Author's Note: Delirium is like a vivid dream to me. I'm trying my best to portray it to you the way I see it.


Chapter 1


The hallways, corridors, rooms, alcoves, secret passageways, and staircases of number 12, Grimmuald Place creaked constantly. Harsh wind battered tree limbs into the side of the foreboding house and heavy winter rain lashed the ancient glass of the windows and the old roof relentlessly, as though someone were beating each shingle and pane of glass with a drum stick with a steady, easily detected, annoying rhythm.

The dust and grit stirred up in the air during daylight hours never quite settled; instead it drifted lazily through vague, dim moonlight that attempted to shine through the clouds and windows to the noisy wooden planks that served as floors on every level of the horrible house. In the morning those floors would be as grimy and dirty as they had been before the daily cleaning ritual, which would, in turn, only last until that night when still air would allow the dust to once more settle.

The occupants of Black Manor were, in that moment, tucked snugly into their musty, moth-eaten beds, warm despite the chewed-out holes in their blankets. Each individual rested as peacefully as could be expected in such troubled times.

Ginny Weasley could not sleep. She made a muffled noise of frustration into her pillow so as not to wake her room-mate, the one-year-older Hermione Granger. She threw off her covers, rolled out of bed, and draped a long, dark blue robe on over her pyjamas.

Tip-toeing to the door, Ginny paused only once to peek back at Hermione's still form through a curtain of her fiery Weasley hair to make sure she didn't wake.

But once she was outside the room, she didn't quite know where to go. Ginny pondered a moment; she knew the kitchen and downstairs by heart, having helped scour it herself. The drawing room was out – she'd had enough of it that summer. With that in mind, and having no where else to go without disturbing those who slumbered, Ginny set out to visit Buckbeak, the hippogriff Sirius kept in his parents' old bedroom.

She climbed the creaking steps as close to the wall as possible to reduce the amount of noise she made. Her bare feet slowly numbed in the cold of early morning in late December.

Despite the lightened atmosphere in the old house, Ginny was still worried for her father, who had been bitten by Voldemort's snake, Nagini, just before Christmas break started. He had been recovering well at St. Mungo's, but when Voldemort was involved, one never knew what would go wrong at the worst possible moment.

The next floor housed only Ginny's brothers, the infamous twin pranksters, Fred and George, and Bill Weasley while he slept those few hours he could before returning to work. Not worrying about waking anyone of that particular level, Ginny sprinted across the landing to the next set of stairs, leading up to where her mother, Molly, slept across the hall from the man who owned the house, Sirius Black.

Trying her best to make even less noise than the dust she nearly sneezed on, Ginny crept with agonising slowness past those first two rooms. She could hear the restless tossing from Sirius's room even louder than her own breathing. There wasn't so much as a peep from her mother's room, however, and Ginny smiled, reasonably satisfied with her luck and skills.

There were a few more rooms on this floor, however, than the two on most of the others. There were another three doors on Ginny's right, in line with Sirius's room, and another two on her left. Ginny briefly contemplated on running the rest of the way, but decided that she didn't entirely trust the floors. Instead she walked slowly, still trying to be quiet, and glanced behind herself every few seconds to make sure she was alone.

But, making things so much easier for the poor 14 year old girl, on the last floor, the only room besides a bathroom was the previous bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Black. Ginny eased the door to the bedroom open on squealing hinges and slipped past it cautiously, upon which she let out a relieved sigh.

Buckbeak looked up from his position dozing on the floor curiously. He clicked his beak at Ginny and put his head back down, his large eye still trained on her warily. Ginny picked up the sack of dead rats lying near the door and walked to the huge animal. She paused a suitable distance away to bow without breaking eye contact. Buckbeak half rose and bowed back, eyeing the sack hungrily.

Ginny laughed and reached into the bag to toss him a rat. "I couldn't sleep," she confessed, settling herself next to him with her legs crossed. "I don't know why. Well, I do, but I just don't like to think about it."

Buckbeak squawked and Ginny shushed him hurriedly.

"You'll wake someone," she reprimanded softly. Then she sighed heavily. "You know, ever since first year, with Tom and the diary and the Chamber of Secrets, I've wondered. That's what keeps me up on nights like this."

Crunching another rat between his massive jaws, Buckbeak remained silent and watchful. Ginny smiled at him vaguely.

"My sanity," she explained as though he had asked the question. "Sometimes I think I'm going insane or like I already am, like I have been for years. But others… other times I think so logically that I know it must be impossible. And every time I make up my mind something happens to make me wonder…"

Buckbeak clicked his beak impatiently and nipped at Ginny's robe. She glanced down to the now empty bag of food and sighed again. "Sorry," she apologised. "I guess there isn't any more. Thanks for listening." She felt a little silly for thanking him, but did so nonetheless, in the spirit of politeness and Christmas.

Ginny stood and crept out of the room unhappily. Her little one-sided chat had resolved nothing and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep at all, but there was no where else to go.

On the next level Ginny once again resumed her cautious tread and ducked her head for good measure, though she wasn't sure how much good a ducked head would do if she woke her mother or Sirius. She snuck past one closed door after another, her eyes fixed on the steps at the end of the hall.

Just as she set foot on the topmost step, a soft breeze swept the hall, ruffling Ginny's flaming hair. Her chocolate eyes widened and she whipped around, half expecting Molly to be standing right behind her with an angry look on her face. There was no one in the hall and no windows from which the wind could have issued, which had been to warm to come from the outdoors anyway.

What Ginny saw instead was that one of those precariously closed doors had swung open in her wake; the third door on the right, to be exact. Ginny let out a breath she'd been holding and shook her head at her own foolishness. Of course one of the doors would open – she and Hermione could barely get theirs to stay closed, especially when people were parading past it all day. Ginny went back quietly and grasped the door handle to close it. She paused, staring inside. It was a bedroom.

Wondering why Sirius had never mentioned another bedroom in the house, particularly one as large as this one was, Ginny poked her head in curiously. She was pleasantly surprised when the room appeared to be charmed to ward off dust and dirt and other sorts of household grime – it meant another room they didn't have to clean. Having nowhere else to go but her room and no desire to sleep, Ginny entered the area to explore a bit and find out who it had belonged to.

There was an elegant four-poster mahogany bed shoved into one corner, across from which a matching desk and uncomfortable looking high backed chair were positioned for a view of the outdoors. There were papers scattered on the desk, rolls of parchment across the floor and bed, and books on nearly every available flat surface and even a few that weren't.

The books ranged from old textbooks to books on dark magic to magical creatures to family histories and were stacked precariously atop one another. Obviously whoever this room belonged to had liked to read. Ginny was willing to bet whoever it was and Hermione would have gotten along famously.

The redhead soon spied an old wardrobe in the farthest corner, made of oak instead of mahogany and a little more beat up than the other furniture. She opened it inquisitively and found it to be full of robes in both the latest fashions and some that had to have been in style when her parents were her age. More books were stacked in the bottom of the wardrobe and threatened to topple out before Ginny snapped the door shut.

Ginny turned slowly on the spot, surveying the room with disgust. It must have been a boy's room, judging by the numerous sports posters and the style of the robes. It looked fairly well kept, a feat none of her brothers could have ever accomplished – besides that git Percy – and just in need of a bookshelf or four.

Picking up one of those books, Ginny traced a finger of the engraved title: Useful Magics for Inquiring Minds by Brandon Quince. She opened the book to the spot the owner had marked however many years ago he or she had finished, and scanned the section that detailed curses of all kinds and their generally violent nature. Uninterested, she turned to the first page and read the introduction:

Welcome, my friends, the author wrote, and good health to you all. As in my previous but more controversial novels, this book, Useful Magics for Inquiring Minds is devoted utterly and entirely to the arts which I myself have become consumed by, as we all will in time. But that is neither here nor there. Within you shall learn my secrets.

In this last narrative, before I disappear from sight and mind, I give to you, avid reader, power beyond imagining. Useful, yes, and empowering, this knowledge goes the those select few that are brave enough, that are willing enough to pursue that which they most desire, whether it be money, power, or fame… Indeed, once you have finished with this book, all that you want shall become yours, as it was for me.

And as I sit here, penning the last bit of my instructions to you for you to use as you see fit, I must give caution. Suspicion will follow those found in possession of any of my books, but especially this, which is highly dangerous and extremely complicated, even for the most advanced magic user.

Go with caution, friend, proceed at your own risk, and best of luck on your difficult journey.

Yours truly,

Brandon Quince

Ginny turned the page and froze in shock, unable for a long, horrifying moment to take her eyes off the gruesome picture detailed upon it. She snapped the book shut quickly and dropped it as though it were a poisonous snake. What kind of horrid person would even consider reading a book like that? The answer was clear – a dark wizard. This had been the room of a dark wizard, and Ginny was poking about it when who- knew-what could be lying about, ready to kill her.

Her heart racing with adrenaline as her feet and brain demanded she leave immediately, Ginny spun about to rush to the door, only to be confronted by a man's chest. She gasped and jumped back, nearly knocking over a stack of books, and tilted her head up a bit to get a good look at his face – there was no sense in making a fuss if it was only Sirius or Bill.

It wasn't.

Ginny stared for only half a second at the man, at his angular, clean-shaven face, his too-long black hair, his grey-blue eyes; for only half a second she took in his neatly pressed black robes and sock covered feet, the wand in his hand, and the fact that she had never seen him in her life, before she sucked in a breath to scream, wishing too late that she hadn't left her wand on her bedside table next to the muggle book Hermione had lent her to read.

The man, sensing this, perhaps, dropped his wand and stepped forward. The stick of wood clattered to the ground noisily, just as Ginny's scream started to tear past her lips. The man covered her mouth with a large, soft hand and pulled her swiftly up against him before she could react so that she couldn't break free. Her shout successfully muffled, Ginny thrashed in his strong grip, trying to break free. The man held firm, whispering desperately for her to be quiet and let him explain.

Finally he simply snatched his wand from the floor, in the instant Ginny took to draw breath, and stunned her. Ginny stared at him with fear-widened, immobile eyes. The man returned her gaze sadly. He scratched the back of his head.

"I had forgotten how easily those doors blew open," he mumbled to himself. "It was my mistake and it won't happen again." He set Ginny down on the bed and stood next to her as though unsure of what to next. "Now that you aren't going to give me away," he said decisively, pulling the chair from the desk up next to the bed, "I suppose I should explain myself." Here, again, he paused, collecting his thoughts.

"We'll start with how I got in," he decided. "These windows aren't as heavily spelled as the rest of the house. As to how I found it… I've always known where this place was. No one could take that away from me, not even Albus Dumbledore. I've been here since before he spelled it, anyway. Since before Sirius came back, before he even escaped from Azkaban.

"My name…" He hesitated and surveyed Ginny. "You're, what, 13 or 14 years old?" Ginny, of course, didn't respond. The man seemed not to notice this and instead acted as though she had given some invisible sign to the affirmative. "You wouldn't know my exploits then, or at least not very well. I don't expect you to have heard of me; to most I'm just another dead Death Eater."

Ginny's eyes would have widened if she wasn't stuck. A Death Eater, in Order Headquarters?

"But if you've been here, in this retched house, long enough, I'm sure you were part of that cleaning crew that dusted out the drawing room." Again he seemed to be looking for some kind of sign from her, nodding in satisfaction when he found whatever he was looking for. "I'm on there, you know. Sirius was blasted off, of course, but I don't think I was. Mother and Father thought I'd died heroically, from what I understand. You see, my name's Regulus. Regulus Black."

His spell was beginning to wear off. Ginny twitched a finger, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the former Death Eater. He hurried on with his explanation. "Now, before you're set loose, I want you to know that I'll cause you no harm, nor will I hurt any within these walls. It doesn't help me keep up my 'dead' pretence. So please, don't scream. Don't give me away. I turned against the Dark Lord, against Voldemort—" Ginny would have shuddered at the name; she almost did. "—and that's why he sent Avery Nott after me. But Nott's not a particularly bright man; it was easy to fool him into thinking he'd killed me. I'd been worried about having to deal with someone like Severus Snape or Lucius Malfoy, but I got lucky." He looked at Ginny curiously. "What's your name?" he wondered suddenly.

Ginny sat up stiffly and scooted a little farther away. "Ginny Weasley," she answered. "Go on, finish your story."

"Well, Nott thought he blasted me to bits, much like the way people thought Pettigrew was blasted by Sirius, only I didn't make the explosion like that cowardly little rat did. There was a crater and a body –don't think ill of me, it was necessary – and my wand shattered and everything. Of course the poor man whose body I dug up from a nearby cemetery was too badly mangled for anyone to get a proper identification. It all worked out to my advantage.

"And then I headed here, the only place I could think of. Mother was so distraught with grief – I faked my death only three months after Father died – that she refused to come out of her room. Not even Kreacher knew I was here. I don't think he does even now. And so I hid myself away from the world. I go out into the muggle part of the city to get my food and my clothes, although for some things I have to wander into the magical streets. I got a new wand, for example. Not as good as my first, but suitable nonetheless."

Ginny shook her head. "Someone would have found you… I'm sure they checked this place out, every room, before Dumbledore would let us use it as Order headquarters."

Regulus didn't seem to have an answer to that question. Instead he changed the subject. "So, Ginny, may I call you Ginny? Anyway, what are you doing up at this ungodly hour that caused you to walk past my room and inadvertently force me to reveal myself?"

"I couldn't sleep," she hedged. He didn't seem to suspect that she was holding any information back, to her relief, and merely looked curious.

Scratching his chin, Regulus watched Ginny thoughtfully for a minute. "Insomnia?" he asked finally?

Ginny shook her head. "Nerves. Too much going on for my mind to rest."

"The concept of war just set in?" he questioned with that infuriating all-knowing look adults used on kids just because they were older.

Ginny jumped at the excuse anyway and did her best to appear as though he'd seen through her thin charade. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I've been there," he responded quietly. "I'd like to tell you it gets easier but I'd be lying."

A feeling of strange, unbidden respect and pity for the man washed over her. Ginny stared out the window, attempting to hide that fact. "I'd rather not be lied to," she muttered frankly.

Regulus snorted, his eyes still trained on Ginny as though he thought she might jump up and run away screaming at any second. "I thought not. Aren't you tired, Ginny? I'm sure the portrait of my mother will wake everyone up in a couple hours. You would do well to try and get some sleep."

Ginny yawned despite herself. "I don't think I'll be able to," she said anyway. "You've given me a lot more to think about."

Regulus looked at her gravely. "Sleep, Ginny," he commanded. "It's not healthy to stay up all night."

Nodding vaguely, Ginny stared up at the ceiling of his room. "I should get back to my room before Hermione wakes up," she answered around another yawn.

Regulus continued watching the youngest Weasley. "Yes," he agreed quietly.

Ginny looked at him inquisitively through half lidded eyes. "If you're not a Death Eater anymore, why do you still have all these dark magic books?" she whispered tiredly.

"I couldn't very well just dump them out the window, now could I?" he asked gently. "Go to sleep, Ginny."

"I don't think I'll make it to my bed. Sorry."

"It's perfectly alright. I've got some work to do here at my desk anyway," he explained.

Ginny nodded again. "Thanks, Mr. Black."

"It's just Regulus, if you please."

"Alright…"