Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Number Twelve Grimmauld Place
June 1961
To whom the noble name of Black was well-known, it would have appeared that our young boy’s life had a great trajectory ahead. Regulus Arcturus Black. A life full of honor and pride, recognition and respect. He would grow up to be a handsome boy, visit Hogwarts, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to become an exceptional wizard and a renowned figure in the house of Slytherin. He would come of age, becoming more handsome but also sterner over the years, his teenage gaze hardening, molten into the family line. He would be successful, not the heir to the House of Black, but highly appreciated, nonetheless. He would marry purely, so was the wish of his parents, and their parents, and their parents. He would have a beautiful wife, making even more beautiful children, until he would eventually pass on his riches and wealth. This was to be expected by every member of the noble family, passing on their fate and destiny. And who would dare to break with such noble tradition?
-
The night of June 25 was oddly freezing for a summer night. What had formerly glowed in the sun at 25 degrees suddenly froze in the blink of an eye. Such a shame! Such a tragedy! Our little boy missed it by a bit: The glowing orange sun spending splendid warmth now to be awaited for a whole lot more hours. Instead, a harsh wind rushed out of the cloudy skies, sweeping dust off the bare asphalt of Grimmauld Place, and it rattled against the black shudders of number 12, attempting to break into the sturdy brick walls. The street was to be drowned by midnight rain, puddles forming on the sidewalks. But nothing could get through the perfectly hidden mansion, merging in between the row houses, between 11 and 13. Same greyish bricks, the same pure window frames. The same steps leading up to the same black front door. Yet something differed from the rest. Perhaps the way the same black picket fence looked as noble as imprisoning. Or perhaps it was the white moon piercing now and then through the clouds, yet leaving the height of walls in mysterious shadows. It truly was an oddity, full of shady secrets and powerful mysteries, never to be discovered by the nosy pack of neighbors. Regular beings, old and crinkled, and ridiculously regular. If only they had any idea of what housed so lavishly in between their thin walls…
A black shadow appeared out of nowhere in a flash in the middle of the street. A green shawl hung around the neck as the wind tried to tear it off the figure. The rain dashed like bullets on an invisible umbrella coming out of an upright wand. The silhouette, presumably a man hidden under a long coat, mumbled some words against the hidden bricks and then quickly jumped up the stairs to tear open the front door by its round handle. He stepped inside and pushed the door back, locking out the unwanted guest that howled through the streets outside. And with a snap, the rain turned to yellow, dimmed light. A festive atmosphere welcomed him, who turned out to be Orion Black, a strict look never leaving his old, etched face.
The house was filled with family members who came to support the birth and celebrate the newborn member of the purest of families. A young girl, not older than ten, came rushing down the stairs in euphoric steps, her black curls bouncing behind her head.
“Uncle Orion. It’s a boy.” Bellatrix greeted the man who had just hung away his coat and then rushed through the wall, howling the words through the house. “Everyone. It’s a boy!”
“Bella, wait for us.” Two younger girls ran after her as Orion passed them on the staircase leading to the second floor. He looked around and hastened to the room where the cheerful chatter sounded from.
“Orion. You’re here.” Walburga’s voice was as snooty as always despite the fact that she had just given birth. A midwife quickly gathered the blood-soaked towels and rushed out of the room, her head pinned to the floor in anxious respect but still giving her congratulations. It was now the two of them. Or rather, three. The boy rested in the arms of her mother, who eyed him in distant love and great expectation.
“It’s our Regulus,” she paused for a bit, gazing over the now resting tiny body in her arms, “he didn’t scream at first.” Her posh, upright nose shuddered. A stillbirth, what shame and embarrassment that could have brought over herself! A pure-blood Black too weak to even come alive?! He could not be a failure right from the start. “Well, that luckily changed. And now… look at him. Another pride and joy.” On rare occasions like that, one could witness her smiling. Smiling over her success, her bloodline. Walburga gently caressed his head, perhaps the last time he would get this close to physical affection from his mother like that.
“He is. You did great, Walburga.” The air was cold with loftiness, the light burning against the dirty sheets. The Noble House of Black was rich, pure-blooded, and well-renowned, but it wasn’t exactly known for showing love. Because to whom the name of Black was well-acclaimed also knew that the parents’ love in here could only last as long as you fit into their shadows. In fact, this might have been as good as it gets. “He is going to be a great son.” Orion proudly proclaimed, sitting beside the two of them on the bed, the corners of his mouth moving up a bit, a contrast to his greyish earnest face.
The words were spoken easily. Too great to yet be grasped by a new living being. The young boy, born with full black hair against his light skin, rested quietly in the arms that were rocking him side to side. His eyes were closed, but soon enough, he was going to reveal to the world his silver orbs. Perhaps they will be full of wonder and curiosity; perhaps they were going to lose their shine soon and turn to dull bulbs looking down on the world in the Black manner.
Something gently knocked on the dark wooden door.
“Yes. Come in.”
The door gnarled open slowly, revealing the timid young Andromeda, the cousin of the Black brothers, shyly standing in the doorframe. With all strength, she was holding up the older brother, Sirius Black, in her arms, who was tightly clinging to her. Sirius Black, not yet two years old, already had a brave and determined look in his grey eyes like a man of Black was expected to. But a different fire burnt in them; the young Sirius was already known for having his own mind despite his young age. He was not here, in the arms of his favorite cousin, to obey any orders his father was going to give him to leave them alone, to go and play with Andromeda and behave. He was standing – or rather carried– to see his newborn brother.
“Errr… I am sorry, Uncle. We don’t want to disturb you. But – uhm – Sirius insisted on-“ Andromeda stuttered, quite intimidated by the stern look in her uncle’s eyes.
“I. See. Brother.” Sirius eagerly spoke up in the few words he knew. His young, feeble body wobbled from side to side in the hold of his cousin. He was wearing a white shirt, buttoned to the top, and neat black trousers, not a single crease in them.
Orion turned to Walburga, checking for her approval. Some grey hairs already started to sprout from his head, making him look far older than he was. Perhaps it was his ignorant indifference catching up to him. He only loosened the top button of his white shirt. Walburga was still dressed in a white gown; her hair loosely falling on her shoulders. She gave him an approving nod.
Orion turned back to the two kids. His face loosened a bit.
“Very well, son. Come here then.” He motioned towards the bed.
In heavy steps, Andromeda heaved the young Sirius to the edge of the bed, where his father took him over to pull him up and lay him onto the dark green blanket.
“I will give you privacy. Thank you… And congratulations.” Andromeda said seriously,
“Ba ba, Dromeda…” Baby Sirius waved after her cousin, his voice still pure and high, yet to be altered by the toughness of life.
“Bye, Sirius.” Andromeda waved back, gave him a smile, and then quickly left through the door, closing it behind her. The small family was now alone in the bedroom, decorated by high green walls and landscape paintings. It did not have any windows and lacked a carpet. Still, at this moment, it was as charming as it could get.
Sirius crawled closer to the baby.
“His name is Regulus.” Walburga fondly mouthed in Sirius’ direction, moving her head a bit closer.
Regulus. Re-gu-lus. The name was carved into the walls of his brain and heart. Let that be brotherly love.
“We have made it, Andromeda.” Orion proudly faced Walburga, then turned his view to Sirius, petting Regulus’ head. “Two bright sons for our family.”
“We have made it indeed, Orion.” She smiled, pleased with her boys, her family, her legacy. The line to be passed on. The footprints they had to follow were huge, but no challenge for any real man of the Black family.
-
It was the night of a miracle. Water rushed past the window sights in the Black mansion. But could something like that ruin the celebration of the birth of a young boy? A miracle because, once again, another name appeared magically on the family tree wall in the house. Not some wallflower, a real name. Regulus Arcturus Black. Such a celebration, the black roses in the window shelves all withered and dead, were traded for new ones. Four graceful black roses now peaking out of graceful vases behind the thick glass.
The Blacks threw a feast, the grandparents and cousins fussing over the new baby boy, strictly sat along a large table. Temperate laughter hulled through the house, while highly spoken stories were shared between the adults, the children listening well-behaved. And time would start to pass; sand rushing through the hourglass as summer turned to fall and fall to winter.