December 13th, 1969: A Meeting of Heirs
"… pull this part to tighten the bow, make sure it's tidy and we're done!" Albin stepped back, examined Regulus as the boy squirmed. He brushed strands of his onyx hair aside, glancing at the suit he wears. Black jacket with red and green seams sewed into a hazel coated black vest and white shirt; indigo pants and a pair of grey socks, with his black Brogue, lay next to the door. Satisfy, Albin smiled pleasantly before moving to his suit and changed his clothing.
"Hey, Al," Albin turned to Regulus, buttoned-down his shirt. "Do you think Sirius and mother and father will attend the party?"
"If the Carrow is willing to invite newly joined members like mine, then the Black will undoubtedly attend. And besides, the star guest of the party will persuade even the most recluse members to participate." Albin replied, fixing the bow tie. Regulus nodded.
The Carrow's prestige among the Sacred Twenty-Eight was, while contempt for them never exists or exhibit publicly like the Weasley, not perceive as a family of high influence like the Malfoy or Black. For nearly three decades, the Carrow was nothing more than passing words, an afterthought in conversation like the Yaxley, Burke, and Travers.
Eridanos Carrow, the eldest of four and now Head of House Carrow returned and brought with him and the family fame and recognition unparalleled to even the Black; a prize for the discovered and documented of the Isle of Apple, Avalon. The return of a legendary wizard will undoubtedly gain attention to those not just in the Sacred.
"Both Mister and Mistress Trescott seem to enjoy the coming party."
"But I don't seem to be very excited at the prospect of meeting the man that found the island of the legendary Morgana Le Fay, is what you want to ask?" Albin walked next to Regulus, eyebrows raised as he eyed the young boy curiously. Regulus twiddled his thumbs as he squinted tightly his eyes; a hesitated nod accompanied it.
Albin smiled softly before sat next to Regulus. "Not going to ask me why?"
"You already asked yourself!" Regulus exclaimed a small chuckle concurred. "And I have some ideas of why, so the question I would ask is why do you accept the invitation?"
Albin hummed quietly, swinging his legs. "I have my reason, and this is the few I cannot tell you. Of course, you could utilize your inner Slytherin and descry my intention, oh great lord of house Black!" Albin ended his sentence with a deep bow and a cheeky grin. Regulus chuckled at the act. With that, Albin straighten and moved to the door. He signaled Regulus to follow with his head. Regulus stood up and put on his shoes before followed.
Down in the dining room, both mister and mistress Trescott were sat at the table with dark tone robes, chatting amicably in a whisper tone. Mister Trescott then lets out a roar of laughter, which startled Regulus. Albin entered the basement, left Regulus with the elderly couple.
When Albin returned to the dining, with a bottle of wine in his hand, both mister and mistress Trescott raised up and slowly walked to the fireplace.
"Hello, mister Trescott, mistress Trescott. Your appearance tonight is very lovely." Regulus bowed slightly, both of his hands clasped behind his back.
"Oh, that's very nice of you, Regulus." Mister Trescott ruffled Regulus hair, which earned him a playful slap from mistress and Regulus, an apologetic smile from Albin.
"You know how he feels when someone messing with his hair, Finbarr, so stop doing that!" mister Trescott chuckled. "And just call us by our first name, Regulus. No need to be formal in this house."
"Give him time, grandmother," Albin spoke. "He still needs time to get used to us." With a stiff nod, Regulus stepped aside for the Trescott's head before walked alongside Albin.
Stood inside the fireplace, in hand a fistful of a green powder, mister Trescott yelled out the name of the Carrow manor and, green fire erupted and consumed the aging body, leaving behind specks of dust slowly falling. The mistress and Albin followed, each time the fire appeared from the mound of ashes Regulus shivered. Finally, Regulus entered.
'A deep breath. Release it slowly. Repeat until your heart has stopped pounding in your ears. Clear. Precise. Loud.'
"Carrow Manor!" The heat of the fireplace grown for a moment before a whirlwind of green fire seized and spun him in speed that caused everything he saw a blur.
The marmalade sandwich he ate churned inside his stomach; his face feels hot, sweats trailed down on his cheeks as hands with sharp fingers scratching his cheeks, faces, chest, back, legs, leaving dark blood floating above as he is pulled down into the abyss – he feels cold (the cold from the water suffocate him? The cold of the lifeless gaze of the deceased surround him? The cold inside his body where something existed?) – he tries to cover his ears, to let the voices from sounding inside his ears because he does not like the voices and the gaze and the cold around him. The spinning continued for an eternity; his bone turned into jelly, his eyes lost their pupil and the view was nothing more than black of the night and the green of the fire, his thoughts were incomprehensive.
He stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing harshly. Regulus shakes his head, closing his eyes in the hope the ringing will soon stop. A hand on his shoulder startled Regulus. Glancing behind, through the blurring Regulus made out the blond hair and pale skin of a boy. His suit is dark-tone, dark blue or green, and his hand is callous.
"Barty?" Regulus asked his voice was unsure of the person behind him.
"You're not the first to guess wrong tonight, so don't pay much attention." The boy replied, with a voice of roughness yet hidden behind it were certain softness. Like a mother scolding her child for being bad.
"Al?! Sorry, I'm a little tired with the traveling." Regulus explained, waving at the fireplace behind. He hopes it is. Albin chuckled lightly before pulled Regulus from his squat position. "Don't pay much attention to it, Reg. Furthermore, what took you so long? The party already started."
"How long had I been missing?" Regulus asked, smoothened his suit.
"Fifteen minutes since the party started," Albin replied as both walked past the door to the party, where the clanks of glasses and voices of men and women sounded.
They walked through the hallway, portraits of past Carrow glancing at them. On their left, moonlight shone through half-round windows; cast their shadow across ivory cream limestone wall. The stars up in the sky twinkled brightly, a contrast to the dimly lit yard below. Regulus stopped in front of a door, knotty alder with the carving of the serpents at the sides.
Albin knocked on the door three times and then opened it slightly before directed Regulus to enter. Inside was the library, similar to the one Regulus has at the Grimmauld. The room was dark, even the moonlight was barely visible. Albin sat on the couch under the window, patting the spot next to him.
"Why are we here, Al?" Regulus asked, looking at Albin bemusedly. Albin raised his eyebrows as he stared at Regulus.
"Why exactly were you late Regulus?" Regulus shrugged his shoulder in response.
"Want to tell me what do you remember?" Regulus squinted before retold his experience. The churned of the stomach; the heat erupted from the green fire. The sudden coldness around him, of claws scratching his skin, tearing himself until pallid bones remain. Regulus shivered, skin tingling as he imagines himself at the depth of the deepest lake, hand clawing the water while his legs kicking wildly against skinny limbs and ashen skin with whetted nails.
"Well, probably hallucination from Floo traveling. Did you appear in any other location or straight to here?"
"Straight to here," Regulus answered uncertainly. In truth, he can only recall the peculiar visions. Nothing else seems to surface in his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
Albin smiled thinly. "Then we will look into it tomorrow then. Come now, there is a party to enjoy and an older brother wanting to see your face."
Regulus hummed before exited the room with Albin. Reaching the front door, Regulus fixed his suit while Albin his hair and bow tie before they opened the door.
The scene that greets them, in Regulus's modest opinion, was disappointing. Golden chandeliers hang above them, painting the room in the color of dandelion bathing under the evening sun. Guests of every house talked and whispered, eyes glancing at Albin with contempt and disdain for the blood in his body was not pure. Regulus heaved heavily as he departed Albin, searching in this nest his family.
As he slithered through bodies of black wool, a hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around. Facing him was a boy similar in his height. His face, with rounded jaws and brown eyes, pale on the skin and dotted with freckles. His hair is the color of strawberry blonde and at a glance; everyone could easily mistake the golden child of the Crouch for the shameful bastard of the Trescott.
There are differences, however, that Regulus took noted of.
Albin's hair had the shade darker, and his eyes were colored like the coffee in the morning; lighter and softer than the intense hickory in the boy opposite him.
"It's nice to meet you, Barty," Regulus said irritably, pulling his arm out of Barty's grip. Barty pouted, head inclined to his left as he folded his arms.
"Where does the crankiness come from, Regulus? Your best friend wants to speak to you and that is how you want to greet me!?"
"I need to find my family, Barty," Regulus ignored Barty's exclaimed, "or else my brother will drive my parent to their grave sooner than needed."
"Don't need to be so down about someone like your brother. He wouldn't dare to cause trouble here since, and I heard this from my dear mother," Barty leaned closer, his hand cupped around Regulus's ears, "that your grandfather is here."
Regulus stared wide-eyed at Barty, attempting to process the information given to him amid the chaotic environment that was his mind. His grandfather is here. At this party, when both Sirius and Albin here.
His grandfather, Arcturus Black the Third, was a figure well revere among the Sacred. Named The Taipan, the moniker he most associates with, the member of the pureblood always spoken the name in whispering; awe and trepidation flood through each word. His name was kept in silence, in fear of being dragging beneath the earth and torture until the body rotten and soul dilute.
Lost in his thoughts, searching for the most rational explanations of his grandfather's appearance, Regulus failed to notice Barty pulling him to a group comprised of his age; heirs of some of the most esteemed families of Britain's wizarding world.
The oldest of the group, with combed ebony hair and a bored look on his diamond face, noticed the duo's advancement. Sipping his wine, he tucked his younger brother's sleeve gaining the boy's attention, before he slipped away to somewhere else more befitting of his age. The younger brother smiled brightly, waving his hand as he calling for both of them.
As Regulus left his maze of thoughts, deciding the most pressing challenge is fleeing from his acquaintances while leaving a tolerable impression, Barty's hand had loosened its grips and now shaking the younger brother. Ignored the expected looks of the pair of ashen eyes, from whom Regulus dislike, he looked at the younger brother companions figuring out the best approach to his predicament.
Across the room, under the portrait Ale Carrow held by the golden frame, were five individuals spoken while surrounding themselves with Muffliato. One man of the age thirty-two stood as the most noticeable, with curly and messy black hair fitting the scars-filled and wrinkled face. His clothing of black vest over a white shirt and plum bow tie failed to hide the disinterest in the posture. His hand, instead of smooth and beautiful in white, was brown and callous. No rings nor jewels, golden coins absence from his pockets, a beard rougher than his peers. The individual, just like his fame, brings the air that attracted every person laid an eye on him. Eridanos Carrow.
Albin stood there, youngest among the group, harkening the man's tale of giants of oil-skin; of bronze gate towered the valley it leaned against, carving of an eccentric eagle with yellow diamonds as its eyes, buildings constructed from stones as white as snow and beds of thought deceased kings and queens.
A fascinating tale, Albin admitted, and an intriguing story his housemate will adore. However, tales of foreign lands pale to the stories of hooded figures wandering through Muggle villages, leaving behind their path inflamed houses and charred bodies; of clouds shaped like a snake protruding from a human skull, lighted up in the green of emerald.
"For such a young lad and with such a notorious reputation, you are remarkably well-mannered." Albin hummed in response, playing with the glass in his hand. "Though, may I ask for the actual explanation of your excitement? Because from what I heard, you were not exactly enthusiastic regarding my tales."
"Tales of foreign lands are not my cup of tea, mister Carrow," Albin replied, a smile showed behind the glass of wine, "and my reason to be here is, unfortunately, cannot be express in the public." Eridanos looked around them, his other hand playing with something inside his pocket. Albin watched the movement, guessing the object as the famed Carrow surveyed those who stood close to them.
Each three, members of the Sacred and respected figures whether their achievements change the wizarding world or just a blip soon forgotten. Fayette Avery, a woman of 55 and the Auror imprisoned the notorious vampire Oisin Ryan; Snowdon Greengrass, a magizoologist discovered and killed the last of the Bugbear, a feat the Sacred looked upon with proud and the rest scornful. The third, with his snowy beard and bald head, on his face a number 34 scarred on his face was Matthias Rosier, one of the apostles of Gellert Grindelwald.
A tapped on the shoulder beckoned Albin to trail after Eridanos through a door, sensing three pairs of eyes followed their steps. Walking through the hallway, on either side held unlit candelabras, and around them was tattered yellow striped wallpaper, Albin and Eridanos reached a room. Inside, spider-webs decorated the four corners, painted a series of pictures and small paintings on the wall; dust coated the floor.
"Alone we are, kid. Now spill the bean!" A surprise was the word Albin describes himself as he stares at Eridanos, seeing a gentleman spouted such informal sentences. Leaning against the wall, twisting the glass he spoke.
"Two weeks ago, before your return to England, you were visiting a small Muggle fishing village?"
"Remains of it," Eridanos replied eyebrows turned upward as he eyes Albin. "Why such an interest in it?"
"Wasn't your family one of the vocal supporters of his ideology?" Albin retorted, glaring at a small crack on the glass. "How exactly do you evade their questioning?" Albin glanced at Eridanos as the man staring at him, dissecting him inside out.
"Seem like those gossips have truths in them."
"Gossips always have a truth. Finding them is another matter," Albin responded, understood what truths the man referred to. "When you visited the village, was the cause natural or unnatural?"
"Unnatural. Dark magic, if you want the details. Around three-fourth were killed," Eridanos took out a piece of paper and gave it to him, "the rest are resting in a nearby town.
What's exactly your motivation here, kid?" Albin examined a picture behind him; his thumb traced the face of a young boy, his smile revealed his missing tooth as he sat on a dress. Standing next to the boy was a person, donned a dark-color vest and white shirt. Another child stood at the front of the person. The child's face was missing.
Many of the pictures had a face burned off the pictures, consist of two adults and a child through various years and months. The child in each picture always smiles, never frowns, or sad. Albin catches one, at the end of the wall, where his expression was impassive. "Who's the child?"
"… my brother," Eridanos growled as the man walked to Albin's side and snatched the picture, this one shows the boy stood next to another boy with curly hair. Albin examined the man, his scarcely concealed anger, and the burning magic erupted from the man.
"I assume that's how much you know?" Eridanos glanced at him, puzzling showed through his eyes before the man recomposed himself and nodded. Albin tightens his mouth before said his thanks and exited the room. Eridanos remained inside the room, and before the darkness beclouded his view, the man hand traced the arm of a chair.
When he entered the ballroom, the place previously held their group of five now absent. The clinking and chuckling sounded in his ears, which mean the Muffliato had dispelled. After asked for the time from one of the House Elf, Albin began to search for his grandparent and Regulus.
Albin found Regulus hours later, sipped a cup of juice with his face gazed at the desserts. Stood next to him was one Bartemius Crouch Jr., an expression of anxiousness intrigued Albin as he made his way to the side of Regulus. He frowned at the bruise on his left eye.
"Want to talk about it now, or wait until we back at the mansion?" Regulus jerked his head out of Albin's grip and then downed the cup. "Or I can have some private talk with Sirius?" Wide eyes stared at him before Regulus shakes his head and said his farewell to Bartemius. Albin replied similarly, only to receive a heated glare from the boy.
'Odd.'
The moment he stepped out of their fireplace, Regulus ran to the floor above ignored his grandparent's calling. Concerned, Albin called the handmaids, Mary and Sandra, to help his grandparent to their room while he checked on Regulus. Stood outside, Albin pressed his ears to the door listening to the discordant sounds sounded from the room. Here and there he caught a sob or a sniff or a part of a sentence; the rest was a suite of jumbled sounds Albin was certain a result of a spell.
'With the runes still on?' the question wandered float amidst his other questions.
The Trescott family mansion from the outset and inside resembles nothing different than the houses of other families; a tapestry detailed the family tree, rooms that fulfill the necessary need, pictures of the current to past members, and hidden from the non-wizarding world.
One could argue their mansion is ordinary. Instead of a house-elf, there were two witches hired by the head of the house for menial tasks like breakfast and dinner and guard duty. There were no superfluity objects one usually associates with a member of the Circle or curse artifacts lying around unprotected from the children. The library contained not just books of Dark magic but also teachings of the Light.
However, one with keen eyes and had mastered their ability to perceive magic as corporeal objects can detect white-like lines hover above the back and front yard of the mansion. Twelve lines in total each placed from the edge of the fence where the lines move forward into the house, which formed a circle. Underneath lied a room that holds an equal number of rune stones. These lines formed a magic barrier with two purposes.
One, to hide their existence from the Muggle and ensure none has a desire to touch their land.
Two, to ensure the members of the house incapable to perform magic either with or without a wand, unless permitted. This is the utmost important information only the member and those soon become one know. As far as Albin had witnessed, read, or heard none of the wizards and witches that visited this mansion ever performed even the simplest of spells. Not even the great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
'As skeptical as it sounds.' Albin thought. The power of the runes had proved to be unable to reverse or broken so to be able to perform magic, one needs to excel at breaking curses or receiving help from the outside. 'Like a species with pointy ears and usually wear rag.'
Rubbing his nose, Albin entered Regulus's room unannounced. Inside, he can hear the sniffs and sobs audibly and even caught the words and sentences, though muffled by the blanket, from Regulus. He walked to the bed, where Regulus was covered by layer after layer of blankets; some were made of more expensive materials.
"Reg," Albin shook the boy's shoulder "I know you haven't gone to sleep yet. I need to ask you a few questions." Albin remained on the side, even when there was no movement inside the cocoon of blankets or when light snore sounded throughout the darkroom. Soon, Regulus untangled himself and sat up; his eyes avoid Albin's eyes.
"Did you call Kreacher?" Regulus nodded, eyes still avoid Albin's. "Was he the one casted Muffliato?" When his housemate again nodded, Albin frowned before seated himself next to Regulus. Careful, Albin turned on the lamplight and examined his face. There was oil smeared over his bruise, and crumbs dotted around his mouth. Looked over his shoulder, Albin noted a plate of biscuits and a bottle of ointment on the tableside.
"Go to sleep," Albin spoke gently, hand-rubbed Regulus's shoulder. Regulus looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted. "You're in stress and not in the best mood to talk. When you're ready to answer, I will ask the question. Now, go to sleep. Both of us have tomorrow free." Albin smiled as he pushed his housemate to laid on the bed, tucked the boy under the blanket before exiting the room.
Albin said his goodnight to Mary and Sandra before entered his room. As he lay down on the bed, the sleepiness steadily drown him, Albin muttered the three promises he spoke of on June 7th.
Will you promise the youngest son will be under the care of the Trescott's family, with no intervention from the family aside Sirius Orion Black?
Will you promise none of the Black family, except for Sirius Orion Black, will harm me or Regulus?
Will you promise for Sirius Orion Black and Regulus Arcturus Black to talk with each other, with no intervention from the Black family?
The woman before him, wear on her a black dress with white seam sewed as many Amphipteres, each wing connected with another, glared down at him like staring at a dog. The woman's husband sat behind her, an indifferent look shown in his eyes. The woman then spoke, a voice of arrogance rang through the word.
"Yes."
They shook their hand, ended the spell.