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Chapter Text

October 31, 1981

“Reg, can you help me here?” James laughs, plucking a toy from the air, one of many drifting around.

He turns the little wolf figurine over, before grabbing the big black dog plush hovering by his head. Harry, in return, lets out a string of gurgly giggles and claps his hand, still not letting go of his favourite, the little rat named De Ver (Peter still argues it is a large mouse), as it lays tucked away in the crook of his arm. The one year olds bursts of accidental magic are not harmful, but they crop up whenever he feels strong emotions, and as a one year old it’s very common.

“I’m coming, one sec-” Regulus begins, cutting off when he notices the floating menagerie of knicknacks.

“Harry Leo, did you do this?” He asks, crouching down in front of his son.

Grey eyes lock on eachother, and Harry responds, ‘They pretty,’ and goes back to mumbling words while moving De Ver in front of himself and giggling. Regulus stops for a moment, collecting himself and suppressing the urge to lash out like his mother would, and gently removes De Ver from Harry's hands and politely asks him to bring the toys back. Reluctantly, Harry twists his fingers and squeezes his eyes shut, and the toys begin their descent and land softly on the floor. The little boy looks up again again at his father, squeals with a bit of laughter and just picks up another plaything on the floor.

Regulus stands up, still in a little bit of shock, and makes his way over to his husband. James wraps an arm around the shorter man, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.

“How is it he has such control over his magic already?” Regulus whispers, staring at their boy who is currently making the toys fly around in a circle.

“I don’t know but this is all my genes,” James says with a smirk.

“Ow!” He laughs as Regulus bats him on the arm, pressing his lips to his softly. Standing on his toes, Regulus leans up to his ear, his breath on the shell of James’ ear as he says, ‘Shut the fuck up’. And kisses him again.

They break apart as there's a knock on the door. Harry runs to Regulus, making little grabby hands until his father hoists him up with an over-exaggerated grunt, settling him on his hip as James stands up.

‘It’s probably Padfoot coming with the sweets,’ James says, giving Regulus’ shoulder a squeeze and making his way from the landing room down the hallway and to the door.

His wand is on the couch.

The door creaks open, and Regulus hears a faint greeting that trails off, followed by a loud, ‘REG ITS HIM, TAKE HARRY AND RUN!” There's the sound of a faint punch, a low groan from the uninvited third party, and finally a yell followed by a flash of green light.

Slow footsteps thud down the hall, and Regulus tries to shake the fog from his head as he secures Harry to himself, and runs up the stairs, down the hall and to Harry’s bedroom. Locking the door behind him, he hides in the corner, wrapping his body around his son as if it would protect him. Looking up to his side, he sees a phone. There's only one number he knows by heart. And that line goes directly to…

12

Grimmauld.

Place.

The line that he had installed after Sirius ran away, in case he wanted to call. He never did, but at least he had the option. Inhaling sharply, Regulus grabs the phone, fingers fumbling to type in the number sequence. The footsteps have just hit the bottom of the stairs.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Hello?” a sharp but questioning voice, one regulus has come to fear, answers.

“M-mother?”

“Aquila, is that you?”

“N-no mother, it’s Regulus. I- i told you this,” He says, squeezing Harry tighter against his body. Footsteps thud.

‘Regulus?” He lets out a breath. “I know no Regulus, I never had a second son.”

“Mother y-yes you did, please,” His breathing becomes more ragged, more erratic, as the creaking of floorboards gets closer and closer. “Please, he’s here, the Dark Lord,” his voice drops to a sobbing whisper. “Mother, you have to save me please, I don't want to die.’

“Please leave me alone and do not interrupt me again.” Walburga states, but does not place the phone back down. Tears are now freely streaming down Regulus’ face as he cries into the phone; his voice ramping up in volume as the doorknob begins to twist.

“Mother, MOTHER PLEASE YOU HAVE TO SAVE ME, PLEASE COME GET ME I'M NOT READY, I DON'T WANT TO GO YET MOTHER-”

The lock clicks as the line goes dead, a prolonged beep from the machine the only thing cutting over Regulus’ suppressed sobbing as he curls himself tighter around his son, a barrier against the cloaked beast who had just entered the room.

“Come out,” A twisted voice whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you, Regulus, you were once my most loyal servant. If you hand me the child, I'm sure that with some… coercion, I could have you back at my right hand. Wouldn’t you like that? Be everything your parents wished you could be, everything your brother could not.”

The mouth under the heavy hood curls upward, as if attempting a smile.

‘Just give me the child, and you can be part of my ranks. Lead the legions to victory. All I need is a small token of your appreciation of this offer, something you are currently keeping from me. It’s a small price to pay to be everything ever expected of you. You think your mother will want you now? As you hide this, this inconvenience from me? She will not save you, but I have presented you with the power to choose. Stay here, and meet your fate by my hand, or join me, and be as great as your blood. As pure as your blood. Toujours Purs, Regulus.”

Unfurling himself from around Harry, Regulus crouches down in the shadows and holds Harry's face in his hands. He smiles sadly, wistful for a life that could never be, and bottles his emotions up at the thought of his husband laying downstairs, lifeless. Giving Harry a final kiss on the forehead, he brushes away a lone tear and stands up, out of his hidden spot, and lunges at Voldemort, eyes hard with fury, and, and, and-

He’s stuck.

Frozen mid air.

Regulus’ body hovers above the ground, the pull of imperio keeping his consciousness trapped at the back of his mind. Something slips into his thoughts, an oily feeling spreading through his body. A voice, deathly calm, washes over him. It makes a tutting sound, like a parent disappointed in a child.

Come now, Regulus, why do you fight? Why go against all you’ve known? I'm so very let down by your actions. Here I was, ever welcoming and kind, giving you a chance, proving myself as a merciful leader. But you disobey me, forcing my hand. I truly wanted you by my side; you were born to do great things, Regulus.

What Voldemort hadn’t noticed, however, is Regulus’ hand slowly creeping up, and using all his mental energy, his hand hurdles through the air and slaps him straight across his sullen face. Smirking through the curse, Regulus whispers, “Fuck you.” in one last act of defiance.

And that's when Harry started wailing.

The imperius falters, and Regulus falls to the ground, scrambling to shield his son. “Stay away from him you monster, or I swear on all the stars that i’ll-”

And history will never find out what Regulus promised. What he stood for, what he couldn't save. A simple word, a flash of green light, and a man falls, a man fails.

Stepping up to the crumbled body, Voldemort, using his shoe, tilts Regulus’ face to either side, a disappointed look in his downcast eyes.

“What a shame,” His lips purse as he turns his attention back to the reason he’s here. Wordlessly, his magic pushes Regulus to the side, and crouches down before the child, still screaming and making grabby hands at his father.

“Hello there,” Voldemort says, his head leaning to the side. “My name is Tom, Tom Riddle, and I take it yours is Harry Potter. Now, you see, I regret to inform you that you must die now.”

Harry, still bawling, crawls over (without intervention from the man who had just murdered his parents) to Regulus, wrapping his little fist around one of his fathers fingers.

Voldemort brandishes his wand, the Yew pointing directly at the boy. Taking a deep breath, he says a spell that will alter the past, present and future forevermore.

“Avada Kedavra,” Leaves his lips, the green light building and flashing. A glare becomes a beam as it shoots toward the child. It collides with his head, and at the same time the skin where Harry and Regulus are touching begins to glow, and then surround Harry's small frame. The two forces battle, but within a few seconds they bleed into each other. There's a-

BANG!

As well as a -

SNAP!

Regulus Arcturus Black, age 16, is now holding a small infant, no older that one, that looks like a carbon copy of his enemy, James Fleamont Potter, but here's the catch-

The child's eyes are a piercing shade of grey in a way only possible by the blood of a Black.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2
Monday, 2nd September 1976

Regulus’ eyes bear into his schedule sheet. First period had his 7th year potions. He has always excelled with ease, and Slughorn finally decided to offer him a place in his NEWT class. He had been ecstatic, but as he saw the house the class was matched up with, his happiness diminished. The house of the lion.
Gryffindor.

Determined to not let this prevent him getting the highest level of education the school could provide, Regulus packs his textbook into his bag, checks his green and silver tie in the mirror, and closes the dormitory door behind him.

He makes his way out into the hall, walking down the cold marble floor to where it converges with the girl's side and the path to the Common Room. Like clockwork, Pandora Rosier falls into step with him. Her blonde braids hang around her head, contrasting beautifully with her brown skin. She looked effortless. If he liked girls, Pandora would check all his boxes. But the love he feels for her is strictly platonic. She is the yin to his yang, the sun to her moon. She was his best friend and he wouldn't trade her for anything.

“So,” Pandora begins. “What period do you have potions? Merlin, why do they only give out timetables on the first day? Like give us a fucking moment to memorise it.” She rambles, a nervous habit, the opposite of her twin, Evan, who, when nervous, shuts down and stops speaking to avoid saying something he can't take back.

Pandora was the only other student from his year being moved up to NEWT Potions. They’d been hoping to be placed in the same class, the two options being with the Slytherin and Gryffindor class, or the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class. Regulus had been holding out for the latter, not only because his brother would be attending the other one, but because his friend Ben(jamin) Constable is a 7th year Ravenclaw and was taking NEWT Potions to become a Medi Wizard. They’d met back when he was a 2nd year and Ben was in 3rd while Regulus was breaking down in the bathroom. He’d helped the younger boy take control of his breathing, and they’d become fast friends.

Regulus does a double-check of the sheet in his hand. “First Period Gryffindor-Slytherin. You?”
Pandora stops, grabs his wrists, and yells, “ME TOO!” All of a sudden she’s jumping up and down with excitement, squeezing and unsqueezing her fists. One thing you learn after being best friends with Pandora Rosier is that she has big emotions. And you can either roll with that or you can stay the fuck away because her happiness is infectious and her low mood casts a cloud over the entirety of Hogwarts. It’s just one of those things and Regulus is fine with that.

“Okay, well let's go, the rooms right down the hall past the common room entrance.” Regulus continues on, dragging a still very excited Pandora behind him. They make their way through the bustling students, dodging and weaving past a group of jittery first years, all in crisp uniform, likely just ironed. Regulus reminisces for a moment about back when he was that little. He’d had his collar and tie so tightly done up he struggled to breathe, but at that point he would do anything to preserve the family image. It was his duty. His brother had already begun tainting it, and it was his job to remind others how noble noble could be. It wasn't until his fourth year began, just 12 months earlier, that he realised Walburga couldn't see directly into Hogwarts every waking hour. But still he kept his grades and his head high, just as a true heir would. He just… didn't look the part that much.

They passed the glass wall bordering the Black Lake, and took a second to look himself over in the reflection. His dark hair was in curls that fell to below his ears, curling around the nape of his neck. The blonde locks twine between the layers of ebony, contrasting in a way only to be described as angelic, bordering eerie. The deep noir of the water made the grey of his irises stand out, the mark of his bloodline imprinted on his body.

Swallowing briefly, Regulus turns back toward the entrance door, and pulls the handle. The silver swings open, and the duo step out into the hallway, make a left, and continue on until they reach Professor Slughorn's classroom. Taking his hand back, Regulus starts picking at his cuticles. All that was on his mind was his- Sirius. Sirius was his nothing anymore. He made his choice. They weren't even brothers anymore, not now that his face is just ash on the wall beside his own. How would he react to seeing Regulus? How, in the name of Arthur's Sword, would he be able to look the ultimate shame of the Black name in the eye, should it come to pass? How would he-

“-lus, Regulus, look at me, look at me; you’re okay, I've got you,” A voice is whispering in his ear. A hand pushes a curl from his face as he inhales sharply. Air fills his lungs. He exhales. In and out. Pandora guides his breathing while lowering him to the ground, stilling his hands that had picked the skin to the point blood was seeping through the cracks. Pandora waves her hand over them, and the cuts heal themselves back over, leaving miniscule slithers of white in their wake.

Suddenly aware of his surroundings, Regulus’ eyes shoot open and he stands up abruptly, fighting off dark spots that plague his vision. He leans on the wall briefly, grasping for a moment of stability, before pushing himself off and through the door, ignoring Pandora's pleas for him to slow down and her asking him if he's ‘alright’. Of course he’s alright, he can’t be anything but alright.

Thankful that they’re so early, Regulus takes his pick of the empty classroom, selecting a table in the far left corner, out of the way of annoying 7th Years, more specifically Sirius, and his annoying friend James. He was sure the two would be an unwelcome interruption as he tries to study. A few students will very likely have their potions blow up by them; nothing they shouldn't be able to handle themselves.

Regulus sets his book down on the table, pulling out the stool and sitting down. The room itself is dimly lit, and he squints slightly in order to read the words on the page as he opens his book. First page reads, ‘Elixir of Dreams.’ It’s described as a pearly white potion with a sheen that blends between the colours of the rainbow. It also supposedly harnesses your deepest desire and shows it to you. Scoffing in disbelief, Regulus grabs the book and heads to the storage cabinet to get all of his ingredients before the rest of the students arrive.

He walks over, Pandora on his heel, and pulls the cabinet open. Inside is an array of different specimens, herbs and others. He reaches for each item one by one. Scale of Moonfish, check. Essence of Pearl, check. Ground Thyme, Curated Yeti Hair, Pinch of Stardust? Check.

Regulus carries it all back to his workstation as other students start pouring in. He recognises a few faces, like Lucinda Talkalot, his quidditch captain, also Slytherin House. He also took notice of the new 7th year transfer student, Luca Azzopardi. He’d seen the boy around with his friend, Ben a few times, but this time he was not walking with someone Regulus liked. Luca was walking and laughing with James Potter and-

Regulus’ mouth dries as his view follows the boy with the same blood as him, the same eyes as him. Sirius Orion Black the III struts into the classroom, tossing his hair over his shoulder and letting out a carefree laugh. His sleeves are rolled up, his forearms and scars from his years in Grimmauld Place can be seen, albeit healed over, the only proof of how his previous life had impacted him.

They took a seat at the table in the middle row, Sirius’ eyes darting everywhere but Regulus. As though he was ashamed to even be associated with the younger Black. The only one that even took notice of the boy in the back was Luca, who offered a tentative wave and smile. Regulus allows his lips to pull up slightly and lifts his hand in silent greeting. And that was that.

Everyone files in, tables filling with 7th years. Nobody comes to join the table in the far left corner though, and Regulus and Pandora are left to their own devices.

Professor Slughorn's voice booms over the class as he instructs them to open their books and collect their ingredients to create the Elixir of Dreams. Regulus just tunes him out as he and Pandora begin to work in practised harmony, trading between stirring, adding, and chopping. They fly through the method, pouring each item into the cauldron and adjusting the heat of the flame beneath it.

The liquid bubbles and froths, and Regulus waits until it reaches the very top of the pot before sprinkling in the Stardust. The potion swirls and shimmers, and the foam recedes and leaves a wonderfully book-accurate pearlescent sheen. The pair sigh and sit back, complete with their work. Pandora raises her hand, and Regulus gives in, bringing his own up and high fiving her. Unfortunately for him though, the sound resounds around the room, and everyone looks to the back corner.

Regulus freezes, looking around, and grey locks on grey. Brother looks at brother. For the first time since his banishment, Sirius and Regulus were looking at each other, and the latter refused to look away first. Sirius blinks, and shakes his head briefly before turning back to Luca, whom he had been engaging in conversation with previously. But still, James Potter continues to look at him.

The older boys' unruly chocolate curls defy gravity as they stick out on every angle, his gold rimmed glasses reflect the dull light. They frame his deep olive face, and his straight nose meets his full lips. At this point Regulus realises he’s staring, and goes back to bottling his potion.

He continues to feel hazel eyes staring at him as he corks each vial, lining them up beside each other. It is now that the rest of the class starts finishing up their potions, and Slughorn calls them all to attention and asks everyone to bring up a sample for assessing. Regulus and Pandora select their shiniest bottle and make their way past the older students and to near the chalkboard.

“What do we have here? My new students finishing first? I guess I was right to endorse your request to join my NEWT class,” Slughorn smiles, glad to have successfully helped students of such noble houses.

“Yes sir,” Regulus begins.

“Please, call me Horace, my boy.”

Regulus internally winces, having hoped that in his NEWT class Slughorn would focus more on their grades rather than who their families are. Clearly he was wrong.

“Okay… Horace… So Pandora and I finished our Elixir of Dreams to textbook perfection. Please, take a look. We’re always open to constructive criticism.”

“Well, my boy, there seems to be nothing to critique. It is, as you described, perfect. Now to test it. Can each of you hold out your hand?” Slughorn requests, and the two oblige. The professor tilts the now open vial over Regulus’ palm, and places three drops. At this point, the whole class is watching. It glows, and then Regulus’ vision goes black, and all he can see is his brother. Oh he hopes nobody else can tell what his dream is, that he misses his brother and wishes he’d come back for him.

Snapping back to reality, Regulus looks around frantically to all the students watching. None of them had any looks beside confusion as to his own reaction, and the boy takes a rattling breath.

Suddenly, his hand is pulled forward, as if with an invisible string. Then his other, and they were both outstretched in front of himself.

“Um- professor? Is this a common side effect?” He asks, although he already knows it isn't.

Before anyone can react, a striking green light blinds the entire class, thunder rumbles through the floor, and there's a loud-

BANG!

There's a sudden weight in Regulus’ outstretched hands, and he curls his arms inward instinctively. That's when he hears a piercing wail. In his arms is a child, no older than one, with unruly black waves, deep olive skin, and grey eyes, and a bloody array of cuts zigzagging across the top of the right side of the child's head like lightning.

Chapter Text

Regulus’ hands are shaking as he holds out the child, who couldn't be older than one. The whole class is looking their way, and the baby seems to have decided it hates all the attention, and in turn starts screaming louder. Pandora rushes over, cooing at the kid while gently waving her hand over their forehead to heal the cuts. While still red and raised, it is no longer freely forfeiting blood. Pandora holds her hands out in a ‘may i’ kind of gesture, and Regulus is happy to give over the child that was now making grabby hands at him from Pandora's grasp. When they realise Regulus isn’t going anywhere, they settle down into her warm embrace, nestling into the crook of her shoulder.

The rest of the people in the room had been inching closer, and now are in a sort of semi-circle around them, staring at the kid. Regulus shuffles closer to Pandora, just behind her shoulder. He looks around the classroom, noting that most of the Gryffindors are just giggling over the baby, while the Slytherins seem to be collectively analysing him. All at once, every student in greens heads snapped up, looking at none other than James Fleamont Potter.

The similarities between them hit Regulus like one of those muggle buses. The baby, albeit having darker hair and grey eyes, shared the 7th year's skin, nose, hair texture, and lips. Sirius, who had clearly just made the connection, now had his jaw dropped open, pointing obviously between the child and James.

“Oi, it looks just like James!” Sirius yells, and those who hadn’t figured it out stare at James like he had just grown an extra set of arms.

Slughorn pushes his half moon glasses up his hose before agreeing. “You’re quite right, Mr Black. The similarities are quite obvious.”

“Well who are they?” A stray voice from the back asks. Whispers of guesses are floated around the classroom and speculations spread as to whether it's a relative of the Potter family, and some even guess that James had knocked someone up during 6th year.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” Slughorn mumbles, scratching his head in confuddlement.

Sirius takes an opportunity to walk up to Pandora, hold out his hand in a beckoning motion and says, “Well, hand it over then.”

A feeling Regulus couldn't really describe, best represented as a blend between anger at his not-brother for demanding such a thing so randomly, and a strange protectiveness over the child, takes over his body. Stepping out from behind Pandora, Regulus masks his face with sarcastic collectiveness.

“Fuck off, why would we do that?” He says crossing his arms and he stands between Sirius and the infant.

“Jesus Christ, why are you being so difficult? It looks just like James, I've seen photographs and it's bloody uncanny, so get your head out of your ass and stop being such a twat.” Sirius’ lips are pulled into a scowl as he advances closer. Regulus takes a step backward toward Pandora.

Slughorn inhales as if he’s going to say something, but Regulus beats him to it.

“What is your problem? Not my fault you’re arse over tits for your boyfriend over there, if you wanted a mini version of him just shrink him, it’d do all of us a fucking favour.”

“Oh is that what this is about, huh? Mad that he’s my brother and you aren't? Is that it? Go cry to mummy about it. But you're downright daft if you think I’m not taking the kid to Madame Pomfrey.” Sirius’ voice escalates, and before anyone could register it, he shoves Regulus to the side.

The younger Black, however, does not take this lightly, and turns to Sirius and pushes him back, straight into one of the spectating students.

“Va te faire foutre,” Regulus spits.

“You wanker-” Sirius begins, but is swiftly cut off by Regulus.

“Keep your hair on, but I'm taking them to the Infirmary. I know you can’t stand to be within a hundred metres of me so come, don't come, but decide now because i haven’t got all day. Just don’t get all lairy around the fucking child, d’accord?” Regulus purses his lips together.

“Oi dont swear infront of a kid you cunt!” Sirius seethes, and it takes him a second to register what he’d done.

Huffing, he steps toward the door and flourishes his arm, saying, "After you, m’lord.”

With a sigh, Regulus slips his hand into Pandora's free one (only after receiving a permission-granting head nod from Professor Slughorn) and makes his way to the door and out into the hall where they start their ascent up one of the many stairwells. James, who had tagged along with Sirius, is now walking at a fast pace rambling about Quidditch or whatnot.

The child lets out a happy little giggle before reaching for Regulus.

Pandora tugs on her best friend's hand, and he turns around. She holds out the kid with a tentative upturn of her lips. The infant's smile grows as they grab Regulus.

“Do I have to?” He groans, and he hears the footsteps ahead of them halt.

“Go on, the little ones zonked, he’ll just fall asleep in a quick second. Plus it won’t hurt you.” Pandora presses the child's neck into the crook of Regulus’ neck, and he instinctively secures a hand under their bottom and another instinctively goes to support their neck and lower head. They snuggle in closer, little hands clasping onto his school robes.

Droopy eyes turn to look at him, the grey peering up under dark lashes. It’s startling how much they look like his own. The child rests his head down again, nestling into Regulus’ shoulder.

“Papa,” they mumble, before the only sound from the infant is just breathing, and a few light snores here and there. Regulus freezes, looking down at the child. Why on earth would they call him that? They can’t possibly be his kid, he would definitely know if he’d had a child at some point in third year.

Brushing it off as if it's just a word the kid knows, Regulus cups his hand behind their head and looks down at the curly brown hair. They squirms a little bit in their sleep, and Regulus automatically raises his hand to soothingly play with their hair, and the fussing ceases. It seems he’s a natural at this, despite never receiving this kind of treatment.

Looking up as he continues on, Regulus locks eyes with James, who had already been staring at him with a small smile at the corners of his lips. Fighting off a smile himself, Regulus pushes past them, Pandora in wake.

They reach the Hospital Wing, but before Regulus can open the door to go in, he bumps straight into Barty Crouch Jr. The boy's chocolate and green hair was smoothed down, rather than its usual spikes and curls, and his olive skin was a shade paler than usual.

Barty cracks a crooked smile, one that would make most people think he was okay, but Regulus knew him better than that. The boy's tongue flicks out the corner of his mouth, a nervous tic, and that's when Regulus brings his hand off the child's head to rest it on Bartys cheek.

“Bee, are you-” Regulus starts, but the second his hand makes contact with Bartys skin, he flinches away, hissing. That’s when Regulus sees the red and purple mark surrounding a cut still trying to clot up. Blood trickles ever so slowly down his face, and the first drop hits his pristine white collar.

“Parent meeting. School owled Padre because I'm apparently ‘failing astronomy.’ I get straight O’s, but they're marking me down because I never show up except for tests. Why do I need to go if I already know the content? Ugh!” Barty huffs, running a hand through his hair to dishevel it. The strands come free from the charm he’d placed on it, and the waves fall around his ears and down the back of his neck.

Pandora catches up, quickly followed by Sirius and James. The girl looks at Barty, and they communicate with their eyes in a way Regulus will never truly understand. Pandora raises her hand, brushing it over the cut, and it clots, healing up along with the aggravated mark and blossoming bruising.

“Thanks. I’ll, uh, see you guys at lunch?” Barty says, acting as if nothing had happened.

In their usual fashion, they never talk about their home lives, an unspoken rule amongst the friend group. They all had their own problems, and none of them liked to talk about it. On rare occasions, someone opens up, but it’s not a regular occurrence.

“Yup, see you.” Pandora smiles, containing her sympathy. He hates when people feel sorry for him.

“Alright, bye- Wait whos’ the bambino?” Barty asks, eyes widening as he finally notices the infant in Regulus’ arms.

“We, uh- we don't know?” Regulus smiles awkwardly, manoeuvring the baby so that he's holding them with both arms in a cradling position. “They just… kind of appeared in potions with a bang and some green light, it was all very dramatic. Too many people showed emotions; we’re supposed to be british.”

Barty crouches down so that he is eye to eye with the child, who is slowly stirring from sleep. “You’re one dishy bloke, you know that little guy?” Barty says with a laugh, brushing a stray curl from their eye.

“Bloke? So you think they’re a boy?” Pandora asks, leaning over Barty’s shoulder to make faces at the child.

“Well yeah, if you look at his right ear, it’s pierced, and based off his appearance I’d make an educated guess that he’s south Asian, and in some cultures there, when they’re young the boys usually have their right ear pierced first, whereas girls have their left pierced first. I’d say that he cried so hard when it was done his parents couldn't stomach piercing the other one and just left it like that.” Barty talks robotically, spilling information directly from a book he’d read somewhere.

Sirius and James are looking at him like he’s gone crazy, so he exhales and points to his head. In a mocking tone, he says, “Photographic memory, innit. I like to read, got a problem with that?”

Barty straightens up, reaching 5’11. While not as tall as James, he beats Sirius by more than a head. He folds his arms, waiting for an answer. He receives a string of no’s and sorry’s from the two boys.

Barty relaxes down again, and opens the door for the others. They file in one by one, led by Regulus, then Pandora, and finally Sirius and James. The infirmary is empty, beside Madame Pomfrey, who’s currently re-arranging some potions in a cabinet. After a few moments come and go and she doesn't notice the group, Barty clears his throat extra loud and in a sing-song voice, says, “Oh Madame Pomfrey! Have we got a treat for you?”

“Oh Merlin, what have you done this time Mr Crouch.” The nurse mutters, turning around. As she gets closer to the group, she gasps. “What have you got there Mr Black?” Her mouth hangs open slightly as she beckons them all over to the nearest hospital bed.

Regulus takes a seat on the bed, unable to let the infant go. He keeps him in his arms, gently brushing his hand through his hair. The baby sits on his lap, playing idly with one of Regulus’ fingers as the group settles in around them.

“So,” Madame Pomfrey starts. “Who would like to explain what’s happened?” She folds her hands, waiting for one of them to start talking.

Regulus opens his mouth to speak, but Sirius cuts over him. “We were in potions, making one thing or another. I don't really know nor care, peu importe, but then there was a boom and stuff and then this little man popped up. Who is he?”

Madame Pomfrey, masking her shock, crouches down to the child. “Hello, little one, mind if I just wave my wand at you a bit? I know you're gonna be a brave boy.” She smiles at him, carefully picking up his tiny hands and squeezing them a bit. The comforting action eases the kid, and he smiles at her and claps his hands together.

She raises her right hand, quietly casting a spell. A holographic information bar pops up beside the
child’s head.

“Everyone, say hello to Harry Leo.” The mediwitch smiles.

Sirius turns his head from Madame Pomfrey to Harry, running a hand through his curls. “Welcome to the constellation club, kid!”

She scrolls through the information, muttering to herself. “Pureblood, blood type B-, 9.2 kilograms, date of birth-“ She freezes, turning to the students.

“How… how did you say he appeared?” Madam Pomfrey's eyes darted between them all, searching for an answer.

Regulus speaks up. “There was a pretty loud bang, a green flash, and Harry, you said his name was? He just appeared in my arms. Why?”

“There’s- um… Harry’s date of birth is the 31st of July, 1980.”

The group of teens look at with conviction of insanity, and Regulus looks down at Harry, brushing a hand over his hair, brushing it away from the streaks of scars covering his forehead. He traces the now healed (courtesy of Pandora) white lines carved into his olive skin, wondering the story behind them.

“How is he here? Like if he’s from the future, which I still don't believe.” Barty questions, draping an arm over Regulus’ shoulders and peering down at the child. Harry raises a hand to grab at Bartys’ fingers, fisting and unfisting his little fingers until the older boy lowered his hand to reaching distance.

“I can’t be sure, there might be new experimental spells or something that he was accidentally exposed to in the future, nobody will be able to tell exactly. But,” Madame Pomfrey’s voice takes a sharp turn from the serious tone to more child friendly. “I’m just going to scan the little guy to make sure nothings hurting, alright?”

She raises her wand slowly, and mutters a spell. An orb of light appears at Harry’s feet, and the boy giggles, still holding onto Barty. Sensing no anomalies, she brings the glow upward, scanning his body. She clears his legs, torso and arms, but when she brings it up to his forehead she gasps, stumbling back before regaining her senses and resting a hand on his head. Sympathy swims through her eyes, confusion lacing its way through her gaze.

“What is it?” James asks, resting a stabilising hand on the medi witches' shoulder.

“I know why he appeared with a green light.” She breathes in shakily. “He- He was hit with the killing curse.”

Disbelief is the main topic of everyone's comments, everyone but Barty. You can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he puts piece and piece together.

“So,” He says slowly. “Harry was hit with the killing curse, but is still alive. That shouldn't be possible. But, obviously, it is. And that scar, where you sensed it, means that is the result of it. Now, blood curses have been known to counteract the other two Unforgivables, but nobody has survived with the killing curse. So how?” Barty’s eyes dart back and forward as he sinks into the zone, racking his brain of any and all information on the topic.

Sirius, shaking off the disturbing information, asks the question that had been burning in his mind. “So when he appeared, we all were like, blimey! Look at the similarities between him and James; it’s uncanny! So, ‘sthere like a paternity, maternity test for Harry? He definitely could be James’ time travelling son, innit?”

“There is a spell exactly for that, believe it or not.” Madame Pomfrey replies.

“Well that definitely makes me feel safe, knowing anyone can cast identification spells on me at any time,” Sirius deadpans, nudging James in the arm.

Rolling her eyes playfully, the nurse waves her wand and two pieces of paper appear in the air, folded in half. One is labelled ‘Pater’, and the other ‘Mater’. Plucking the former from its gravity defying suspension, she opens it. Everyone leans in as she scans the letter and looks up.

“James,” Madame Pomfrey, “It seems that Harry is your son-” Her voice is drowned out by Sirius’ cheering, as he slaps his hand on James’ shoulder.

“Good lad, you’ve gone and knocked up a chick in a few years, innit? What’s it, like three, four-ish years?” Sirius laughs, but James doesn't even notice. He’s just staring at Harry, mouth slightly parted. One of his hands drifts toward his child, and his son lets go of Barty and reaches for him.

“Daddy,” Harry giggles, wrapping his fingers around one of James’. James gasps slightly, and he covers his mouth with his spare hand. He stoops down toward Harry, studying his face, looking at what his future looks like.

“Holy shi-” James starts, but Regulus clicks his fingers in front of his face, silencing the older boy.

“No swearing in front of Harry, even if he is your son.” Regulus glares at him, pulling the child closer to his body, not wanting to let go.

“Reg,” Sirius begins.

“Don't call me Reg,” Regulus interjects, but Sirius pays him no mind.

“Don’t you think you should let go of Harry and give him to his father? You know, so we don’t label this kidnapping?” Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow.

James looks up at Sirius from his kneeling position, shaking his head. “No Sirius I’m fine-”

“No, Reg, just hand him over to his dad, alright?”

“Don’t call me Reg,” Regulus holds Harry tighter.

“Oh come off it, I’ve called you that a million times over the years, as your older brother i have a right to call you whatever the fuck i want, Reg.”

“Call me Reg one more time.” Regulus seethes, grabbing Sirius’ collar with the hand not securing Harry against his body.

“Piss off, just let me go,” Sirius mutters.

“Alright gentleman, if we could have a minute, Mr Black, please let Mr Black, go-” Madame Pomfrey is cut off yet again by Sirius.

“Not a Black,” He bites.

“Okay then, Sirius-”

“Not a Black then, huh?” Regulus lifts his chin. “Can’t call yourself my older brother then, innit? No more of that bloody excuse.”

“Tu ne pas défier-”

“BOYS!” Madame Pomfrey raises her voice above their comments. “Please, may we just have a minute to read the Mater card? Aren't either of you the slightest bit interested?” She baits them with the knowledge of Harrys mothers identity.

“‘Course we are,” Sirius laughs, stepping back like nothing happened. “Alright, guesses? Think it's someone at Hogwarts?”

“Well the eyes are grey,” Pandora speaks up for the first time in a while. “The hair is darker and curlier than James’, so we can guess it’s a girl with grey eyes, and dark brown or black curly hair.

“Sounds a bit like you, Sirius.” James laughs shakily, standing back up.

Sirius dramatically flops into James’ arms, closing his eyes. “Oh hold me, father of my child! Save our son from my heathen brother,” He enunciates, batting his lashes up at his best friend and sighing theatrically.

“Ready?” Madame Pomfrey interrupts their moment.

James straightens up, ready to find out who he ends up with in the future, brain still scrambling to find out her identity before it’s revealed.

She pulls the second slip of paper from the air, and unfolds it. Although trying to keep her emotions at bay, the nurse's eyes widen. She looks over the group before her eyes land on Regulus. His breath hitches.

“Harry's biological mother is-” She takes a grounding breath. “Harry’s biological mother is-”

Noise

Noise

Noise

Noise

Noise

Noise

“Regulus Black.”

Chapter Text

When Regulus was seven, his mother had sat him down and made it clear of his purpose- his role in the House of Black. From that day forward it had been programmed into his brain that his only purpose was to carry and bear children; heirs to continue the family name. He had despised it. He vowed to himself he would never, ever have children, but he knew deep down that wouldn’t happen. Not to his own free will.

As he aged, at balls held by the Sacred 28, those around him always commented on his body. Regulus’ aunt Druella often remarked at his widening hips and maturing body, and how he’d make the perfect wife to a distant relative one day to continue on the direct Black line.

When he turned ten, everything changed. Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, immediately turning everyone he’d known all his life against him. The heads of all the noble houses, in a flurry of outrage, considered changing the rules about women being the family head for the first time since the magical side of European nobility and royalty split from the muggle. Orion vetoed, demanding time for private discussion.

It was at this point in time that Walburga picked up on Regulus’ tendencies to act and speak the way his brother did, to wear clothes so large he swum in them, and pull his long black and white curls up and would style it tied up to frame his face in a more masculine manner. It was the little things. The winces at the remarks on his body, the tugging his dress outward to stop it clinging to his new curves, the way he dug his nails into his palms every time someone referred to him as a girl; a woman.

Walburga ripped through Regulus’ memories one night, piecing together the puzzle he had not yet figured out. Why he thought he was cursed to never feel right in his own body, why his skin felt like it strangled his body. It was that night she decided that he would be her second son, the next in line if she could not reign in her eldest. The Noble House of Black would stand tall, duties of the heir falling heavier on his shoulders as Sirius drifted away. That night, Regulus Arcturus Black was born.

The unwanted conversations about his physique ceased and were replaced with praises as to the wonderful heir apparent he is growing into. At a meeting of all the heads of the Sacred 28 houses, Walburga unleashed a magical parasite that infected person after person, altering whatever memories she chose. Soon, any time someone who knew him recalled the past, all they would see was a slightly blurred image of a little boy with black and white hair. Of course it wasn’t perfect, but to taint each person with any recollection of young Regulus took unfathomable amounts of power.

While this act may have been Walburga just saving her own skin, Regulus could never forget when she pulled herself out from his mind and he could ever so slightly see through the cracks in her mask. In all honesty, it hurt him more to see the mother he could have had, than to never have believed she could be anything other than cruel. That night had been the first and last time Walburga hadn’t punished him for letting a tear slip down his cheek. “Men of the Noble House of Black don’t cry, Regulus,” She had said.

When she left he did, though.

——————

Regulus snaps out of his daze as Sirius shoots a hand past his face and snatches up the piece of paper. He reads it over, once, twice, three times, before looking up with confusion plastered over his face.

“What’s this, that's not possible. Reg is a boy, that's not-’ Sirius voice rises louder as the confusion warps into anger.

Regulus doesn't have the voice to correct Sirius on his name as he stares down at Harry in horror. The eyes. They never lie. His son's hand reaches up and grabs one of Regulus’ curls, pulling it down and watching it spring back up.

“Papa,” Harry smiles.

Regulus, does in fact not smile with him. He can hear a faint french twist on the boy's accent, bleeding into the posh English already developing. There were little similarities, like the slight upturn of both their noses, and the way their lips formed cupid bows at the top.

“Okay what the fuck.” Barty asks, verbalising most everyone's thoughts, eyes darting between Regulus, James and Harry. Pandora, who had already known this was a feasible situation (she had discovered his secret back in their second year attending Hogwarts), had shoved down her shock and wrapped an arm around her paralyzed best friend. She ran a finger across his cheek; his face had gone from pale to deathly in the span of a minute.

James’ eyes are glued on Regulus, mouth opening and closing with unsaid words. His gaze flicks between Regulus’ shaking hands, his rapidly blinking eyes, and the sharp stutters of his chest as he attempts to draw air into his lungs.

Noticing his fathers change in demeanour, Harry leans forward and stretches his arms out wide , unable to reach around his waist. Barty, too, had made his way over to Regulus.

“You look like you’re going to cry,’ He says awkwardly, patting Regulus on the head robotically.

“Well that killed the mood,” The other boy responds chokingly, clearing his throat.

Breaking out of his trance, Regulus turns to James, holding out Harry. The taller boys eyes widen as he tries to understand the meaning of the action.
“Well go on, take him. He’s yours.” Regulus bites out, the anxiety in his veins racing fast to trigger both fight and flight.

Without a second thought, James reaches out, brushing one of Harry's curls off of his face before plucking him from Regulus’ arms. He pulls his son into his chest, a bit less naturally than he’d have hoped, but supported him nonetheless.

James continues searching the grey and black of the Black heir’s eyes, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Before he can decide, Regulus takes a step back, then two, inching toward the doorway. Pandora grabs his hand, silently pleading him to stay.

“Oh, so you can just pack up and leave, and James can’t, you selfish prick,” Sirius’ voice cuts through the turmoil of his thoughts, and his head instinctively jerks toward his brother.

“What do you want him to say?” Barty sneers before Regulus can respond. “Oh I'm sorry for a decision I make in the future? Nuh uh, no fucking way. Back. Off.” He takes steps toward Sirius, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Call your guard dog off Reg,” Sirius barks out a laugh. “It’s not that hard to be a decent human being.Supposedly that's your kid, don't ask me how, but maybe you should, oh gosh I don't know, why don’t you just stay like anyone with a heart would do?”

“Well why didn’t you?” Regulus’ voice fills the room, startling everyone into silence.

The sarcastic mirth deserts Sirius’ eyes, leaving them dark and cold. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” His voice practically growls with badly held back anger.

“Need me to spell it out for you? Fine, you’ve probably forgotten by now I guess. You left me there.” Regulus doesn't need to specify exactly where ‘there’ was, they all knew.

“Merlin, I can't even look at you right now,” Sirius seethes. “You shouldn't even dare to say that to me. You know i didn't have a choice-”

“Yes, you did!” Regulus cuts over. “You could have just sucked it up and stopped being such a shit on the holidays. It’s not that hard to keep your head down and your grades up. Mother always wanted you to be their fucking heir.”

He thinks back to the night Sirius had run away. It was Regulus’ 16th birthday, and his mother had meticulously put together a soiree for the most high ranking Purebloods. There had been a circle of men in their 30s and 40s, drinking expensive wine and laughing at each other's jokes. The noise grew more boisterous as the night progressed, but Regulus had been roped into a conversation with his mothers drones. They were situated out of earshot, despide Regulus’ piqued interest as to what could be so funny at such a dull gathering.

Sirius, who had been sitting on a deep velvet chaise lounge nearby, clenched and unclenched his teeth as he listened to each comment and remark made. One that had to group roaring with laughter forced Sirius to stand up, and he had stalked up to the one who had set off the chain reaction. Without thinking twice, Sirius had knocked his lavish wine glass onto the floor and tackled the man to the floor. He threw punches, and the commotion summoned flocks of onlookers who were thirsty for drama and gossip.

Blood poured from the man's nose and bruises blossomed on his face as well as his right arm, which Sirius was pinning down with his priceless shoes. It didn’t take Walburga long to intervene.

Disgust painted over her face, she whispered a spell. Everyone watched as Sirius floated off of the man. He got in a few more kicks before he was too far off the ground to reach. Orion reached out a hand, and the room froze beside the members of their immediate family. Regulus stared as Sirius was summoned kicking and screaming to his fathers study.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?!” Sirius’ voice screamed, elevated with emotion. “God, dont you even fucking care-” His voice cut off as the door slammed behind them, and a silencing spell sliced through the noises. Orion, taking no heed, proceeded to wave his arm slowly across the frozen crowd. Little slivers of silver-blue hue rose from their heads, and they swam toward Orion, who had simultaneously conjured a large glass phial to collect all of the memories.

“Kreature,” His father commanded, and not a second later the house elf appeared by his side.

“Heal his Lordship, not like my sons; like it never happened. Nothing will ruin this night.” Orion ordered, and he took a sip of his own Petrus, swirling the red in his chalice.

The crack of the man's nose realigning sounded through Regulus’ skeleton; it sent shivers racing down his spine. The blood and bruises on his face and arm vanish, each wound knitting itself together.

Once the guests were reawakened, the party resumed like nothing had happened, and for everyone else nothing had happened. Walburga and Sirius stayed gone for the rest of the evening, and as the party concluded his memories fuzzed up and faded out. The next morning, Regulus just presumed he was tired and went to bed early.

Regulus never found out why Sirius had attacked the man. Never found out what he said to deserve it.

Chapter Text

“Get fucked, Regulus.”

“Don’t waste your breath.”

Storms rage within each of the Black brothers grey eyes, turmoil radiating into the already tense atmosphere.

“What do you even want me to do then, huh? You can’t even-” Regulus stops, chuckling softly under his breath. “You can’t even remember me, it seems. So get off your high fucking horse and go away.”

Regulus turns, clenching his jaw so tightly he was surprised his teeth didn’t shatter.

“Reg-”

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME I SAID LEAVE. Like you always do.” He spits.

“Oh don’t you fucking dare-”

In this moment where tension sizzled between the brothers, Harry let out a drawn out cry that bordered on a scream.

James, who is currently holding his son, froze, before jerkily trying to rock him into a lull. This movement, however, just seems to upset Harry more, as violent sobs continue to wrack his small body.

“Shit, sorry guys,” James mutters, failing in another attempt to subdue the little boy.

Swallowing his pride, Regulus shoves by Sirius and towards James. He holds out his hands in expectancy, and when James hesitates, gives him an disapproving look.

Cheeks flushing slightly, James relinquishes his son into Regulus’ waiting arms. The second the two make contact, Harry visibly calms. And if James is being honest, so does Regulus. The tension in his jaw releases, and his eyes soften.

Despite never being soothed in the arms of a parent, Regulus sways naturally with Harry's head nestled in the crook of his neck. He whispers kind words, strokes his hair, and holds him in a way that looks like he's done it a thousand times.

Slowly but surely, Harry nods off, body going limp against his father. A smile graces Regulus’ lips briefly, before snapping from his haze and reconnecting with the reality surrounding him.

James’ eyes are fixed on Regulus, with an indecipherable feeling swirling within the hazel. Pandora and Barty, who had made their way to his side, were sharing yet another of their wordless conversations.

Madame Pomfrey quietly reprimands Sirius, reminding him that despite these unprecedented circumstances, that they are still in the Hospital Wing. Replying with but an indignant scoff, Sirius crossed his arms with a pout, not unlike a petulant child.

“So…” Barty drawls, “What do we do now?”

Madame Pomfrey, who had since rejoined the group of students, bit her lip. “I would reccomend sending Harry to a relative's house until the end of term.” She turns to Regulus. “Should I contact your mother and have her come-”

She is instantly cut off by a chorus of “No”’s from each student in attendance.

The medi-witch frowns, looking between them all, before settling back on Regulus. “May I ask why not?”

Sirius barks out a laugh, leaning on James as his chest jumps with hardly restrained giggles. “Why not? Good Merlin-”

Regulus set his jaw like stone, recapturing Madame Pomfrey’s attention as he says, “Our mother is busy at the moment, seeing as our father is sick. She hasn’t the time on her hands, you see, so it would not be possible for her to be of help right now.”

Sirius drops his mouth with a theatrical gasp, barely stifling his laughs once again. “Jesus Christ, Reg, like she’d help anyway.”

Before Regulus can retort, Barty cuts in. “Yeah, as unproductive as this conversation has been, I think we can all agree that Lady Black is busy, can’t help right now, would love to of course, yady yady ya… Let's save the bullshit okay?” He quirks an eyebrow at Sirius, who is once again on the edge of saying many, many non school appropriate things. “Now, you see, this has been fun and all, but this should be Reggies decision, seeing how he’s Harry’s dad, innit?”

Despite it sounding like a question, everyone can tell it's a statement. What happens to Harry will be Regulus’ choice.

James nods, still captivated by Regulus and Harry. Regulus’ arms tighten around his son, his only indication of agreement. Sirius, however, is stuck on the wrong piece of information- like always.

“Oi, why does he get to call you Reggie but I can’t call you Reg? That’s not fair.” Sirius pouts, hand on his hips.

“Shove off, Sirius, by Morgana were you even listening to a word Barty said?” Regulus brushes his hands through Harry’s curls, a soft and soothing motion he hopes will keep the boy calm.

“I was listening, believe it or not, you were saying how, uh” Sirius trails off, blowing a ringlet of hair from his eyes. Something in him sparks, and he turns to Barty. “Oh yeah, you were spewing some shit about Walburga having the ability to care about people, so excuse me for finding that disinteresting.”

“Not that anyone cares what Sirius has to say,” Regulus brushes his brother's comment off, turning back to Madame Pomfrey, “But seeing as my mother is otherwise incapacitated, and it should be my rightful decision, I say Harry stays with me.”

James is the first to react. “What, here at hogwarts? Right before exam season? I could easily ask my mum to take care of him, I’m sure she’d love it-”

“I wouldn't want to bother Lady Potter” Regulus’ voice is tight in his throat.

“It would truly be no problem at all-”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be but still-’

“Regulus, come on, what's your problem?”

“I dont know!” Regulus yells, and Harry jerks in his arms. “I don’t know,” He whispers instead, rocking the boy back and forward gently. “Fine, I don’t care, do whatever with him. I have class to get to, so excuse me.”

With brows furrowed in frustration, Regulus shoves Harry into James’ arms, and storming from the room, a panicked Pandora and a confused Barty in tow.