A/N: Written for the Daily Prophet Round 7 Competition: The Function of a Rubber Duck

Team: Montrose Magpies

Word count: 1392

Prompt: Blender — Orion Black

'Look at what I found in the neighbour's rubbish bin, Dad,' said Regulus as he came bouncing into the kitchen.

Orion — who was sitting comfortably at the kitchen table — looked up from the Daily Prophet he was reading and saw his youngest son carrying something that looked like a large measuring cup. It was made of glass, attached to a square with odd buttons, and had a long white tail with three pointed ends attached to it.

'Close the kitchen door,' Orion said stiffly, 'and put it on the corner of that counter. I don't want your mother seeing you carrying around a Muggle object.'

With a wide grin on his face, Regulus shut the door with his foot and placed the object he had found on the counter. 'I have no idea what they call it, or what it does,' he said as his father carefully touched one of the buttons. 'I think I've seen these weird tails before, though.'

Orion took a hold of the cord and had an odd feeling that somehow two of the three flat, pointy ends would probably be able to fit inside his nose perfectly. He would have tried it had it not been for the fear that he might look foolish in front of his son. Scowling, he passed the cord back to Regulus and then peered into the top of the glass container. At the bottom of the container, there were three shiny blades, which, when Orion cautiously touched them, rotated slowly before coming to a stop.

'Why would anyone have a contraption with spinning blades at the bottom?' Orion mused aloud. 'Perhaps it's a Muggle instrument of torture?'

'Oh, I know,' Regulus said, energy just radiating from him in every expression and movement. 'I'll write to Sirius at Hogwarts. He might know someone who knows — I will be right back.'

Without waiting for a response, Orion's over-excited son shot off, leaving him alone with the new, smuggled-in Muggle object. He pinched each side of his nose, exhaling in frustration. He had an uncomfortable feeling that this — this thing that Regulus had found was going to be a thorn in his side for far longer than he wished. Putting his glasses back on, which he'd been wearing to read the paper but had taken off when Regulus came in, he inspected the strange container again.

He was sure its main function must be to cause pain. He hadn't put his elderly Muggle neighbours down as the type to be into torture, considering their age and the fact that one of them was certified blind. He guessed you never really knew a person — unless you were an extremely talented Legilimens.

Orion had just drawn his wand, thinking that perhaps he could determine its function with some charms, when Regulus came running back into the room. He slid into a chair at the kitchen table so fast he almost fell off the other side and started scribbling words down on a piece of parchment. Peering over his son's shoulder, Orion read the slanted scrawl.

Dear Sirius,

So I found this thing in the neighbour's rubbish bin and I wondered if you knew someone who knew what it was. Dad thinks it's a torture instrument and I think it smells like strawberries — maybe it makes potions!

I'm going to draw it here:

Regulus quickly sketched out a wonky drawing of the thing on the counter. It was better than Orion cared to admit. It was a very odd-looking caudron — if that was indeed what it was. He was suspicious of his son's guess — he thought his was far more sensible.

Please write back to me as soon as you can.

Love,

Reggie.

Orion rolled his eyes at his son's immaturity and then cleared his throat to regain Regulus' attention. 'Perhaps, instead of asking your eleven-year-old brother for help, we should pursue our own course of action? Sirius doesn't know everything.'

The very idea that his oldest son could be the font of all knowledge was even more ridiculous than the drawing on the parchment. Regulus had to learn that his parents were the knowledgeable ones, the ones he should look up to, not his smart-arse older brother. It was a simple flaw in Regulus' brain that Orion would correct once he proved he could figure out the function of this ridiculous item.

First course of action: consult the library. If memory served Orion right, he still had the old tome of Muggle torture instruments and their uses that one of his cousins had given him for his birthday as a joke in their youth. He had barely even opened it so far, but he had figured it was worth keeping anyway. For reference, if nothing else.

The pictures were entertaining; in fact, several hours had passed before Orion looked up after he became so engrossed. Then his eyes landed on the 'device' or whatever it was and, abruptly, he remembered why he had started researching in the first place. Walburga would never let him keep it if it didn't have a good enough purpose.

Keep it? Where had that come from? If anything, he should be removing it from the house before Regulus got too carried away. That was what the sensible side of his mind was saying, but Orion Black had always been a curious man.

Perhaps a spell or two might solve the mystery of just what the thing did.

Pulling out his wand, Orion cautiously made his way over to the thing. 'Regulus, go over to the other side of the room,' he instructed. 'Until we know how it will react to magic, I don't want you near it while I'm trying to turn it on.'

'But Father,' Regulus protested, 'I'm the one who found it!'

'And I'm the one with the ability to throw it out. This is not a negotiation.'

Regulus rolled his eyes — a bad habit that he had picked up from his older brother and Orion was yet to successfully talk him out of — but he made his way over to the opposite wall and sat down, leaning back against it.

Taking a deep breath that he hoped Regulus didn't hear, Orion pointed his wand at the strange device and muttered, 'Incipio.'

It came to life in a whirl of activity and noise that made Orion jump back, all thoughts about appearing brave flooding from his mind. His heart was pounding in his chest like a rogue drumbeat as he inched forwards again. The three shiny blades were spinning around, speeding up before his very eyes until they were moving so fast that they seemed to blur together. Picking up one of the apples that they kept out on the table, he tossed it into the open cavity, not daring to risk putting his own hand in there.

It rattled around inside, creating a terrible din, before flying out and straight at his head. Jumping to one side in fright, Orion watched as the apple fell to the ground. It was battered and gouged, looking far too defeated for such a short period of time.

'Father?' Regulus asked, fear seeping into his voice.

'Stay there.'

This time, Regulus didn't argue.

After a few seconds, Orion raised his wand again. 'Finite incantatem.'

The blades gradually slowed to a stop.

'You must not go near it again,' Orion said, looking back at the place his son cowered against the wall. 'It is clearly sentient; that was its way of sending us a warning. It will eat us alive if given the chance.'

Regulus' eyes were wide as they flickered between his father and the strange contraption. Orion was relieved; he didn't like scaring his son, but the boy had to understand just how dangerous this thing really was. 'W-What are you going to do with it?'

Orion hesitated, weighing up his options. On one hand, he wanted it as far from his family as he could get it. On the other, he and Walburga had both always been drawn to Dark objects, even going so far as to collect them both for interest's sake and in case they were ever attacked. 'I'm going to put it in the attic,' he finally replied. 'Who knows? It might prove itself useful one day.'