in his seat and continued to stare at Hedwyn. His thumb made circular motions on the back of Hedwyn and opened his mouth before closing it again.

“It's just something with the wards, darling,” said Hedwyn, his tone clearly not as reassuring as his words tried to be. “There is just something weird going on outside of them. Nothing to worry about, though. The wards are as strong as they've always been.”

Of all the reactions Hedwyn had expected from Regulus, letting out a weary sigh and rising from his chair was not one of them. He furrowed his brow as he watched his husband with a hint of curiosity. Regulus loosened the fastenings of his formal robes, allowing them to fall gracefully to the floor, revealing beneath them a far more relaxed and otherworldly garb — an elegant tunic woven with shimmering threads that seemed to shift colours in the dim light, paired with soft, supple trousers that clung lightly to his form, charmed to adjust for comfort. The fabric whispered with enchantments, offering both ease and quiet protection, a subtle blend of the practical and the arcane.

Hedwyn blushed and stopped himself from wetting his lips, choosing to rise from his seat as well but keeping on his robes. There was no need for Regulus to see the tent forming on his light silk trousers. He rubbed his hands together, very aware of how red his face was.

Hedwyn was so enamoured by Regulus' looks that he didn't realise the other man was speaking to him until Regulus turned to him, still speaking, “And if I get a speck of dust on this tunic I'll throw someone at the sun. Grandmother gave it to me not even a month ago. Anyway, let's get this over with so we can enjoy the coming of the new year in peace.”

Regulus almost made him lose his footing on the polished floor as the man hurriedly pulled him along by the hand, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. They dashed through the archway and out of the main building, bursting into the cool air of the green fields that stretched out before them. The grass swayed gently in the breeze, contrasting with the towering stone walls that enclosed their home.

With every stride, they could feel the weight of the festivities they were leaving behind, the laughter and cheers fading into the distance. They raced towards the gate in the wall, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they sought the source of the disturbance that had pulled them away from celebrating the New Year together.

Hedwyn flicked his wand at the gate, casting a spell that enveloped it in a swirling mist. The once-solid structure shimmered and blurred, maintaining its shape but appearing hazy and smoke-like. They stepped through as if walking through a cloud, the sensation of the cool air hitting them abruptly as they emerged on the other side.

As the mist solidified back into the wood behind them, they paused, taking a moment to acclimatise to the outside world. The night air was stronger without the protection of the wall offered, as well as its enchantments, and Harry felt the need to put an arm around Regulus. He rolled his eyes as his husband grinned, not at all happy about the man deciding to go out into the cold without his robes.

Without saying a word, Regulus tilted his head to the side as if telling Hedwyn to take them to where the wards were shifty. Hedwyn did as the other man wished, but not before casting a Silencing Charm on their feet. An element of surprise might be needed after all.

They walked in the shadows of the wall, the source of the anomalies drawing nearer. A figure began to materialise in the distance, prompting Hedwyn to tighten his grip around Regulus' waist. Both wizards had their wands at the ready, their hearts pounding as they cautiously approached the cloaked figure, whose dark robes billowed ominously beneath a shadowy hood. The air felt charged with tension, each step echoing their growing apprehension as they prepared to confront the unknown presence before them.

When they got to a safe distance, Hedwyn signalled to Regulus for them to stop. He then raised his wand and closed his eyes, focusing and calling for his magic to act.

He directed his wand towards the ground, tracing a sweeping motion through the air. Instantly, the grass beneath their feet rippled, as though something unseen was stirring beneath the surface. A palpable energy coursed through the earth, unsettling the soil as Hedwyn’s magic carved a direct, unerring path towards the intruder. The line of disturbance snaked across the field, the blades of grass trembling in its wake, hinting at the powerful forces at play beneath the calm exterior.

The ground beneath the intruder burst open, like a shark tearing through the surface of the water as it lunges for its prey. Earth and grass exploded outward, the force of the eruption rippling through the air with predatory intent, closing in on the target with deadly precision.

A pained shout could be heard echoing in the fields as the invader was attacked on all sides by Hedwyn's unforgiving magic.

As the dust settled and the mist of debris subsided, the scene revealed a man ensnared by jagged stones and twisting roots, their sharp points piercing his hands and legs, pinning him helplessly to the ground. A thin, needle-like shard of stone hovered menacingly near his throat, a silent yet unmistakable warning of the fate that awaited should he dare attempt to break free.

The two men stepped forward, their movements now confident, assured of the intruder's capture. Regulus wasted no time before Accioing the man's wand that lay next to him on the ground, while Hedwyn cast an Anti-Apparition Charm to prevent the man from using any means to escape. He also Accioed a portkey that the man had in his pocket, courtesy of Death, who gave him quick advice before vanishing from his mind again.

As they got just a few feet from the man, Hedwyn's eyes widened in shock. And by the gasp he heard Regulus letting out, he was not the only one who recognised the invader.

“Dumbledore!” Hedwyn hissed, his grip on his wand tightening. He got closer to the man and vanished the dark robes he was wearing, revealing the dark blue one the old man was wearing underneath. There was pain in Dumbledore's eyes, possibly from the stones and roots piercing his flesh, or maybe it was from humiliation. Nonetheless, it did nothing to calm Hedwyn's anger as he put a foot on the man's chest, causing Dumbledore to let out a loud cry.

“What in Morgana's name are you doing here?” asked Regulus, incredulous. He, too, got closer to the old man, grinning as he saw the pain he was in. “What? Cat got your tongue? Maybe we'll have to make you talk.”

“No!” Dumbledore screamed and tried to move his limbs, only causing more pain to himself in the process. “No. My boy, please. Forgive this old man, please. I meant no harm, I swear.”

“Bullshit!” Hedwyn said, his foot pressing down on Dumbledore. “Why would you be here if not to attack or steal from us? Do you think we are stupid, you old cunt?”

Hedwyn for Dumbledore to say something, but the old man decided to keep his lips shut. It was then that he decided to think of some sort of punishment for Dumbledore. He first thought about killing the man, as it would be a great way to get rid of him fast, but decided against it as he did not see death as a good enough punishment for someone like Dumbledore. He even asked Regulus about any ideas, as his husband disliked Dumbledore just as much as him for what he did during Hedwyn's past life, but Regulus only said they should kill him and go back inside to enjoy the New Year.

‘If I may?’ Death's voice made Hedwyn raise an eyebrow, curiosity taking over his thoughts of punishment. ‘I may have an idea that I imagine is quite... entertaining.’

Hedwyn asked Death what they meant by that, but all he got in return was a soft, mischievous giggle. Rolling his eyes, he sighed and waved a hand. ‘Oh, just get on with it, then. Do whatever you want with him.’

As soon as he thought those words he regretted them as he felt Death laugh maniacally in his head and then vanish.

The air got colder, and it was as if the moonlight became weaker, making Hedwyn take a step back and put his hand back around Regulus' waist. His husband looked at him with confusion, also feeling the changes around them and perhaps thinking it was Hedwyn who did it. Hedwyn only whispered “Death” to him, which made Regulus look around suspiciously.

The shadows beneath Dumbledore began to shift, flowing like liquid as they seeped away from under him. The inky substance started to bubble and surge upwards from the ground. First, a long, gaunt arm emerged from the dark liquid, followed swiftly by another. Then a distorted skeletal head rose, its decayed flesh blackened and rotten, with the bones beneath twisted and grotesque. It was as though a tall, emaciated figure had been crushed and grotesquely rearranged. The torso, sunken and with many tiny arms, lone fingers and sewn mouths growing from it, emerged. Dumbledore began to contort his body bizarrely as he tried to get away from the creature. He did not scream, though his eyes and mouth were wide open in fear. The man was visibly in pain, but that did not stop him from trying to move his body. It was then that the stones and roots slowly expanded and embedded more into his flesh to prevent Dumbledore from escaping. As the man began to writhe, only to cause more pain to himself, he let out a muffled wail of agony. The creature was now on his feet, its legs twisted and its knees bent backwards in an animalistic way.

Hedwyn felt when Regulus got closer to him, seeking refuge in his husband's embrace, but with his eyes still on the creature before them.

For some reason, however, Hedwyn did not feel any fear in the presence of the creature. He found himself uncertain whether this was due to his understanding that it was merely a part of Death's plan or if he simply possessed an unusual lack of fear at that moment. Whatever the cause, he felt an odd sense of calm as he confronted the unsettling being before them.

The thing moved forward, looming over Dumbledore. From its body, pieces of rotten flesh and liquid started to drop on the former headmaster, causing the old man to slightly turn his head away, but his wide eyes stayed on the creature above him.

Suddenly, it opened its mouth with a sharp snap, as though bones had cracked to allow the movement. A harsh, raspy, and uncanny sound emerged: “You,” it uttered in an inhuman voice. It was as if a beast from the age before civilisation, when the encroaching night made both children and men shiver and cower in caves, had begun to mimic human speech. The effect was peculiar and unsettling — a whisper in a dark forest.

The creature got closer to Dumbledore, its bent knees popping and cracking as it lowered its heavy body. A tongue, black and foul, came out of the creature's mouth and lingered around Dumbledore's eyes. The man was now paralysed in fear, the will to escape forgotten. Viscus dark liquid was smeared all over the old man's eyes and forehead, almost causing Hedwyn to gag. The smell that came from the creature was, perhaps, the worst part of it. It was as if dead leaves, rats and humans had come together in a putrefied concoction.

When the creature's webbed fingers touched Dumbledore's left arm, causing its sharp razor-like nails to sink into the man's skin with ease, the old man let out a piercing scream. Then, as if he were witnessing something that came from a nightmare, Hedwyn watched as the creature pushed its tongue into Dumbledore's throat. The man's body thrashed under the creature, doing everything it could to achieve freedom.

It felt like an eternity had passed when the thing lifted its head and slowly got away from Dumbledore. Regulus flinched when the creature looked at them, and Hedwyn put his arms around his husband while glaring at the thing.

The beast then, before Hedwyn and Regulus could fully grasp the horror they had just witnessed, dissolved into shadows and went back to be only Dumbledore's silhouette on the ground.

‘Enjoy,’ was all Death said while disappearing from Hedwyn's mind while laughing.

“What the fuck,” Hedwyn was brought back to the scene before him as Regulus cursed while staring at Dumbledore. The man was now free, even though Hedwyn had not released him. ‘Damn you, Death,’ he thought, annoyed.

The two of them took a step closer, each thinking if they should restrict Dumbledore again. The man did not look as if he was going to fight them, however. Dumbledore looked more like a statue than a wizard, actually. The man was paralysed on the ground, unwilling to move or speak.

“Should we ship him off to one of our Knights or something?” asked Regulus. “I really don't fancy an old man as garden decoration, darling.”

Hedwyn only snickered at the thought of having Dumbledore as a statue for the garden, which would be more like a scarecrow than a piece of art.

“Maybe sent him to Nurmengard? I think Grindelwald will love to have him there,” argued Hedwyn. 

“Um, I'm not against it,” said Regulus.

Hedwyn then took another step forward and kicked Dumbledore on the arm, “Get up, old coot. Your lover is waiting for you.”

Hedwyn jumped back when Dumbledore rose from the ground like a doll controlled by strings. He looked wide-eyed at Regulus, silently asking for support. All the weirdness happening around them was suddenly becoming too much for Hedwyn. Regulus was staring at Dumbledore, however, with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

“Jump,” Regulus told the old man. Hedwyn's mouth flew open as he saw Dumbledore do as Regulus said.

Regulus was grinning wildly as Hedwyn looked between his husband and Dumbledore. “Oh I'm going to love this,” said Regulus. He took Hedwyn's hand and turned around, telling Dumbledore to follow them after realising the man was still jumping like a fool.

The two of them brought Dumbledore into the Keep, but not before Hedwyn made sure to ask Death again and again if the man was truly under their control. “If he destroys my house I'll hunt you, Death,” Hedwyn threatened out loud. The deity only continued to laugh and tell Hedwyn to stop being boring and enjoy the gift.

As they walked, Hedwyn listened as Regulus quickly made plans of how they could use Dumbledore to scare the Wizengamot into thinking that the old man was planning a revolution and that he and Hedwyn were the only ones who could stop the former headmaster. “We can't keep pretending forever, though,” argued Regulus as they calmly entered the building, a stiff Dumbledore following them just steps behind. “At some point, we'll have to stage a great battle like we did with Voldemort, but I'm sure we can handle a few years of our dearest lords and ladies shaking in their boots in fear of what Dumbledore could do. We can even stage some attacks with our Knights so it wouldn't be only threats. Oh, I can't wait for it! We should not kill him, though. He's too good of a card to lose,” he looked back at Dumbledore and smirked. “And I'm sure Grindelwald does deserve a few years with his beloved, don't you dear?”

As the two laughed, dropping Dumbledore in a cupboard and telling Ædda to feed him from time to time, the former Hogwarts headmaster screamed in his head, terrified of the shadows moving around him and of the lost of control of his own body. A pity no one could hear him.

Hedwyn and Regulus returned to their seats in the library, feeling more comfortable and confident than before. Now, we were the only formidable adversary left at their mercy; they could sit back and watch as the storm passed over the Keep, and as the sun rose with the certainty that their lives were destined for greatness.

Chapter Text

As the cold January air touched his face, Regulus' eyes distantly travelled from Hedwyn to the people gathered in the square. As the words of the long-awaited speech left Hedwyn's lips, Regulus made sure to analyse the reactions of the crowd.

His husband spoke of fresh opportunities, and the people nodded in agreement,  of new chances for the disenfranchised — the werewolves, vampires, and other creatures or beings — and they applauded.

Shop owners, teachers, and healers smiled brightly as words of liberation from the Ministry’s shackles were spoken. Regulus had to stifle a laugh, noticing how everyone overlooked the fact that Hedwyn was also part of the Ministry.

With his ears too accustomed to Hedwyn's speech, as the man had spent a week rehearsing it over and over, Regulus focused solely on the people before him. He glanced at his parents and grandparents, who were trying their best not to grimace at the vampires with blood bags in hand.

A fidgeting Severus Snape caught his eye, drawing his attention to the potioneer’s gaze, which lingered on the Potters, or on a more specific member of the family. Regulus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, mindful of the people around him who might notice the act. He nearly considered hexing Snape, not out of any protectiveness for Lily Potter, but simply because he knew that both Hedwyn and James would be far from pleased with the attention Snape was paying her.

Thankfully, Snape seemed to sense someone watching him, and his gaze flicked to Regulus, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Regulus tilted his head to the left, towards the Potters, and lightly shook his head at Snape.

The man pursed his lips and looked away, but Regulus did not bother with the Potions Master's lack of decorum and simply enjoyed his small victory.

His gaze returned to Hedwyn, following the man’s hands as he made the most politician-like gestures: open arms, a right hand over the heart, and sweeping motions towards the shops and houses. Everything Hedwyn did to charm the crowd was an odd sort of amusement to him. For someone who frequently criticised the Wizengamot, his husband was quite the politician.

As he felt Hedwyn moving his speech towards its conclusion, Regulus allowed himself to focus again on the words his husband was delivering with a smile.

"Caershire will forever be a place where magical beings of all kinds may find a home." The beings seemed most enthusiastic about this part, for reasons Regulus had come to understand better as Hedwyn ensured he knew just how dire life was for non-humans.

It was still slightly uncomfortable to acknowledge how ignorant he had been on the matters of interracial relations, an irk in the back of his mind.

He did blame his ignorance on his parents, to some extent. There was the fact that Orion and Walburga had also been raised in the same environment as him, but the easy acceptance of the status quo was the part that annoyed Regulus the most.

The fog of myopia in which purebloods kept themselves was hardly an excuse for their lack of will when it came to matters beyond their privileged lives.

“Together,” Hedwyn's voice rang through the square, the man's tone filled with certainty. “Together is how we will remain strong. Caershire is and will always be our safe haven, and no one will ever take that from us.”

The crowd cheered as Hedwyn's speech came to an end, with shouts, clapping, and overall praises for the Black-Peverell couple. Regulus took his husband's hand, and the two of them waved to the crowd, with Regulus giving them his best poised smile.

The couple left the small platform build for the speech and walked towards the area we're they would meet their families. When Regulus' grandparents then joined them, as well as the Potters, they began to walk.

It took some time for them to leave the square, however, as many people wanted a chance to speak with the couple responsible for revitalising the country. Humans and beings, both old and young, gathered around them to thank Regulus and Hedwyn for building a community where greater freedom was granted to those who had been persecuted in the past.

They spoke to so many people in such a short amount of time — between Hedwyn ending his speech and them leaving for the area where most buildings were located — that Regulus had been unable to remember a single name or face.

Thankfully, people seemed to realise there was much to be done in terms of organising their new homes or businesses, and quickly dispersed from the circle that had formed around the couple and their families.

“Hopefully, by the end of the week, people will be settled, yes?” asked Arcturus when they began to walk towards the area where most of the shops were

“Hopefully,” said Hedwyn, already leading their group to the market square. “I also hope we won’t be met with a crowd of people every time we come to the village,” he mumbled. “But I do think most people will have everything ready by the end of the week, indeed, Arcturus,” he told the man with a smile and continued, “Though I suspect most will have everything sorted before then. People are very excited, so I doubt they will take long to get comfortable.”

Regulus did not look back to see his grandfather's reaction, but he could tell the old man was pleased. After all, with everyone settled, Caershire could begin to function as a real and thriving community, which meant more and more influence for their family as the people experienced a freer and more magical life.

The group was about to enter the street where some of the shops where when Melania announced she wished to see the new school because, as the woman herself said, “If my future grandchildren are to study here, then I'll have to be sure the school is up to standard. My standards.”

Hedwyn blushed at the mention of children, causing James and Charlus to snicker. He sent both men a glare, but, with his face still red from embarrassment, he looked more akin to a shy boy than an angry man.

Lily rolled her eyes at the scene, though a small smile played on her lips, and told Melania that she also wished to see the school. The group then divided in two and went on towards the school.

Regulus chuckled as he watched Charlus throw an arm around a startled Orion, guiding the group to where the school was.

He waved at Castor, who sat in the pram Fleamont was pushing, and laughed as the baby let out a loud squeal.

The couple then began their stroll towards the new shops of the village. Most of the buildings they saw in the distance were still closed, as the owners had yet to open their shops to welcome customers.

“Do you think we'll have to be here for long?” Hedwyn asked in a whisper, pointing to a vampire couple who were making out beneath a tree. Regulus shook his head at his husband's antics but said, “Just for an hour or two, love. I want to look around to see if everything is as it should be.”

He should have realised Hedwyn would be tired of all the socialising. It still amazed him, though. One would think anyone would be eager to stay in a place they had founded themselves, but, alas, Hedwyn was not that kind of person.

The two of them walked past a building with plants, flowers, and roots growing all around it. “Longbottoms,” Hedwyn muttered, to which Regulus gave him a nod. It was truly something else, as the building had been quite bare just a few hours ago. If the Longbottoms were that skilled in Herbology, then Caershire was in good hands in terms of supplies.

There was also a new Ollivanders, which was necessary since non-humans also needed wands to perform magic.

“Mr Ollivander will have competition, though,” said Regulus, pointing to a tall shop with large, uneven windows, its frame tilted precariously to the left. It looked oddly whimsical, as though it had sprung straight out of a storybook, with mismatched shingles and a faded sign creaking softly in the breeze.

Eldric's Eldritch Wands was a well-known shop for those who ventured to Knockturn Alley, which explained the dark energy lingering around the shop. And with the new Dark Arts course at Hogwarts, Regulus assumed many students would be visiting Eldric Thornhill's shop to get their wands.

'Maybe our children will get their wands there too,' Regulus couldn't help but think.

He glanced at Hedwyn, who was inspecting a shop that sold elixirs and other concoctions, and wondered if his husband would want a family soon. Regulus knew they were young, of course, but it wasn't uncommon for wixens to have children before the age of twenty-five.

'A talk for later, then.'

The two men continued their walk, waving and greeting people as they passed.

When an unassuming shop came into view, with its dark wooden façade, sparse windows, and a sign depicting a potion bottle hanging above the door, Regulus noticed Hedwyn glaring at the building.

Regulus even asked his husband why he still refused to let go of his feud with the shop's owner, but the man only scoffed.

As they passed by Prince's Potions, Hedwyn's face twisted into a scowl, and he kept muttering insults about a “bloody crooked-nose bastard” inside the shop. Regulus merely rolled his eyes and told his husband to hurry up and walk, something Hedwyn was more than glad to do.

The stroll through the streets and alleys of the village, accompanied by praises from all kinds of people, eased a tension Regulus hadn’t even realised he was carrying. Quiet hellos from small vampires and warm hugs from elderly folk were responsible for the new, more sincere smile plastered on Regulus' face.

It wasn’t just Regulus who was affected by the praise, however. Judging by the way Hedwyn stopped for every elderly person and child who came to thank them, it was clear that his husband was no longer finding the walk tiresome. Regulus wasn’t sure which interaction was responsible for Hedwyn’s change of heart, but he was certain it had more to do with his husband’s inability to resist helping those in need.

In a clearing with trees in the distance, where most centaurs were expected to live, the two stopped for a moment to enjoy the cool air that came with the evening.

Regulus' eyes were closed when he felt Hedwyn take his hand and place a kiss on his palm. He smiled. The warmth from the man’s lips lingered as Hedwyn interlaced their fingers—or perhaps his enamoured mind was simply playing tricks on him. Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

They stayed in the clearing until Hedwyn began to walk again. Half-empty houses and shops, crowds that Disapparated and Apparated as people returned to their old homes to fetch more of their belongings—these were sights that seemed to have become a regular part of life in Caershire, even if only for a little while, as people continued to settle in.

“I never thought I would be part of something this incredible,” said Hedwyn. The calm smile on his face warmed Regulus, even if his husband’s words carried a faint note of self-deprecation. Or perhaps he was imagining it. It was hard to tell with Hedwyn, whose confidence always seemed tinged with a subtle uncertainty when they were alone.

“I never doubted you,” Regulus replied, his tone steady and unwavering.

On their way back to the village’s main square, they were stopped by a man carrying a large carnivorous plant with thin, sharp-looking teeth.

Hedwyn masked his surprise when the man introduced himself as “Frank Longbottom, co-owner of the best Herbology shop in the entire village."

It was evident, however, from the casual way Hedwyn spoke to Frank about the Longbottoms’ shop that he was genuinely pleased to see him. The knowledge of what would have happened to Frank and his wife if Voldemort hadn’t been defeated early was another reason Hedwyn’s tone was so warm.

Frank eventually excused himself, saying he “ought to go back before Alice comes looking for me,” and Regulus and Hedwyn continued their stroll through the village they had built together.

“Why the smug look?” Hedwyn asked, noticing the way his husband held his head high, his eyes shining with pride.

“We made this a real place, darling. I think I’ve earned the right to look proud.”

Hedwyn gave a quiet laugh, but there was no hiding the satisfaction in his gaze as he looked at Regulus.

“I never thought you’d be the type to enjoy being adored,” he teased.

Regulus tilted his head, his lips curving into a sly smile. “Perhaps I’ve just learnt to appreciate the finer things in life. And I did marry you, didn’t I?”

Hedwyn chuckled, shaking his head, but the fondness in his expression was unmistakable. As they approached the square, where the distant hum of villagers’ voices echoed, Hedwyn squeezed Regulus’ hand and murmured, “I hope you know none of this would have been possible without you.”

Regulus paused, his expression softening as he looked at his husband. “And I hope you know I wouldn’t have done any of it without you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them standing amidst the people whose lives were now changed thanks to them. The square beckoned in the distance, but Regulus found himself wishing to linger in this fleeting moment of shared triumph.

Chapter Text

17th of February, 1980

Objects floated all around the house — clothes, blankets, and every other thing James could think of — all going to rest inside a light green baby bag. All the while Lily sat by the door on a chair she had conjured five minutes after a Patronus was sent to the Potters, a message so they knew the baby was coming.

The woman watched as her husband walked between the door to the entrance and the kitchen, his hands going from his hair to the pockets of his trousers. James's hair was messier than normal, but Lily found it oddly sweet. To see the confident James Potter acting so jittery was not something she often saw.

The willow wood of her wand felt more calming than, something she would need if she didn't wish to end up like James.

She shot a few small purple sparkles from the tip of her wand, startling James and making the man hit his left foot on the edge of her chair.

James made a face, and she laughed.

It didn't take long before Charlus arrived through the fireplace, the man's face just as pale as the younger Potter's.

“Apologies for taking so long.” The man touched his nephew's shoulder and gave Lily a kiss on the head. Charlus then turned to the bag next to the doorway leading to the living room, his eyes judging the unnecessarily large bag.

“So, where's the rest of the cavalry?” Lily asked, her eyes going from James' untied shoelaces to Charlus' face. The older man shared a smile with Lily, then told her that Fleamont and Euphemia would meet them at Saint Mungos. Dorea would not come, since they weren't able to find someone to watch Castor.

“And Hedwyn and Regulus?” she asked, one of her hands going to her belly.

“They'll come,” James answered.

Lily got up slowly, her husband helping her. She breathed in and out, the reality of the situation creeping into the back of her mind. They walked slowly to the fireplace, Charlus giving them a nod before disappearing in green flames.

“Don't worry, love,” said James in a whisper, guiding her closer to the fireplace. “I'll be right behind you.”

Lily looked at him, the small smile on James' face making her face flush. She rested her head on his shoulder for a second, then gave his hand a squeeze and walked to the right spot. Her right hand gathered the powder in the wooden bowl, the small grains slipping through her fingers.

The red flames of the fireplace turned green as she threw the powder at them, followed by her destination's name. Lily wasted no time before stepping onto the fireplace, the house around her turning into a hospital reception.

People walked left to right, healers, medwitches and randomers that were doing who knew what in Saint Mungos. Lily took a step forward when a pain near her pelvis made her bend over a little, a whimper leaving her lips.

A hand touched her back forcing her to stand straight again in surprise. It was James, she realised as she looked behind her shoulder. The man's face was full of concern, his mouth opening to say something before he was interrupted by someone calling their names.

It was Charlus, followed by a medwitch. The man stood aside as the medwitch and James helped Lily into a wheelchair, quickly taking her to one of the delivery rooms.

Fleamont was also there, standing to the side with Euphemia, both telling her something she couldn't hear. They looked happy, gleeful even. Sirius' voice came from somewhere behind her, but she knew turning around would make her nauseous. There were other voices as well, not many, but enough to make her disoriented. She wondered where Hedwyn and Regulus were, and if they would be able to make it on time.

Nobody said anything about it, however, so she let it pass. She didn't think they would be that happy without knowing Hedwyn and Regulus were on their way.

Lily, however, was having the nicest of times, especially after using the floo — her head feeling heavy and limbs tired. Exhaustion was not the correct word for it, but it was the only way she could describe it. She wondered if it was normal, or if she was just unlucky. Above all, she wished for her mother to be there with her.

She felt silly, for wanting her mother to be next to her and hold her hand, maybe talk to her to know if what she was feeling was normal. Maybe it was a family thing? She didn't know, couldn't know. James' eyes felt heavy on her, and she knew her husband could see how awful she felt. The thought about Petunia also passed by her, but she ignored it.

In truth, all she wanted in that moment was to cry for a bit and maybe take a nap. But she couldn't, not when her baby was about to come.

With her right hand over her belly, Lily closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to get hold of herself.

“It's going to be okay, my baby,” she said, both to herself and for her child. “We're going to be fine, Tristan.” Even with those words, she could feel her heart starting to race as the medwitch took her inside the delivery room, and told both her and James that the healer was coming. Lily watched anxiously as the woman walked around the room, preparing it for the birth.

It was as if all the anxiety that should have been there during the months of the pregnancy just suddenly decided to show up, filling Lilly's mind with every bad scenario in which things could go wrong. She thought about her mother's stories of the woman's miscarriages, before she was able to give birth to Petunia, and that made Lily even more afraid. She also thought of Hedwyn, and how she knew he wasn't the baby that would be born — the time of her pregnancy alone being a big giveaway —, and how she didn't know how to feel about everything.

‘At least his alive,’ she thought, trying to reassure herself.

But her thoughts again betrayed her, every bad possibility of what could happen with Hedwyn, in this world where his birth never happened, taking over her ability to think rationally. ‘Would Hedwyn disappear, taken out of our world by the laws of the universe? Would he still exist in a world where he was never born?’

She wanted to tell James to bring Hedwyn to her, deliriously thinking that she alone could protect her child from another time.

‘Quiet your worries, Lily,’ a voice said in her head, a wave of magic passing through her and calming her emotions. Even when she became afraid of the strange presence in her mind, close to telling James about it, those emotions were also pacified. ‘There is no need for fear, Lily. I just wish to reassure you that everything will be fine, just as I did many moons ago.’

Lily wanted to say something, but her throat felt dry and her lips even more so. Confusion was most of what she felt in that moment, not knowing who the voice belonged to, and what it was doing in her mind. She knew of Legilimency,  but neither James nor the medwitch were looking at her eyes to use the spell on her.

‘You cannot see me, Lily, for I do not often appear in the mortal world. However, that is not why I am here. I told Hedwyn of your distress, and he asked me to help you. Just relax and enjoy this moment, for the beginning of a life is just as precious as the end of it. Remember the words I told you in your dreams, before Hedwyn came to this time, and let them bring you peace.’

Lily's mind was then left to herself again, but the calming magic around her lingered. Her eyes closed, and she did not see the healer as the man came to the room. Neither she felt as James and the medwitch helped her get up from the wheelchair and onto the bed, nor the cleaning charms that were cast on her — as well as the spell to transfigure her clothes. Her mind was in the past, on the night before she realised she was pregnant.

There was no memory of how the dream went, only of the feeling of floating in a warm ocean. She remembered the words that were said, telling her about a change that was necessary, of a new beginning for herself and for every other witch and wizard alive. The voice told her about a new life in her, something she hadn't understood at the time, and about how the former path laid down to her was no longer suitable. Lily remembered it all.

Her awareness came back as James stood next to her bed, his hand on hers. The healer was already talking to her, telling her to push. She almost chuckled, the easy command feeling too simple for the situation — but she did as she was told.

The birth was calm, weirdly calm. Although there was pain, a pain she would never forget, there was also an incredible amount of love. With James by her side, hold her hand and whisper to her how happy they would be, as well as the face of her son behind the door to the delivery room.

Tears streamed down her face when she heard her baby, whose cries were much louder than hers. She chuckled at a joke James made when they noticed the baby’s furious expression, as if angry about being born. “He’s already copying you, darling,” James said. More tears fell as she nursed for the first time and recalled how Hedwyn had greeted his little brother.

“Thank you for sending whoever that was to calm me down,” she whispered to Hedwyn, baby Tristan sleeping on James' arms. The man looked at her, but she only mouthed ‘tell you later’ to him and left it at that.

“You don't have to thank me,” Hedwyn said, his hand holding hers. “I didn't even know he had talked to you before, but it does make sense now. I just hope it wasn't too weird.”

Lily chuckled, “It was a bit, but it helped. I do hope you're not disappointed, though. About you know what,” she gestured to Tristan as she said. Hedwyn only shook his head, his face not showing any sign of being sad about not meeting a younger version of himself.

“I always imagined that would be how things went. It wouldn't have made sense for you to be born when I got here, so I figured the baby wasn't me. At least now Tristan will have a chance to live.”

Lily looked confused, sure that there was something she wasn't seeing. “What do you mean? Was he born in your time as well? I thought you were born in July 1980. There wouldn't have been time for that if we had Tristan.”

The young man looked at her for a second, his face just as confused as hers, when his eyes widened for a second as he cleared his throat. “Um, I thought he had explained it to you. I actually didn't even know it happened in my time. I don't think anyone but you and Dad knew it happened. I, um, Tristan was not born in that timeline, no. You had a miscarriage, because of a Death Eater attack on a friend of yours. Apparently, my coming here changed that, somehow. I'm not sure why it didn't happen this time, but maybe something I did along the way changed what happened.”

Green eyes only watch him for a second, before Lily sighed and leaned more against the pillow behind her.

“I don't think anything was said about that. At least I don't think so. I just thought Tristan was a new idea, something done to give us strength through love.”

“Are you... disappointed?” The question made Lily turn to him again, her face confused again.

“Of course not, Hedwyn. I'm glad we have Tristan. Merlin knows how we needed that boy,” she smiled as she looked at her baby, still resting in his father's arms. She wished she had a camera to capture that moment. Her eyes found Hedwyn again, before saying, “And I also think you needed this as well. A brother, more family to annoy you.”

The smile she gave him was so much like his own, even after his features were changed. Hedwyn only brought his arms around her, letting his mother rest against him as the four of them shared that moment.

James was the one to find them moments later, both Lily and Hedwyn asleep, in the most uncomfortable position possible — with Lily on the bed and Hedwyn only slightly on it, mostly still standing. “Merlin knows how he did that,” he told the baby in his arms, Tristan's small face relaxing in his sleep after hearing his father's voice. The man chuckled as he put the baby down on a bassinet next to Lily's bed, kissing his son and going to tell his parents and friends about the birth. He cast a last glance at the three people in the room before leaving, smiling at the sight.