What If Series: The Black Heir

by Miss Mysteria

Chapter Fourteen

He couldn't hear.

He couldn't see.

His senses were muffled, to that of a boy with no outwardly awareness.

It was dangerous; his father had taught him the importance of being spatially aware, of not being ignorant to your surroundings. He could be many things, in a duel, in his lessons, at Wizengamot sessions; but one thing he was not allowed to be was ignorant.

His grandmother had always maintained that 'to be ignorant, was to be stupid, and a Black was never stupid.' Of course, she used to then look to Sirius and smile grimly and say, "however sometimes, you do get the anomaly". And then Sirius would have rolled his eyes or launched a bread roll at her from the other side of the dining table.

Remus would've blasted it to pieces before it could reach her, and Sirius would moan that he never let him have any fun.

He shook himself out of the past and focused on the task in front of him. A task he had completed so many times in recent months.

Despite desperately wanting to, Lorcan didn't hold his hands out to search blindly for something to grasp. He had done so before, in this dream, and it hadn't ended well. He had woken to his grandmother Melania shaking his screaming form awake as the palms of his hands burned a bright, raw red.

Not nice, and it had stopped him playing touch Quidditch with Neville and Draco in the gardens for four days as Remus and Melania fretted over him. He had been bed ridden, and allowed no visitors by the two also, which had not only made Lorcan feel monumentally lonely, but had thrown his friends into disarray, wondering what had happened.

Instead, Lorcan closed his eyes, not that this made a difference to his sight, and breathed deeply for five counts in through his nose. Then, out for seven counts. And again. And again. And again.

Once his mind and body were calmed, he pushed gently through his Occlumency shields, feeble as they were, and settled himself, before reaching out with his mind and softly pushing up against an invisible barrier, one that he'd learned controlled his dreamlike states.

Lorcan suddenly felt his feet make contact with solid ground, stumbled, but managed to maintain his balance.

He opened his eyes with no small amount of effort and blinked at the sight of a train station platform. He didn't need the sign that read which platform it was, but he stared up at it in wonder anyway; Platform 9¾.

Then, he looked back to the train. The Hogwarts Express, shining red and gold, steam pouring from the engine. It was just as jaw-dropping as Sirius had described it. Just as… beautiful. Sirius had told him the only way he could describe it was soul-saving, and Lorcan, at the time only frowning, now could see why.

He contemplated stepping forward and climbing the steps onto it; the platform was empty, there was no one around to say that he couldn't, wondering how it was his mind had built the train when he had never seen it in person before, when something at the other end of the platform caught his eye.

A man in a dark suit.

Squinting, Lorcan tried to focus on his face, but every time he thought he could catch a glimpse of a feature, it seemed to morph into shadows once again.

"Hello?" Lorcan called out, his voice was raspy with sleep and echoed in the platform, unnaturally louder than the rumbling of the train. The man gave no notion that he could hear him. "Can you- can you hear me? Is it… am I imagining this?"

The man didn't answer.

Lorcan blinked to rid his eyes of their dryness and when he opened his eyes again, the man was no longer there.

His heart seemed to halt in his chest, and he turned around, eyes flickering in and out of every available hiding spot, but he couldn't see him. It wasn't unusual for beings to come and go in his dreams, and he thought nothing of it.

Lorcan sighed. Alone, it seemed, other than his mind yet again playing tricks on him.

He slowly swivelled back around to face the train and was thinking about walking further down the platform, to see if he could enter at the engine, but when he turned, the man was there.

Stood not even two feet in front of him and Lorcan's eyes widened in shock as he took him in.

Taller than him, easily six-foot-something, his black suit and black shoes contrasted his pale white face. There were no disarming features, in fact, his face was entirely plain. He had no eyes, no mouth and no nose. It was as though he was wearing a mask.

"Um," Lorcan stuttered over his words, desperately trying to tell his legs to step backwards but they wouldn't listen, and he was rooted to the spot, "hello. Sir. Hello, sir. Um-"

The man with no face made no noise, no movement. He stayed still, and even though he did not have eyes, Lorcan could sense that he was being stared at. Inquisitively or not, Lorcan didn't like it.

He cleared his throat, "Can I help-"

The man's hand snapped out and latched itself like a vice around Lorcan's throat and he choked on his words.

Lorcan's eyes bulged and his mouth opened in choked scream, "Wha-help! He-lp! Somebod-!"

His hands came up of their own accord and, acting on instinct, began to try and pry the man's fingers off his neck. His legs began to kick out desperately as the man started to pull him up into the air and away from the ground. Lorcan could feel his throat closing and his lungs burning even as his opened his mouth yet again to try and scream-

-but instead of the muted pleading he expected, a baby's cry escaped.

The man didn't falter, and instead, in the space where his mouth should be, a hole opened up with a sound like tearing fabric.

His voice was low and rough, and Lorcan could swear he had heard it before, "Lorcan! Lorcan- wake up now, you've got to wake up! That's it, there's a good lad, come on Lorcan-"

Lorcan squeezed his eyes closed, his entire body burned like it was on fire, his legs were still kicking against the man, and his fingers ached with exertion as they tried to force the strong fingers off from around his neck and when he opened them again, he found himself staring into gentle and concerned brown eyes.

Familiar brown eyes.

Remus' brown eyes.

Lorcan breathed hard, as though he had been sprinting a marathon and ignored Remus as he stared on with great amounts of concern.

He flinched when Remus reached out to tousle his hair and avoided his eyes when the hand was retracted quickly. "Are you okay, Lorie?"

He hummed, non-committal. When he swallowed he took note of his throat not hurting and he stared at his hands as they throbbed.

Remus frowned. "Lorcan. Lorcan, look at me."

With great effort, he turned his head and looked at his adoptive father. "Yes," It was a great weight off his chest when he found that his voice wasn't raspy. It wasn't real, he repeated to himself in his head, it was only a dream, "yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

Remus didn't believe him, Lorcan wasn't stupid; when you had to be forced awake because you had stopped breathing in your sleep you weren't okay.

"We… we don't have to do this today, son." Remus said, his voice was soft but Lorcan could hear the uncertainty behind it. "I can talk to Augusta and Minerva. They'll understand-"

"No, they won't."

"Yes, they will." Remus said, suddenly stern. He tentatively reached out and gripped Lorcan's wrist. Lorcan's emerald eyes followed the movement. "Everyone will understand."

Lorcan was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. "No. They won't. They're all going today. I'm going too."

"You don't have to-"

"I'm not going to get special treatment because I'm a Black." Lorcan snapped and Remus sighed. "Or because I'm... Harry Potter. Despite the fact that they might not know it. I'm not. I want to get on the train with Neville and Draco and I want to get sorted into my House and I want to start Hogwarts." He lifted his eyes from their hands. "Today."

Remus mulled this over and it wasn't until Lorcan stared at him with his bright, pleading eyes so like his mother's that he gave in. "Fine. But you can tell me, or anyone, if you change your mind."

"I won't change my mind, Moony."

"Okay." Remus said, placatingly and Lorcan didn't have the effort to even roll his eyes. Remus stood from his knees and smiled as Lorcan pulled back his duvet and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He gestured over to the wardrobe. "Meema has put your robes, newly washed and pressed, in your wardrobe. The ones she wants you to wear are on the second shelf. I have your shoes downstairs. We have maybe... two hours before we should be meeting Augusta and Neville at the platform."

Lorcan stood, wobbly on his feet but determined to show Remus that he was fine, and smiled gently, though his heart quickened at the reminder of the place where he had just been. Supposedly just been. "Okay. Thanks."

Remus slowly placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, before turning and leaving the bedroom. Lorcan waited until he couldn't hear his receding footsteps anymore and then let his shoulders drop.

Every other night for four months he'd been having these dreams- no, these nightmares, and most of them included either snakes, or other magical objects and animals. Of course, he hadn't mentioned what went on in these nightmares to any of his friends or family, he didn't want them to worry, in spite of how much Remus pressed him for information.

It set him on edge, Lorcan thought to himself as he crossed the room to his wardrobe and pulled open the doors. Snakes were symbolic of Slytherin House at Hogwarts, the House he was sure he'd be sorted into. Every time the location was an important magical place, one usually where Lorcan had yet to see with his own eyes, which of course had to mean something; perhaps he was seeing through someone else's? But then, if that were true, why would this person be the singular person on the busiest magical platform in Europe?

And he didn't want to even begin thinking about the man with no face.

Looking down at the second shelf, he pulled out the set of folded black robes and closed the wardrobe, before making his way into the en suite. He placed the clothes next to his sink, and pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, squeezing minty green Piquant toothpaste onto it and ignoring the spice as it brushed against his gums.

He stared at himself in the mirror as he brushed.

The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, as they always were recently, but he knew his grandmother would fix them up for him as soon as he revealed himself to her downstairs. It would be a shame if the press caught a glimpse of him on their way to the platform and noticed either them or his red-rimmed tired eyes. It wouldn't be the first time they would try to suggest that his family were so uptight about everything that he had perhaps misbehaved and they had forbid him to sleep. Or something equally ridiculous.

His hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead, and he thanked his past self as he stared at the shortness of it.

After his grandfather Arcturus' death, Lorcan had decided to cut his hair off.

It had given his house-elf Meema a fright to stumble upon him in the same bathroom he was in now, Muggle scissors in hand with his long locks hacked to death and fallen all around him. He'd tried to explain to Remus, Sirius and Melania when asked why he'd done it, that he wasn't able to face staring in the mirror, not when the only thing he saw looking back at him was Arcturus. His hair shorter gave him a different look than the old Lord Black, made him feel like his own person, and more than anything else, let him look at his reflection and not feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

To make him feel better about it, as Remus had cleaned up his uneven cuts, Sirius had allowed Melania to trim his own hair up to his ears.

It had been one of the last things they had done together, as a family.

As father and son.

Lorcan spat his foamy toothpaste into the sink, watching as the tap turned on by itself and washed away any excess that didn't slip down the drain. He put his toothbrush back in its holder and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

He turned, and stripped off his sweat-soaked pyjamas, stepping out of them and throwing them in the general direction of the laundry basket. Walking into the shower, he twisted the nozzle to warm and waited for the water to heat up.

After it had done so, he stepped inside and sighed in relief as the water washed over him.

It wasn't that he and Sirius weren't close anymore; it was hard not to be close, they saw each other often as they lived in the same house, they shared Remus and Melania and Augusta as close compatriots, but that was where it ended. When Sirius had taken up the title and position of Lord Black, the head of their family, he had began to spend a lot of time in the Ministry, at rallies and speeches and dinners and balls and political movements which would make a better light shine upon their House and their allies.

And the work he'd put in had paid off, in the long run. Arcturus had started it; making the speeches and manipulating the public into seeing a 'change' within them all, and Sirius merely continued his effort tenfold. It helped that he was a war veteran, that his partner was a war veteran, that his grandmother was a lovely older witch who few had bad things to say about, and that his son was also Lily Potter's surrogate son who was friends with the well-liked Heirs of House Longbottom and House Malfoy.

But due to his work ethic ramping up, Sirius had little to no time for them. And Lorcan had disliked him for it. Remus had been stuck in the middle, Melania had been firmly on Lorcan's 'side' and Sirius hadn't even noticed that Lorcan was unhappy with him.

Which continued to this day; three years later, and he was about to go off to Hogwarts for the first time and he wasn't expecting Sirius to be there to show him off.

If he had told his eight year-old self this, the boy would have probably laughed.

Now it was his reality.

Lorcan leaned his head back and let the water run over his hair, quickly washing out the shampoo he'd rubbed in there.

It wasn't that he didn't understand why his father wasn't spending time with him. He did; the work was important, crucial, even, to their House. And Sirius didn't just have him, Remus and Melania to take care of anymore, he had their House's allies and the others who belonged to their House.

As Heir Potter and Heir Black, Lorcan had lots to do himself, but had made the rule when he'd started out that he would be eating breakfast, lunch and dinner with his family everyday, despite where he might go afterwards; whether to the Ministry, to lunch to meet and plan with Joe Follen, the Lord Potter proxy, or to Longbottom Manor and Diagon Alley with his friends. Sirius had made no such promise, and Lorcan was tired of seeing Remus' uncomfortable face every time he asked where Sirius was.

Lorcan grabbed the soap bar and lathered it up in his hands before putting it back on the shelf.

Last night, just after he and his grandmother had finished dinner, Remus had come in from his trip to the Japanese Ministry of Magic (he still worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation as a translator and often, in more recent years, was called away to aid an important member of the Ministry on a trip to another country. It was in those times that Lorcan truly felt the loneliness of Sirius' absence and amused himself by watching his grandmother become more incensed with Sirius as he gave excuse after excuse as to why he couldn't be there) Lorcan had inquired as to who would be taking him and seeing him off at the Hogwarts Express the next day.

Both Remus and Melania had known he was really asking whether Sirius would be there, and both had varying degrees of emotions plastered across their faces; they could hide behind cool masks in front of others, but not him. Remus' eyebrows had drawn together in a frown and his eyes stayed glued to his plate as he gave a non-committal answer, and Melania had desperately tried to choke back her scoff, but hadn't succeeded.

Remus had glared at her and Lorcan had shoved one of the cookies Meema had put out for dessert into his mouth to avoid expressing either his disappointment or his amusement at his grandmother.

Even now, as he watched the remaining soap on his body get washed away and turned off the shower, he felt it unfair that Remus could work in another country, and be back exactly when he said he would be, yet Sirius could work just a Floo call away and not communicate whatsoever.

Lorcan sighed and stepped out of the shower, drying himself off with a warm and fluffy blue towel which was rested on the rack of ten next to the sink. After drying himself, he threw the towel onto the side and took his trousers off the counter, pulling them on after his underwear. Next, he put on his socks, and then worked on pulling the black robe over his head and buttoning up the silver clasps which worked their way all the way up the fabric.

On each of the cuffs laid the Potter and Black crests; the Potter one a gold griffon and the Black a silver snake. On his right hand laid the Potter and Black Heir rings; following so many years of having them on his fingers, they rarely felt like anything but an extension of his hand.

He stared at himself in the mirror; eyes still red, dark circles ever-present and wet hair dripping down his neck, but still he looked the perfect image of how he should. With this in mind, he walked out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom, striding over to the empty desk.

Last night, before dinner, he and his grandmother had spent several hours in his room, making lists of what they thought he would need at school, and what he wouldn't need, and musing how he could try and sneak his broom in with him, as they couldn't shrink it as that was known to effect the competency of it. They ended up deciding that he would leave it at Black Manor, and then she would try and mail it to him at some point. Even if he couldn't join a Quidditch team for whichever House it would be, didn't mean he couldn't practice.

But now that his belongings were all packed away inside of his trunk, his room, the one he had partly lived in since his birth and the one he'd permanently moved into after Sirius became Lord Black, was stark empty. All that was left was the furniture, Lily, his owl, and his wand, which was sat on his desk waiting for him.

The day, a few weeks ago now, that he'd finally got his wand had been a difficult one.

Since they'd been five, he and Neville had wanted to get theirs at the same time on the same day. Augusta, it turned out when Remus bought it up with her, had wanted Neville to take on his father's old wand. Thankfully, Remus had managed to convince her otherwise, citing that Neville was his own boy, one day a man, and he would need his own wand to answer his call, not one that still answered the call of another.

Sirius hadn't come.

He 'hadn't been able to get away from work', which, despite making something shatter like glass in his chest, had not been unexpected. Instead, Remus, Neville and Augusta had gone together and decided to make a day of it in Diagon Alley.

They'd met for breakfast in the Leaky Cauldron; Augusta complaining about the mustiness and the coating of dirt that covered most tables, but Remus had insisted that it was all part of the experience for Lorcan and Neville, and that the cottage pie was the best in Europe. Of course, he was right and by the end of it they had four cleaned plates of it and both him and Neville were asking about dessert, which was denied.

Instead, they left soon after ten o'clock, managing to get through the brick wall with no hardship, and walking out into the hustle and bustle of the street.

Having grown up in the magical community, Neville and Lorcan had been allowed, from the age of ten onwards, to explore Diagon Alley without a chaperone. More often than not, Remus or Melania would accompany them through the Floo from Black Manor, Neville having Flooed from his house to theirs, and then take a seat in the Leaky Cauldron (if it was Remus), or Eternelle's Elixir of Refreshment (if it was Melania). Both boys, joined occasionally by Draco when his parents allowed it, had spent hours and hours running around the main street, forbidden to wonder into Knockturn Alley or veer off elsewhere.

Because of this, they knew shortcuts in and around the alley, and lead their guardians down a small backstreet which opened up on the right of the entrance next to Gringotts. Having anticipated the day for a while, all four of them had already drawn galleons out of the bank, therefore not needing to go in, which pleased Lorcan. Ever since he'd gone in with Remus and Sirius as a baby and had the blood lineage test done, he'd been anxious to enter and spend too much time in their; all the Goblins seemed to know who he was and the results of his tests.

It made him incredibly uncomfortable.

They'd strolled down the street, stopping once or twice to stare lovingly at the new Nimbus 2000 (in Lorcan's case) or at a set of Bubotuber's in the window of the Apothecary (in Neville's). Augusta and Remus had both said no.

Eventually, they had come to a stop at Ollivander's. Despite being the main wand-maker for all of England, his shop was almost always empty, which was something that Lorcan had questioned, but Remus had only given him an infuriating answer of 'magic'.

When they'd entered, greeted with the sight of the man himself standing at the desk, frowning at a wand on his desk, they had been hit with the smell of must and dust, something which made Augusta's nose wrinkle tightly.

The man had looked up at the sound of their arrival.

"Ah, Lorcan Black. And Remus Lupin! What a surprise; no Lord Black today?"

Remus had appeared remarkably uncomfortable so Lorcan had stepped in. "No, sir. Not today. He's a very busy man, now."

Mr. Ollivander had stared deeply at him for a long moment, before blinking and a sudden and surprising amount of pity entered them. It made Lorcan turn away and look towards the endless stacks of wand boxes. "Of course, of course. I imagine you're all proud of him."

"Uh," Lorcan was surprised, "yes. Very."

"Yes," He breathed a sigh of relief as the strange man noticed Neville and Augusta, "Longbottom's!" Lorcan tried his best to not laugh as Neville jumped in surprise. Remus' hand fell onto his shoulder. "Why, I haven't had a Longbottom in my shop since your son, Madam."

Augusta had replied, "Well, I imagine it is the same for most children coming through now, Ollivander." For the most part, the man wasn't affected by the usurp, and instead turned his back on them, and began searching the shelves.

"Right, then," he had said as he ran his hands over the boxes, occasionally pulling one out, before shaking his head and putting it back. "Who is going first? Mr. Longbottom, or Mr. Black?"

Lorcan had quickly shoved Neville forward, and when the man turned, he spotted Neville stepping forward of seemingly his own violation and smiled brightly, "Ah! Mr. Longbottom, wonderful! Hold out your wand arm, please."

Neville'd glared at Lorcan with the promise of revenge, but he had just smile smugly and watched as his friend was tugged forward in front of the desk and reluctantly held out his right hand.

"Now then, Mr. Longbottom," Ollivander rounded the desk, two wand boxes in his hands before he placed them down and waved his hands at the tape measure that had until that point, laid dead to the world on the desk. It came to life; like a serpent slithering in mid-air and it began to measure Neville from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As the tape measured, Ollivander was back behind the desk, in amongst the shelves and searching for more wands. As he did so, he said, "Every Ollivander wand, boys, has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons and phoenixes are quite the same. And, as I'm sure you both are aware, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand.

"That will do," the man had said, and the tape measure had floated back down to the desk, where it'd slumped, dead once again. "Right then, Mr. Longbottom, try this one if you please."

He'd handed Neville a wand, which he had taken hesitantly.

There was a great moment of anticipation as Neville rolled it around between his hands, but then nothing happened and the boy had sighed in disappointment along with his grandmother. He handed it back to Ollivander, who's eyes lit up in delight.

"That's alright, boy, that's alright. There will be one here for you somewhere! There always is!" Seemingly delighted in the idea of a challenging customer, he handed Neville another one, this time explaining what it was. "This one is nice and supple... unicorn hair... ten inches... give it a wave, boy..."

Doing what the man said, Neville, somewhat warily, waved it about in a small circled gesture, but it was snatched away from him before he could sigh once again as nothing appeared to happen.

Ollivander looked contemplative, before he paused and handed Neville the last wand he had pulled out of the stacks. "Now, I do believe this is the one for you, young Longbottom. Cherry wood, unicorn hair, 13 inches, very supple... give it a wave!"

Neville took the wand and Lorcan could tell instantly by his face that something was different; that this wand was the one. He raised the wand above his head and swirled it around, a stream of purple and yellow sparks dancing out of the end of it, followed up by a round of applause from both Augusta and Remus, both of whom were smiling widely.

Ollivander looked extraordinarily pleased. "Bravo! Oh, bravo! A wonderful wand you have there, Mr. Longbottom. A wonderful wand. Loyal and good for taming wild beasts, should feel the need." The man had winked, and Neville's cheeks had lit up in a light rouge. Lorcan'd smirked as the thought of his Mandrake collection in the Longbottom Greenhouses came to mind.

After Augusta had placed the seven galleons he asked for on the desk, and the man had rung them up, the wandmaker had turned to Lorcan. "Now, I believe, it is your turn, Mr. Black. If you would pass me your wand arm?"

Like he had done for Neville, the man waved his hands at the tape measure, and it did very much the same actions for him as it had done for him. Lorcan ignored the tickle of the tape as finally Ollivander clapped his hands from deep inside in the shelves and the snake-like magical item fell back onto the desk.

He came back out of the maze of shelves and handed Lorcan a wand straight away, and placed the box, along with several others, onto the desk. "Try this one, then, Mr. Black. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Give it a wave."

Lorcan had taken the wand and (feeling rather foolish) waved it about a bit, but then Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand. "No, no, not that one. How about this one... maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy..."

He'd tried again - but no sooner had he begun to raise it above his head, it had been snatched away once again. "Absolutely not! Here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Lorcan had tried. And tried. Despite knowing what a wand should feel like, he had no idea other than the blissful look on Neville's face when he'd been passed his wand, what Ollivander was looking for. The pile of tried wands had mounted higher and higher on the desk and on the spindly chair in the corner of the room, but like when Neville had offered a challenge, Ollivander'd seemed to be getting happier with every passing moment.

He'd smiled brightly at a nervous Lorcan and passed him a wand. "Not to worry, tricky customers come, but they all leave with their perfect wand, Mr. Black. This is holly wood, eleven inches, and phoenix tail feather."

As soon as his fingertips had made contact with the wand, Lorcan knew it was the one. The warmth of it spread up his arm and he'd raised it up above his head, before bringing it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of silver and gold sparks flew out of the end of it, lighting up the small shop.

"Aho! Yes, indeed, bravo, Mr. Black. Oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

Just as he had done with Neville's, he took Lorcan's wand back from him and put it into the box he got it from before wrapping it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... very curious..."

"Sorry," Lorcan asked, ignoring Remus who had placed his hand on his shoulder, "But what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander had pierced Lorcan with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Black. Every single wand. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tax feather resides in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother... well, its brother was the man of whom killed your mother."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Augusta had gasped, shocked. Lorcan had turned around to see Neville's eyes staring straight into his own, wide as cauldrons.

"Yes. I-" As Ollivander tried to talk once more, Remus' hand tightened on his shoulder and he interrupted him.

"If that is everything, Mr. Ollivander, I apologise but we do have rather a long day ahead of us."

Ollivander had shaken his head and nodded, accepting this, but Lorcan noticed the man did keep a rather close eye on him as they exited the shop, wands in hand.

After that, they'd left Diagon Alley instead of staying and having lunch and shopping as they had decided they would do in the morning.

Yes, a stressful day it had been. Especially when Remus and he had arrived home, and Remus had immediately set off in the direction of Sirius' office, not even saying hello to Melania, which left Lorcan to tell her what had happened.

He understood it was a big deal; Lord Voldemort and he sharing a wand core. He wasn't sure what it meant, only that it meant something. Of course, Neville had been concerned; it wasn't a good thing, but it certainly, as he had explained in his letters, wasn't a bad thing. Lord Voldemort had been a terrible man, but he had been powerful, and if they shared a similar wand, surely it meant Lorcan too would be powerful?

Lorcan had thought it fitting that Neville had made him feel better in a letter, more so than anything Remus, or Sirius or his grandmother could have said to him in person.

Lorcan picked up his wand from his desk, placing it in his wand holster he attached to his arm, before smiling gently at the snowy owl Remus had bought for him all those years ago in her cage. He had named her Lily, at that point so young he only knew that Sirius and Remus said her name with loving tones and picked it because he liked it. Now he knew it was for his mother, which only made it all the more special.

Lily hooted at him softly as he reached through the bars and stroked her face lightly. He removed his hand, picked up the handle on her cage, and finally exited the room.

Walking through the halls of Black Manor for what would be the last time until Christmas was nothing heartbreaking for him. He didn't consider Black Manor his home, merely where he had stayed the last three years. His grandfather had had to die for them to live here, and so because of this, Lorcan had never associated it with anything kind.

It was this, and the detrimental affect that moving here'd had on his and Sirius' relationship, which made him steely eyed as he moved down the main staircase and finally through the large double doors and into the dining room.

Already sat at the head of the table was his grandmother and sat a few seats down from her Remus. Both of them were sat in silence, eating their breakfasts slowly and pursuing their own readings; he could see his grandmother was reading Witch Weekly, and Remus was looking over the International section of the Daily Prophet.

Lily gave a small hoot, announcing their presence, and both looked up and smiled, thought Remus' eyes narrowed on his eyes.

"Melania, would you perform the complexion charm on Lorie's eyes, please?" Remus said, as he looked back down at his toast and jam. Lorcan rolled is eyes, but walked towards his grandmother as she lifted her wand.

Having not been sleeping well the past few months, Lorcan already knew the uncomfortable feeling the complexion-fixing charm had; it would be ice-cold for a moment, before a feeling like stretching the skin underneath your eyes to its maximum would occur and your dark circles would disappear.

He winced as it happened, but smiled in thanks after it was over. "Thank you."

"No problem, dear." Melania said and she cupped his cheek gently. Then, she gestured to the seat down from here's, where there was a bowl of cereal waiting. "Hurry up now, there. You only have half an hour before you should be on that train."

Lorcan huffed, but sat down, placing Lily's cage at his feet. He picked up the spoon and shovelled some food into his mouth. "It's not going to take us half an hour to Floo to the station."

Melania gave a half shrug. "Who knows? You may say it wrong and end up in the Apothecary at Diagon Alley-"

"That was one time!"

Remus rolled his eyes at their antics, but smiled all the same. "Your trunk is in the hall, and Meema put your satchel in the small compartment so you don't forget it."

Lorcan nodded.

He hesitated.

And then he sighed, bringing both parties attention to him. "You know what I'm going to ask, don't you?"

All eyes travelled as one to the seat at the other end of the table. There was plate of fried eggs and bacon, steaming, but untouched.

Looking immeasurably sad, Remus sighed heavily. "He's had to go in. There was problem with the-"

"I don't care."

"Lorcan-"

"What?" Lorcan asked. He raised his eyes and glared at the plate. "I don't. I don't know why I expected anything different. He said he would be here to see me off, and he isn't. Just like last week and the Quidditch match, and just like the week before that with our wands."

"He is disappointing all around." Melania agreed, and was unbothered when she found herself at the receiving end of Remus' glare. Instead, she gestured to Lorcan's cereal bowl. "Eat up and we'll say our goodbyes by the Floo."

As it turned out, but 'goodbyes', she meant soft crying and latching onto Lorcan like he was the lifeboat and she was out in the midst of the sea. Remus was endlessly amused, if his smirk said anything. He had Lorcan's trunk in one hand, and Lily's cage in the other.

"I am going to miss you ever so much!" Melania almost wailed as Lorcan worked his way out of her firm grip.

"I'll miss you too, Mimi." She cried harder at the nickname. "So much, but if you don't let me go... I'll be late and miss the train."

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea..."

Remus chortled, grabbing Lorcan's collar and gently tugging him away from Melania and her grasp. "Now, now, Melania, you dont really mean that."

"No," she sniffed and wiped her eyes on her handkerchief, "I suppose I do not." She smiled softly at him. "You have a wonderful time, dear child. A wonderful time."

"I will, grand-"

"And say hello to Minerva for me, would you?"

"Yes, grandmother, I will-"

"And try your hardest in all your classes?"

"I will, yes-"

Remus coughed, interrupting them, and gesturing at the clock. "We have ten minutes."

Melania rolled her eyes, tugged Lorcan in for one last hug, before practically pushing him into the fireplace. "Go now, before I change my mind and lock you here forever."

Both of them laughed as Lorcan took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, where the flames roared a violent green. They both stepped inside and turned to face her.

"I'll see you at Christmas, grandmother."

"Yes, dear. Have fun!"

Lorcan took a deep breath, let it out, before shouting out, "Platform 9¾!"

And they were taken away in a whisk of green flames.

They fell out of the fireplace at the other end with a slight stumble, before they balanced themselves out on one another with a smile.

Remus spotted a row of trolleys and moved forward, grabbing one and wheeling it to a free space amongst the crowd of people surrounding the platform.

Lorcan helped Remus lift his heavy trunk up onto the trolley, and was standing back up, straightening out his back when someone familiar caught his eye.

"Neville!" Lorcan yelled, waving his hand in the air until his friend caught sight of him and smiled brightly, before waving back and turning back. He grabbed ahold of his grandmother's hand and all but dragged her over to them both, grumbling the entire way.

When they came to a stop in front of them, Neville and Lorcan crushed each other's backs in a hug and Augusta nodded politely to Remus, striking up a small conversation Lorcan didn't listen into, as Remus helped her lift Neville's trunk onto the trolley also.

Instead, he asked Neville, "Any sign of Draco?"

Neville shook his head, eyes searching the platform. "Not yet." He sighed happily and gestured to somewhere just to their left where Lorcan hadn't looked yet. "Isn't it amazing?"

Lorcan's eyebrows raised in question and he turned to see what his friend was talking about.

When he saw it, his mouth opened in wonder by its own accord.

The scarlet steam engine was exactly like Lorcan had imagined in his dream and he did his best to keep his eyes trained on it, instead of veering off in search of a man who would not be there. Could not be there.

Neville practically was jumping on the spot, thrilled to no end that the day they had both been dreaming of for years was finally upon them.

They were going to Hogwarts.

A sign overhead read Hogwarts Express, and the clock next to it was dangerously close to the eleven o'clock timing, when the train would depart the station.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks; Lily hooted back happily to one or two barn owls they passed.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.

Lorcan found himself following Augusta and Neville as they led the way through the crowds, the older women parting the people like sea. Remus' hand, as always, had rested on his shoulder, steering him in the right direction.

Occasionally he could spot someone he recognised from a Wizengamot session, be it a Lord, Lady or Heir, and once or twice he saw them see him too, which made him quickly avert eye contact.

They passed a boy with dreadlocks, who was surrounded by a small crowd.

Lorcan heard them talking as they passed, "Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy, he saw, lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

The four of them pressed forward through the crowd until Augusta came to a stop outside an empty compartment near the end of the train. Remus laughed lightly as he brought the trolley to a stop.

"This was where I used to sit. Good eye, Augusta."

Augusta merely sniffed at him, helping Neville get his trunk off the trolley and onto the train. "I would prefer Lorcan and Neville to sit as far away as they can from wherever you and your gang of hooligans perched, Remus. You've had far too much influence already."

Neville laughed, loud and happy, and Lorcan saw his grandmother fight a smile, "Oh, come off it, Gran!"

"I will absolutely not, come off it, Neville-"

Remus huffed a laugh as he lifted Lorcan's heavy trunk onto the train and slid it into their compartment of which they had chosen. Lorcan smiled at him lightly.

"Well," Remus said, he opened his arms and Lorcan walked into them, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug, "This is it, Lorie."

"Don't say that. I'll see you at Christmas."

"Christmas is much to far away."

"I've got the mirror." The mirror; Remus and Sirius' last birthday present to him. It was a two-way that his mother, along with his biological father's assistance in the transfigurations, had created as part of her Charms Masters.

Remus winced. "Maybe you shouldn't broadcast that, remember? We don't know who to trust at the school. Your dad might have pull... but-"

Lorcan laughed. It was a disjointed and downtrodden sound which only occurred whenever Remus brought up Sirius. "I got it, Moony. No showing the mirror off to just anyone."

Remus smiled, and hugged him tighter. He whispered in his ear, "Just... please be careful. Please. I don't know what I'll do with myself if-"

"I'll be careful. Extra careful. I swear."

"Solemnly?"

Lorcan grinned. "'Course."

They released each other and Lorcan pretended not to notice when Remus wiped at his eyes. He watched as Neville and Augusta released each other from a tight hug at the same time and both boys turned to face each other with matching grins.

A whistle sounded and students who weren't already on the train in their compartments, began to say their final goodbyes.

Neville and Lorcan climbed the steps and walked into their own compartment, taking seats opposite each other by the window where they could see their guardians.

"Be careful, both of you." Augusta was saying, "I will not be pleased if I get any owls from Albus Dumbledore concerning either of you."

"Yes, Gran."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"As will I." Remus said, smiling and pushing his glasses up his nose. Lorcan tried to ignore the ache in his heart when he saw the tears there.

The train began to move. Augusta grabbed at Remus' arm as he went to walk alongside it and Lorcan saw her shake her head sadly.

It picked up pace and Lorcan leaned out the window, a last minute decision he might regret later on, but now it seemed he had become caught up in the emotion of the moment. "Tell grandmother I love her and I'll see her soon. And... tell Sirius that I'm not sure if I'll see him at Christmas. But... I do love him and I'll see him whenever he can spare a moment."

Neville snorted and Remus' face fell slightly, but he still lifted his hand in a wave as he nodded.

Both boys watched the two of them disappear, waving, as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Lorcan smiled brightly at Neville and felt a great leap of excitement.

They didn't know what they were going to.

But it was sure going to be an adventure.