Chapter Text
Honestly, Orion is still trying to decide his plan when he sees his sons in the garden. He was just going to draw the flowers but he found his sons on the bench where he would normally sit. Orion decides to join them anyways. They didn’t seem distressed and Orion knew he could keep avoiding them for years.
They notice him immediately. Both obviously stiffen but Orion continues on and sets his book down on the bench. It is a long wooden bench with cushions spelled against weather damage. Orion grabs his clippers and considers the garden before him. He clips some cedar sprigs and some fennel. Next, he collects some woodbine flowers nearby. Finally, Orion clips some blooms of virgin’s bower and cranberry.
As he walks back to the bench, the boys are looking at him carefully. The bench’s length gives them plenty of room to stay away from him so he isn’t worried as he sits down to draw. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a book in Regulus’s lap, possibly History of Magic. Likely, Sirius is helping his brother study or Regulus is forcing Sirius to review for his OWLS this year. Still, he continues his sketching of the clippings, allowing them to become more accustomed to his presence.
Orion only really had to wait until Sirius was too bored not to talk. “Why are you drawing the branches?” Sirius blurts out. He seems to stiffen like he was expecting to be punished for speaking. Under that woman, he would have been.
Orion just hums and says, “I find sprigs of cedar to be quite interesting in shape. It makes for good practice in detail, I’ve found.”
“Practice?” Regulus’s questions just above a whisper.
“Why yes. Anything you want to be good at needs practice, whether it is magic, reading, or even drawing.” Orion hopes his voice is a patient as he means it to be.
Sirius seems to think. “Is that why you draw here so often? For practice?”
Orion chuckles. Of course his boys were watching him, as curious as they are. “Partially yes. But this section of the garden has nice memories for me.”
Sirius is starting to lean more towards him. He’s got that face that Orion used to associate with wanting a story before bed when he was younger. “What memories?” Regulus hits Sirius. “What?! He’s the one who brought it up!”
“It’s fine, Regulus.” Both of them are focused on him again. He sets his sketchbook in his lap and gives his sons his full attention. “Sirius is right. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t okay with sharing it.
“This was the garden my sister and I used to play in often as children. She was always louder than I was and wanted to play outside anytime she could. You take a lot after her, Sirius. There used to be statues out here but Father found that we broke more than was smart to keep out here. When you two were born, it was as though history repeated itself.” He chuckles as he remembers a particularly nice memory. “You two almost took down the apple tree over there from swinging on it.”
His sons look surprised at the memories. Sirius then turns skeptical. “I thought you couldn’t remember things.” He ignored his brother’s jab at his side and hissing of his name.
Orion hums an affirmative before explaining, “I have some memories but often out of order or just bits of it. I remember you two doing that but I cannot remember if you had passed your seventh birthday yet, Sirius.” Seventh was a big birthday for heirs. That was when they gained their heir rings.
Sirius seems to accept this but pulls Regulus closer to his side. The moment is quiet for a moment before Regulus deems to change the subject. “Why did you do it without magic?” When both Sirius and Orion were looking at him, he explained, “Clipping the plants. Why didn’t you use your magic?”
“Oh!” Orion remembered that Walburga hated his rants about wands and so his children likely didn’t know about his wand. “My wand wouldn’t do so well with my emotions right now. I’ve decided it's safer to go without magic until I’m more settled emotionally.”
Regulus seems scandalized at the implication of living without magic but Sirius beats him with his question. “What do you mean that your wand wouldn’t do well?”
Orion nods and says, “My wand is made from hazel wood. It prefers a wielder that is in control of their emotions and, when that wielder experiences strong negative emotions, it can absorb it and misfire.”
Sirius looks at the wand up his sleeve. “Wands care about that sort of thing?”
“Hazel wands do. Dogwood wands don’t have a tendency to backfire and hawthorne wands only do so when badly handled.” They look amazed at him. “A wand can tell you a lot about a person. Cores may only tell you the level it's capable of but woods, lengths, and flexibility tells a lot more. This is why your grandfather and I keep the details of our wands very secret.”
“What does our wands say about us?” Regulus timidly asks.
“Well,” Orion starts, “Sirius’ wand is dogwood, dragon heartstring, 14½’’, slightly unyielding. The flexibility means that you tend to hold firm in your beliefs but can give if pushed enough. The large length means you have a large personality, which makes sense from my memories of you and the stories from Hogwarts.” Sirius blushes at that. “Dogwood tends to choose playful and mischievous owners because it wants to have excitement and fun. Although, the wand prefers to be loud and, as a result, refuses to do nonverbal magic.”
Sirius has the look of someone who just had their fortune read and cannot tell how it was so accurate. Orion chuckles and looks at Regulus. “Yours, Regulus, is hawthorne, unicorn hair, 12’’, slightly springy. Your strength in your beliefs can waver but tends to bounce back. Your personality is large enough to control a room but not as loud as your brother’s, a trait I share.” That fact on the end made Regulus stop looking down. “Hawthorne is a contradiction that can perform great healing magic or produce terrible curses. As such, it tends to seek out those who are complex and intriguing, often those who are conflicted as well. In your case, I can tell more because of your proficiency at using the wand.”
Regulus looks skeptical. “Really..?”
Orion nods. “Hawthorne wands are difficult to master and, as I said earlier, tend to misfire when handled poorly. Your proficiency at using the wand since a young age is the mark of early talent and skill.” Sirius looks almost jealous. “It doesn’t mean that, in comparison to Sirius, you’re more talented. Dogwood just doesn’t have such a demanding characteristic that can be seen in performance. Some other woods do, like black walnut, but one cannot tell the talent of a wizard with a dogwood wand from the wood.” Sirius looks pleased after this.
Regulus looks more pensive. “This is a lot of stuff about us. Should we keep this secret, too?”
“I would,” Orion answers. “While many wizards do not know the importance of different wand characteristics, those who do can use it against you. I do it often in the Wizengamot, especially if I can figure out the flexibility. Knowing those who are not stubborn in their beliefs is quite helpful in passing new legislation.”
They go quiet for some time. The conversation seems finished. Orion opens his sketchbook again and moves onto the woodbine flowers. Sirius and Regulus have managed to scoot across to the middle of the bench. They are not next to him but close enough to really see his drawing.
“Back in the art room…” Orion has never heard Sirius so shy. “Why were you so upset..?”
Orion sighs and ponders how to answer the question. “I was more concerned about the brush you had. I wouldn’t have minded showing you my studio otherwise.”
Sirius looks indignant. “What’s so special about a stupid paintbrush?” Regulus jabs him again.
“It was a gift.” That stops the glaring match between the boys. “I don’t remember much but I remember when I was given it.” He can’t bring himself to look away from the sketchbook but can’t seem to continue to draw. “It was from a classmate, a gryffindor.”
“You were friends with a gryffindor?” Sirius is shocked.
“I suppose so, if I take her word for it. It was a birthday present for my third year. Most people got me lord type things, like stationary or quills. She was the only one who got me something because I showed interest in it. It was a set of brushes just like this one, painted in red and yellow.”
“Red and yellow?” Regulus interrupts. “Was she trying to get you something so gryffindor?”
“No,” he chuckles, “but I had thought so too. I think she hated the idea of the houses becoming your identity. No, these are also the colors on the family crest, along with black of course.”
“What… uh happened… to the rest of them?” Sirius stutters.
Orion grips the pencil tighter and finally redirects his sight onto his sons. “Walburga burned them. She didn’t think art was a good hobby to have. That was the only one to survive.”
Sirius looks shocked. Regulus looks nervous, eyes darting between his brother and his father. “I’m sorry,” Sirius mutters while looking down.
“Forgiven.”
“What?! Just like that?”
“Yes,” Orion looks at his son. “You were not aware of the value of the brush and I was not reacting in a way that made you feel safe. It’s okay, Sirius. These things happen.”
“Didn’t it mean a lot to you, though?”
“Yes, it did. But I cannot hold you accountable when you did not realize what you had done and, when you did, you apologized. It is forgiven.” Sirius can’t stop staring openmouthed at him. “Anyways, it’s a simple fix. I’ll fix it when I can use my wand again. It’s okay.”
Sensing that Sirius needs a moment to recollect himself, Orion goes back to sketching again. He’s working on the final clipping of virgin’s bower when he feels Sirius scoot right next to him. Sirius points at the sketch of cranberry flowers and asks, “Why are the lines straight like this? Wouldn’t it make sense to shape it against the flower?”
Orion realizes what he’s doing. Sirius was interested in art as a child, he remembers now. He’s finding common ground between them. Orion just smiles and explains the effect of line direction. At one point Sirius is just watching Orion draw while Regulus quizzes Sirius on History of Magic. Orion corrects as they go along but finds that his heart is nearly bursting at the scene. He thinks this might have been the place to start.