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Two sons were born to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius, the first and the heir, born during a storm with rage screaming from his lungs.
Regulus, the second, the spare, born under the night of a meteor shower, quiet as a shadow while the world around him erupted into light.
Walburga and Orion thought they were done. They weren’t quite content, nor particularly expectant of the futures of the new family additions. It was routine, almost normal for them - they were Blacks, and Blacks would do as Blacks ought to.
Everything changed when the girl was born.
Polaris Black, a surprise that came during a moonless night, the light meant for the world around her eclipsed by the darkness in her variant purple eyes.
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She was presumably conceived only a few months after Regulus was born, though Walburga remained at a loss as to how (Orion wasn’t exactly known for his virility in their marriage, after all). Surprise baby didn’t even begin to cover it – Walburga hadn’t even realized she was pregnant till she suddenly went into labour. However, the baby was here and apparently healthy – there was nothing to do but deal with this turn of events.
It was rumoured that Walburga wished to name her Vulpecula, so that she may not be the only family member with an inordinate and oblong-sounding name. However, when she went to write it into the magical family tapestry, the name instantly corrected to ‘Polaris’.
Stunned, she dropped her wand and spun towards the supposed-to-be-sleeping newborn, who was instead awake and watching her with fresh, purple eyes glinting with hate.
Any possible motherly love died that night. Walburga has been wary of Vulpecula Polaris since then.
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Polaris looked almost nothing like her parents, or either of her siblings. The violet eyes were the first clue, but the rest of her colouring only highlighted the difference. Her hair was only three parts black, with a huge parting of white bursting from her right front locks and streaking a single strand of hair on her left side. She also had white eyebrows that bled into black at their arched wingtips. She looked somewhat like a calico cat in human form.
Walburga and Orion were mystified as to what could possibly have contributed to this while she was in the womb. No answers were forthcoming, however, so soon enough they let live and ignored it.
Whenever either of them tried to pick her up, which, granted, wasn’t very often, Polaris would start wailing like a banshee. Her cries didn’t seem to stem from sadness – rather from a deep, inherent well of rage. The only person she didn’t mind holding her was Kreacher, the sight of whom made her cry only once – a pitiful sniff followed by two thin streams of tears pouring from somber eyes filled with melancholy – then never again.
Walburga and Orion were perfectly fine with letting their House Elf raise their wayward lastborn child.
This would go on to have unforeseen consequences down the line that they could never have fathomed…but all of that would come later.
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From the moment she could crawl, Polaris would toddle after Regulus, who was her unspoken but obvious favourite. Little Reggie was simply delighted to have a sibling – and a sister at that! – who was as charmed by him as he was charmed by Sirius. They would often make one long chain of little toddlers – Siri being chased by Reggie who was being chased by Rissy.
Sirius was similarly enamoured at having a little sister…right up until the one-hundred-and-sixty-seventh time she bit him. It isn’t certain what about this number made him cease his efforts of thinking all one-hundred-and-sixty-six prior incidents were simply accidents.
Reggie was very startled when all of a sudden one day Siri started yelling vehemently at Rissy, waving his arms about in a rage. His right arm had a very defined red bite on it.
Reggie blinked rapidly in sheer stupor, not quite comprehending the scene. But Rissy was not startled. She stared down Siri’s wrath with a cold and unyielding gaze, then launched a stuffed bear at him to get him to shut up.
Their cold war lasted just about their entire childhood.
Rissy was very particular about who she liked, or even tolerated, in their family. In fact, she disliked Maman and Papa even worse than Siri.
She never addressed them as ‘Mother’ or ‘Father’, or anything even similar. She stuck to calling them ‘Monsieur’ and ‘Madame’, almost like she was a servant to them. But Reggie didn’t think it was subservience, not with the way she’d stare at them like she was burrowing holes into their heads.
Siri was too busy pretending he didn’t care about her to notice this.
The abuse started early. This was not a surprise to those who already knew how this story goes.
One night, Siri was too invested with playing with his peas to eat properly. Reggie, already attuned to Maman’s mood, could see the way her eyebrows were getting steadily narrower, and squirmed in his seat.
Maman cut him a sharp look then. He immediately stilled.
She turned her attention back to Siri.
“Sirius, stop playing with your food.”
“Hmm?” Siri replied, clearly not paying attention. He was too busy watching a pea roll down a mound-of-food hill.
“Sirius. Stop that at once. I will not tell you again.”
Siri straightened and sat back, returning to proper posture. The second Maman looked away, he poked at his meal with a fork, causing his compiled shapes to crumble all at once, then snickered.
Maman picked up a saucer and threw it at him.
It flew past his ear, shattering against the wall behind him.
Everyone at the table jolted.
Papa screwed up his lips, casting a curt glance towards the mess, then snapped his fingers for Kreacher. Their elf immediately appeared and began picking up the broken porcelain with his bare hands.
Reggie’s lip quivered to watch him, having to blink furiously to keep tears at bay – first from the surprise of the plate being shattered, then from fear of Kreacher getting injured.
Rissy shifted her chair slightly closer to his without making noise, then grabbed his hands under the table.
All throughout everything, Siri had been sitting stock-still, completely shocked by the turn of events. He gaped at his mother, eyes boggling out of their sockets, then turned his head over his shoulder and stared at the shattered dinnerware.
Then he turned back and actually laughed – laughed! – in Mother’s face.
“You missed!” He crowed, pointing at her obnoxiously.
A vein throbbed in her temple.
Oh no. Fear filled Regulus’ veins like an overturned teapot.
Mother raised her wand and pointed at Siri, a burst of red light shooting towards him.
He dodged. Just...dodged it, like it was a game.
“Your aim’s not getting any better, Maman,” He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. This may have been responsible for jinxing his eyesight, because Mother’s next spell struck him right in the chest.
Ropes burst forth, crawling around Reggie’s brother and binding him tightly to the chair. Siri squirmed, thrashing furiously to be freed.
Reggie dared not even breathe, his tears quietly spilling out of his eyes now. Rissy squeezed his hand more tightly, and he squeezed back with all his strength.
From the corner of his eyes, he could see blood smearing Kreacher’s hands.
Mother rose from her seat, stepping over to Sirius with ominous clacks of her heels, poised before him like a bird of prey. She reached out and gripped his hair, forcing him to still and look up at her.
Her dark blue-grey eyes bored into him, heavy with the force of her disdain.
“Now will you behave and eat your dinner properly, and not like a beastly disgrace?”
“And how,” Siri growled, heaving and glaring daggers at Mother, “Am I supposed to eat now?”
Siri was sent to bed without supper.
It was not a game. It never was.
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Whenever Rissy wasn’t trailing after Reggie, she was sitting by Kreacher in the kitchen as he did his duties, keeping him company.
Reggie enjoyed spending time with their House Elf as well – Kreacher one of his favourite people in the world – but even very young, he always got the sense that the type of things Rissy liked doing with him had a...sense of closely shared intimacy…and were a little weird.
She’d help him clear the plates, stoke the fireplace, wipe down surfaces, and even assisted with preparing meals beside him.
Mother caught her one time while she was doing just this.
“Child, what are you doing?”
Polaris only tilted her head slightly to the side to meet Walburga’s gaze. Her hands didn’t still.
“Cooking, of course.” She always addressed Mother like she believed Mother was a child even younger than they were.
Walburga stared at her.
“Well stop it at once. And get away from the stove, you stupid girl, you could burn your hands!”
No blemish in their family was tolerated if it didn’t come from their parents.
Polaris still didn’t stop.
“I know how to be careful.”
Walburga finally had enough. She stepped forward and yanked Polaris’ arm in a pincer grip, pulling her away. Polaris glared, trying to get Walburga to let go.
She instead tightened her hold to bruising, squatting down to face her daughter.
“Who told you that you could be careful? Let me tell you now, you know nothing at all! Honestly, you’re a daughter to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! What do you think you are, a servant?”
Polaris gazed back at her coldly. “So I’m not allowed to make what I wish to eat in this household?”
Walburga squinted at her. “Why on earth would you want to? It’s beneath you. It’s beneath any member of this family.”
She looked down her nose at Polaris in disgust. Honestly this child… she still wondered how on earth she could have birthed such a being. If she hadn’t personally carried her for nine months, Walburga would wonder more if she was even hers. As of now, she only wondered about it from time to time.
Polaris eyed her with calm contempt. “Noted.”
Truly, it was like Reggie was the only one who didn’t cause trouble for their parents. He wasn’t certain that he liked being in that position… so at odds with that of his siblings. It was almost like they were on opposite sides.
(But why did there have to be sides?)
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Polaris showed absolutely no interest in any other member of their family. The same dull, flinty eyed stare she levelled at Walburga and Orion was the same she showed in her expression when their cousins came over.
While Sirius and Andromeda chattered effusively, and Narcissa and Regulus mingled in sedate tones, Bellatrix turned her gaze towards Polaris and examined her with fascination.
“My, what an intriguing creature you are,” she murmured, gaze raking her up and down. “I wonder how you managed to form this way. I’ve a good mind to open you up and take a look for myself.”
Polaris returned her gaze flatly. “So you really just sprung from the womb this barmy and stupid, huh? Shall I crack your skull and peer into your brain, or lack thereof?”
Bellatrix’s eyes flashed.
Conversation slowed around them. Cygnus stared from where he’d been discussing with Orion, the end of his sentence falling off the face of the earth. Druella glitched, a vacant, glassy look occupying her eyes, and even Walburga’s cup jilted just as she was about to take a sip from it.
Reggie and Siri exchanged worried glances with their respective cousin, monitoring the scene with intense focus.
Rissy was unfazed, continuing to primly munch on her pastry while staring Bella dead in the eyes.
Then Bellatrix threw her head back and roared with laughter.
“Oh, how feisty!” She exclaimed, sounding absolutely delighted. She pinned her feverish gaze on Polaris, a manic smile stretching across her face.
“Come, dear, sit with me. I’ll feed you some milk and biscuits, you darling little monster!”
“You sound like a bloody creep,” Rissy spat at her heatedly. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
With a swish of her skirts, Polaris marched away in a huff.
Bellatrix continued cackling.
Their meeting went as well as it could’ve ever gone, honestly.
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“I’m not magical,” Rissy told Reggie one day while they were busy building blocks.
Reggie looked up at her with wide grey eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Polaris gazed at him from beneath her white lashes, then added another block to their castle.
“I don’t have magic,” she said plainly.
Reggie gaped at her, then reached out and began tugging Sirius' sleeve insistently without turning away.
“Siri, Siri, I think we have a problem.”
Siri glanced up from his colouring books and towards Ris nonchalantly.
“You don’t have magic?” He repeated, proving he actually had been listening.
“Why not? What’s wrong with you?” He cocked his head to the side, setting down his crayons.
“Are you sure you just haven’t tried?”
Ris shot him a cold, disdainful sneer. “I know what I am saying. I’m a squib, you Neanderthal.”
Sirius glared at her with knitted brows, as if knowing he was offended without actually knowing the word.
Then the look faded and Sirius shifted to being thoughtful.
“I heard great-uncle Marius was a squib,” he freely volunteered.
“Uncle Marius?” Reggie echoed, his grey eyes alight with curiosity. “I’ve never heard of him. And we’ve surely never met him. What happened to him?”
“Nobody knows,” Siri replied, waving his hands extravagantly. “Maybe he just blipped away. What if squibs’ bodies just do that after a while?”
He pointed at Ris with cruel relish. “If that happens to you, then I’ll soon be free of you, you horrible bint!”
Reggie’s eyes started to well up with tears, filled with fear for his sister’s fate.
Polaris, however, was not afraid. She squinted at Sirius as though she thought his stupidity was the worst issue in the room.
“Or,” she started slowly, as though talking to a monkey, “What if someone made him disappear? What if someone happened to him, huh? What if it was one of the Black family?”
Siri and Reggie both stared at her, stunned speechless. As one, they both turned to each other.
“Maman et Papa ne doivent jamais le savoir,” Reggie hissed insistently.[1]
“Évidemment,” Siri agreed readily.[2]
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Polaris ran an impressively long con on their parents, enticing them to believe that she did have magic, just supernaturally impressive levels of self-control over it.
She became a master at positioning herself at the right place at just the right time. Lingering a little bit too long beside a curtain that was blowing way too gustily, squinting down at a tabletop that was wobbling after she discreetly kicked its leg under the table. She even pulled out a coin from behind Reggie’s ear once.
No one could figure out how she managed to do that.
Reggie tried to help, but so far he could only produce magic accidentally, and only when he was startled. Siri had the best control, so he’d mentally move chairs around her when she was about to sit, either to tuck her seat in at the dinner table, or to snag on her skirts and trip her when he was feeling mean.
In retaliation, Polaris would launch her silverware at him so fast it actually looked like magic.
Of course, the lie couldn’t last forever, though it did last pretty long. They were seven, Sirius eight (all three of them remarkably close in age) when their parents decided they were old enough to start being tutored in magic before Hogwarts.
Sirius and Regulus’ lessons went alright enough. It only took one session before the tutor was coming up to Walburga and calling Polaris a dud.
He swiftly disappeared afterwards (permanently, perhaps) and was replaced by a fresh tutor, but the damage to their household was done.
Walburga was livid.
“I could not have produced this– this defective thing!” She screeched, eyes wide and boggling at Polaris with complete incredulity. She lifted her hand and pointed with a finger shaking with rage.
“You’re no child of mine, you abomination!”
Polaris’ response was immediate. “And who exactly would willingly choose you as their mother, you mentally deficient, decrepit, depraved and delusional, wrinkly-skinned, shallow, sallow, maggot-faced hag?”
That was the final fuse.
With an ear-splitting scream and hate-filled eyes, Walburga whipped out her wand and cast the Cruciatus curse.
It struck Polaris straight in the chest. She went down like a bag of rocks. But instead of convulsing uncontrollably, instead of screaming in mindless pain, she slowly pushed herself up with quivering arms and lifted her gaze to Walburga –
And she
was
FURIOUS.
Teeth gritted together, violet eyes burning with hellflames, she began to crawl towards Walburga, animalistic snarls ripping from her lips.
Walburga shrieked and presumably added more force to the spell.
This somehow powered Polaris on even more. She crawled across the room faster, ominous as a black widow approaching, then practically bent her spine to reach up and grasp Walburga’s wand arm.
Sirius and Regulus, attracted by only Walburga’s screams, ran to investigate the clamour.
They arrived in time to see their sister snap Walburga’s wand over her knee. She then struck her in the chest, yoinked a handful of hair that ripped roughly in her fist and used that to drag Walburga down to her height on the floor…
Then just started pummelling her in the face.
Their mouths dropped open.
Polaris hit Walburga like she was trying to bash in her bloody skull.
Sirius looked from his sister, to the snapped wand, to the sight of his mother crying and yelling nearly helplessly, then back to all three repeatedly. It was impossible to focus on only one thing.
Orion put an end to that when he marched into the room, ripped Polaris off Walburga with one powerful wrench, then hurled her at the opposite wall with full force.
Reggie’s first major bout of accidental magic was to freeze her mid-air, right before she would’ve broken from the impact.
Then the lights in the room powered off, all at once.
Sirius felt like he’d suddenly developed night vision, because it did not take any effort to locate his siblings. He grabbed Reggie, who floated Prissy over via whatever weird mind-levitation thing he was somehow doing, and ran.
He sprinted with his siblings, an arm grabbing each one. Doors slammed instantly behind them as they passed, but he didn’t let that distract him. He didn’t stop running till he got to the farthest corridor from the living room as possible.
They must’ve travelled miles inside Grimmauld Place before he finally felt they were out of Maman and Papa’s reach. There he found a nearly-hidden cupboard room, shuffled his siblings into the cramped little corner and shut the door.
The door disappeared.
“Bloody hell, Reggie,” Sirius swore, turning to see his little brother cradling their sister’s limp form, tear-bright silver eyes fixed on the now empty wall with a manic focus.
“Siriiiii,” Reggie warbled, finally looking towards him, his grey eyes starting to fill with tears. Sirius saw his lower lip wobbling.
“Ris is bleeding.”
Sirius turned his attention to her. She was so much paler than usual, and bloody red tears were trickling from the corners of her closed eyes. Every so often, her limbs would spasm from aftershocks of the Cruciatus.
Worry burned inside him red-hot.
“Let me see,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of them. He lifted his hands and hovered them over her, hesitant. Touching her right now might really hurt. He didn’t have his wand – or a wand yet, really – but he knew some basic spells by now. Their tutors would accept nothing less.
So he focused as hard as he could on the magic in his veins, so absent from hers which was the cause of this whole mess.
“Episkey,” he murmured, putting all his strength of will behind it.
Her twitching only slightly lessened.
Reggie blinked at him, red nosed and tears falling from his eyes.
“Isn’t that the simplest healing spell? You think it can cure an Unforgivable?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a better idea? It’s not like we can get to Mungo’s from here. And even if we did, what would we tell them? That our Mother cast an Unforgivable – a crime she should get sent to Azkaban for – at our squib sister? Even if they take Mother away, they might take her too and then we’ll never see her again.”
Reggie shut up.
Sirius refused to let his focus wander. He cast another healing spell. Then another. He kept casting continuously until he felt drained to the core, but she was finally breathing easier, her eyelashes fluttering.
“Siri!” Reggie called out in concern as he abruptly sprawled out on the floor beside them.
Sirius waved him off. “I’m fine.”
Reggie looked between him and Rissy, sniffling even more now. Then, in the quietest voice he could manage, he called for Kreacher.
The House Elf appeared in the enclosed room. Sirius could only squint in his direction, too woozy to see accurately.
Reggie’s two siblings were now down for the count – he had to take charge.
“Kreacher, can we have some food please?” He whispered near silently.
“Kreacher is sorry,” the Elf bowed lowly, sounding actually contrite.
“Mistress is not allowing Kreacher to prepare supper for youse. Says naughty children should starve to learn better.”
Regulus wet his lips, then tries to bargain. “We don’t need you to prepare anything, just any leftovers that might be left in the kitchen–”
“Kreacher is sorry,” Kreacher repeated. “Kreacher is not allowed to bring youse anything from the kitchen.”
“Not…kitchen…then,” Polaris managed to gasp out.
“Ris!” Regulus exclaimed with relief, clutching her closer. Siri merely grunted.
She blinked crimson from her vision, then slowly managed to angle her head towards the House Elf.
“I have…a few packaged stuff…in my drawer. Bring them…please? And…water.”
Kreacher’s brow furrowed with distress. His gnarled hands fidgeted, and he hopped from foot to foot.
“Kreacher is not allowed…”
Ris shook her head slightly. “Not supper…just snacks. Non…perishable foods. Please, Kreacher.”
Kreacher hesitated for one long moment, then popped away. He was back a second later with several biscuits, wafers and other snacks in wrappers overflowing from one hand, a jug of water in the other.
Reggie took them from him with unmeasurable gratitude. He handed them to Ris and wiped the blood from her eyes, then waddled over to Siri and helped him sit up and drink.
He sat between his siblings afterwards, all of them swapping snacks while quietly waiting for Regulus’ magic to deem them appropriately safe enough so the door could rematerialise and allow them return to their rooms.
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Things changed, albeit slightly, in Grimmauld Place after that day.
Their parents – somewhat understandably – couldn’t stand the sight of Polaris. But whenever they tried to lock her away, the door never managed to stay shut. The door frame would just disappear, letting their sister walk free, or Walburga and Orion would find themselves stuck inside the room instead with no door to permit exit or entry.
Reggie’s wandless magic was freaky, and somehow intuitive because he wouldn’t even need to be in the same room or even awake to free their sister.
Walburga and Orion became visibly more unnerved by their children.
Orion stepped back and fully washed his hands off her.
Walburga never managed to cast the Cruciatus curse ever again, at any of her children. Something shook in her every time she tried, and shook her wand hand as well so she couldn’t even point it straight.
Something Polaris called ‘trauma’, with an incredibly smug face.
Whenever Sirius recalled the memory of what happened, he’d immediately dissolve into manic chortles at the look on Walburga’s face. The shiner Polaris gave her was marvellous, wonderfully plump and purple. He’d never seen his mother look so undignified.
Sirius ‘regained’ his love for his little sister, and began to regard Polaris as the white on rice. Her affections (or lack thereof) for him unfortunately did not change accordingly, and she still bit him fiercely whenever he approached her. However, instead of flaring into a rage, he began to wear her bite marks as proud badges of honour.
This got her to do the one thing she’d promised herself to never do, which is stop biting Sirius, and not doing so felt like a betrayal of her values, so she began to pout instead.
Regulus was ecstatic that his two favourite (and only) siblings were now getting along so well.
Walburga, of course, was not elated by any of these changes. At all.
She already somewhat favoured Regulus over the rest of his siblings, and fearing losing control over all of her children, she started clinging to Regulus as much as possible, keeping him by her side, carrying him by her hip everywhere and in her lap like a pet cat.
The sight always managed to make Rissy look extra murderous towards Mother, and Siri got all stoney-faced and sulky. Regulus himself was conflicted – Mother’s skin was so soft and warm, her hair smelled so nice and perfume-y, tickling his nose when he buried his face in her neck, and he liked it when she acted kind to him…but she didn’t act kind all of the time…
…and Siri and Ris never got to enjoy her kindness.
She’d speak to him in lilting, musical French, stroking from his hair down his back gently as she kept him isolated from the rest, whispering poison into his ears about his siblings. He must never, ever be like Siri (who was his idol, the only person he ever imagined trying to be), and Ris was a useless basketcase even barmier than Bella who’d sullied their family irreparably and should be cast out to live with the rest of the freakish muggles (that was his little sister… He’d miss her terribly if she ever left. She couldn’t leave!).
The fear overwhelmed him to the point that Mother’s conditional comforts no longer felt worth it. He gathered his courage and slipped from her room one night while Mother slept, going to seek out his sister instead who he missed like a removed limb. He didn’t spot her when he creaked her door open slightly, but then his door was creaking open from behind him.
He spun around.
Ris was standing there, rubbing at her eyes slightly, but looking at him.
“Starboy…” She stepped forward, already drawing closer.
His anxiety was still bothering him too much to let her get close. He took a slight step back, swallowed harshly like there were knives in his throat.
Her movements stilled. She gazed at him, purple eyes luminous in the dark corridor like a cat’s. Her head tilted to the side.
“What’s wrong? Nightmare?” Ris questioned softly. Her arms rose up to wrap around herself as she waited for his answer.
Stars, Regulus felt dreadful. He struggled with the words until he managed to speak.
“Mother says I shouldn’t let you be so close to me anymore. She says you’re bad. Th-That you weren’t meant to be my sister, and I…should stay away from you.”
Guilt, hot and burning, was writhing in his stomach at ever slightly even entertaining the thought, at even repeating the words.
Ris was quiet for a beat.
“Madame says a lot of things,” she finally murmured, voice low. Her hair was falling forward a bit, so Regulus couldn’t even see what face she was making.
“But what do you think? Am I – bad? Do you not want me anymore?” Her shoulders hunched in slightly. Standing there, fresh out of sleeping in his bed, arms wrapped around herself, Polaris looked like the loneliest little girl in the world.
Regulus’ heart broke into a million pieces inside his chest. He felt evil. Like a Black.
Her voice lowered along with her posture.
“Do you agree with her–?”
“I can’t!” He burst out, unable to hold it in anymore. He stepped, then ran forward, wrapping his arms around her. The tears shortly followed.
“I don’t…think I can do what she wants me to! I don’t think you’re bad, and I wouldn’t care if you were! But… b-b-but if I don’t do what she says then she might just hurt you more, and-and-and I don’t know how to protect you! I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry, Ris, I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, Starboy…” Rissy hugged him back tightly with uncomplicated affection. “You don’t have to do anything at all. It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“I-” Regulus hiccuped. “I can’t just do nothing!”
“Just keep being you, and loving me. Loudly, silently – it doesn’t matter to me how. Please just love me…not many people ever have.”
Tears dripped from Regulus’ eyes steadily like a faucet. “I do love you, Ris. I will always love you.”
“I know. That’s all I ask.”
As Regulus sobbed into her shoulder, he resolved that things could not – would not – continue this way in the future.
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One night, Sirius witnessed Polaris and Kreacher speaking in hushed tones while ensconced in a dark, hidden corner of the parlour.
She was looking intently at his face, gripping his wrists while saying something before throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Kreacher placed a wrinkled palm on her back, then without a sound they both disappeared.
Sirius blinked at the empty space they once were.
Weird.
He waited, sure she wouldn’t be going anywhere for very long when Reggie was still home.
He was correct.
“Where were you?” Sirius confronted her when she reappeared.
She scowled at him and tried to walk past without answering. He pulled out a wand he’d managed to filch from somewhere in the house and hexed her feet to stick to the floor.
She looked at him with murder in her eyes. He smirked.
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”
Her eyes narrowed in a calculating gaze. They maintained eye contact, neither of them blinking.
Finally, she responded, “Knockturn Alley.”
Sirius whistled, twirling his wand around. “Are you trying to end up on the black market yourself? I’m sure there’s a high going price for Black family members' organs.”
Polaris rolled her eyes, breathing out her aggravation. “If you ever insinuate that I’d wish to be sold ever again, you won’t like what’ll happen next.”
“Sure, sure, Prissy,” He waved away the threat.
“What were you doing there?”
“Browsing their wares,” she stated casually.
“For what?” Sirius was hungrily curious. “What could you want so desperately you’d get Kreacher to take you?”
“None of your business. Now let me go or I’ll scream for Starboy.”
“Ooh, I’m so scared.”
“I’m sure he’d really appreciate seeing the state of my bloody feet once I’m done ripping them out.”
She made to do exactly that. Sirius quickly cancelled the spell.
“Merlin's balls, you’re actually barmy, aren’t you?”
She rolled her eyes again, turning to freely stalk past him.
“I don’t know what you’re up to~” Sirius singsonged, walking beside her at a safe distance. “But I’m sure Reggie won’t be pleased to hear about this~”
“You can be a stars-damned snitch if you want to be,” Polaris said coldly, not even bothering to falter at the threat, “Or you could appreciate the opportunity I’ve just presented you.”
Sirius squinted. “What the fuck do you mean?”
She eyed him. “Now you know that you can get Kreacher to apparate you out of the house whenever you so desire. You know, you really ought to be nicer to him.”
She left him there, head now spinning with possibilities and ideas of exactly how to abuse them all.
Prissy, unfortunately, was correct. She’d given him quite the favour he never thought he could ask for. Fine, he’d hold his tongue…for now.
Sirius never remembered to snitch about that night.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Their parents gradually became less overbearing to be around. Orion started missing meals, and Walburga would cut herself off midway through screeching at them sometimes to complain about needing to lay down.
What were once lucky days slowly started increasing in frequency. Sirius entertained the thought that some wonderful adversary had cursed them, but something kept him from settling on that conclusion so simply.
They were still absolute shite parents, though they seemed to be slowing down, somehow. The pang of fear he’d feel at the thought of having to leave his siblings behind to attend Hogwarts wasn’t as all-consuming as it might once have been.
Soon it was September 1st, Sirius was eleven, he boarded the Hogwarts Express, made friends with James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew, then got sorted into Gryffindor in exactly that order.
Ignoring the howlers sent by Mother, he wrote Reggie heartfelt letters about all his adventures in first year. He made sure to send Prissy some too, just so she’d know exactly how cool her older brother was, but with every rude reply he’d send her back a howler shaped like anything and everything under the sun.
Her squib status meant that she could only get him back with packages filled with truly heinous things she must’ve sourced from Knockturn Alley. Her resourcefulness and tactical viciousness never failed to make him snort.
“What the hell, Sirius?” Remus asked one time when he opened his mail only for a severed hand to crawl out of the packaging and clatter on his plate with a ‘handful’ of panic in its movements.
“Oh it’s just my sister,” Sirius noted nonchalantly, watching the hand skittle about and almost skewer itself on his cutlery.
“It’s her way of telling me she’s doing well at home. There’s no need to fuss.”
The hand picked up his knife and tried to stab itself with it. The Marauders stared.
“Or, maybe not…” Sirius started.
The appendage abruptly twirled and hurled itself with the knife pointed straight at Sirius. He lazily smacked it away.
“Never mind. False alarm, mates. She’s fine.”
Prongs, Moony and Wormy slowly turned to look at him.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Reggie came to him during his first week home from Hogwarts for winter break with a determined glint in his eyes.
“I need your help.”
Sirius scrutinised him. He’d never heard his brother say each of those words together to him before. What matter could be so serious he wouldn’t just take it as a given that Sirius would help him?
Reaching out, he grabbed Reggie’s arm and dragged him into his room.
A muffliato and colloportus later, he faced his brother with his arms folded.
“Go on. Spill.”
Reggie inhaled deeply. Then exhaled his breath and words in a rush. “Ris can’t stay here!”
Sirius looked at him in confusion. “Are we helping her run away then?”
“No!” Reggie ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up. Sirius hadn’t ever seen his brother look so untidy.
“I mean–” Tongue-tied, Reggie struggled to verbalise exactly what he meant. Sirius waited, his concern growing ever sharper.
“I go to Hogwarts next year,” Reggie finally got out. “The school for magical children? Ris doesn’t have magic. She’ll be left all alone with our parents. That can’t happen.”
Sirius suddenly comprehended the enormity of the situation. What he’d taken to as freedom and adventure so easily – would be denied to his sister.
“Bloody hell, Reggie. If you were so worried, why didn’t you write to me about this in any of your letters?”
“You already knew this though,” Reggie replied mulishly. “Besides, you always sounded so happy talking about your new friends. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I thought I could figure out some way to help her on my own…and I…might have? But I don’t think I can do any of the spells. That’s why I need your help.”
Alarm bells began ringing in Sirius’ head. His eyes narrowed.
“What spells?” He gritted out.
Instead of being cowed, Reggie squared his shoulders and stared defiantly at Sirius. Cheeky bugger. Who told him he was big enough that he could stop listening to Sirius?
“I found a spellbook in our library,” Reggie measured out in clipped tones, his grey eyes burning. Sirius’ narrowed even further.
“It talked about a…magic transfer. As long as the subject is…youthful enough…there’s a possibility that their magical core can be, um, carved into a little bit, then that piece gifted to another person.”
His words grew bolder, while Sirius was stuck staring at him like a fish out of water.
“I want you to help me do that, so I can offer Ris a bit of my magic. Just a little bit, just so she’d be able to get her Hogwarts letter and come to school with us!” Reggie’s words came in a rush now, as though saying them quicker would make Sirius get with the program faster.
It only made him gape at his little brother in unbridled horror. He couldn’t possibly mean this, could he?
He stared into Reggie’s pleading grey eyes for several moments. Oh no. He meant it.
“Reggie,” he said when he could finally speak, “No.”
“But Siri!” The protest came quickly.
“NO!” Sirius yelled, stumbling forward to grip Reggie’s shoulders and possibly shake some sense into him. “I am not helping you give your magic away! Not even a drop of it. Not for anything, do you hear me?”
“THEN WHAT ABOUT RIS?! We can’t just leave her here to be alone with Mother and Father nearly ten months out of the year, Siri! She’s our sister!”
“I know that,” Sirius deadpanned. “That’s not what I’m saying, you dollophead.”
The waterworks Reggie had planned suddenly stalled from confusion. “What do you mean?” He inquired, angling his head like a bird.
“I mean, that you do not trust anything you find in the Black family library. Not a single thing. Our family is made-up of generations of incredibly twisted, batshit bonkers plonkers, and we cannot listen to harebrained advice or Holy Grail solutions from them, because they will come with fucked-up consequences none of us can imagine. I am not doing something that might peel your whole skin off or make all your nails start growing inwards. Do not trust – never trust those books, alright? Promise me.”
Reggie peered at him solemnly for several seconds. “Alright. I promise, Siri.” He rubbed at his eyes, looking completely exhausted.
“But that was the only thing I could find, and I researched for weeks. So what can I do?” His last words sounded dragged out in a raspy whisper.
Poor kid. See, this is why he needed his older brother’s wisdom always.
It only took Sirius a second to come up with a plan of action.
“Sod those stuffy arseholes,” Sirius beamed, shooting his brother an endlessly confident grin. “We don’t need ‘em. We can come up with a solution all on our own.”
Reggie stared up at him. And there it was, the look he’d been missing for months – the complete and utter adoration of his little brother who looked at him like he hung the moon.
Sirius preened.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
The project was finished by Sirius’ next break. They both dragged Ris into Sirius’ room and shut the door, then presented it to her together.
“Here,” They said in unison, equally excited.
She stared blankly as she received whatever it was they were handing her.
“What is it?”
Reggie vibrated with happiness. “Siri and I came up with it! He even snuck into Dumbledore’s office and wrote your name in the magic book for Hogwarts’ upcoming intake class!”
Sirius nodded, puffing up his chest proudly.
“It’s basically like a wand…” Regulus started.
“Even though it really does look like an egg…”
“But we made it with the coolest concept! You see, wands are supposedly just conduits…”
“And from research, we know there’s some wands that are more powerful than others…”
“And, you being born into our family means you can access Black Family Magicks with your blood – for example Grimmauld Place and the tapestry will always recognise you…”
“So it occurred to us that Family Magicks must be different somehow…”
“And that wands belonging to members of our deceased family might respond to us differently than some ordinary wand from Ollivanders’…”
“So we snuck into our vaults!” Sirius bragged with no small amount of mischievous satisfaction.
“The Family Vaults are also a place that would always recognise you by blood, by the way,” Regulus helpfully added.
“Anyways! We grabbed some old tossers’ wands we happened upon…”
“And guess what?” They both said together. “We nearly destroyed our vaults!”
Polaris just kept staring at them since they were giving her no chance to talk.
“Our spells had never been more powerful, truly…”
“Maman would’ve pitched a fit, if she’d seen…”
“Especially because we then grabbed a bunch of the most powerful wands we’d tested on and destroyed them…”
“We basically extracted the imprints of leftover Black Family Magicks in them, and then we stored them into this magic-reservoir-conduit thingamajiggy…”
“Just call it an egg, Reggie.”
“Right. We stored them in this egg…”
“We had to time it right, with the spellwork and all of the charms we cast into it…”
“There’s a lot of exotic materials we had to find that could actually store and contain a heap of powerful Family Magick…”
“There’s basically a limit of how much magic it holds at the moment, but we could always gather some more wands to destroy and top it up when it’s running out…”
“So yeah, tried and true tested and it works. Now all you’ve got to do is bleed on it and it’ll answer only to you. You might be a Squib, but you’re a Black, and this will show them all exactly what that means…”
“Bloody hell yeah it will! But you’ll have to carry it around with you at all times somehow.”
Sirius studied the egg in her hands thoughtfully. He opened his mouth.
Regulus lifted a hand. “Do not tell her to eat it, Siri. She might explode.”
Sirius closed his mouth.
It was now Regulus’ turn to study it. “What if you carried it in a bottomless purse with all your school things? It wouldn’t be suspicious?”
“We could shrink it and make it into a necklace for her,” Sirius suggested.
“Or an earring. Or a ring. She’s the only one that doesn’t have a family heirloom ring.”
Sirius thought for a moment. “That could work, but then we might have to do more tests to find out whether the size would affect the potency of the spellwork.”
“What if it doesn’t need to be just one, Siri? We could create a couple more, a set of earrings and a ring with the spell crafted into them. It would increase her supply of magic. Then she might have extra protection if she loses one, and also it would make it harder to detect if anyone suspects foul play…”
As the two brothers discussed the mechanics of getting their non-magical, fully Squib sister into Hogwarts to escape their parents' abuse, Polaris sat on the floor facing the two, chin propped onto her fists as she listened.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Polaris received her Hogwarts letter. She got to start in the same year as Regulus, and neither of their parents, who were both starting to steadily decline in health, breathed even a single word on the matter.
It was eerie. No questions, no remarks, nothing. Almost like they were…fine with it. Regulus was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that, rather than being glad at not having to face rumours of a defective scion, they felt safer with her out of the house.
Suddenly, the quest to keep Polaris from being trapped with their abusive parents felt more like they were keeping them from being trapped with her.
Well, whatever the case, she got to attend Hogwarts with him, so Regulus couldn’t be anything other than inordinately pleased.
They both got to ride the Hogwarts Express and sit next to each other, along with a girl called Pandora Trelawney, who Polaris seemed to moderately tolerate. They all oohed and ahhed at the castle lights shining brightly in the distance, and waved hello enthusiastically at the giant squid. Siri kept checking in to make sure they got off the train then onto the boats alright, feeling high and mighty propped up on his mountain of elder brotherly responsibilities.
The Great Hall was a great hubbub. Reggie and Ris huddled together in the sorting line, holding hands to stay close.
All the noise and the sheer number of students was overstimulating, but not frightening. Reggie was just so happy Ris got to be a part of this.
Soon it was her turn to be sorted.
“Black, Polaris!” The sorting hat announced.
Reggie crossed his fingers and toes as she stepped forward, fervently wishing her luck, and desperately hoping nothing went wrong. Their deception couldn’t be found out now.
Sirius was more relaxed. He gazed on expectantly as Polaris took her seat. The sorting hat had barely touched her head before it screamed, “HUFFLEPUFF!”, then leapt off like it was too afraid to be touching or even near her for a second longer.
Sirius roared with laughter.
Prissy being one of the Puffs! Oh, it was Christmas come early!
She turned in his exact direction, glaring bloody murder at him the entire time she stood and made her way to her seat. Fellow Hufflepuffs practically fell over themselves leaning towards her, shooting rapid-fire enthusiastic welcomes and questions all at once.
She ignored them all, folding her palms and looking towards the front of the hall where Reggie was still in line to be sorted.
Not long after, the hat screamed, “Black, Regulus!”
Sirius and Polaris watched, riveted.
Reggie was a hat stall, but in the end the sorting hat finally put him in Slytherin.
Sirius’ eyebrow lifted up to his hairline at the announcement. Well…weren’t his siblings just full of surprises tonight.
Still, he made sure to clap and whoop loudly from the Gryffindor table. He soon got into a competition with Prissy for who could clap the loudest from across the hall. He plopped himself onto his table and cast an amplifying spell on his voice and hands, then bellowed and clapped like a madman while the Marauders pretended not to know him. Not to be outdone, Prissy stood as well. She even grabbed two metal trays and started banging them together with no regard for anyone near her.
Dumbledore looked tired, all the fatigue of the years to come already showing on his face.
It was so worth it to see the dazzling smile splattered all across Reggie’s face.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Even after being sorted into Hufflepuff, Polaris hung around at the Slytherin table so often that she started being referred to as an ‘honorary Slytherin’. She took the title so seriously that she would wear Regulus’ spare tie around when not in classes.
And after everything that went into getting Prissy to be able to attend Hogwarts, Sirius felt much less inclined to be discriminatory towards Slytherins…although his hatred for particular members never quite extinguished.
But he really didn't dare to even pick on the Hufflepuffs, who became…strange…after Polaris sorted into their ranks.
What was once a group of bumbling, wallflower types became an almost-hive mind with a collective identity. The yellow-wearing badgers were constantly being productive, endlessly working towards questionable tasks, and the whole table would look up and stare unblinkingly at any intruder who dared to interrupt them.
Barmy.
Sirius had no clue when Prissy was either elected, or appointed herself their Queen Bee-aver, but he knew better than to ask questions. And he could honestly see the appeal of fascination that surrounded his sister’s every move, what with her whole frigid Ice Cunt persona.
Even poor Prongs fancied himself in love with her at one point – until he was awoken in an unfortunate manner to reality and began courting the right Black sibling.
Sirius battled with himself every waking hour to not brutally murder his best friend for corrupting his precious baby brother until he eventually succeeded.
He would catch Dumbledore eyeing the combination of Polaris’ everything with a wary expression oftentimes, but Sirius was smarter than Dumbledore in the knowledge that he would never be able to pin whatever the fuck he thought he knew on her. But to make extra sure, Sirius nearly single-handedly boosted the Marauders’ mischief making to exponential heights every year, thus making sure they got the blame for absolutely everything.
On the day of the Marauders’ graduation from Hogwarts, he nearly blew up the castle with the amount of fireworks he let loose in the building. It was a spectacular, majestic, jaw-dropping work of bloody fucking art, spelling their names all over the sky of the Great Hall.
Then he nearly exploded himself at the sight of James planting one on Regulus right in front of him.
Those bollocksed arsehole bastards split in two different directions when he started chasing them, out for blood that would wipe away the vile, desecrating sight from his eyes.
Polaris stuck out her feet and casually tripped him as he sped past. He knocked into the House points hourglasses, which then somehow set off a domino effect that ended up with the entire school population catapulted into the Great Lake.
He, of course, was handed all the blame by the two terrible terrors he called siblings.
He never quite managed to hate them as much as he did that day – for keeping him in the dark while they planned that absolutely stellar prank, even if it was at his expense.
But then they took him out for ice cream right after (he was in trouble but he wasn’t in trouble; what was Dumbledore gonna do, expel him?), and they threw a fucking massive rager in his honour at Potter Manor that night, so it was soon all just water under the bridge…or lake in this case.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Walburga and Orion died a month after his graduation.
Only Regulus cried. Sirius didn’t even bother to get underneath the umbrella as they stood before their parents’ gravestones, hands in his pockets and a cigarette in his lips as he stared dully ahead while rain soaked into his hair and black clothes and skin.
Polaris was holding the umbrella above her and Regulus with one hand, busy consoling him gently with the other.
“Don’t worry, Starboy,” Polaris patted Regulus’ back comfortingly. “They’re gone forever, but I’ll take care of us now. I promise.”
Tilting her head slightly, she aimed an ominous look at their new Head of House.
“I’ll take care of you too, Sirius.”
Sirius puffs out his mouthful of smoke forcefully, shooting her an incredulous look. “Hah?! You’re the youngest sibling here, you brat! Act like it, and fuck off with that ‘taking care of me’ shit. I’m the one in charge now, so you have no choice but to let me take care of things.”
Polaris scoffed. “Have at it then, Lord Black. I’m going to love looking over your shoulder and watching you fail.”
“Well, good. Because you’re staying put. No marrying out of this family. You’re going to be a forever spinster and you’re going to bloody enjoy it.”
“And just who the fuck made you the boss of me?” Polaris fired off, crossing her arms.
Sirius snorted. “You mean who died and left me in charge?” He spread his hands, swivelling his head from left to right dramatically. “Look around at where the fuck we are.”
“We can always start preparing another funeral,” Polaris hissed.
Regulus picked that exact moment to sniffle loudly.
They both shut up.
He looked at them both solemnly, his eyes still watery. Sirius and Polaris exchanged glances, then reached a silent decision to compose themselves.
Reggie worked his jaw, looked down, then lifted his gaze back up.
“I love you both so fucking much,” he finally said, breaking the silence. Then laughed.
And laughed.
Shoulders shaking, he threw both arms around them tightly.
Polaris and Sirius slowly exchanged worried looks.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
“I know you did it,” Sirius announced unceremoniously, barging into Polaris’ room right after the funeral.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m bloody ecstatic that you did,” he continued, watching her piercing eyes bore into him from her regal perch on the queen-sized bed.
“Ought to be thanking you for it and all that shite," he gestured his hands around flippantly. "But Reggie? He’s going to figure out everything one day. And when he does, it might crush him to know what you did.”
“That’s if he doesn’t already know,” Polaris retorted, rising and slowly stalking over to him.
“He is so much smarter than the both of us give him credit for. So I see no reason to be afraid,” she folded her palms, back straight. “When that day comes, he’ll understand why I did it, and he’ll come to see it really was for the best. But–”
Her eyes sharped, glinting like a murder weapon.
“If you tell him before he is ready to know it, I will craft a curse that would attach Walburga’s ghost to your soul and allow her to talk and screech her fill at you every second until the end of your natural days.”
Sirius’ eyes clashed against hers. She met them with her steady gaze.
His eyebrows narrowed. “And just how the fuck do you think you’re gonna do that, you little bitch?”
“Ancient Runes, dear brother,” she drawled. Stars, Polaris sounded bored.
“Did you know you don’t need any magic to carve a symbol into a stone, or wood? Or anything?”
She waved a hand nonchalantly. “You just need a good enough catalyst, some knowledge of Arithmancy, precision, patience, passion, and a fuckton of willpower.”
Prissy took a threatening step forward, into his personal space. “I have no magic, no, but it’ll be your own stars-damned fault if you underestimate me.”
Their stand-off lasted precisely three minutes, or five, then Sirius snorted.
“Not bad at all, sweet sister.” Braving another bite from her, he reached out and ruffled her hair roughly.
She drew blood from his arm.
He snorted again.
“I’m going to establish a foundation for championing Squib rights, and I’m going to name it after you. It’ll be called P.R.I.S.S, which would stand for: Promotion of the Rights and Individualities of Society’s Squibs. How ‘bout it?”
Polaris stared at him for a few moments. Then she squinted.
“It sounds tacky.”
“That means it’s perfect.” He shot her a roguish, evil little smirk, then spun on his heel and walked away.
“Later, Prissy,” he said, giving her a backwards wave.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Life moved on. They were all officially graduates when Sirius formally took over the Lordship of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
It didn’t take long for him to want to burn their entire House to the ground.
Being bogged down by paperwork, finances, politics, and property documents each and every day WAS NOT FUN. It was NOT the life he’d envisioned for himself when he imagined the freedom awaiting him after graduating from Hogwarts then being orphaned in quick succession.
And true to form, Polaris did laugh at him. Often.
His saving grace was Reggie, who proved to be a proper swot for all this kind of stuff. When he wasn’t off snogging James, that was.
(And Prissy did pull her weight with handling their affairs too, but Sirius was too often incensed by her mocking and her part in shoving him into this role to give her that much credit for it.)
“She got to Walburga. I finished off Orion. He almost didn’t take the last one,” Regulus confessed to Sirius casually one day while they were out buying groceries.
Sirius stared at him, certain that he’d misheard.
“What?!”
Regulus grinned at him sweetly. “I said, I’ll always be here to be your wonderful right hand, my beloved brother.”
He added another item to their basket.
“Why, what do you think I said?”
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
At some point, they started to hear news of an influential person who was making waves in the Wizarding World, their bold takes published constantly in the daily newspaper. A middle-aged upstart by the name of Tom Riddle.
Polaris hosted a gala in Grimmauld Place and made sure he directly received an invite.
The next day, there was no more Tom Riddle.
When the news came with the morning paper, Regulus casually turned the page of the Oscar Wilde novel he was reading. Sirius continued with his painting. Neither paid special heed to their sister who was humming and carefully filing her nails at the table, her tea cup placed irreverently on top of the screaming headline. Kreacher was seated beside her and making another cup for himself, idly humming along.
Both Black brothers looked away, continuing to devote themselves to their individual pursuits.
So it goes.
