HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
AN 1: Normally, author notes go at the end, but this chapter is an exception. First, this is easily the longest chapter I've ever written, nearly 20k words. I started to break it up, but this close to the end of Year 2, I thought some readers would go berserk if I spent three weeks talking about Regulus's backplot while Harry and Lucius were just hanging around. (You know who you are. :)) So I decided to power through and do it all in one chapter despite the extraordinary length.
AN 2 (Trigger Warnings): This may be a rough chapter for some people. Suggestions of child abuse. Significant violence. Implied sex (no lemon). Implied cannibalism. Character deaths. Simply put, Regulus Black has not had a very nice life. Raised by Walburga Black, inducted into the Death Eaters, and then reborn as Lazarus White, an Australian auror who life ended in tragedy after he ran afoul of a werewolf pack. In short, this is perhaps the darkest, most intense chapter I've written for the Prince of Slytherin series. Be warned.
AN 3: I've tried to edit this as much as possible, but the sheer length combined with how much effort it took to get this in by the deadline causes me to fear that there are an unacceptable number of typos. Sorry. I'll try to clean it up later.
CHAPTER 45 - Meet Regulus Black
9 May 1993
The Prince's Lair
"Please, Harry, we're all friends here. Call me ... Regulus."
"I take it, Mr. Potter, that you are ... unsurprised by this development?" drawled Lucius Malfoy.
"I wouldn't say unsurprised, Mr. Malfoy, but the pieces all fit. To sit in that chair, he would have to have been a former Prince, and the number of people who've held that position and could possibly still be alive is rather small. And then, I remembered that Nymphadora Tonks, who is descended from House Black, is a Metamorphmagus, supposedly the first one in over a century. But it was recently suggested to me that Tonks wasn't necessarily the only Metamorphmagus from the Black family in all that time, just the only one to be discovered and forced to register under the Conscription Act."
"What can I say?" Regulus Black said with another smirk. "I've always been an overachiever."
"Indeed," said Malfoy. "Well, I look forward to hearing the tale of exploits that led you to return to Hogwarts while masquerading as a foppish Defense instructor, but first, there is a matter of protocol to consider."
"Oh?" Regulus responded.
"Yes. Specifically, there are strict protocols for recognizing the primacy of Princes-Emeritus when more than one of us is present in this room, as the runespoor can expound upon at length. So with that in mind, I would respectfully request that you kindly remove yourself from my chair."
"Oh come on, Lucius," Regulus said irritably. "Are you really going to pull rank on me at a time like – ACK!" The former Prince jumped suddenly as the three-headed silver runespoor suddenly leaned in and began to hiss and snap at him angrily.
"Alright, alright! Honestly!" he said as he got up and relocated to the chair to the left of the Hydra Throne. "Of course the runespoor like you best, Lucius. It probably admires how skillfully you hold that stick in place between your arse cheeks. Oh well, at least Delilah still loves me, don't you dearie?'
The boomslang hissed fondly at Regulus, and Harry was delighted to realize he understood her and the other snakes once more.
"Delilah loves everyone, Regulus," Malfoy said as he took his seat on the Throne. "That's part of her charm." He turned to the boomslang and tickled her under the chin (in the exact same manner that Harry often had, to the boy's surprise).
"Wait, are both of you Parselmouths?" he asked excitedly. "Or did you gain that ability when you each became Prince?"
"The latter, sort of," Regulus said as he tried to get comfortable in his chair. "You know I don't think I ever sat in one of these chairs when I was Prince," he muttered to himself before turning back to Harry. "When the Hydra approves a Slytherin as Prince, he or she gains a limited amount of Parseltongue. We can't talk with real or conjured snakes, but we can communicate with the Hydra or with any other of the artificial snakes of Hogwarts Castle."
He smiled. "You being a real Parselmouth – and aren't you a mean one for letting everyone think your brother was the only one around – well that just gives you an unfair advantage in claiming the Throne for yourself. Which is, of course, a perfectly Slytherin way of doing things. But there are ways of attracting the Hydra's attention without it, though typically it takes longer. Most Princes don't gain the title until Fifth Year."
"Indeed," said Lucius. "A slight majority of Princes have been Parselmouths throughout history, though there have been fewer and fewer since the passage of the Inheritance Act and other government policies meant to destroy the legacy of Salazar Slytherin. But enough about ancient history – Regulus Black, I should like to know very much where you have been these last thirteen years."
"Well, Lucius, it's a long story. One that starts with a cave in Dorset. No, that's not right. It really begins ... with a house elf."
17 June 1966
12 Grimauld Place
"Master Regulus?" said Kreacher in a gentle voice. The house elf was always gentle with Regulus, who was his favorite of all the Black children. Sirius and Andromeda were always too rambunctious, while Bellatrix was too shy and Narcissa too mean and spoiled. But Regulus always had an inner core of ... something that pleased the house elf, and so the house elf always showed him favoritism. In his sadder moments, Kreacher feared Regulus might be Sorted into Hufflepuff when his time came (he was certain Sirius would be a Gryffindor!), and the house elf feared how the boy's parents would respond if that came to pass. Orion and Walburga Black were quite mad, after all, and as an inevitable consequence, Kreacher was relatively mad as well. Which was to be expected, of course – that was the way of good house elves who had the misfortune of having mad masters. But Kreacher had a soft spot for Regulus, and he hoped the boy's parents would too, no matter what his Sorting.
This was a special day for Regulus. Today, he turned seven. He had already shown strong magic, and by surviving to the age of seven, Regulus had proved his worthiness to be a Black, as Sirius had the year before. And as was proper for a child of an Ancient and Noble House, Regulus's seventh birthday would be attended by a party attended by all of his cousins and by the children of all the House's allies and vassals. Naturally, of course, jealous little Sirius had already tied to ruin Regulus's special day. The night before, Sirius had gotten hold of some of Mistress Walburga's cutting scissors and used them to "trim" Master Regulus's hair. The boy's long curly locks had been lopped off, and he looked like a badly shorn black sheep. Walburga had been furious and ravaged Sirius with Stinging Hexes for an hour as the boy begged for mercy. Kreacher had watched impassively for he was a good house elf and could do naught else. Then, before sending Regulus to bed, she promised him that they would wake him up bright and early the next morning and carry him to Whithershanks, the magical barber in Diagon Alley who would fix his hair right up in time for his party.
Kreacher called for young Regulus again, and the young boy finally sat up in his bed, yawned and stretched.
"Kreacher? What is it?" the boy asked, as he'd noticed how strangely the house elf regarded him.
"Master Regulus! Your hair!" Kreacher said in surprise.
Regulus frowned. He was sure his hair still looked awful, but Kreacher had known that the night before. Had it gotten worse during the night? Regulus reached up to feel his head, and then, he was astonished to feel a full head of hair. He jumped out of bed to check the mirror on his dresser. Amazingly, his hair had grown back! In fact, it even looked longer, curlier, and more lustrous than it had the night before.
"Master Regulus must stay here," said Kreacher. "Kreacher will fetch the Master and Mistress." Regulus hardly listened, so fixated was he on his regrown hair. A few minutes later, Sirius came in, equally astonished at how his little brother looked.
"No way! You regrew your hair! How'd ya do that overnight?!" Then, Sirius yelped, as there was a flash of light and a sharp pain in his backside.
"Sirius!" shouted Walburga. "I told you last night you were to remain in your room until we gave you leave to come out again! Begone!" And she shot him with another painful hex. He started towards the door when Orion Black entered. By that time, Walburga was staring intently at Regulus, and Orion soon joined her. She pointed a wand at the boy and cast a quick spell.
"It is possible, Walburga?" Orion asked quietly.
"It is more than possible, husband. Attend to Sirius. I shall explain things to Regulus."
"Father?" said Sirius. "What's going on?"
"It's none of your concern, brat! Come with me!"
"But Father...!" Zap. "OWW!"
Regulus was suddenly nervous. Though only seven, he'd lived in Grimauld Place his whole life. He knew what Walburga was like when she was in her moods. Once Orion and Sirius were outside, Kreacher felt Master Orion's magic surge, and he recognized the faint smell of cinnamon and petrichor, which the house elf recognized as the scent of an Obliviation. Master Sirius would remember nothing of these matters. Walburga sat Regulus down on his bed.
"My son, today is a blessed day, for you have shown a rare and special gift, one that has not manifested in our family in many years. You are blessed, my son ... and also cursed. For there are those who would use you for your talent. Those who would enslave you. Tomorrow, we shall make arrangements for you to meet with your Great-Aunt Cassiopeia. She will have much to teach you, though I warn you that she may be a harsh teacher. She will not coddle you as I have these many years."
Regulus shuddered. If Walburga's parenting was "coddling," he was frightened to think what Cassiopeia would be like.
"She will help you to develop your gift," she continued. "But it is one you must conceal, must hide away forever except for when you are compelled to use it. For those fools in the Ministry would be jealous if they found out. They would enslave you to their will, and you would never reach the glory expected of a son of House Black. Why, they might even force you to consort with Mudbloods!"
Regulus nodded silently. After seven years, he still wasn't sure what a Mudblood was, but he knew from his mother and father that they were the worst things in the world.
In the corner, Kreacher smiled. Long had he watched this one, and Kreacher was certain that Regulus was touched by Fate, even as Sirius was. Walburga and Orion would pay for their sins with madness, decay, and like an early death, but no matter how many Stinging Hexes the psychotic woman fired off at them, their sons would someday flourish.
Well, the two younger sons, anyway.
12 July 1972
The Leaky Cauldron
Diagon Alley
The young man was thin, skin and bones practically, with dark skin and hair styled into what a Muggle might describe as "an impressive Afro." In fact, had he not obviously been a wizard thanks to his fashionable robes, onlookers might have thought he'd just gotten off a boat from Africa. He made his way through the Leaky Cauldron before finding a secluded booth near the back, one that was already occupied. Said occupant appeared to be a young woman in her late-twenties, drop dead gorgeous with red hair, green eyes and a fashionable low-cut dress.
Appearances were deceptive where the House of Black was concerned.
The woman looked up. "Excuse me," she said irritably at the boy's presumption. "Do I know you?"
"You're slipping in your old age, Auntie," the boy said cheekily. "You wore that same body last year."
The woman made a face. "Did I really? My, how they all run together after a while. Hardly was a fair test now was it, my dear Regulus?"
Regulus studied his Great Aunt Cassiopeia carefully. "This was no test, Aunt Cassiopeia. You weren't even trying to conceal yourself. What's going on?"
"Don't be so paranoid, Regulus. Can't an old woman just want to say goodbye to her favorite nephew?"
"You're not old at the moment, Aunt Cassiopeia. In fact, you look rather ... wait, what do you mean goodbye?"
"Hmmph. And now, I'll never know how that sentence would have ended," she said with a saucy smirk. "When I said goodbye, I meant goodbye. I've decided to leave Britain, for a while at least. Things are getting a bit dicey here with that Voldemort chappy on the rise. So I've decided to go abroad for a while."
"Why would you be afraid of from Lord Voldemort? He's supports the Purebloods. Mother says he'll ensure that the Blacks rise to the top again."
"Does she now. Well, personally, Little Regulus, I've never heard of a Dark Lord who ever wanted anyone to rise but himself. In any case, you're starting Hogwarts in a few months. You'll need to focus on learning real magic, not the trickery I've been teaching you."
Regulus shook his head in annoyance. "But where will you go?"
She studied the menu carefully. "I was thinking of Marseilles."
Regulus was quiet at that. "Marius and Alphard both live in Marseilles."
"Indeed they do, Little Regulus. And soon, I'll be there with them. Three gay bachelors enjoying the sights and sounds of the French Riviera. It will be divine."
Regulus said nothing for a moment before he finally spoke. "Marius and Alphard aren't part of the family anymore."
"No, Marius and Alphard aren't on Walburga's precious genealogy tree anymore. They'll always be family to me." Finally, she looked up into Regulus's eyes and pierced him with the intensity of her expression. "You may say I don't look old right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I am old. In the end, Metamorphmagic can't change who you really are on the inside. I'm an old woman, and I've no idea how much time I have left. I've decided to stop squandering it in order to maintain a fragile peace with people whose narrow-minded views bore me. I mean, it's not like I have any children of my own to tie me to this benighted nation." She paused and smirked again. "Well, none that I know of."
"What does that mean?" he asked in confusion. She crooked an eyebrow at him ... and then, suddenly, the beautiful young woman transformed into a tall handsome muscular man with red hair and green eyes ... and still wearing the low cut dress.
"What are you doing?!" he hissed at her while looking around wildly to see if anyone had been watching. In an instant, she was in her previous form and laughing at him.
"I'll miss you, Regulus. You're so easily scandalized."
The boy sighed and rubbed his forehead. Then, he looked up suddenly. "Wait a minute. So when you say you and Marius and Alphard will be a trio of bachelors, you mean ...?"
"Yes, I am indeed planning to spend some time on the French Riviera seeing how the other half lives."
He wiped his hand over his face as if trying to erase an awful thought. "Please don't share any of your ... exploits with me until I'm at least fifteen."
She laughed again and turned back to the menu.
1 July 1976
Chevenoir (The Estate of Arcturus Black)
Regulus sat uncomfortably in the high-backed chair at the formal table in his grandfather's dining room and tried his best to look neither miserable nor frightened . He was miserable because he had just lost his brother. He was frightened because of how he lost his brother. Three nights before, his mother had put Sirius under the Cruciatus Curse for seven seconds over some disagreement about politics. The next night, Sirius had snuck out of 12 Grimauld Place and disappeared. The morning after that, Walburga and Orion received an owl from Charlus Potter tersely stating that Sirius was with the Potter family, that Charlus had begun legal proceedings to make Sirius a ward of House Potter, and that Walburga and Orion would acquiesce to that unless Walburga wanted to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable Curse. The next morning, they received another owl, this one from Lord Arcturus Black informing Walburga and Orion that they and "those two fine strapping lads of yours" would be joining his Lordship for dinner that evening at Chevenoir ... any alternative dinner plans be damned.
Though only in his mid-seventies, Arcturus Black looked much older than a wizard of his years should. He was largely confined to a wicker wheelchair, and attached to the back of it was a strange breathing apparatus which consisted of a mask connected via a tube to a small portable tank full of a thick blue mist. Also in the tank were a dozen or so tiny faerie-like creatures the like of which Regulus had never seen before. Ever so often, Arcturus would start to cough, and then he would place the mask over his face and breath deeply. The tiny floating creatures would glow more brightly and then dim in time with his labored breathing.
Dinner was excruciatingly tense, particularly since there had been a place setting for Sirius ... and the house elves had apparently been instructed to pretend Sirius was actually there, placing each new course in turn and then returning to remove the untouched food. Lord Black himself made no mention of Sirius's absence. Instead, he made amiable chitchat about Regulus's Quidditch success, his upcoming dueling tournament on the continent, on the likelihood that he might become Slytherin prefect in his Fifth Year. Finally, when a house elf removed Sirius's untouched plate of salmon amandine with roasted asparagus and replaced it with an enormous slice from an Italian cream cake complete with a scoop of ice cream, Walburga finally snapped.
"Arcturus! Enough of these games! You brought us here because of what happened to Sirius, so say what you mean to say and be done with it!"
The old man took a long sip from his wine glass with a deliberate, almost majestic slowness.
"What ... happened to Sirius? And tell me, Walburga. What exactly happened to my heir that should demand my attention?"
Regulus looked up in surprise. As far as he knew, his father Orion was Arcturus's heir. The old man noticed his confusion.
"Oh yes, Regulus. Your father surrendered his right to the Black Lordship many years ago, and I selected your older brother Sirius to stand in his place, though Sirius himself likely has no idea of that fact."
"Father ...!" Orion interrupted.
"Do you have something intelligent to add to the discussion, Orion?" Arcturus inquired with an oddly terrifying mildness. Orion looked down at his dessert plate and finally shook his head piteously.
"I thought not," Arcturus continued before turning to Walburga. "I have brought you here because I have things to explain to your other son. Things he must know. Burdens he must now carry. Sirius remains my heir, Walburga, but you, by your contemptible actions, have most likely made him into a sworn enemy of the Dark Lord, and few wizards survive that designation for long. Consequently, I am forced to pursue ... contingency plans."
"I hope the Dark Lord obliterates him!" Walburga spat angrily but without making eye contact with Arcturus.
Arcturus laughed contemptuously. "Perhaps he will, Walburga. But you will not! Hear me now both of you! I forbid either of you to take any further action against Sirius! If it his destiny to die at the hands of Voldemort or his lackeys, so be it. But if I learn that either of you have done anything to harm him..." He paused and then narrowed his eyes as he studied Walburga. The woman still wouldn't make eye contact with him, and Regulus thought she was wise. For the first time, he could see why so many people feared Arcturus Black.
"You know me, Walburga Black," he said in a cold breathy whisper that hinted at hidden power barely constrained. "You know the secrets I guard and the powers I command. If you challenge me in this matter, you will wish I had contented myself to strike you down with the Unforgivable Curse you so foolishly used on my grandson. I will make you beg for death. Nod if you understand me."
Still without looking up from her melting dessert, Walburga Black nodded once.
"Good," Arcturus said. "Now leave us. Neither of you seems interested in dessert, so begone both of you. I will send the boy home via Floo when I am done with him."
Without another word, and without looking at their completely unnerved son, Walburga and Orion Black rose and stiffly walked out of the dining room. Arcturus watched them leave before turning back to Regulus.
"Finish your cake, Regulus. Ophelia, my kitchen elf, is exceptionally talented at desserts."
Regulus nodded quietly and returned to his dessert which he ate in silence. Afterwards, the two retired to Arcturus's private study where the old man's chief house elf, Catesby, provided a butterbeer for Regulus and a glass of port for the old man. Arcturus studied his grandson for what seemed like an eternity before speaking.
"Did you bring your wand, Regulus?" he finally asked.
Regulus nodded quickly and pulled out his wand.
"You will swear an oath of secrecy covering everything we say in here tonight. Now."
"But ... Grandfather ... the Trace."
"The Trace does not apply tonight. I've made arrangements."
Regulus swallowed once more and swore the oath. Arcturus nodded and then resumed his silent study of the boy. After another eternity, he spoke again.
"How ... how do they treat you?"
Regulus opened his mouth to defend his parents, but at his grandfather's look, he decided against it.
"Not ... too badly. Sirius was always the one to draw their ire. They ... um, they used lots of Stinging Hexes. Lots of Stinging Hexes. They didn't start with ... well, with anything I'd call torture until last summer. Even then, they never used anything like the Cruciatus until the other day." Regulus looked down suddenly. "I ... I don't know if their attitudes towards me will change now that Sirius is gone."
"They will not harm you, Regulus," Arcturus said. "I will see to it. I ... apologize profusely for my role in your mistreatment and that of your brother. I should have been ... more proactive."
"It's not your fault, Grandfather," Regulus quickly said.
"Oh, but it is, my boy, it is. You see ..." Arcturus paused and, for a man of his natural power, suddenly looked quite vulnerable. "I was the one responsible for your parents' madness."
Regulus stared at the man, speechless.
Arcturus nodded as if to confirm the truth of his words. "We Blacks pride ourselves on the purity of our blood. Toujour Pur and all that. But there are limits to what levels of consanguinity can be tolerated either by magic and society. First cousins marrying exceeds that limit."
Regulus shook his head. "I don't understand. First cousins? I know Father and Mother are second cousins but ..."
"First cousins. That family tree your mother guards so jealously and prunes so furiously contains some ... inaccuracies. Most notably, for purposes of our discussion, Pollux Black, my cousin and your putative grandfather, was sterile, the result of a curse he'd suffered when he was a young man. Rather than annul his wedding to your grandmother, Irma Crabbe, and bring scandal down upon the house – not to mention be forced to repay the exorbitant dowry she'd brought to their marriage – Pollux arranged for Irma to enter into a long-term adulterous relationship with my younger brother, Regulus, for whom you are named. Thus, your mother is not my first cousin but my niece, a fact which was concealed from me until after I approved of their marriage and, indeed, after their eldest child was born."
"Sirius?" Regulus said, but he was surprised when Arcturus shook his head no.
"You and Sirius had an older brother, Polaris Black. He was ... severely deformed. Worse, he was violently insane, even from early childhood."
"What happened to him?" Regulus asked. Arcturus merely gazed at him before changing the subject. The name Polaris Black would not be mentioned again that night.
"I still needed a strong heir to confirm the continuation of our line. Orion was my only son. Cygnus had only daughters, and Alphard ... was unsuitable for other reasons. I had to act."
Something in the old man's tone suggested that he was for some reason asking forgiveness from Regulus. A quiet fear fluttered in the boy's stomach.
"What did you do, Grandfather?"
Arcturus paused and took three long dragging breaths from his breathing mask. Then, he looked back to Regulus with a steady gaze.
"I compelled your parents each to take a rare potion. One which is not illegal per se but which is certainly ... controversial. You see, it's only utility is in facilitating incestuous relationships." Regulus looked a bit sick at the turn the discussion had taken. Arcturus continued.
"The potion had the effect of ensuring that a child born of a union that would otherwise suffer the signs of inbreeding would instead be born in perfect mental, physical, and magical health. Instead, any debilities that should have afflicted the child would would manifest in the parents instead in the form of mental illness. After that, Orion and Walburga gave me Sirius, who was everything I wanted in an heir despite, or perhaps because of, his rebelliousness. Had they stopped there, your parents would have been highly eccentric, but not beyond the acceptable boundaries for wizarding behavior in this day and age."
"But they had me," Regulus said in a very soft voice.
Arcturus nodded. "They did. And what had been mere eccentricity became madness leavened with paranoia and a growing tendency towards sadism. Early on in Sirius's childhood, I bound them both against inflicting any true harm on either of you, but I did not anticipate Walburga's ... creativity, let alone the possibility that she would one day become so maddened as to use the Cruciatus. I ... I am sorry that I was not more attentive to your needs. I suppose that I felt the guilt of what I'd done to my own son too acutely and so wished to avoid thinking on the matter. I apologize."
Regulus sat quietly without responding. Finally, he spoke. "So ... what do we do now?"
"An astute question. I suppose it depends. What are your feelings about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
Regulus blinked in confusion at the apparent non sequitur. "I ... I'm not sure. Most of my Slytherin peers idolize him. They think he'll be the one to restore Pureblood primacy and roll back the impositions that the Mudbloods have put on our rights."
Arcturus nodded. "Will you become a Death Eater if offered the chance? If you do, it will put you at odds against Sirus."
"I am not Sirius, and his mistakes are not mine. As for the Death Eaters, I ... I suppose I will if asked. We must stand up for our freedoms, after all." He hesitated. "Does that ... displease you, Grandfather? You seem to support Sirius in his defiance."
"In this matter, Regulus, I have declared myself Gray. Whether the Dark Lord rises or falls, the House of Black must endure. We have a purpose that transcends the sectarian conflicts of the day, a burden we have carried since before the Wizengamot was even a word. So many of the other Ancient and Noble Houses have fallen into ruin and been lost to us. So many even today have forgotten our ancient purposes. Harfang Longbottom died before his time, and I don't even know if he passed along the ancient knowledge to his son Archimedes. Charlus Potter is a fool who raised his only son as a wastrel. The Gaunts and Gamps are extinct, and the Doges are soon to follow. Malfoy? Nott? Selwyn? Wilkes? Rosier? All given over to corruption of one form or another. You and your brother are my last hope. Can you blame me for wanting to ensure that you were powerful, healthy, and sane wizards?"
Arcturus leaned back in his wheelchair. "No, Regulus. If you are not opposed to joining the Dark Lord, then you have my leave to do so, provided that you promise to be careful about it and to survive at all costs. Just as Sirius has my leave to take up arms against the Dark Lord. Whether Voldemort wins or loses, one of you must survive to carry on the name of Black and take your place along the watchtower."
"Along ... the watchtower?" Regulus was confused. Arcturus simply nodded gravely.
"When the seventeen Ancient and Noble Houses joined together to form the first Wizard's Council, the precursor to the Wizengamot, we had a purpose, and it was indeed a noble one. A purpose you must now be made to understand." Arcturus lifted his head and called out to his house elf.
"Catesby! Fetch the book!" A few seconds later, there was a pop, and Arcturus's favorite house elf was there bearing aloft an ancient tome with a leather cover and a metal latch to keep it closed and locked when not in use. Though the gilded letters on the front cover were faded with time, Regulus could still faintly make out two words.
Anathema Codex
9 June 1979
8:00 p.m.
Upper Appleby
As Regulus listened to the screams of the victims, he narrowly fought down the urge to vomit inside his mask. As revolting as the display was, on some level he thought the worst thing might be having to admit to himself that Sirius had been right. For years, Regulus's mother and father had extolled the virtues of Lord Voldemort, the Pureblood Messiah who would purge Wizarding Britain of all blood traitors and Mudbloods and restore the rightful ascendancy of the Purebloods and the Ancient and Noble Houses who led them. And for years, those had been just words, words he had internalized and Sirius had mocked. Better acceptance, he'd thought, than bear the lash as Sirius had seemed eager to do. In his Sixth Year, Regulus had become Prince of Slytherin in large part because he had become the most eloquent advocate for the Dark Lord's views among the Slytherins, even though he'd never met the man face to face. Granted, aspects of the Hydra Throne were ... dissatisfied with Voldemort's agenda, and as a whole, the Hydra was unwilling to share anything it might know about the Dark Lord. In the end, though, Regulus Black ruled Slytherin in Voldemort's name for his last two years of school, while Sirius seemed to continually flirt with expulsion no matter how well he did in class.
But now, all of that seemed childishly irrelevant in the face of the reality of following Voldemort: pointless violent carnage. Tonight had been Regulus's very first mission as a Death Eater ... and he was already sick of it. He was not a full member yet – he would take the Dark Mark in a week's time on his eighteenth birthday – but this night was his formal introduction to the Knights of Walpurgis. Dolohov, the degenerate swine, had been put in charge. The attack had been on the small wizarding village of Upper Appleby, which had been targeted because it was located within a larger Muggle town and the wizards of Upper Appleby were assimilated into Muggle culture to a degree the Dark Lord found unacceptable.
It had been one thing for Regulus to hear his mother rant constantly about "Mudblood filth" (and oh how her rants had gotten worse since Orion had passed away just a few months earlier). But to be on an actual raid? To hear the screams firsthand? Suddenly, Walburga's bigoted rants were revealed for the ignorant hateful nonsense they truly were.
But the worst part were those twins. They weren't aurors, but they fought like aurors, powerfully and boldly. It was just the two of them, but they'd shown up out of nowhere and dared to take on five Death Eaters in order to buy time for a score or so Mudbloods to escape from the range of the Death Eaters' anti-Portkey and anti-Apparation wards. Though Regulus himself was already a champion duelist within his age group, he was genuinely impressed with the twins' combat skill. But even more so than their skill, Regulus was impressed by their bravery in fighting such odds to cover the Mudbloods and blood traitors of Upper Appleby as they fled. Then, one of the twins got in a lucky shot against Rosier with a Cutting Curse, causing the Death Eater to drop his wand. The sound of Rosier's scream startled Regulus, and more out of instinct than any intent, the boy fired off an Expelliarmus that got past the man's defense, stripping him of his wand.
"Fabian!" the other twin had cried out as he tried to throw a shield over his defenseless brother, only to leave himself exposed in the process. Dolohov lashed out with his signature Entrail-Expelling Curse, and Regulus once more came close to vomiting at the sight of the spell's grisly effects.
"Gideon! You bastards!" The other twin scrambled towards his fallen brother who was now seconds from death and tried to reach for his wand. He never stood a chance.
"CRUCIO!" Rosier's Cruciatus Curse hit the poor man – Fabian Prewitt, according to the next day's newspaper account – and his screams were ear-shattering. The other Death Eaters soon joined in, laughing at the man's agony. Rosier even suggested that they take him back to their base and see how long they could torture someone and still keep him alive. Suddenly, Regulus realized how much he hated Evan Rosier. How much he hated Antonin Dolohov. How much he even hated his mother and father for encouraging him into this life. And as he watched Fabian Prewitt scream in agony and flop around helplessly in the blood and viscera of his murdered twin, Regulus suddenly hated himself. Luckily, there was one spell for which absolute hatred was a prerequisite.
"AVADA KEDAVRA," Regulus said in a eerily calm voice. A bolt of green energy shot from his wand into the body of Fabian Prewett, ending his pain and his life with a single spell.
"What was that for, Mr. Blanco?" Rosier said petulantly. "I had plans for that one." Dolohov and the others also turned back to face him. Regulus ignored Rosier and instead addressed Dolohov.
"We are here on business, are we not, Mr. Farmer? This ... indulgence has cost us valuable time and also allowed many of our quarry to run far enough from our wards to escape and even to summon help. Unless you are ready to face real aurors instead of talented amateurs, perhaps its time we departed."
"Why you arrogant little ...!" Rosier fired off a Cutting Curse towards Regulus, but he batted it aside casually. It was for his skills at a duelist that he'd been recruited by members of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, after all. Rosier, for all his exuberant brutality, was no match for him one-on-one. But if the other three joined in?
Dolohov studied Regulus and then laughed. "That's enough, Mr. Petal. Young Mr. Blanco is correct. We've made our point tonight, and it's time we were leaving."
With that, the Death Eaters left Upper Appleby and returned to their base for debriefing. From there, Regulus returned home ... where he promptly and finally threw up into a trashcan in his room. Soon after, he'd called Kreacher to clean it up, but then, he remembered that he'd loaned the use of Kreacher to the Dark Lord earlier that day, and the house elf had not returned yet.
An hour later, after Regulus had cleaned up his own sick for the first time in his life, the house elf finally returned, and to Regulus's shock, he seemed nearly dead. Carefully, he picked up the tiny creature and placed him on a nearby couch.
"Kreacher? What happened? Where is our lord?" Regulus asked desperately. The house elf could only look up at him ... and weep piteously.
13 June 1979
Midnight
A cave set in a seaside cliff near Clacton-on-Sea
Regulus stared into the bowl with trepidation. Beneath the strange glowing water was a golden locket that bore a stylized "S" of the sort that usually appeared in depictions of Salazar Slytherin. Kreacher had brought him here after spending days recuperating from what the Dark Lord had done to him. He had tortured the house elf, forcing him to drink some foul potion designed to drive men mad ... as a mere test of his defenses. Regulus had tended to Kreacher as best he could, but he feared the poor thing would never truly recover from his experience. But all that was far from Regulus's mind. All he could think about now is what the house elf had told him about why the Dark Lord needed to test the defenses of this place. What on Earth could he be hiding here that would need an army of inferi to protect it?! Regulus thought he knew and feared he was right.
The wizard closed his eyes and steeled himself. Then, he pointed his wand at the bowl and cast the identification spell that Arcturus Black had taught him the summer he turned fifteen. Inside its basin, the locket glowed slightly, and then a single sigil appeared in the air over the deadly potion. Regulus stared, transfixed in horror. In the summer of 1976, his grandfather had insisted that he learn all the identification sigils from the Anathema Codex. Much of the contents of that dire book were terrifying for the young boy, but as Arcturus had told him, he had an obligation to learn and recognize the spells and rituals contained within it.
The Lament Configuration... The Bane of Sicily... The Rune of Singular Hate... The Six-Fingered Hand... The Nightmare Child... The Feast of Shadows... Imago Dei... The Inverted Mirror... The Hounds of Tindalos... The Horcrux.
And that last nightmare was what lay resting at the bottom of the basin. A horcrux. "The Dark Lord made a horcrux," Regulus thought to himself as he fought the urge to laugh hysterically. "The Dark Lord is the sort of person even capable of making a horcrux! And I am four days away from taking his mark and swearing to him my undying allegiance!" Regulus did laugh at that. The sound of his strangled giggle reverberated around the cavern eerily, and he quickly got hold of himself.
"Kreacher!" he commanded. "Tell me again everything you know about the defenses of this object."
The house elf complied, and Regulus soon understood the purpose of the trap. To secure the locket, either he would drink all of the potion, or he could command Kreacher to do it, and the bound servant would do so even though he would surely die from a second exposure to the cursed liquid. On another night, he might have made a different decision. But he had just spent days nursing the loyal Kreacher back to health. And just four days before, he had taken his first life. It didn't matter that he had saved Fabian Prewett from a fate worse than death. He had murdered, and his guilt demanded atonement. And so, at his command, Kreacher fed the repentant Death Eater bowl after bowl of Voldemort's devilish potion. With each sip, Regulus wept as he recalled every hateful remark ever made to him and every one he'd made to someone less fortunate. Every time he hid under the covers and pretended he couldn't hear Sirius crying in the next room. Every time he'd felt the sting of his mother's wand, and every time he'd deliberately gotten Sirius into trouble rather than bear the lash of their mother's anger by himself. And between each memory, always, always the screams of those wizards and witches from Upper Appleby who couldn't escape, and the cold lifeless eyes of Fabian Prewitt staring up at him in accusation.
Finally, the potion had been drunk, and Kreacher followed the rest of his orders. He took the locket, leaving behind the copy Regulus had transfigured and the mocking note it contained. The house elf swore that he would destroy the horcrux-locket. And Regulus, alone and wracked by agonizing thirst, would die in expiation of his sins.
Slowly, Regulus crawled over to the water's edge. He knew that if he touched the water, the inferi would take him. But he also knew that if he did nothing, the thirst would take him instead, and the inferi at least promised a swifter death. He reached his hand into the water and barely had time for a sip when a bony hand barely covered with ragged decaying flesh reached out to grab him and pull him into the lake. He had time for one breath, and though he was prepared to die, he still struggled. More and more inferi grabbed at him and clawed his skin. Still, he held his breath until his lungs were burning. But despite his earlier despair, as ever more of the disgusting undead monsters descended upon him, a new and powerful thought came bursting into his head.
"I want to live!"
With that thought, Regulus suddenly felt his skin burn and his muscles stretch. His body spasmed in pain, causing him to release what little air was left in his lungs. Now truly drowning, he struggled harder against the inferi who, to his surprise, released him and withdrew slowly, almost fearfully. His head broke the surface of the lake, and he gasped and greedily sucked in air. His experience in the lake, as awful as it was, seemed to have cured him of the magical thirst caused by the potion, and Regulus swam back to the shore and hauled himself back onto dry land. He looked back towards the lake in confusion, wondering what could possibly have driven back the army of inferi. Then, he looked down at his hands. They were different, thinner, unnaturally pale ... and had a number of snake scales in a random pattern across them. Regulus then carefully felt his face and head. The lack of hair was a shock. The lack of a nose, even more so. Slowly, Regulus crept towards the waters of the underground lake and stared at his own reflection. Then, once again, he began to laugh hysterically.
The face of the Dark Lord himself, Lord Voldemort, laughed with him.
Apparently, in his panic and terror, Regulus had shapeshifted into the one form that the inferi would not attack – their creator. Exhausted from his efforts, Regulus slowly stumbled over to the boat that had brought him to the island and then used it to cross the lake to safety. Once out of the cave, he closed his eyes and centered himself. It would be ridiculous to have gone through all that only to splinch himself here at the end. When his mind was ready, Regulus apparated away.
Regulus made his way first to Chevenoir. Lord Black would need to know what Regulus had learned. He would need to know that Voldemort had fashioned a horcrux, that there was no longer any place for a Gray wizard if one such as he threatened to become the future of the wizarding world. But to Regulus's surprise, he found Chevenoir sealed off, its wards now reattuned to block family as well as enemies. Though Regulus would not learn the truth until much later, the elderly Lord Black had suffered a massive stroke two days earlier while Regulus was attending to his house elf in seclusion. The old man had feared for years that the more ruthless of his children and grandchildren might seize any moment of weakness as a chance to end him and claim his legacy, so when he fell, his own house elves followed their instructions to the letter, warding Chevenoir against all intruders and attending to the round-the-clock needs of the now bedridden Lord Black.
From there, Regulus made his way to Grimauld Place which he entered stealthily so as not to alert his mother to his arrival. Kreacher was there and overjoyed to see him, for the house elf had thus far failed in his efforts to destroy the locket. Regulus himself was just as flummoxed. If house elf magic couldn't destroy the thing, Fiendfyre was the only other option Regulus knew of. Unfortunately, while he knew how to cast Fiendfyre, he was not personally able to do so. The spell was esoteric and required a very particular mindset to cast, one Regulus was not presently capable of maintaining. Reluctantly, Regulus was forced to conclude that destroying the horcrux was beyond his ability, so he charged Kreacher with continuing to do everything he could to destroy the locket, and then he Obliviated the house elf of the knowledge of his own continued survival.
That left Regulus with only one question left: what should he do next? A part of him thought he should inform someone, Dumbledore perhaps, of what he'd learned, but as soon as the thought entered his head, he felt the oaths he'd sworn to Arcturus tighten around his heart. The Anathema Codex was a matter for the Ancient and Noble Houses. Consequently, the number of people about whom he could discuss such matters was frighteningly small, and of those people he knew of who he could conceivably speak to about the horcrux, there were none he considered reliable. Indeed, the only plausible one was Sirius, and it was absurd to think that Sirius would listen to anything he had to say. As far as Regulus could tell, Sirius would be more likely to arrest him as a Death Eater than listen to him about the Dark Lord's horcrux. If nothing else, Regulus still carried the wand used to kill Fabian Prewett just a few nights earlier, and he had no idea whether the aurors could still identify it as a murder weapon.
Regulus quickly realized that for the time being, flight was his best option. He would need to be out of Britain before Death Eater were sent to look for him. He laughed. "After all," he thought, "I'm to be branded with the Dark Lord's mark in just a few days! Of course, he'll want his guest of honor there!" Regulus shook his head and practically snarled his rejection of that idea. Then, he through some clothes into a bag and apparated to Diagon Alley and Gringotts. From the goblin bank, he emptied out the secret vault Arcturus had given him as emergency money in case Walburga or Orion became "difficult." Then, he made his way to Knockturn Alley, to a small shop he knew of where, for the right amount of gold, one could acquire uregistered International Portkeys. Every Slytherin knew that there was one place a wizard on the run could go to lose his pursuers and find himself – Australia. When the shady wizard who provided the illegal portkey asked what name should go on the papers accompanying it, Regulus hesitated for a second before seizing on the surname he was now rejecting, as well as the fact that he had just effectively come back from the dead to start a new life for himself.
"White," he said. "Lazarus White."
2 January 1980
Wagga Wagga Township
New South Wales, Australia
Having lived his entire life in Britain (and having lived an insular life even by the standards of most Brits), to say "Lazarus White" was out of his element in Australia was a bit of an understatement. Australia's total wizarding population was slightly smaller than Britain's, and it was spread across a whole continent. But then again, Australia's Muggle population was only about a third of Britains, which meant that the the wizard-to-Muggle ratio was much higher. The largest wizarding settlement in Australia was Horizont Alley in Sydney, which housed over 500 wizards and witches, about the same number as Diagon Alley. There were sizeable communities across the continent, but he was amazed to learn that in most of them, wizards seemed to split their time evenly between wizarding society and Muggle society – working in Muggle jobs, partaking in Muggle entertainment, and dallying with Muggle partners to a degree that would make Voldemort want to scour Australia from the face of the world.
Purebloods, or at least Purebloods as he'd recognized the concept were rare, as the vast majority of wizards had at least one Muggle grandparent. Australia's wizarding population overwhelmingly consisted of Muggleborns and Halfbloods mainly of British descent who'd decided beginning in the middle of the 19th Century that there was no future for them in England. Europe was considered just as bad, while the various wizarding governments of the Americas all had reputations for intrusiveness of a different sort that put the British Ministry to shame. Here in Australia, however, wizards and witches integrated themselves freely into the Muggle world while proudly rejecting the efforts of what passed for a wizarding government to push them around. The Obliviate spell was widely known, so the Statute of Secrecy was protected, but other than that, anything seemed to go. Training himself to resist using the word Mudblood proved to be a challenge, and after his second month in Sydney, Lazarus White finally broke down and purchased a used Muggle Studies textbook and got a flat in the city that actually had a television (a man had laughed in his face when he'd asked about "fellyvision" which Sirius had once assured him was what the device was called).
After six months in Horizont Alley, however, Lazarus found that city life disagreed with him. Aside from the fact that he was blowing through his reserves of galleons at an alarming rate, there were just too many people who constantly seemed to want to know where he came from. Most of them were just being friendly (he found the Austalian Muggles and wizards alike to be disturbingly gregarious compared to the Slytherins he'd grown up with), but a few seemed to think the mysterious stranger might have a secret that was valuable enough to seize by force. Luckily, Hogwarts' defense classes, while in decline, were still superior to anything available at the few small magical academies located Down Under. Still, Lazarus was inclined to relocate to someplace quieter, which happily was when he found out about Wagga Wagga.
After enjoying Christmas and New Years in Sydney (and wasn't the Muggles' fireworks show a treat!), Lazarus packed up his meager belongings and, after having the concept of "bus" explained to him, took one to the Muggle town of Wagga Wagga. Actually, Wagga Wagga was the name of two different towns. The Muggle Wagga Wagga was a town of about 40,000 located halfway between Sydney and Melbourne. Magical Wagga Wagga was actually located almost 200 miles further inland in the middle of a particularly inhospitable part of the Australian Outback. The two were connected by a permanent portkey link which connected a particular door marked "Janitorial Supplies" in the back of a Muggle petrol station to a freestanding doorway situated in the middle of the Magical Wagga Wagga's town square.
The wizarding population was nearly 200, but there was also a decent number of squibs who had been turned out by their wizarding families but who still preferred wizarding culture to Muggle. While Lazarus lacked the knowledge of Muggle pop culture to fully appreciate it, any Muggleborn who visited the wizarding village of Wagga Wagga would have thought it was something out of an old movie Western, complete with horses, men (and women) in cowboy hats and dusters, and a saloon with swinging doors. It wasn't all like the Old West though. There were plenty of wizards and witches in contemporary Muggle clothing, as well as some in the traditional clothing he'd have expected in Diagon Alley. To his surprise, there was a motorcycle parked in front of the saloon next to two saddled horses. The sign over the saloon identified it as "Waltzing Matilda's," and there was a Help Wanted sign in the window.
Lazarus walked across the street from the magical doorway into the bar. It was surprisingly clean, if rustic. The ambience reminded him of the nicer bars in Knockturn Alley. Behind the bar, to Lazarus's surprise, was a beautiful young witch, seventeen at the most, with dirty blond hair and the prettiest bluest eyes he'd ever seen. She was wearing a T-shirt with the logo of the Wollongong Warriors, an Australian Quidditch team. She was also wearing distractingly short cut-off blue jeans.
"Matty! Another round!" yelled out a rough-looking local who was part of a crowd sitting at a table underneath a black-and-white television (not a fellyvision!) that seemed set to some Muggle sporting event. Football? Or soccer? Lazarus could never remember what it was called down here. He made his way to the bar, as "Matty" poured four beers and then levitated them over to the group with her wand. Lazarus walked up to the bar, and she smiled as he sat down. He smiled back, suddenly conscious of the fact that the face he'd adopted for "Lazarus White" was quite a bit better looking (and also a few years older looking) than the one he'd worn as Regulus Black.
"What'll it be, mate?" the girl asked in the omnipresent Australian twang that Lazarus had so far been unable to master.
"Just a beer," he said. "Matty, was it?"
She snorted. "Yeah, I reckon I'll answer to that if I have to, pretty boy. I prefer Matilda."
He nodded. "So the bar is named after you?"
"Ha! Other way round, actually. Mum and Dad had the bar for ten years for I showed up!" They both chuckled. "So what's your name, pretty boy."
"White," he said. "Lazarus White."
She snorted softly. "Lazarus? That's a bit morbid, isn't it? And the accent's a bit posh too! You must be one of them Brit Purebloods."
"Brit, yes. I ... don't worry too much about blood status. Do you?"
She shrugged. "Dad's a Halfblood. Mum was a Muggleborn. Not entirely sure what that makes me."
Lazarus imagined that somewhere far away, Walburga Black was screaming in horror. "Makes you a witch. That's all that matter, right? And what's wrong with Lazarus? It's a fine old Biblical name."
"It was a guy who died and then came back from the dead. Mum read that story to me when I was a little girl. It was supposed to be 'religiously moving' but I just thought it was creepy."
He chuckled and took a sip of his beer. It was ... not good, but he swallowed it down. "It's a good name for second chances," he said quietly.
"Is that why you picked it?" she asked. Lazarus blushed slightly, and she laughed again. "C'mon, it's Australia, mate. Half the blokes what come in here have got different names than what they were born with."
"I suppose so." He glanced back at the sign in the window. "So what sort of help you need, Matilda?"
"Bartending. Cleaning up. Breaking up the occasional fights. Doesn't pay much, but it comes with room and board. What, you interested?"
"Servants work," he thought. "Do they even have house elves in Australia? Still, it's out of the way, quiet, and will give me time to decide what I want to do next. Maybe a little manual labor will be good for the soul." Lazarus pushed aside any thought that his decision to accept what was essentially a servant's position might be motivated by the blue of Matilda's eyes.
"Yeah, I think I am."
"Really?!" She seemed genuinely surprised. "I wouldn't have thought a Pureblood dressed as clean as you would be desperate enough for a job like this."
"Like I said – I'm interested in second chances. So what's your last name, Matilda?"
"MacMillan. Matilda MacMillan, at your service."
"MacMillan. I think I knew some MacMillans back in England."
She snorted softly. "I'll bet you did. They were one of those high and mighty Ancient and Noble Houses that run everything back there."
"Pretty sure they're just a Noble house," he said without thinking. Then, he coughed in embarrassment at the look she gave him. "So you're related to them?"
"Only by name and blood. My grandad, Jacob MacMillan was a squib. Not good enough for the ... Noble House of MacMillan. So when he was twelve, his folks gave him about twenty galleons worth of Muggle currency and put him on a boat to Melbourne with nothing else but the clothes on his back. He worked his way up from being a stable boy to owning this bar, married a Muggleborn witch, and they had my dad who was a full-blown wizard." The wooden doors swung open. "And speak of the devil..."
Lazarus White turned and blanched. An older, heavy-set bull of a man had just entered the saloon. Looking to be about forty or fifty, he had a thick bushy moustache and a cigar hanging out of his mouth. His clothing was a mishmash of cowboy gear, contemporary wizarding clothing (including a black fedora) ... and a brown leather duster that was identical to the ones worn by aurors back in Britain, save for the fact that the DMLE badge on his chest had an outline of Australia instead of the British Isles.
And walking along beside the man was something Lazarus had expected to see at some point but was still shocked by – a domesticated Tasmanian wolf complete with a blue bandana around her neck. When he'd first heard about Wagga Wagga, Lazarus had been told that the wizards of the region had set up a magically hidden nature preserve for the animals which had been driven nearly to extinction by Muggles. He's also been told that a handful had actually become domesticated and had bonded with wizards as familiars. But to see such a creature in the flesh? Lazarus's eyes widened, and when the marsupial predator looked towards him and growled softly, he swallowed hard.
"G'day, luv," the big man said in a deep voice as he walked behind the bar and kissed Matilda on the cheek. "Looks like another day has passed without you burning down my bar." She gave a loud "hmmpf" at that and then turned to Lazarus.
"I found us a new bartender and bouncer, Dad. Allow me to introduce Lazarus White." Then, she smiled mischievously. "Though he prefers to go by Rusty."
Startled by his sudden rechristening, Lazarus ("Or Rusty now , I suppose.") almost missed the other man's introduction.
"I don't blame ya, lad, with a name like Lazarus. Pleased to meet ya, Rusty. Brian MacMillan, though most folks call me Buck."
The two men shook hands, and Rusty winced at the strength of the other man's grip. He also noticed the wand holster wrapped around the man's arm only partially hidden by his sleeve. The thylacine padded over to the young wizard and sniffed at him.
"And that there's Daisy! Don't mind her, Rusty. Her bark's worse than her bite." As if in response, "Daisy" opened her jaws almost ninety degrees and yawned, showing off razor-sharp teeth as she did. "Matty, you look after the bar for a spell. Daisy and I'll take young Rusty back to my office for a ... formal interview." The look in the man's eye promised questions about whether the handsome stranger would be trustworthy around his daughter. Rusty smiled weakly, while Matilda laughed.
25 December 1980
Matilda's room at the MacMillan Homestead
Wagga Wagga, NSW
Midnight
"Happy Christmas, Rusty," Matilda said in a dreamy voice as she rubbed her hand across his bare chest. "It's midnight. Officially Christmas morning."
"Hmm," he said with a smile. "And I didn't get you anything."
She leaned in close and whispered. "I know something you can give me."
They both giggled at that. The two were lying together in her bed. Buck was expected to be gone until the New Year on a mission for the Auror Corps. After eleven months of constant flirting, Matilda and Rusty had consummated their very discrete relationship just a month earlier, but this was the first time they'd been together for days at a time without paternal supervision.
"You're incorrigible," he said.
"Don't pretend you're not aroused by my feminine charms, Lazarus White," she laughed.
"Liar," he replied lustily. "We both know I'm the pretty one."
She laughed again, and they leaned in together to kiss once more when there was a knock on the door. They froze.
"Merry Christmas, Matty!" Buck MacMillan exclaimed jovially from outside her bedroom door. "I hope you're having a pleasant and enjoyable holiday. Now, if it ain't too much trouble, could you send Mr. White downstairs so I might have a word with him?"
"Daddy? I don't know what you're insinuating?" Matilda called out loudly while Rusty rubbed his hands over his face in horror.
"Well, sweetheart, first of all, you only call me 'Daddy' when you know you're in trouble. Second, and I think this might be even more suspicious, you and Lover Boy left all your clothes downstairs in front of the fire before you relocated to your bedroom. Rusty? You've got two minutes."
One minute and forty-five seconds later, a profoundly abashed Rusty White descended the stairs in the MacMillan home clad only in white linen sheet. By the time he arrived, Buck MacMillan was sitting comfortably in a chair next to the fire with a glass of firewhiskey in one hand and his wand in another. Rusty's own wand was laid on a table beside Buck's chair, and Daisy was resting peacefully at his feet. Rusty took a deep breath and sat down in the chair opposite his lover's angry father.
"Well now, not as fancy dressed as you were the day we first met, Rusty, but I do thank you for not coming down to face me starkers."
"Buck ... Mr. MacMillan. I am so terribly sorry about all this."
"About what, Rusty? Taking liberties with my daughter? Or getting caught at it?"
"Sir, I am not ... taking liberties with Matilda. Over this last year, I have come to care about her a very great deal."
"Oh have you now?! White, she's just seventeen. Her eighteenth birthday won't be for another three months. And how old are you now, eh? Twenty-five? Older? You don't call it taking liberties when you have your way with someone that much younger than you?"
Rusty buried his head in his hands. Eventually, he looked up into Buck's eyes. "I turned nineteen last June."
The man scoffed. "Nineteen? What kinda galah do you think I am?!"
Rusty White sighed dejectedly and then leaned back in his chair. Then, he shook his head forcefully ... and suddenly became Regulus Black once more. Buck's eyes widened in shock. Even Daisy lifted her head in surprise before yawning and returning to her former position.
"I'll be stuffed," Buck said quietly. "You're a bloody shape-shifter! A Metamorphmagus!"
"Shhh!" Regulus said urgently.
"Matty doesn't know?"
"Except for three or four relatives who were all old and may be dead by now for all I know, no one else has ever known about this. I'm only telling you because..."
Buck crooked an eyebrow, and Regulus fumed at him.
"Because I love your daughter, okay?"
Buck studied the young man's face and the emotions that played across it. "So that's why you came here from England. You'd have been conscripted if anyone ever found out. But we don't have a Conscription Act down here, lad. You don't have any reason to hide who you are and what you can do."
Regulus looked away. "That wasn't my only reason, Buck." He closed his eyes and concentrated for a few seconds, and then Regulus was gone and Rusty White was back in his place. "I wanted a new life and a fresh start. I didn't want to be ... that other person anymore. Is that so much to ask for?"
"No, son. No it's not. But the past always has a way of catching up with us. Can you promise me that your past won't catch up with my daughter?"
Rusty nodded resolutely. "Absolutely."
"In that case, there's only one thing I want to know."
Rusty braced himself for the man to ask who he really was, what awful thing he'd done that had led him halfway around the world. But that wasn't the question.
"How many Outstandings did ya get on your NEWTS?" Buck asked with an intense look on his face.
"What?!" Rusty asked, surprised.
"You did sit for NEWTS, right? You're a Pureblood from an old family. One with money too, I reckon. I could always tell that just from the way you talk. And I wager Daisy's favorite bone that you had a Hogwarts education. So how did ya do on your NEWTS?"
Rusty raised his chin almost defiantly. "Six NEWTS. Four Outstandings. Two Exceeds Expectations."
Buck grinned almost excitedly. "Okay then. So here's how this will go down. I will conditionally grant you permission to court my daughter, subject to the following terms. One: You treat her like a queen on a throne or else I feed you to Daisy. Two: You will always use Contraceptive Charms until you're married, and even afterwards until you and she know you're both ready to have kids." he took a deep breath. "And three: You apply to become an auror ."
"What?!" Rusty exclaimed. "I'm a nineteen-year-old expatriate bartender who fled his homeland with nothing but the clothes on his back! What the hell makes you think I'm auror material?!"
"Six NEWTS with four O's and two EE's, for a start. I've also seen how you handle the crowd at the bar when some arsehead's had too much." He grinned. "And I've also followed you under a disillusionment spell when you've snuck out before dawn to that little secluded spot just outside of town where you practice your dueling for an hour every morning. I know a champion-caliber duelist when I see one, and I think you've got some moves. And frankly, we need that down here. Our aurors don't get the same training as British aurors do. We're outnumbered and outwanded. Plus there's bunyip, Australian water vampires, yowies, and even rumors of werewolves out in the bush, on top of all the normal dark wizardry!"
"Buck!" Rusty tried to interrupt, but Buck just talked over him.
"But most of all, Rusty, I want more for my daughter than some slacker who's content to sweep the floors and pour beer and occasionally toss out a drunken bum. I want someone respectable for Matilda. Is that so wrong? And does it not say something that I have faith that you can be that someone if you'll just get off your lazy Pureblooded arse and work at it? You're a wizard, Lazarus White. And you've got an obligation to wizarding society and to yourself to be the best damned wizard you can be."
"I ... I don't know, Buck. Me? An auror? You don't know where I come from. What I've done."
"No, lad. No I don't. And so long as you can promise me that it won't come back to hurt my Matilda, I'll never ask. But I think I can make at least one educated guess." He leaned forward in his chair with a look of earnest compassion in his eyes. "Rusty, between you and me – is there anything back home in England that you maybe feel like you need to ... atone for?"
Rusty's mouth gaped. "How...?"
"I'm an auror, lad. Reading people is something they'll teach you. I've known you for almost a year now. And I believe you're a good person. But you're also someone with demons that need facing."
Rusty's breath caught in his throat, and for just a moment, he saw the empty eyes of Fabian Prewitt staring up at him as if asking why he'd done nothing with his life since they'd last met. And that was followed by another image, one of a golden locket hidden away in Grimauld Place that he had sworn to destroy – an oath he'd set aside in favor of hiding like a child in a foreign land. Buck was right. He did have things to atone for, and maybe becoming an auror would teach him what he would need to know to destroy Voldemort's horcrux for good.
"Alright. How do I start?"
2 November 1981
Rusty White's Room above the Waltzing Matilda
DARK LORD VOLDEMORT BELIEVED DEAD.
JIM POTTER PRONOUNCED "BOY-WHO-LIVED."
BRITISH MINISTRY BEGINS TO REBUILD.
Rusty stared at the headline in astonishment. It was not a banner headline. In fact, it was buried on page four of the Uluru Gazette, which, like most wizarding newspapers in the former British colonies resolutely underplayed the importance of anything that happened in "the Old Country." Apparently, the Dark Lord had sought to murder James Potter and his family only to somehow be slain by the magic of Potter's younger son. Well, for some values of "slain" – Rusty knew and was likely the only one who knew that the Dark Lord was immortal until his horcrux was destroyed.
"I just hope Sirius is okay," the young auror trainee thought idly. "Ah, who am I kidding? He's probably debauching himself in celebration with a case of Firewhiskey and as many lovers as his bed can hold at one time."
Sighing to himself, Rusty put the paper aside and returned to the textbook on memory charms he was reviewing. He had an exam on the topic in than two days, and he planned to ace it.
1 August 1982
Australian DMLE HQ
Lazarus White held himself stiffly at attention along with three of his cohorts as the Australian Minister of Magic, a severe witch named Beatrice Kemper, walked down the line, handing off a badge to each one in turn and then shaking the new auror's hand, turning as she did so that the photographer could get a picture of each cadet's induction. Australia did not have an Auror Academy as such – the population was too small and too spread out for a dedicated academy. Instead, each recruit who passed the fairly grueling entrance exams was assigned to a succession of senior aurors, six in all, who each oversaw his or her student for a month-long master-apprentice relationship. At the end of the six-month rotation, the cadet had one final month of physical training and exit exams before being approved by the Ministry and awarded a badge, a wand holster, and a magically armored long coat.
Rusty's auror companions all wanted to go out for the night to celebrate – "paint Horizont Alley purple," as Jack Cornwallis had said – but Rusty begged off. His first rotation had been with Buck learning the basics about law enforcement in Wagga Wagga, but after that, his next five rotations had carried him the length and breadth of Australia, followed by one final month spent in the barracks at DMLE headquarters in Sydney. In short, six long months since he'd spent any time with Matilda longer than a Floo call. And so, he declined the offer of a pub crawl, although he did find time to stop off in one particular jewelry store in Horizont Alley.
That night, when Matilda got home from the saloon, she arrived to a home-cooked romantic dinner for two. Delighted, she rushed into Rusty's arms and kissed him passionately. As they ate, she peppered him with questions about what auror training had been like, and he asked her questions about the happenings of Wagga Wagga in his absence. But despite his happiness and their amiable chatter, Rusty was nervous, and Matilda noticed.
"Rusty, what's the matter? This should be a joyous day for you. But you're all tense and edgy. What's on your mind?"
He took a deep breath. "Matilda... there's something I need to tell you." She looked at him expectantly. "It's ... it's about my past ... and I guess my present too."
Pushing down his fear of rejection, he shook his head violently, and for the first time since the previous Christmas, Lazarus "Rusty" White was replaced by a nervous-looking Regulus Black. Matilda just stared at him.
"How the hell did'ya do that?!" she finally exclaimed.
"Well," he replied. "I'm a Metamorphmagus. My real name is Regulus Black."
She nodded. He hesitated and then coughed nervously before continuing.
"Of the, ah, Ancient and Noble House of Black."
She crooked an eyebrow at that. "Are we related?" she asked suspiciously.
"No! Of course not... Well, I mean ... distantly?"
"How distantly?"
"I'm pretty sure your grandfather and my grandmother were first cousins."
She exhales. "Okay, I think I can live with that." Then, she gave him an oddly appraising look.
"So you're a Metamorphmagus, then?"
"Yeah. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. I'm actually pleased to see that you're only prettier than me because of an unfair advantage. So can you look like whoever you please?"
"Within reason. I have some limits based on body size and mass. Why?"
"Can you do Mel Gibson?"
"What? That Muggle from the Mad Max movie you took me to see?"
"He was also in Gallipoli! He's a serious actor!"
He pursed his lips and concentrated, and with a slight popping sound, Regulus Black became a perfect copy of Mel Gibson, the current Australian movie heartthrob.
"Ooooh," she cooed. "This is going to make our after-dinner activities very interesting!"
"Matilda!" he exclaimed, instantly shifting back into his true form, which was now blushing furiously. "I'm ... I'm not a piece of meat!"
She laughed and pulled him into an embrace. "I'm just teasing, Rusty. Or Regulus. Or whoever you want to be today. Now why did you suddenly decide to tell me all this?"
"Because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I don't want you to feel later that I might have misled you or something. And if it's all the same, I'd rather you call me Rusty." He shifted back into the form of Lazarus White, the form that now felt more comfortable than his original skin ever had. Then, he dropped down to one knee and removed a jewelry box from his coat pocket.
"Matilda MacMillan, will you marry me?"
5 November 1983
Headline of the Uluru Gazette
WEREWOLF PACK ATTACKS MAGICAL COMMUNITIES NEAR PERTH.
SURVIVORS SPEAK OF HORRORS THEY ENDURED.
MINISTRY URGES CALM.
16 May 1984
The newly built home of Lazarus and Matilda White
Wagga Wagga, NSW
"Altair?"
"No."
"Aries?"
"No."
"Castor?"
"Good God, no!"
"Corvus?"
"No. Why are we doing this again?"
Rusty sighed and put down the list he'd written. "Look, I may not be an active member of my family – and you may not care about any stuffy old Pureblood traditions anyway – but the fact remains that our son will be descended from the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and it is a tradition in my family that we name children after stars and constellations. He may someday need to draw upon the resources of House Black, and I think it might ... smooth the wheels if he had a name that showed our respect for my lineage."
"Uh-huh," said Matilda with a dubious expression. The young Mrs. White, who was now four months into her pregnancy, was leaning back in a recliner while reading a magazine about motorcycle repair. "Didn't you say your parents were crazy and used to abuse you and your brother and said brother hates you because you used to be a bigoted Pureblood wanker?"
"I'm pretty sure I've never used the word wanker to describe myself," Rusty said testily.
"Well, of course not, sweetie. You're far too polite for such honesty. And anyway, no offense, pretty boy, but I don't think I want your crazy mother anywhere near our future baby boy."
"But you're okay with him going to Hogwarts? Right?" Rusty said, suddenly anxious. "I mean, it's the most prestigious magical school in the world and as a Black, he's guaranteed to get in!"
She sighed. "Yes, yes! I know all about Hoggy Warty Hogwarts and how important it is for our offspring to get in. I won't like it when our son moves off at eleven to spend nine months out of the year on the opposite side of the bleeding planet, but I'm ... okay with it. But I still don't see what that means we have to name the poor tyke after some blessed heavenly body."
"It's like I said, love. Tradition! Now then – Draco!"
"What?!"
"Draco. It's a constellation near Hercules. It's named after Ladon, the dragon who guarded the Apples of the Hesperides."
"If I ever met someone who named their child Draco, I would call Child Services! And before you ask, no, we will not name our son Hercules either!"
Rusty cleared his throat and looked down at his list. "Fornax?"
"No!"
"Herc – I mean, Hydrus?"
"NO!"
"Indus?"
"NO!"
"Leo?"
"... Leo." Matilda paused, her mounting anger at her husband temporarily forgotten. "Leo White. Leo Brian White. I think I could live with that."
"Leo Brian White?" Now it was Rusty's turn to sound dubious. Matilda narrowed her eyes.
"Surely, dear, you're not suggesting that we should only use names from your side of the family, are you?" she asked frostily.
"No! No, not at all. Leo Brian White is perfect." Rusty smiled winningly at his wife, who went back to her magazine.
"We'll just tell everyone that Brian is the name of a Constellation in the Southern Hemisphere," he muttered under his breath.
4 July 1984
From the Uluru Gazette
WEREWOLVES AT LARGE IN MELBOURNE!
At least four wizards and witches were killed yesterday and another fifteen seriously injured in a daring daylight assault on the Golightly Travel Agency in Unuzyu Alley marketplace in Melbourne, Victoria. The attackers are believed to have been members of a nomadic werewolf pack led by Eustace and Clarence Tully, wizards and brothers who contracted lycanthropy in the early 1970s. Although the werewolves were not fully transformed as it was still daylight, all seven of the pack members were partially transformed at the time of the attack. Exactly how the Tully gang was able to penetrate into the heart of Unuzyu Alley is unknown, but anonymous sources at the DMLE note that two or more of the gang members are wizards and are thus likely able to apparate themselves and presumably side-apparate their comrades. These sources furthermore expressed concern in light of the fact that two witches and one wizard (Mr. and Mrs. George Golightly and their employee, Rose Abernathy) were missing after the attack. All three are licensed portkey artificers, and while it is possible the three simply portkeyed to safety, authorities are concerned that the Tully gang may soon have new members who are able to make portkeys at will.
25 July 1984
The home of Lazarus and Matilda White
Wagga Wagga, NSW
Rusty and Matilda were sitting at breakfast when, to their mild surprise, an enormous silver rabbit about the size of a dog appeared on their kitchen table. Their surprise was only mild because both of them were familiar with Big Jake, Buck MacMillan's Patronus which for some reason took the form of a Flemish Giant Rabbit.
"Rusty!" said the rabbit. "I know it's your off day, but we need ya to come in. We gotta line on one of the Tully gang, and your our best man for a fight against a dark creature. Meet us at apparation coordinates 260.50 by 113.09 by 4.00, ASAP. Get Matty to send a response so we can know when to expect you."
The rabbit faded away, and Rusty frowned before looking up at his wife. "Would you mind?" he asked.
"Not at all. But when are you going to master the Patronus yourself?"
"I'm working on it! I can do the ... the foggy part of it!"
"Oh Rusty! Have ... have I not made you happy, my love?" she asked with mock sadness.
"Very funny. Now send the message, please?"
She laughed and then summoned her own meerkat Patronus to convey a response to Buck. When she was done though, Matilda turned serious.
"Be careful, pretty boy. Werewolves are dangerous."
"That's why I need to leave now so we can catch the bastard before That Old Devil Moon comes out." He bent over to kiss his wife and headed for the Floo.
Later that evening in Horizont Alley...
The good news was that the tip had paid off. A squad consisting of Rusty, Buck (accompanied by Daisy), and three other aurors (Cornwallis, Ogden, and Nguyen) had found a member of the Tully gang as he was apparently casing a shop in Horizont Alley that sold portkeys, and they'd managed to lock down the whole neighborhood with anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards. The bad news was that the gang member was actually Clarence Tully, who was a fairly skilled wizard backed up by the raw physical power of a half-transitioned werewolf, and he had evaded capture in the labyrinthine alleys and warehouses of Horizont Alley. In the course of pursuing him, the aurors had already come across three corpses plus one seriously injured man who'd already been sent to hospital and put under observation to see if he'd contracted lycanthropy. The even worse news was that tonight was a full moon, and if they couldn't capture and incapacitate Tully before 5:45 p.m., he was at risk of fully changing in the middle of the largest wizarding community in Australia.
They'd finally tracked their quarry to a warehouse full of tall shelves stacked with boxes and crates when they realized the worst news. Apparently, the auror who'd been responsible for finding out the time for moonrise had botched the job. Rusty rounded the corner just as Clarence let out a scream of pain accompanied by a cracking noises as all of his joints popped at once and several of his bones spontaneously snapped and reformed into new shapes. Rusty fired off his most powerful Stunner, but Clarence moved like lightning and dodged the spell. Then, he leaped up and scaled the ceiling high shelves in three bounds, pulling himself up and over the side. Rusty put his back to the shelves, grasped his wand in both hands, and pointed it at the ground.
"VENTUS!" A powerful blast of air shot out of his wand and propelled him up to the top of the shelves. He grabbed the top edge and pulled himself up. Clarence was already jumping from shelf to shelf, easily covering the ten-foot gap between each one, a feat that Rusty couldn't possibly match. Taking in his surroundings, he pointed his wand at a ceiling beam just above the shelf ahead of Clarence.
"CARPE RETRACTUM!" A strong rope shot out of his wand and wrapped itself around the beam. Rusty yanked, and then the rope, which was still attached to the top of his wand, retracted and jerked him through the air until he released the spell and dropped onto the shelf below just as the werewolf landed on it. But by then, the transformation was nearly complete. Clarence Tully's rippling muscles tore through the seams of his clothes, sprouting shaggy black fur as they did, and there was a horrifying crack as his jawbone extended into a wolf's snout. The werewolf threw back his head and howled ... and Rusty almost panicked as unholy unnatural terror washed over him like a black wave. He managed not to piss himself or void his bowels, but in his fear he took a step back.
Right off the top of the thirty-foot-tall shelf.
He screamed as he fell, only to stop halfway down and then float down quickly the rest of the way thanks to a Levitation Spell from Jack Cornwallis, who'd been Rusty's best mate during training. Rusty barely had time to yell out his thanks before an angry Tully leaped down from shelf onto Cornwallis, knocking him to the ground. Rusty could only watch in horror as the werewolf started tearing at the screaming auror's flesh. The screaming was suddenly cut short as Tully bit down on the auror's throat and tore it out. Pulling himself together, Rusty fired off his most powerful Stunner, but it had absolutely no effect. The rest of the aurors had arrived by now, but there spells were equally ineffective against a fully transformed werewolf.
The creature let out another howl, and while Rusty literally shook with terror, he managed to control himself. Odgen and Nguyen were less poised, and they turned tail and ran in a panic. By that point, Rusty and Buck had the werewolf in a crossfire, and they had both resorted to borderline dark spells, mainly Bludgeoning Hexes, but to no avail. Each hex would visibly shatter one of the werewolf's limbs, but they would reset themselves and heal within seconds. They were causing the creature terrible pain but not really slowing it down. Suddenly, Tully reached out with an enormous clawed hand, grabbed a heavy crate, and hurled it towards Buck. The impact knocked the older man down to the ground and stunned him. Tully quickly started towards Buck to finish the auror. Daisy interposed herself between the two, barking furiously the whole time. But before Tully could reach them, the werewolf howled in pain once more when Rusty shot it in the back with an Incendio. The flames did no significant damage beyond scorching off the fur on its back, but it definitely caught the beast's attention. Tully turned and with a snarl began running towards Rusty as fast as the beast could. When Tully was less than twenty feet away, Rusty fired off the most lethal spell he knew that wasn't Unforgivable: Dolohov's Entrail-Expelling Curse.
"EXVISCERA!" The dark curse hit Clarence Tully dead in the chest, and immediately, a two-foot-long gash opened across his mid-section out of which the werewolf's intestines tumbled. Tully howled in pain once more but continued advancing towards Rusty albeit a bit slower. To the auror's amazement, the werewolf even seemed to be regenerating from near-disembowelment, as his organs were slowly being sucked back up into his stomach cavity and the thick gash was already healing itself. Tully lunged, and at the last second, Rusty threw up a Protego spell.
Tully landed on top of the shield, and the sheer weight and force of the impact knocked Rusty to the ground. The pain of maintaining the shield soon became excruciating, but just as Rusty was about to lose his shield and become vulnerable, Tully howled again in pain. He backed away from Rusty and spun around wildly, and Rusty saw why: Daisy was on his back, and her powerful bone-crushing jaws were clamped down on the back of his neck as she tried to snap his spine. Unfortunately, she only lasted a few seconds before Tully reached around, pulled her loose, and hurled her against a nearby brick wall with enough force to crack the brickwork, but that was enough time for Rusty to catch his breath and climb to his feet.
Tully whirled around to face Rusty once more, but the auror was ready. He ducked under the werewolf's grasping arms, darted forward, and jammed his wand-hand inside the rapidly closing wound left by the Entrail-Expelling Curse all the way up to his elbow.
"INCENDIO MAXIMUM!" he cried out in a righteous fury. Instantly, the werewolf went rigid and began to convulse as flames as hot as any blow torch set fire to his lungs and heart before pouring up his throat. The werewolf threw its head back, but no howl came forth. Instead, blue flames shot out of its mouth straight up ten feet in the hair. Then, it was Rusty's turn to scream, as the now-boiling liquids inside the werewolf's chest cavity poured down onto his hand, burning it. Finally, the werewolf fell backwards to the floor. Rusty staggered back, tears of pain pouring down his cheeks from the third-degree burns that covered his wand hand. Within seconds, Buck was by his side to cast healing charms.
"NEVER MIND MY BLOODY HAND! MAKE SURE THAT BASTARD IS DEAD!" Rusty bellowed.
Grimacing, Buck turned towards the still smoldering werewolf and cast a diagnostic spell.
"Dead as a dodo, Rusty. Good work. Now shut up, and let me heal your bloody hand!"
Seconds later, Rusty's hand, while still tender, was mostly healed. Then, he turned as Buck gasped in shock. Some twenty feet away, Daisy was lying still against the brick wall into which she'd been hurled. The two aurors raced to her side, but she was already gone. Buck was heartbroken.
"My Daisy," he said softly as he stroked her matted fur. "My beautiful Daisy."
"I'm so sorry, Buck," Rusty said softly. "She saved my life."
"Course she did," Buck said with a sniff. "She was a good girl."
Rusty put his hand on his father-in-law's shoulder and squeezed.
"That she was, Buck. That she was."
26 July 1984
From the Uluru Gazette
WEREWOLF CLARENCE TULLY SLAIN IN DUEL WITH AURORS.
AUROR LAZARUS WHITE TO RECEIVE COMMENDATION.
Below the headline was a picture of Lazarus White from Wagga Wagga NSW accepting a handshake and a medal for "Exceptional Bravery" from the head of the DMLE. White looked like an auror posterboy in his formal robes with his perfect hair slicked back and his pearly grin shining out of the picture. In the interview, White was modest and genial, giving thanks to his fellow auror and father-in-law Brian "Buck" MacMillan (also of Wagga Wagga) for his assistance, as well as that Auror Jack Cornwallis, who was sadly slain by the rampaging werewolf, and even MacMillan's familiar, a police-trained Tazmanian Wolf named Daisy who tragically died in the fight against the werewolf. According to the article, there was to be a memorial service in Jack Cornwallis's honor in two days time. In addition, Daisy will be honored with a plaque at DMLE headquarters on a wall designated for auror familiars who have displayed exceptional heroism in defense of their masters and wizarding society. In his interview, White had downplayed his own heroism, stating that he was proud to serve the Australian people and to have a chance to protect his community and especially his family. The reporter congratulated White on his recent marriage and on the upcoming birth of his first child.
26 July 1984
Terrawanda (an abandoned ghost town located deep in the Outback)
In an ramshackle building hundreds of miles away, a black inch-long talon delicately punched a hole through the top of Lazarus White's picture and then neatly sliced along the top of it, down, across and back up again. The talon's owner carried the picture over to a nearby wall and carefully affixed it with thumbtacks in each corner. Next to it was a map of New South Wales with the location of Magical Wagga Wagga circled in red.
"I know how you feel, Auror White," Eustace Tully said in a raspy unpleasant voice. "Family's important to me too."
20 November 1984
The home of Lazarus, Matilda & Leo White
Wagga Wagga, NSW
2:00 a.m.
The sound of the baby crying woke both Rusty and Matilda almost at the same time. Matilda started to crawl out of bed, but Rusty stopped her.
"No, no," he said with a loud yawn. "You went last time. It's Daddy's turn."
She nodded gratefully and went back to sleep. Rusty pulled on his bathrobe (he jammed his wand into the robe's pocket in case any diaper-changing charms were needed) and staggered to the nursery still half asleep. Barely one month old, Leo was crying up a storm, but his diaper was still dry. Rusty yawned again and then sat down with the baby in the rocking chair next to the crib and began rocking while singing a soft lullaby. Gradually, Leo calmed down and fell back to sleep. Rusty looked down into his sleeping son's face and smiled. For a moment, he tried to recall where he'd heard the lullaby he just sang. Surely neither Orion nor Walburga would ever have sung a lullaby to him! And then, he remembered – it had been Kreacher. Just as it had been Kreacher who'd practically raised him while his mother and father descended into madness.
As Rusty continued to look down at Leo, he absent-mindedly wiped his face with his free hand and was surprised to realize that he'd been crying. It took him a second to realize why. He had a son. He had a wonderful wife, a home, and a son who would not be raised by a house elf in a four-story mausoleum but by two parents who loved him unconditionally. That Regulus Black could have come from being torn at by inferi at the bottom of freezing lake to reach this moment seemed impossible, a miracle of unimaginable proportions. And Regulus Lazarus Rusty White Black realized that he was weeping over his baby boy in a nursery at 2:00 a.m. because he was so happy it felt like his heart might break from joy.
Carefully, Rusty put the sleeping babe back in his crib and turned for the door. Then, he stopped and thought some more about the epiphany he'd just had. He took one more look at the crib, and then, with a dopey grin on his face, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the middle of the room.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM," he whispered. The familiar glow of the Patronus Charm filled the room before collapsing into the brilliant form of a Tasmanian wolf. Rusty's grin grew even broader.
"Hello, Daisy."
13 April 1985
DMLE HQ, Sydney
Friday the 13th
It had been a long week for Rusty White. On Monday, he'd had to perform his first Tabula Rasa, the total memory wipe spell that Wizarding Australia used to "psychically execute" criminals convicted of capital crimes. Death of Personality as they called it. And while it was definitely better than sending criminals to languish in Azkaban, it was still unsettling to cast a spell on someone and cause them to forget their entire lives. When the appeals ran out and it came time to carry out the sentence, aurors on site drew lots to see who would carry out the sentence, and on Monday, it had been Rusty's turn. He'd been required to swear an Unbreakable Oath to only ever use the spell as part of a lawful judicial sentence before he was allowed to even learn the Tabula Rasa spell.
Well, sort of, anyway. Because he wasn't really Lazarus White, the oath he swore didn't take, but since the oath was administered by his father-in-law who knew his secret and was willing to help keep it, no one really cottoned onto the fact. Buck did pull him aside and threaten a horrible beat down if he ever misused the Tabula Rasa Curse (which itself was a crime that carried a penalty of personality death), and Rusty reassured the man that, of course, he wouldn't. After Rusty carried out the sentence, healers took the now mindless criminal (formerly Mortimer Travers, a British ex-pat and probably a former Death Eater) away to a special facility where he would be given new memories and a new face before being reintegrated into Magical Australia, hopefully as a less awful person.
After that, Rusty had been on edge all week leading up to today, Friday the 13th. Naturally, it was also a full moon, so he was expecting weirdness. He was not expecting Horizont Alley to burst into flames. Starting at four o'clock that afternoon, explosions rocked the small magical community, and every auror was called to active duty. By seven, Rusty had sent his Patronus Daisy to let Matilda know he would be late and to not wait up. By ten, he'd been to see Healers twice for injuries. Finally, just before midnight, they'd caught a suspect, a lower class wizard named Edgar Farnaby who'd had a history of magical arson-for-hire. He was caught red-handed leaving the scene of one of the fires. Rusty still had a fresh bandage on his off-hand when he got to the interrogation room.
"Here's your authorization for the use of Veritaserum, White," said Nguyen as she handed him some papers.
"Me? Why isn't MacMillan handling this? He's the ranking auror."
"Which is why he's the one delivering a report as we speak to the Minister and her cabinet. He sent word that you're in charge until he and the other seniors get back."
Rusty scowled at that. He just wanted to be an auror, but sometimes he wondered if Buck was "grooming him for greater things" or some such bullshit. He took the file and reviewed it. Then, he, Nguyen, and the Ministry official assigned to administer the truth serum entered the interrogation room where Farnaby was waiting, handcuffed to an immobile chair and with a Silencio spell blocking the sound of whatever obscenities he was shouting towards them. Rusty sat down at the chair opposite, organized his papers on the small desk, and tapped a small glass globe with his wand.
"Recording commences. Auror Lazarus White speaking. It is Friday, April 13, 1985 and the time is 23:45. We are convened to take the Veritaserum testimony of suspected arsonist Edgar Farnaby. Also present are Auror Nguyen Park and Mediwizard Frank Burnside. I have before me a Writ of Permission to Use Veritaserum signed by Chief Auror Woolsey, DMLE Director Scott, and Magistrate Judge Ezra Mattingly. Mediwzard Burnside, please proceed."
The Mediwizard stepped forward and waved his wand in a complicated pattern over the belligerent suspect. A number of sigils appeared in the air above Farnaby. Burnside nodded and gestured with his wand, and the sigils floated through the air to manifest as markings on a blank piece of parchment in front of White.
"Let the record reflect," said Mediwizard Burnside, "that I have performed a Level 3 diagnostic charm on the suspect, the results of which have been transcribed for the file. Mr. Farnaby is in good health and has no apparent allergy to any of the components of Veritaserum. Based on his size and weight, it is my professional opinion that three drops of Veritaserum may be administered for an interrogation period of up to seven minutes without any harm to the suspect."
"So noted," said White.
Burnside then pointed his wand at Farnaby's head. "ABIERTONGUE." At that, Farnaby's mouth shot open and his tongue flopped out. He was otherwise immobilized. Burnside pulled out a stopper and placed three drops of Veritaserum on the man's tongue and tilted his head back. Then, he released the man from his bindings. Already, Farnaby's eyes were becoming glassy. Burnside checked his pocket watch, and after twenty seconds, he removed the Silencing spell from the man.
"The Veritaserum has taken effect. Seven minutes of interrogation will commence now, after which the antidote will be given." He nodded to White.
"What is your name?" White said, addressing the prisoner.
"Edgar Farnaby," he replied in a dreamy voice.
"What is your address?"
"218C Beekman Way, Horizont Alley, Sydney."
"Are you the same Edgar Farnaby who was convicted of arson in 1973, 1977, and 1980?"
"Yes."
"Did you have any connection to the fires that were set earlier this afternoon and this evening in Horizont Alley?"
"Yes, I set them all."
"Why?"
"I was paid to."
"By whom?"
"I dunno. Scary guy. Showed up in my room but stayed in the shadows. Left me a bag with 100 galleons, promised me more if I started a bunch of fires tonight. Also promised to eat me for dinner if I said no."
White looked up sharply from the legal pad he was using to take notes.
"Did he assign the buildings to be burned?"
"No. Told me to use my best judgment. Just so long as all the aurors were tied up tonight."
White and Nguyen looked at each other.
"Clarify," said White urgently. "The man who hired you did so for the purpose of distracting the Sydney DMLE? And specifically tonight?"
"Yeah, but not just them. He wanted enough fires to ensure that all the off-duty aurors got pulled in from the outlying communities."
White's blood suddenly ran cold. "Why?"
"He wouldn't say exactly. He just said it was a family matter."
Eat me for dinner. Full moon tonight. Family matter. Matilda!
White jumped up out of his chair, nearly knocking the table over.
"Get Buck!" he roared. "Tell him to get to Wagga Wagga immediately with as much reinforcements as he can get!"
"Rusty, what's...?"
"DO IT!" With that, White ran out of the interrogation room and bolted up two flights of stairs to the Staging Room, a circular room with doors labeled with the names of every wizarding community in Australia. He opened the door marked "Wagga Wagga" and stepped through with his wand drawn.
He exited into the town square of Wagga Wagga, with Buck's field office behind him and the Waltzing Matilda in front. The doors of the saloon had been ripped off their hinges and a window had been broken in. Lying on the ground in front of the saloon was the bloody corpse of Bill Freeland, the squib bartender Matilda had hired as his replacement when he started auror training. Bill's left arm was lying on the ground about ten feet away. His right leg was missing altogether. Looking up and down the street, he could hear the sounds of the dying and smell the spilled blood of the already dead. He quickly apparated home.
When Rusty arrived, his breath caught in his throat. The front door to the house had been ripped off its hinges. Struggling to control his panic, Rusty crept into the darkened house. The furniture in the living room and kitchen had been broken to pieces. Carefully, with his wand hand shaking, he crept up the stairs. There were no sounds of any movement (perhaps a good sign, he tried to tell himself, since werewolves were not known for subtlety). The first door on the left was Leo's nursery, and the door was open. Bracing himself, Rusty whirled into the room with his wand drawn only to freeze at the sight. The rocking chair and changing table were smashed, there were bloody claw marks on the walls, the crib was in pieces, and ...
and...
and...
and...
and...
Rusty's mind nearly shut down, unable to process the scene before him. His knees started to buckle, and his breath was short. His chest burned as if the sight of his world collapsing around him would cause his heart to burst into flame just like Clarence Tully's had. Then, just as he was on the verge of breaking down completely, he heard a sound, a very soft cough, coming from farther down the hall. He turned and staggered away from
don't think about Leo
don't think about Leo
don't think about Leo
to the master bedroom. There, he let out an incoherent cry as he saw Matilda's torn and broken body laying on the floor in a pool of blood. The broken fragments of her wand was on the floor just a few feet from the bleeding stump where her wandhand had been. And yet somehow, she was alive. Perhaps only for seconds, but she was alive. He knelt beside her and gingerly picked her up into an embrace.
"Rus... ty," she gasped, her every sound a ragged whisper. Her eyes were closed, yet somehow she recognized her lover's touch.
"I'm here, love. I -sniff- I'm here. Just ... just stay calm. Help's coming."
That was a lie, of course. There was no help coming from anywhere for wounds this severe.
"Is -cough- is ... Leo ... o...okay?"
Rusty opened his mouth, but the words froze in his throat. He felt like he was being strangled. And then, from deep inside, he heard or perhaps felt a voice. One that sounded like Buck and a bit like Auntie Cassiopeia and, strangely, a little bit like Albus Dumbledore. And that voice whispered.
"Be kind, Regulus Lazarus Rusty White Black. The woman you love is dying in your arms. Be strong enough to give her peace."
He took a deep breath. "Leo's fine, Matty. He's ... he's safe. They never got near him. He's perfectly ... safe."
She sighed. "I knew you'd come... pretty ... boy. I ... knew you'd ... save ... our son." And with those words, Rusty's heart broke a little more.
"Yeah, luv -sniff- I saved him. Our l-little Leo will grow up big and strong and ... and be an auror someday. Just like his Dad and Grandad. But ... he'll also be ... be kind and caring and clever and oh so good-looking. Just -sniff- just like his Mum."
"Liar..." she said softly. He looked down suddenly in shock at what he thought was an accusation, but then she opened her eyes as if to grace him with one last look at them.
"We ... both know... you're the pretty..."
And then, the light in the prettiest bluest eyes he'd ever seen went out forever. Rusty was sure he felt something, her soul perhaps, pass through him. It felt as though it was taking every last bit of his happiness with it as it fled. He gripped her broken body tightly and shook with silent heaving sobs as her blood soaked through his shirt. Then, finally, when he could sob no more, Rusty threw his head back and screamed into the night.
No mere werewolf had ever howled with such pain and fury.
14 April 1984
From the Uluru Gazette
MASSACRE AT WAGGA WAGGA!
MORE THAN 20 DEAD! INCLUDING FAMILY
OF STAR AUROR LAZARUS WHITE!
13 May 1984
From the Uluru Gazette
TULLY GANG ATTACKS MAGICAL COMMUNITY IN ADELAIDE!
FIFTEEN DEAD! DOZENS INJURED! SEVERAL TAKEN AWAY!
WEREWOLVES HAVE ACCESS TO PORTKEYS!
IS ANY WIZARDING SETTLEMENT SAFE?
15 June 1985
Terrawanda
"Eustace!" the girl whined. "I'm hungry!"
"You'll eat soon enough, Rose," said Eustace Tully almost indulgently. "Just as soon as you finish that portkey. Then, we'll feast on the fat juicy wizardfolk of Unuzya Alley. Same drill as last time brothers and sisters. We wait until two minutes before moonrise and then portkey in. Take what we want. Kill what we want. And then we're out. The reverse portkeys will bring us back here after an hour of hunting."
With that, he jingled the necklace that served as a timed reverse portkey. Everyone in the pack wore one, and they were enchanted to stay on and grow with the werewolf during the change.
"Oh, and if possible, bring some food back to the larder. We're running a might low." Several pack members grunted their assent. George Golightly merely shrugged and returned to gnawing on his favorite femur. Some tiny part of him recalled that it used to belong to his wife back before the pack brought the Golightlys and their young employee Rose here. That had been almost a year before, back when he'd still been a prey animal himself instead of the predator he quickly became. His wife had not adapted so well, and so they'd eaten her in short order, but he still kept her femur as a memento and also a chew toy.
"Alright, Eustace," said Rose cheerfully. "It's ready." On the table in front of her was a long braided rope which would also serve as the portkey to take them all a secluded rooftop in the wizarding village that was hidden in the heart of Melbourne. There, they would await the Change and then feast until the reverse-portkeys brought them home. She could hardly wait. Except for a few Muggle hitchhikers, the pack had not eaten man-flesh since the last full moon.
"Right then," said Eustace to the group. "If you're wearing anything you'd rather not see shredded, better shuck 'em now." The werewolves began to strip. The shy ones kept their underwear on, or even more, but most of the pack was nude when the chime alarm on Eustace's pocket watch said it was time. He placed the watch down next to his wand.
"Alright, everybody get ready. Grab on to the rope. Dinner is served!"
But to everyone's surprise, the appointed time came and went, and the portkey didn't work. Eustace looked at Rose angrily, and the girl quailed at his expression.
"It wasn't my fault, Eustace! Honest it wasn't!"
George walked over, still idly gnawing on his late wife's femur out of habit. He picked his wand up off the table and cast a spell. Then, he looked to his alpha in concern.
"Anti-portkey ward, Eustace! Anti-apparation, too!"
At that exact moment, there was a crash as Lazarus White kicked in the door and stepped into the shack, his wand already drawn. He said nothing at first, merely taking in the room with a hateful glare.
"Well, well, well," said Eustace. "Lazarus White, I reckon. We've never met face-to-face, but I've still got your picture on my wall. How's your family, Lazarus?"
Lazarus held up his wand. "How's yours? Oh wait, I remember. He screamed as he burned."
The other pack members rose and arranged themselves in a line, growling angrily at Lazarus as they did.
"He was one, lawman," said Eustace with a sneer. Then, he jerked suddenly, as several of his bones began to crack and his fingers began to stretch. The others began to change as well. "We -ah- are many! Plus -hurk- moonsign is upon us -hurk- boy. The Change has started. You really should have come earlier if you wanted to do this. And also brought a bloody army!"
"I wanted to see you change, Tully. I want to kill you as you really are."
Tully and the other werewolves laughed at that, even as some of them began to snarl and moan through the agonizing transformation into their lupine forms.
"You're that big a fool, White?!" Tully snarled, his voice deeping into a growl. "You think you got a spell in that stick that can take out a dozen transformed werewolves before we eat you alive?"
The auror lifted his chin defiantly. "Yeah, I've got one." And with that, he whirled his wand around over his head before bring it down in a slash. "FIENDFYRE!"
And Hell came to Terrawanda.
Students of the Dark Arts know that some spells, most notably the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse require that the caster truly hate someone. It need not be the person targeted by the spell when it is actually cast, but the wizard must have someone who he truly hates enough to see dead or tortured, respectively, for either spell to be successfully cast on any target. Such an emotion is inadequate for Fiendfyre, however. It is one of the few spells for which the spells's name and its effect are synonymous, for there is almost no danger of accidentally casting it due to its rare and difficult esoteric requirements. It is not enough to hate someone or something to cast Fiendfyre. The wizard must hate someone or something so much that any amount of collateral damage is acceptable if it means destroying the object of his hatred. It means that the wizard would be happy to die himself if he can only see the object of his hatred be annihilated first. Of course, the wizard doesn't need to die to cast Fiendfyre, only be willing to do so. Which, at the moment, Rusty White absolutely was.
The spell hit the floor in the dead center of the assembled werewolves, and the unholy laughing flames erupted right underneath them all. White quickly took three steps back and pointed his wand at the open door, putting as much magic as he could spare into the spell. "COLLOPORTUS TRIMENDIUM!" The Three-Fold Locking Spell surrounded the entire shack. In the blink of an eye, the front door slammed shut, and then all the doors and all the windows were sealed shut and locked by the spell. Once that was done, Lazarus White apparated back fifty feet from the shack to watch as the flames started to rise and listen as the screams turned into angry impotent howls. After about ten seconds, the flames had damaged the door to the point that it was no longer structurally sound enough to support the locking charm. It was at that point that Eustace Tully, now fully transformed, blasted through the door with his body. The werewolf was still on fire and was not long for this world, but right now, he was fueled by pure hate. He and Lazarus locked eyes, and then, with a mighty howl, Tully began running towards him on all fours. Lazarus simply pointed his wand at the approaching werewolf.
As Tully drew nearer, Lazarus suddenly recalled one of the last nights he'd been Regulus Black, when his hatred for Dolohov and Rosier and all the rest had been enough to fuel the Killing Curse that ended the life of Fabian Prewett. How weak his concept of hate back then seemed to him now. How pitiful his understanding of the word back then had been compared to the burning purity of his hate for the werewolf that was now less than ten feet away.
The flaming werewolf leaped up towards him.
"AVADA KEDAVRA."
26 June 1985
The home of Lazarus White
Buck found Lazarus asleep on the couch in his living room. The door to the house was still off its hinges, the window behind the couch still shattered. A half-dozen liquor bottles were on the floor. Buck summoned a waste basket from across the room and then levitated the bottles into it. The loud crash of the bottles dropped into the metal can startled Lazarus awake.
"Get up, son," Buck said. "We need to talk."
"About what," he replied while staring off into the distance with reddened eyes.
"They finally found the Tully gang, Rusty. What's left of them, anyway. Fiendfyre burned everything a quarter mile in every direction from their hideout. The whole pack's dead, including Tully. However, there was just enough of Eustace Tully left to determine that he died of the Killing Curse."
"He was a killer and a werewolf. We don't do personality death for animals like that."
"We don't use the Killing Curse either, Rusty! It's still an Unforgivable, even on a werewolf!"
"You here to arrest me, Buck." The other man looked deeply offended.
"NO! Damn you, NO!" he yelled, causing Rusty to wince from his hangover. Then, Buck looked away for a second to get hold of himself. "But somebody will. Nguyen is slow-walking the investigation, but you'll have a day at most before they come to take you in for questioning."
Rusty said nothing.
"Dammit, boy! Do you not care that they will erase you for using that curse! No matter what your provocation!"
"Good," he said. "I don't want to be me anymore. Maybe forgetting everything is for the best."
Buck glared at his son-in-law in mounting fury.
"You bastard! Do you hate me that much?!" Rusty lifted his head to look at Buck in shock. The older man continued.
"For ten years since my Nora died, I've lived for Matilda and nothing else. And in one night, I lost my daughter and my grandson! Hell, in this past year, I even lost Daisy! And now, you expect me to just lose you as well, Rusty! Because that's what will happen if they erase everything that makes you you. I ... I can't lose ... everything!"
Rusty sat up, surprised at the man's attitude. "You'd lose me anyway, Buck. I have no defense. It's personality death or just ... run away."
"But if you ran, I'd have hope, Rusty! Hope that you were still out there alive for Matty's sake." Buck's voice broke and he struggled to keep his composure. "You're not just my son-in-law, Rusty. You're my son. You're the boy I watched grow into a man just to become good enough for my Matilda, and I love you for it!" The man began to weep openly now. "I would rather you be Rusty White on the run for the rest of your life than for them to erase you and turn you into some fucking green grocer or pig farmer on the far side of the continent who would live and die without ever remembering Matilda and Leo's names. Please, lad! Don't ... don't leave me with ... with nothing!"
At that, the powerful man finally broke down into heaving sobs, and after a few seconds, Rusty began to cry as well. The two men – now father and son – held each other as they wept over what they had lost. Once they had recovered a bit, the two talked and made plans. Buck would delay the investigation into whether Rusty was the one who used the Killing Curse against Tully, while Rusty packed up everything he cared to take with him (which wasn't much) before vanishing into the night with a new face. When he was settled, he would send word to Buck that he was safe. And then, he would live his life.
For Matilda and for Leo.
After an hour had passed, Buck departed, and Rusty started cleaning up to see what was salvageable and what would be left behind. There wasn't much. He would be starting over ... again. It wasn't as though a brand new life would fall into his lap or anything. Then, later that afternoon, there was a knock at the door Rusty had only just repaired. He opened it carefully, half expecting it to be an auror squad with a warrant for him. Instead, to his surprise, it was a man who looked even more out of place in Wagga Wagga than Lazarus White had when he first walked into the Waltzing Matilda five years earlier in all his Pureblood finery.
"Good day, sir!" said the fop who was sporting lavender robes with a gold satin vest underneath. "By any chance, would you be Lazarus White?"
"Who wants to know?" Rusty said cautiously.
"ha-Ha! A perspicacious question, my good man. I'm an author and an expert on the Dark Arts and how to fight them, and I wish to interview you for my upcoming treatise on werewolves. Lockhart's the name. Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service."
Bemused, Rusty opened the door and let the ridiculous popinjay into the wreckage of his house and his life. The next day, when the aurors came for Lazarus White, he was already gone.
25 December 1985
The Lonely Home of Buck MacMillan
Buck MacMillan awoke early on Christmas morning to the sound of a soft yapping from downstairs in his home. He crept downstairs and, to his vast surprise, found a small Tasmanian wolf pup with a red bow around his neck sitting under the small Christmas tree. The tree itself was also a surprise, as Buck had not felt inclined to put one up this year. He went over to examine the pup and saw a small wrapped package next to it with his name on it. Inside was a book: Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart. Just a few pages inside was a card which simply said:
The pup's name is Regulus, but you can probably just call him Reggie.
Happy Christmas.
The card was located next to the dedication page, and he gasped at what was written there as well.
To Matty, Leo and Daisy, who all live on in my heart.
Buck smiled and wiped a tear from his cheek. It was a Happy Christmas after all.
The next chapter will be posted on May 27, 2016. "Three Princes" in which Harry, Lucius, and Regulus compare notes and come to some hard decisions.
Updated to include the Cast List (which I had forgotten):
The part of Regulus Black will be played by Joseph Fiennes (currently; you'll just have to use your imagination for 19-year-old Regulus).
The part of Regulus as Lazarus White will be played by Ryan Gosling.
The part of Matilda MacMillan White was played by Indiana Evans.
The part of Brian "Buck" MacMillan will be played by Russell Crowe.
The part of Walburga Black was played by Kathy Bates (as a cross between Molly Brown and Annie Wilkes from "Misery").
The part of Arcturus Black was played by William Hickey.