The British Empire, 1936
"...and this concludes the evening news broadcast. This is Jasmine Bligh, BBC News, and let me be the first to a Merry Christmas. Goodnight."
The old man stood up and switched off the radio before heading towards his bed. On the way, he stopped by a well-stocked bookshelf and ran his left hand through a few titles before stopping at Ad Altiora Mysteria. Picking the slim leather-bound volume, he moved with surprising spryness to the comfortable bed and slipped under the covers.
He lost himself in the volume and would have continued to do so past daybreak had it not been the beeping sound coming from a black plastic wristwatch that looked decidedly out of place in the cozy cottage. "Oh my, I better turn in then", he thought to himself as the dull pain in his chest that was bothering him the whole evening suddenly flared and turned sharp. The hand removing his spectacles turned lax seconds later, and then lost its grasp as the spectacles fell unto the ground.
...
Grimmauld Place, Wizarding Britain, 1901
The baby that was birthed just past Christmas eve was decidedly unruffled and calm for an infant. His father, ordinarily a man possessed with handsome aristocratic features, was grimacing at the sight of the infant.
"Do you suppose there is anything wrong with the childe?" He frowned and asked the older couple seated next to where he stood. His beautiful and exhausted wife was lying next to them unconcerned while she nursing the infant.
"Nonsense. Not all infants come out squalling unlike all you attention-seeking brats." The elderly woman retorted, although the sting in her words were tempered with a slight smile as she gazed upon her grandchild with fondness. "Now, can we have the name of our first grandson before your father expires on this seat". She punctuated her words with a sly poke at the gently snoozing man next to her. With a snort, he sat up and shook his head to clear sleep from his eyes, "Are we leaving then?"
Shaking his head at the antics of his parents, he looked at his wife, who met his eyes with a smile. "Mother, father, this is your grandson, Arcturus III."
...
Grimmauld Place, Wizarding Britain, 1906
The girl quietly followed her brother as they sneaked up the stairs. Lycoris did not know what was happening, only that Arcturus had told her Mother was having a new child - a child who would soon be her playmate. Lycoris did not mind that in the slightest. Father had recently taken to bringing Arcturus out every afternoon for lessens. He claimed that it was time for Arcturus to learn his duties as heir, and learn his words. Lycoris minded that Arcturus was no longer able to read her stories, pat her to sleep, and otherwise play with her. All she had were boring dolls and gossiping women who would occasionally coo at her while they sip tea with mother. Lycoris was excited to have someone play with her again.
Arcturus knew he was a weird child. Most people did not dream of old men in their sleep, much less have actual conversations. But Arcturus did not mind - the old men seemed familiar, and so far, everything the old men taught him proved to be useful. For somebody as inquisitive and eager to learn as he was, the old men proved to be willing conspirators no matter the subject. Compared to how father treated him, this was better than his annual Honeydukes' birthday cake. The past night, one of the old men who had a shock of white hair taught him about how children were created and how his mother was actually close to birthing his brother. He was excited to have a brother. He could teach his brother all he knew, and protect him from the ugly green monsters that grew in your belly if you did not eat your peas. Most importantly, he could boast about his brother to cousin Theodora who was forever going on about her baby brother in their lessons together with Master Durnovo.