The performer of a killing curse was usually less apparent than the spell choice, and to the relief of many death eaters, often impossible to identify. For Harry's scar, that was not the case. In the days since briefly examining it, Regulus couldn't forget how easily discernible Voldemort's magic had been.

Believed dead and with Edgar's help, his dark mark didn't control his life as it once had, but he could never forget how invasive it had been in its unadulterated form.

He didn't know Harry well, but he couldn't think of many reasons why he would have elected to spend his summer at a former death eater's house, rather than with his friends. It was evident he cared a lot about Sirius. Presumably, he had suggested leaving Grimmauld Place after realizing how miserable Sirius was when he was there.

Voldemort, by contrast, thought only of himself. He didn't know the extent of whatever connection might be between Harry and Voldemort, but he couldn't believe it didn't bother Harry to have it.

He found Sirius by the pool with a glass of water in one hand and Carina's Firebolt in the other. It was obvious he'd caught him just as he was taking a break from flying. He was pleased to note the change in his appearance in recent weeks; his face was fuller and his complexion no longer sallow.

"Sirius," he greeted, a smile forming on his lips when he noticed the crisp t-shirt and jeans he was wearing; it had been his staple attire before Azkaban.

"Regulus," he returned. "I suppose you are ready for us to leave so you can have your house back," he guessed.

"It makes no difference to me if you are here or not," he said, alluding to the fact he was staying elsewhere just then, but realizing that sounded cold, he amended, "I am glad you are here."

Sirius let out a short laugh at that. "Why?"

Regulus' eyes drifted to the dark speck in the blue sky that he knew was Harry as he debated which reason to give him. Certainly, he was glad to have the chance to mend his relationship with his brother - or rather, actually have a relationship with him, seeing as Sirius believed he was dead before. However, he was rarely one to sound sentimental.

"I wanted to ask about Harry's scar," he said, electing to go with an equally true statement. He could have asked Harry directly but he didn't want to feel like he was going behind Sirius' back.

"You already did," he pointed out. Harry's silhouette in the sky drew nearer and Regulus knew it wouldn't be long before they were interrupted.

"I thought he might be more candid without an audience. I mean, it does do more than 'twinge' a bit, doesn't it?"

"Why do you care?"

"I want to help, if I can."

"Only if it doesn't put your family at risk though, right?"

He wanted to make some reference to the fact that Sirius was his family too, but the words didn't come.

"I believe it was you that said we should be working together," he said quietly.

"I could use your help in figuring out where to start looking for the rest of the Horcruxes," he said pointedly.

As with any other time Horcruxes were mentioned since Voldemort's return, a wave of guilt washed over Regulus.

"I only found out about the one by chance," he admitted.

"You destroyed it though," said Sirius.

"It took months to figure out-"

"But you did it! You have more practical experience with them then... well, maybe anyone sans Voldemort," he hesitated before adding, "and maybe Harry."

"Harry," he repeated bemusedly. "What do you mean?"

"There was an incident... in Harry's second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened."

He paused, perhaps expecting that Regulus would refute the claim that any such Chamber existed. He had heard Voldemort reference the Chamber of Secrets though, while bragging that he alone knew how to open it. Regulus nodded for him to continue.

"There was a diary that had been in Lucius Malfoy's possession... it was able to influence another student to open the Chamber. Granted, this was the year before I escaped from Azkaban. Dumbledore mentioned it once, and in vague detail... so I cannot say for certain that it was a Horcrux, but the more I've read about them, the more I-"

Just then, something like an enormous bird descended upon them. Harry purposefully pulled out of a dive right as his feet were grazing the pool. He skidded across the length of it, sending water spewing in every direction before pulling up again just before reaching the wall.

As Regulus happened to be standing in between Sirius and the pool, he blocked most of the spray from Sirius.

There a broad smile on Harry's face as he turned around. The moment he saw Regulus, or rather how drenched he was, his eyes widened in horror, and his smile melted from his face.

"S-sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't see you – and I didn't know it would make so much of a mess, and -"

"Don't worry about it," Regulus interrupted him, swiftly drying himself with a flick of a wand. "Carina used to do something like that."

"Really?" Harry asked with a bit more interest than the comment should have warranted.

Regulus merely nodded before turning his wand on Harry. He inwardly frowned when he flinched.

"I was going to dry you," he explained, "Unless you'd rather I didn't."

"Oh," Harry said, looking embarrassed as he looked down at his clothes. "No, go ahead," he said.

Regulus recast the spell and Harry jerked from the warming sensation against his skin.

As Sirius had remained silent, the boy seemed to realize he had interrupted something more than a casual conversation, and looked to his godfather.

"We were just discussing The Chamber of Secrets before you came down," Sirius said openly. "I wondered if you would you be willing to tell us about it."


A lot had happened since Harry's second year, when he faced the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. He told Sirius and Regulus all that he could remember, from the beginning, at Sirius' request.

That meant admitting he was a Parselmouth. He was well aware, of course, that many believed it was the mark of a dark wizard. He suspected Sirius already knew about his ability from either Dumbledore or from Rita Skeeter's article. Regulus was less likely to already know, though might not have minded as he must have been drawn to the dark arts at one time. In any case, he avoided looking at either of them as he said the words.

Once he got past that, the words flowed out of him easily. They made a good audience, as they listened intently, asked questions sparingly and allowed him to stutter through the more difficult parts without interrupting him.

"What happened when you stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang?" Regulus asked after he had finished.

Given that he had been on the verge of dying moments before, Harry's memory was not the sharpest in that moment, though he tried to remember.

"There was this long, horrible, piercing scream. Ink sputtered out of the diary, an impossible amount of it - it covered my hands and flooded the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting... and screaming. And then he was gone. I collected the diary - the basilisk fang had burnt a hole right through it. And then Ginny woke up."

Both Sirius and Regulus appeared to be deep in thought about what he'd told them. After a moment, Regulus glanced at his watch and grimaced.

"I was only meant to be passing through here," he admitted sheepishly. To Harry, he added, "I believe you and Caelum discussed a cat?"


Harry awoke on the morning of the thirty-first of July to a soft weight on his chest and the sound of a contented purr.

"Sleep well?" he asked the gray cat that had been a near-constant companion for the past two days. She spent the last two nights scratching at his door while he was sleeping until he caved and let her sleep with him.

He scooped the cat up and carried her downstairs. He regretted that choice when he saw the other Blacks were gathered in the room where he'd once puked on the floor. His eyes landed on Carina in the corner, her long, shiny hair had been pulled into a high ponytail. He considered taking the cat back upstairs before she saw as her birthday wasn't until tomorrow and he would ruin the surprise otherwise. Caelum spared him from making the decision when he noticed him.

"Happy Birthday," he grinned, moving forward to take cat from him.

"Thanks," said Harry.

Regulus shook his hand offering a similar sentiment, and Sirius clapped him on the back. He was embarrassed but pleased by the attention on a day that would have been ignored if he was with the Dursley's.

He watched as Caelum delivered the cat to Carina. She smiled brightly and kissed Caelum on the cheek. The younger boy scrunched his nose as if vaguely disgusted by the gesture, and muttered something Harry couldn't hear.

Harry's stomach leapt uncomfortably when Carina met his gaze from across the room. They looked especially bright with the emerald robes she was wearing. He took a shuddering breath as she made her way towards him.

"Caelum mentioned you had a hand in this," she said, indicating the cat.

He shook his head, "Very little," he admitted. "I just – remembered seeing you with it."

"Thoughtful of you," she said, her brow furrowing slightly.

Harry made a very articulate sort of grunt in response and avoided her gaze.

"We were waiting to see what you would want to eat for breakfast," she said after a moment. In an undertone, she added, "You should know, in this house, cake is considered a viable option when it is your birthday."

He understood the advice when they went into the dining room a few minutes later. At the center of the table was an elegant-looking, multi-layered chocolate cake. "Happy Birthday, Harry" had been written across the top in golden, calligraphed script.

No one batted an eye when he suggested he would have a piece for breakfast.

It would have been the most satisfying birthday he could remember even without gifts, but those came too. His favorite, a two-way mirror from Sirius which would enable them to communicate while he was at school.


Regulus' house felt more like home to Harry than Privet Drive ever had. And though Regulus' family had begun visiting on a near-daily basis, they didn't seem to be in any hurry to return on a more permanent basis.

Regulus had taken to pulling him aside during their visits and they would talk for a few minutes. He didn't ask about his scar, he just seemed to want to get to know him better. Probably since he was staying at his house and spending a lot of time with his kids, particularly Caelum, though Carina had been coming around more too.

The three of them were lounging on the couches in the sitting room. He and Caelum were finishing off the rest of the Honeydukes chocolates Ron and Hermione sent Harry for his birthday. Carina had a magazine beside her that she was flipping through while her cat, who she named Artemis, occupied her lap and was purring as she absently stroked its fur.

Harry picked up the last chocolate frog from the table and debated whether to eat it or save it for later.

"I wonder how much longer dad's meeting will take," Caelum remarked.

Harry glanced at the clock and saw he'd been gone for nearly three hours.

"What sort of meeting is it?" He asked, giving in and unwrapping the chocolate.

"He's gone to some muggleborn's house to talk their parents into letting them come to Beauxbatons."

Harry recalled a similar excuse had been suggested the time he went out with them.

"Does he do that a lot?" he asked curiously.

"Not too often," said Carina absently. "But when he does it's usually after Professor Deschamps has mishandled the situation – he's like second-in-command at school because he's been there forever, but he can be a bit of an idiot, especially when dealing with people who don't speak French. His… uh, linguistic dexterity isn't what he thinks it is."

"It doesn't help that a lot of muggleborn kids don't have the best home life in the first place," Caelum yawned. "Their families don't understand things like accidental magic, so they punish their kid when it happens, and it just makes it worse."

Harry's eyes dropped to the chocolate frog card in his hand. He hadn't given much thought to what the lives of other kids growing up with muggle relatives would be like. He just assumed anyone was better than the Dursley's.

Carina stood up rather abruptly, "I'm going to swim," she said, carrying Artemis off with her.

"Does she… want us to go with her?" he asked after a moment. He had yet to see Carina get in the pool since he'd been there.

Caelum shrugged, "Go if you want," he said, stretching out into the place she abandoned. "Your chocolate hurt my stomach."

"I think it was more of a quantity issue," Harry pointed out.

After a brief internal debate, Harry went upstairs to change. He elected to leave his t-shirt on. He might traipse through the house shirtless on his way to the pool when only he and Sirius were there, but he was too self-conscious around anyone else. Despite gaining weight in recent weeks, he was quite aware that he was still rather skinny.

When he opened the door, he glimpsed Carina coming out of her bedroom further down the hall and froze. She was pulling a robe on over her swimsuit as she walked, as if she'd only decided to bother wearing it at the last second.

Not trusting himself to form coherent words, Harry made a beeline down the stairs ahead of her.

He made it to the pool before she got there. He took off his shirt and tossed it in the general direction of a chair before diving in. Ignoring the discomfort from the onslaught of cold water, he began swimming laps across the length of the pool.

Feeling a surge of energy, he lost track of how many he made before Carina blocked his path and he reluctantly stopped.

"You are taking up the entire pool," she informed him, though seemingly more amused than annoyed. "What are you doing?"

"Laps," he said tersely.

Determined as he was to keep his eyes from looking at anything below her face, he noticed she was still a bit taller than him, even after he'd made it a habit to stand up straight and she presumably wasn't wearing any sort of heeled shoe.

She smiled slightly, "How many do you intend to do?"

"Er- a few more, I think."

"In that case... I'll race you to other end," she challenged. She took off instantly, giving herself the advantage, though Harry did not hesitate to go after her.

All the Black's, he had learned, were competitive. And they played dirty. In this case, Carina used any means she could to either block or pass him as they raced from end to end. It didn't help that she had the benefit of growing up with a pool in her backyard.

As they approached the ledge on their final race, she nearly kicked him in the face. Harry instinctively grabbed her leg. His hand froze momentarily as he felt her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. And then she nearly kicked him in the head with her other foot, reminding him of his purpose. He tugged her backwards and passed ahead, touching the wall before she could.

"I won," he taunted halfheartedly, while keeping a hold on the ledge. He was unable to touch the bottom of the pool without going under and was entirely out of breath.

"Only because… you cheated," Carina said, equally breathless.

He would have pointed out that was the only time he cheated, but the words left him when she took that moment to pull herself out of the water. She sat on the ledge above with her legs dangling over so that the lower part of them remained in the water.

Inevitably, when she looked at Harry, it was obvious he'd been staring at her. He grasped onto the most innocuous detail he could - the fact that her usually sleek hair had begun to coil since getting wet.

"I didn't know your hair was curly," he said, as if it was all he had been looking at.

"Yeah…" was her response to such a riveting thought. In one sweeping motion, she pulled the entirety of it over her shoulder. After running her fingers through it a couple of times, she proceeded to braid it.

Harry watched the practiced movement for a moment before looking back at her face. She looked perfectly at ease, and yet he inexplicably got the feeling he had brought up something she was self-conscious about. If it was anyone else, he would have let it go. But there was something in the way that Carina sometimes looked at him, that gave the impression that she secretly mocking him.

"You don't seem to like it," he said as if making a casual observation.

She finished tying her hair at the end before answering, "I wouldn't mind it, if it didn't look like Bellatrix's."

The name stirred something in his mind but he didn't immediately place it.

"Who is that?"

She seemed to relax slightly. "She's my dad's cousin." Dropping her hands to the concrete behind her, she leaned back slightly so the sun could reach her skin more evenly. To say it was difficult for Harry not to stare at her would be an understatement. He forced himself to turn so that his back was against the wall and she was largely out of his sight. He rested his arms on the concrete behind him, holding himself up.

"I thought everyone knew of her. She's a death eater – said to be one of the worst. Before Sirius escaped from Azkaban, The Daily Prophet, used to run her picture… along with his and a few others. The Ministry used them to brag on how secure the prison was."

Something else he missed while living among muggles, thought Harry. He did, however, remember Bellatrix Lestrange. He'd seen her in the Pensieve in Dumbledore's office, when she was on trial for torturing Neville's parents; she predicted that Voldemort would rise again as she was led away.

He turned to better see her face though she was looking away from him just then.

"So, do you look like her?" he asked, having never noticed. "Or is it just the hair?"

"All Blacks have similarities," she said dispassionately.

Bellatrix was an unfortunate person to resemble because of the things she had done, but as her past victims and their family members were most likely in Britain rather than France, he didn't expect any resemblance could hinder Carina much.

"Your turn, tell me something embarrassing," she prompted.

Harry thought about it for it a second.

"If you found out something about me that I deemed to be embarrassing, would it result in you voluntarily telling me something embarrassing about yourself in return?" he asked doubtfully.

"Of course, it would only be fair." He raised an eyebrow and she smiled slightly. "I come from a long line of Hufflepuffs," she explained.

Harry shook his head, knowing it was a lie.

Her smile broadened, "You don't believe me?"

"No," he answered openly. "Your father is a Black. Sirius already told me your mother was in Slytherin."

"She was, but everyone else in her family was in Hufflepuff." She seemed to debate whether to say something before asking. "Ever heard of the Bones family?"

"There's… Susan Bones in my year."

She nodded, "Her father is my mother's brother."

That would make them first cousins. Harry pictured the quiet Hufflepuff with red hair and freckles. He could scarcely imagine two different girls being related, but then, the difference wasn't as striking as him and Dudley. Realizing how utterly random it would be for her to make up, he had to believe it was the truth.

"That's a big improvement from Draco Malfoy," he said, recalling he'd been on the Blacks' family tapestry.

"Is it?" she asked blandly, "I wouldn't know."

It was bizarre for them to be little more than names she recognized when he felt like he'd learned a fair bit about them in four years.

"Well, I suppose Susan is a friend," he said. Even with her habit of being swayed against him when it was popular, he got along with her the rest of the time. "You aren't missing anything by not knowing Malfoy," he said darkly. "He's a blood purist and his father is worse – he's a death eater," he spat. "He was there the night Voldemort came back."

Harry had felt Carina's eyes on him, though when he pulled his gaze from the pool to look at her, she was studying the grooves in the stonework beside her. The guilty mannerisms she sometimes adopted when death eaters were mentioned was enough that Harry knew she was aware her father used to be one.

"You were supposed to tell me something I don't already know about you," she reminded him gently.

"I don't know what you already know. I mean, I met your father before and he obviously talks to Sirius. I expect you probably have heard more about me than I've told you."

"That is a bit arrogant, isn't it? To think we sit around and talk about you?"

"That's not what I meant!" he objected.

There was a trace of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, but otherwise she merely looked at him expectantly.

It wasn't long before he found himself admitting. "I didn't know I was a wizard until I got my Hogwarts letter."

Carina gave him a searching look. "How is that even possible?" she asked seriously.

"My mother was muggleborn. My aunt, uncle and cousin that I grew up with are all muggles."

"Did your aunt and uncle know you were a wizard before you got your Hogwarts letter?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "At least, they knew my parents were a witch and wizard, but they don't really understand magic."

Carina remained quiet for long enough that he was half-expecting her to say something profound when she did speak.

He was surprised when the next thing out of her mouth was, "Kreacher?"

Harry looked around to see the ancient house elf step out of the shadow of some nearby shrubs. He stepped forward to greet Carina with a bow.

"Could I have a glass of lemonade, please," she said before turning to him. "Harry?"

Kreacher followed her gaze and Harry looked right back. He didn't think it was his imagination that the house elf seemed to disapprove of the company she was keeping.

"Er..." he hesitated.

"Two just in case," Carina smiled.

The elf inclined his head towards Harry, "Just straight lemonade?" he asked pointedly.

Carina looked between them bemusedly and Harry recalled his initial encounter with the house elf. The thought of going under water and never coming back up had never been so appealing.

"Please," Harry said.

A moment later Kreacher presented each of them with a glass of fresh lemonade.

"Thank you, Kreacher. You may leave us," Carina said gently.

The house elf bowed to Carina respectfully, and then turned as if to leave. He then gave Harry a scathing look that she may or may not have been able to see, before disappearing with a loud crack.

Carina's eyes lingered on the place the house elf had previously been. "Did you meet Kreacher before?" she asked curiously.

"Once," Harry said dreadfully.

"Did you… leave an impression?" she asked, taking a sip of her lemonade.

He thought of the night he drank half of a bottle of Firewhisky and shook his head. Ron would probably be impressed but Hermione would absolutely disapprove – likely berating him and Sirius both. He didn't know what Carina's response would be, but there was little use in not telling her when she could just ask Kreacher.

"It's possible…I was a bit drunk," he admitted.

Her brow furrowed slightly, "Where were you?"

"I was with Sirius and we were at the Black's Ancestral House… neither of us particularly liked being there. I remember Sirius calling Kreacher and then your dad was there – and then Kreacher brought us here… some of the details are a bit hazy."

Her expression was inscrutable as she gazed at him and Harry was sure his face was crimson.

"Is that a regular habit of yours?" she asked mildly.

"No!" said Harry indignantly. "It was the only time and it was stupid. I think that was Sirius' whole point in letting me do it – so I wouldn't want to do it again."

He was ready to defend Sirius if she said so much as a word about him being irresponsible, though aside from a hint of a smile, she gave no indication of what she was thinking.

"Your turn," he said pointedly, repeating her previous words. She raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you have any embarrassing stories involving alcohol to share?"

She laughed humorlessly, "I'm the only British girl in a French school – I'm not giving anyone that satisfaction."

"What does that mean?" he asked bemusedly.

"It's rumored, at Beauxbatons, that you Hogwarts kids drink yourselves senseless on a near-daily basis."

"That is not true. And Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world. How exactly did it get that way if we are all drunks?" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but it had gotten louder with each word.

"My parents went to Hogwarts," she reminded him.

Harry glared at the pool, feeling a bit more irritated with himself than anything else. Why had such a little thing made him so irritated?

"Sorry," he muttered.

Harry was decidedly not looking at her, though he could feel Carina's eyes on him. She was probably wondering what was going on with him too, or maybe she already believed he was as irrational as The Daily Prophet suggested.

"I've no idea what the best school is," she said as if his outburst hadn't happened. "I've looked through, An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe but it is, at least it is supposed to be - objective. Why do you think Hogwarts is the best school? Or, where did you hear that?"

He opened his mouth to say something like 'because its Hogwarts' as if that would be convincing to someone who didn't go there. Something in the way she was looking at him gave him pause. She hadn't argued her school was better. She simply wanted a convincing argument as to why he believed his was.

He thought about it – Hogwarts was certainly better than Durmstrang where they excluded muggleborns and taught the dark arts. Fleur Delacour hadn't fared particularly well in the Triwizard tournament, but that wasn't necessarily a reflection of her ability or the quality of the teaching at Beauxbatons. More likely, it was due to having Crouch Jr. stacking the odds in his favor so that he could witness Voldemort's rebirth. He realized he didn't even know what other wizarding schools existed.

Why did he think Hogwarts was the best? Where had that idea even come from?

Suddenly, he could vividly recall sitting on the Hogwarts Express with Ron at eleven years old. A bushy haired girl had come into their compartment looking for Neville's lost toad. He could hear Hermione's voice, "It's the very best school of witchcraft there is," she had said with certainly.

Hermione was muggle-born – how could she have possibly known that? It would have had to have been in a book. He grimaced, realizing which one.

"It says so in Hogwarts: A history," he concluded.

He met her gaze as she regarded him, and felt a trace of a smile on his own lips. "Not convinced?" he asked drolly.

"Not quite," she said with a laugh. It lasted around two seconds before something behind him caught her attention. He turned towards the house and saw the curtains move in an upstairs window as if someone had just ducked out of sight.

"That'll be Kreacher," she said resignedly. "He likes to spy and eavesdrop on people he doesn't trust... which is pretty much everyone... I should warn you, that he can be rather unpleasant to people he does not like."

"Do you mean to imply that Kreacher does not like me?" Harry asked with mock surprise.

"No, you're his favorite," she assured him quickly. Smirking slightly, she added, "But it wouldn't hurt to avoid him just in case."