Chapter Text
Regulus was three when he first saw the mask. Jet-black porcelain with silver details, emulating a stone-cold face. He remembers venturing down to his father’s study and seeing a group of men wearing the mask. He peered through the little door hole, one fit for a rat.
Regulus knew he wasn’t allowed near the study when the men came around. Kearcher would come and collect Sirus and him to do lessons when the men visited their house. If the pair of brothers were lucky, they could play in the music room. But on this faithful day, Regulus, miraculously, made it past Keacher’s watchful eye.
The men spoke in hushed voices, seemingly afraid someone or something might barge in at any moment. They sat around a large table in the middle of the study, their heads lowered at equal lengths just like their voices. Regulus remembered their clothing, black cloaks with huge pointed hoods.
Father and another man seemed to be the center of attention. Regulus could pick out who his father was, but he couldn’t pick out who the mysterious man was. He looked tall and lean, maybe a bit of muscle behind all those layers of clothing. His hands, the only visible part of his body, were pale. Very pale. Regulus first thought the man was a ghost.
His father led the meeting. Not the mysterious man at his side who seemed to carry a dark aura around him. Orion spoke Latin, which Regulus was only semi-familiar with. The few words Regulus did understand were mortuus, dead, nox, night, bellum, war.
“Dulce bellum inexpertis.” His father’s voice suddenly turned angry, slamming his fist down on the table. The glasses of firewhiskey that had been laid out shook violently, ice clattering against the crystal. The sudden action made Regulus take a step back; he had seen Orion angry before. Many times even. Mostly at Sirius. But, not like this.
A few of the men flinched at Father’s outburst. The majority stayed calm and remained silent. Friends. Regulus thought. If they expected Father's reaction and didn't move a muscle, we know them. I know them.
They are safe.
A squawk was heard outside a window. Crows were perched on the tree. Regulus shifted his attention to the birds out the window. The ambiance shifted. It became colder, still. The crows were peering into the room of men. Staring. Wondering. Watching. Thirteen, Regulus countered. Thirteen crows. There was a meaning behind how many crows you see. Regulus, unfortunately, did not remember what thirteen meant, but he knew it wasn’t good.
“But all of you know what to expect. The horrors. The relief. All of it.” Orion’s cold-cut voice bounced off the walls. The mysterious man looming next to Father placed a hand on his shoulder and took over as head.
If the ambiance was cold when Father was talking, it was freezing when the mysterious man took over. He didn't have to say anything, and he was already commending the room. But when he did, he just murmured.
“Malo Mori quam foedari.”
The meeting ended shortly after that.
Regulus pondered over that specific memory numerous times over the years. Each year made a bit more sense. It wasn't until he was fourteen and Tom was newly sixteen that he understood what each of their father’s demands was.
They wanted war? They got war.
Staring out the window into the blue void that is the Black Lake, Regulus thought back to his time as a student as if it were years ago. Not a year or so ago. Barty was always so adamant that he could do what Muggles called a polar bear plug, which was jumping into freezing waters in just your undergarments.
That idea was stupid, of course, and the boy had failed every time. In the first few attempts, Barty was sick and could barely get out of bed. No luck there. Dorcas and Pandora managed to pull his head out of his ass the next few tries. However, Pandora was the one to bestow Barty the knowledge of a polar bear plug.
Evan once charmed the lake so that a force field prevented Barty from getting within 40 feet of it. Regulus would lock the boy in the dorm and take his wand whenever the older boy declared his plan for the house castle to hear.
Regulus smiled at the memory; things were… simpler, so to speak, back then. Sure, they still had the war looming over them, but they were still children. Hell, none of their brains are fully developed yet. They’re still children.
Children in war.
Sighing, Regulus broke his gaze and looked down at the floor. He wished war had never been an option; he wished there was another way to stop both sides from choosing violence. Maybe his parents wouldn't have taken sides. Maybe Sirius would still be around. Maybe Tom didn't have a fuck up children and reaped the consequences years later.
The bare room had been Regulus’s little hideout for more than a week at that point. Dumbledore was somewhere. Minerva and Poppy hadn't received any word from the old man. His absence was still a mystery. Sure, it gave Regulus a roof to sleep under as he kinda dipped out of society once Greyback attacked him. He only assumed Walburga thought he had died or turned into one of those beasts.
Orion would’ve sent a house elf, not Kearcher, to look for the younger Black. But the elf would’ve sensed his magic in Hogwarts. The elf may not have sensed where he was exactly, but they would’ve sensed he was here.
Tom obviously knew where he was; the thought made Regulus smile like a girl whose crush just said hi back. He then laughed because he knew Barty and Pandora would’ve made fun of him for it.
There was a high chance that the others didn't know he was alive, or very few did. Greyback probably mouthed off to the other mutts that he got a piece of the Heir Black. Knowing how half-creatures communicated, Lupin most likely found out and told someone, perhaps his no-good, dirty-rotten, blood-trader brother.
Reaching next to him, the boy grabbed Frankenstein once more. He ended up reading most of the book, despite telling himself to stop many, many times. The relations between Victor and the monster pulled Regulus deeper into the story—something about a broken man and his creation, a creation he couldn't love to its potential.
Tom would like this. Regulus traced over the gold lettering, letting his thoughts take over. Tom would've liked a lot of things in the small dormitory. The other man had never gone to the room when they were in school. He understood that this was Regulus’s territory when he needed space. At least someone understood when I shut down.
The door opened. Footsteps approached rapidly. His body froze, then slowly released the tension once he recognized the smell of lemons and dewy morning rain. “Poppy,” Regulus chuckled, dropping his shoulders, “you need to start knocking.” He turned his body to the woman walking towards him.
Poppy suppressed a smile as she reached the end of his bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. “It’s not my fault you have hearing loss—which I’ve offered elixirs for—in case you forgot.” Her gaze lowered to the book in his hand. “Frankenstein? Where did ya get that from?”
Ah shit. Even though she rigorously reminded the young man to stay in the room, he may have ‘forgotten’. “Um, well, I found it in one of the drawers…” He showed her an unconvincing smile, but in return, he was met with a glare.
“Really?” She asked, tilting her head like a lost dog. “Then, how do you explain the other books on your bed? Hm? Found those in the drawer too?” Poppy gestures to the desk and dresser across the room, magic pulling each drawer open. Regulus only backed into the pillows in humiliation.
Shutting every drawer, Poppy turned back to face Regulus. “Regulus Black, I have been taking care of your kind since before you were born.” Her voice had a certain tone to it, a firm and agile one at that. “I know how the teenage mind works, and if you think you can get away with not following my orders—which I specifically tell someone to limit further injury—then you would be mistaken.” For a woman who had a big, warm, loving smile, her frown could not be described in the same way.
“Well—you see—I…I just wanted some books to keep me company…” Regulus tried to explain as Poppy gave him an unconvincing look. “I swear I just went to the teacher's corridors! On Merlin.” He threw his (one usable) hand in the air. Poppy held out a hand, gesturing to the man to give her the book to inspect. Regulus complied.
“Haven’t seen this particular book in a while. Girl Rosier used to carry a copy around, didn't she? Malf-Lovegood read Transformation to first-years when he did an internship here.” Poppy started laughing before quickly covering her mouth. “I hadn’t seen first-years more attentive since Dippet announced his retirement.”
“That’s Xeno for you.” Regulus hummed. “But, who is Mary Shelley? Her writing, it’s—it’s almost like she’s using her character to play puppets.”
Poppy cracked the old book open, fingers tracing the words on the page. “Well, to my knowledge, Shelley was a Muggle woman in the 17 and 1800s. This,” She held up Frankenstein, “is one of the most well-known books she’d published. A wild one she was. People say that she and her husband ‘slept’ on the woman’s mother’s grave. Pretty sure they found her husband's heart in one of her drawers as well.”
Regulus was taken back, “Really? Why-why would someone willingly keep a heart in a desk drawer? Why not? I don’t know, like keep ashes instead?” Regulus said, scanning the older woman’s face for any signs of lying. Poppy shook her head. “My youngest could go on and on about the woman. She likes her the best, I just simply listen.”
Minerva sighed as the office doors shut. It had been weeks since Dumbledore had reached out to any of the staff about his whereabouts. The day young Riddle brought young Black to the infirmary, she thought they were done for, as that day or so, Dumbledore was supposed to come back.
Thankfully, or maybe not, the old man hadn’t shown up that evening and, therefore, didn't detain the young couple. Honestly, Minerva hadn’t seen a couple more co-dependent than the older Black and Lupin, even then, that was a stretch. Poppy and her weren’t even as attached to the hip as young Riddle was to young Black for the first half an hour he stayed before declaring quickly he needed to leave.
Minerva practically collapsed into her chair, taking off her glasses to relieve the tension growing between her eyes. The portraits of her children watched her carefully; her eldest seemed to be questioning her mother’s decisions (much like her late husband always did), while her second-born huffed and puffed at his sister’s antics (much like Minerva).
The youngest, who was Poppy’s girl by a mile, was making a motion to something on Minerva’s desk—a letter.
“Do you know who left this, Lizzy?” Minerva questioned her daughter, pointing at the letter. The girl’s portrait pointed at an unfamiliar owl next to her own, with a slight smile. The owl in the corner rattled its feathers.
Slipping her readers back on, Minerva sat upright to pick the letter from the desk top. She took note of the seal. An…onion? Okay, sure, whatever… That’s not the most bizarre thing she’s seen in years…
Dear Mrs. McGonagall-Pomfrey….
“Regulus, who is Hornkus Binglefuck?”
Minerva’s voice bloomed throughout the Hospital Wing. She waved a crisp white letter through the air. Regulus stood by Poppy’s office door, looking cluelessly at the woman. They had just changed his arm bandage, and he was waiting for Poppy to bring him some ointment so he could monitor the wound hourly without her supervision.
“Ummm…what?” Regulus asked the woman. He looked like a lost puppy, waiting for its owner to arrive. He, of course, knew who Hornkus Binglefuck was. It was hard not to. Pandora’s freak of an experiment gone wrong.
Minerva rolled her eyes, dropping her arm down, “Don’t play koi with me, Regulus. Who. Is. Hornkus. Binglefuck.” The older woman basically marched up to young Black.
“Oh, you know…just, someone I know,” Regulus murmured, side-eyeing the office door. “Really? Someone you know? Is that why your husband is staying with it-him?” Minerva interrogated the man. “Is he even real?”
The opening of a door caused both heads to turn. “Is who even real?” Poppy asked, standing in the doorway with ointment in her hand, a confused look on her face. Regulus cleared his throat. “Oh, just, Tom is staying with a friend of ours.” The man looked down at the ground. Poppy raised an eyebrow.
“Lovegood’s?” The poor woman asked. Regulus shook his head, “Um-no-it’s actually Hornkus Binglefuck.” Poppy looked even more confused.
“Who?”
“Just…just Pandora’s cloning experiment of Barty gone wrong. No one else.” Regulus said, barely above a whisper. He looked guilty, for sure.
“What?” Is what both women exclaimed.
“Yeah, looks exactly like Barty, except Hornkus has red strips instead of green and his magic is more…theatrical? I guess that’s the best way to describe it.” Regulus rambled, scratching the back of his neck. “We didn't name him. He kinda sprouted out of the potion Pandora made and declared his name was Hornkus Binglefuck. We really should’ve questioned him more.”
Both women looked terrified. Minerva was the first to speak, “What year was this?” She kept her voice low. If Regulus didn't look guilty a few seconds ago, he definitely looked guilty now.
“…fourth year.” The young Black answered, causing Poppy to make a strangled noise. Minerva, poor sweet Minerva, looked like you had just told her that Death Eaters were storming the castle at any moment.
Minerva dared to ask another question, “So, you kept this—this thing, in Hogwarts, for over three some years? Every time we’ve seen Crouch with red hair, it was some man named Hornkus Binglefuck instead? Did Binglefuck even know what was happening?" All Regulus could do was nod.
“Yeah, essentially. And to be fair, we did teach Hornkus about the wizarding world and whatnot. So it wasn't like he was completely in the dark.”
Poppy asked next, “So, he’s helping your husband, correct? Does that mean he didn't follow the same alliance as Crouch?” Regulus could sense that the older woman was worried about Tom, and that was good. She cared for him, deeply.
Like a mother would.
Regulus sighed, “Hornkus doesn't truly have a side. He thinks both sides are wrong and should quote-on-quote ‘have both leaders make out and decide from there’.” Regulus implied heavy air quotes around it.
“He also kinda hates Barty with all his guts, even if his guts are exactly the same as Barty’s, so he really wouldn’t want to be on the same side as Barty.”
“Ah.” Is all Poppy replied with, though she still looked uneasy with his explanation. Then she hesitated, “Do you…Do you think we could potentially talk to him? Not to interrogate him or anything, but to, like, get to know him? See his side of the story, if you will.”
Minerva looked bewildered. “What? Poppy, are you hearing yourself? Regulus,” She turned to him, “I don't mean for you to take this the wrong way, but Binglefuck sounds like a firecracker waiting to be lit. Dangerous and wild. This war has already gone up in flames; we don't need to add a light show.”
To be fair, Minerva was right, “I have to agree with Minnie on this one, sorry, Poppy. Despite having no alliance, Hornkus would probably jump at the possibility of having destruction in the palms of his hands.” Regulus tried to reason with Poppy, who looked like a puppy with big doe eyes.
Giving up, Poppy sighed, “Alright, but still, at this point, we need anyone at our sides.”
Tom wasn’t having a good time. He was pacing the floor so much that he was surprised there weren’t path markings already. Staying with Hornkus was fine to say the least. He had only tried to get Tom to sleep with him once, which was a step up from their days at Hogwarts.
“Dude, can you stop pacing the floor for, like, two seconds? I’m sure Regulus has already gotten the letter and is currently gushing about how he wishes he were here instead of wherever you dropped him off.” Barty’s clone snapped at him from the couch. Hornkus had gratefully offered him somewhere to stay while Regulus received the care he needed.
Well, Hornkus didn't really have a say in whether Tom could stay or not. Tom did show up unannounced and hoped the other man would take him in.
“I know, I know. But, still, what if the letter got intercepted? What if a Death Eater tracked down his location?” Hornkus rolled his eyes. Merlin, Tom hadn't been this concerned about Regulus in school, had he? “Which would mean both McGonagall and Pomfrey are in danger as well. What if—”
“Merlin, Tom!” Hornkus cut off the other man, throwing his head back on the couch cushions, “Regulus is fine. I’ve seen that man personally offer to strangle some dude ‘cause he insulted Pandora. If anyone can protect themselves, it's Regulus, for sure.”
That seemed to calm Tom enough for him to stop pacing. Though his worried expression still stayed. Hornkus slung off the back of the couch to make his way over to Tom.
Standing in between the doorway to the hallway and the living area, Tom found himself in front of a mirror. An anguished face looked back at him. Hornkus joined him a moment later.
His father stared back at him. Barty’s too.
You know, it was weird. Two clones of two different people with totally different personalities from the originals. The uncanniness between Tom and his father, the same eyes, same stupid smile, same everything. Hornkus was a little luckier. His hair and clothes were more punk rock than Barty’s. He had more piercings, more tattoos, more coolness than Barty would ever have.
Lucky bastard.
Hornkus patted Tom’s back, beckoning for him to follow the other man. “Come on, man, I need help with my garden. Those onions aren’t gonna pick themselves.”
Tom took a few moments to collect his thoughts before nodding.
“Yeah, okay.”