[1981]
"Kreacher!"
Where was that bloody House-Elf? At least fifteen minutes had passed since I sent him for milk and baby food. How long could it possibly take? In the meantime, the brat's wails had crescendoed to something akin to a banshee. I held him at arm's length as he flailed, face turning an impressive crimson color and snot starting to creep from his nose. Disgusting. I still couldn't believe I had been stupid enough to get saddled with him in the first place. Where the hell was Sirius anyway?
A small pop announced Kreacher's arrival. Finally! His arms were laden with a variety of things, and he struggled to keep them from falling all over the floor.
"What is all this stuff?"
"Milk, just like Master wanted," Kreacher answered, shifting the clothes in his arms to reveal the jug. "And food and nappies and clothes."
"Where did you get these?" I asked, holding one of the garments up. With the way it looked—snaps and buttons all over the place—you almost would need to be a scientist to figure out how it was supposed to work.
"They were Master's when Master was a baby."
My baby clothes! I never would have thought for a moment that any of them would have been left in the old manor. Thank Merlin for Kreacher and his quick thinking.
He set the pile on the table, and I gladly passed the baby to him so I could dig through them. Old bottles, cloth nappies, dated and slightly worn clothes, and even a few colorful toys. None of it would be missed, judging by the amount of dust they had managed to collect, likely shoved to some long-forgotten nook of the manor.
"It's all well and good that we've got the supplies, but I still haven't even the faintest idea of what to do with them. Isn't there some book or something that tells you what to do with these things?" I asked, motioning towards the baby.
"No books, no manuals. Just trial and error," he said as he placed the wailing infant on his hip, freeing up a hand to pour some milk into a bottle. "But this is not the first baby Kreacher has seen. Though, it is the loudest. Ungrateful half-blood offspring."
In-between shrieks, he seized the opportunity to shove the bottle into the baby's mouth, stifling the screams. After a moment, the infant settled down into the crook of the Kreacher's arm, holding the bottle himself as he sucked the milk down contentedly.
I sighed heavily as I rubbed my temples. Silence, however brief it would be. I had nearly forgotten what it was like. For the first time, though, I realized that I wasn't stuck in this situation alone, and I couldn't have been more grateful for the help, even if it did come from a House-Elf.
...(X)...
Noise all around me. Shouting. Screaming. Laughing.
How did I get here? More importantly, where was I?
"Hey, Regulus, don't just stand there." Someone was shaking my shoulder, and I looked back to find Nott grinning behind me. "Go fight. It's what we're here for, isn't it? Well, go on."
Fight? I didn't want to fight. I wasn't a Death Eater anymore. That's what I wanted to say, but of course there was no backing out. There was only death. My feet moved forward of their own volition, and my hand shook as I tightened my grip on my wand.
There was screaming all around me. Some people were crying, some begging for their lives. Though I couldn't see him, I heard Voldemort laughing as if this was his own personal theater.
Then Sirius was in front of me. His brows were knitted together, and his scowl made him look very much like Father when he was in one of his moods. The only thing I saw in his eyes was hatred, pure and unadulterated. This was not the brother I had known. I had gone too far this time; it was written all over his face.
I didn't hear the spell, never even saw him draw his wand, but the ground exploded around me and dust blurred my vision. Then there was another explosion, and then another.
By the fourth knock, I realized I was already awake, staring at the ceiling. I scratched at my forearm where my mark had been dormant for the past several days. I still didn't believe he was truly gone, but it was obvious that something had at least driven Voldemort into hiding.
There were three more sharp raps in quick succession. Who the hell could that be at this hour of the night? I stretched as I sat up and glanced toward the makeshift bed of couch cushions on the floor at my feet. The baby was still sleeping, oblivious to the noise. I threw my blanket over him so he'd be completely shielded from view and grabbed my wand before making my way to the door.
"Who is it?" I asked, standing to the side of the door with my wand at the ready.
"I believe I'm supposed to say something about a locket?" a tired, old voice replied.
I was disappointed. Why was I disappointed? Dumbledore was in charge of the Order, which meant I could turn the baby over to him and wash my hands of the whole situation. True, I had been expecting my brother, but if he saw fit to send Dumbledore instead, then so be it.
I opened the door just long enough to let him in before closing it and recasting all the seals and wards. There was no such thing as being too cautious.
Dumbledore seemed to be studying my living space as he walked through the living room. Probably judging me. Let him. What did I have to prove? True, the furnishings were minimal and it didn't quite live up to my name, but it was a far cry from the dump my brother lived in. At least I still lived in a wizarding town. Even I hadn't stooped low enough to rent from Muggles. I made the best out of what I had, given the circumstances.
I cleared my throat to draw his attention, and when his blue eyes turned to me, I asked, "I suppose you came here for the child?"
"I came for Harry, yes, although I admit I had quite the time tracking you down. You're not easy to find. If Sirius hadn't given me a clue as to your whereabouts, I have no doubt that I would still be looking."
"I'm not supposed to be easy to find. It's what's kept me alive so long, despite the rumors to the contrary." I motioned for him to follow me to the center of the room, where I crouched beside the baby, pulling the blanket back just far enough to expose his sleeping face.
"I have to admit," I whispered so as not to wake him, "I'm surprised that Sirius didn't come himself with how adamant he was about raising him."
Surprised was certainly one word for it. Livid, perhaps, was a better one. I knew he would run off and tell Dumbledore all of the things we talked about like the good little lap dog he was, but to send him here, knowing that I wanted nothing to do with the Order? It was disrespectful, to say the least. I thought we had moved past that, at least, in the past year. Guess I was mistaken.
"Ah, then you haven't heard yet. I suspected as much." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully as he lapsed into silence. There was a faraway look in his eye that I couldn't decipher. I didn't like it, not any of it.
"Heard what?" I asked.
Dumbledore shook his head and motioned towards the sleeping child and then to the kitchen. On that, at least, we could agree. No sense in waking the brat. I let him lead the way, and we each took a seat at opposite ends of the small table.
"I'm not sure how to tell you this, but I find honesty is the best route in matters such as this," he began, setting his hat on the table and removing his outer robes as he settled in. "Sirius has been arrested and is currently on his way to Azkaban."
"What? But...how..."
Nothing could have prepared me for those words. Of all the scenarios that had played through my mind the past few days, I never once dreamed that Azkaban would enter the equation. Certainly not Sirius. He was a screw-up, without a doubt, but he was no criminal.
"For the murder of Peter Pettigrew."
"Impossible. For whatever reason, that dolt was one of his best friends. He would never. Doesn't even have it in him."
"I can't tell you what happened, Regulus. All I can tell you is what I've heard."
I wasn't sure what was more infuriating, his words or the matter-of-fact way that he delivered the news. If he was at all tore up about it, he didn't show it. This was the man Sirius had put his trust and faith in, despite my constant warnings about where his loyalties should lie. He should be outraged. He should be doing...Well, something, even if I didn't know exactly what.
"They say that Sirius was the Potters' secret-keeper, and Peter must have gone after him to confront him." Dumbledore sighed as he spoke, with each word emphasized in a way that suggested he was merely reciting a second-hand story. "There was an explosion. Several Muggles were killed, and all that was found of Peter was his finger. As of now, he's presumed dead."
"It's a lie!"
I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing, and my chair upended with the force, clattering against the floor. I didn't understand it, any of it. Not what Sirius had seen in Potter and that Mudblood, nor why he was so damned determined to risk his life for him, but he had. There was no way he'd betray them. That look on his face when he came to me that night, the bloodlust in his eyes...No, if ever I was sure of anything, I knew my brother was innocent at least when it came to the Potters.
"Regulus, please..." Dumbledore started, but I slammed my palms on the table to drown out whatever bullshit he was about to say. How dare he act so calm and condescending. Couldn't he even pretend to care, just for one second?
"I'm telling you he wouldn't betray them! Not Sirius. My brother was a lot of things, but he was damn loyal. He would have died—died, you hear me?—rather than betray his friends."
He didn't seem shocked at all by my outburst. Instead, he sat there stroking his beard quietly, and in an equally soft voice said, "Yes, I quite agree. Unfortunately, our opinions won't save him. Trust me, I've tried. I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do for him now."
I hated the helplessness that washed over me. What was the point of living, of having cheated death, if the only thing I could do, when it really came down to it, was nothing at all? Why was I even here?
"But...the child." It's all I could think to say, so I stumbled through the words. "Sirius insisted he would raise it."
"Ah yes, Harry. Well, it seems we have quite an interesting dilemma. You see, I had actually intended to send Harry to live with his maternal aunt and uncle. Since it was his mother's love that spared him, I had rather hoped that the blood he shared with her sister would protect him. Unfortunately, given the time that it took to find you, the window of opportunity has now passed, and I'm afraid the spells I intended to use would no longer have the same potency."
"You can't really want to send him to live with Muggles?"
Just the thought alone was enough to turn my stomach. If the child really was responsible for the downfall of Voldemort, he should be celebrated, not punished by being exiled to live with those filthy bottom-feeders. There could be no greater insult.
"I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice in the matter." I couldn't decide whether Dumbledore was merely looking at me or if he was sizing me up. Either way, the way those piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through me was unnerving.
"Surely there's some wizarding family who can take him in. You must know somebody."
"I fear you underestimate the toll this war has taken on us all. Everyone has suffered. The Potters are gone. The McKinnons, too, as I'm sure you know. The Longbottoms, sadly, will likely never leave St. Mungo's, and their own son has been sent to live with his grandmother. I can't ask the Prewetts. They've just lost their boys, and their youngest—Molly Weasley now—has her hands quite full already with seven children of her own."
Merlin's beard, not the Weasleys. Despite being pure-bloods, that was really dragging the bottom of the barrel there. It was only a step above the Muggles—just barely. The least I could do for Sirius was find the child a decent home.
"Besides, I am of the opinion that it will do him good to grow up outside the watchful eye of the wizarding world. He will be regarded as a hero one day, but I see no need to burden him with that at such a young age. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I suppose so," I said. Though I hated to admit it, the logic made perfect sense. No child could possibly thrive under that sort of pressure and expectation. "But still, there must be another option."
"It seems to me there is one more option." Dumbledore folded his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. I knew I wasn't going to like whatever it was he had in mind judging by the expectant way he raised his eyebrows. I had seen it enough times at Hogwarts to know that nothing good ever followed. True to my expectations, he continued, "I suppose, if you were capable in some way of loving someone other than yourself, he could stay here with you."
"Out of the question," I said, almost before he even finished the sentence. I knew nothing about raising babies, nor did I have any interest in it. Besides, a child would just get in the way of my studies. There was still the matter of the horcrux, which Kreacher had squirreled away somewhere safe. I hadn't managed to destroy it yet, but I was certain I would sooner or later. When Voldemort returned—and he would, I was sure of it—then someone had to be prepared to take him on. Might as well be me.
"Then I have no choice but to send him to live with the Dursleys. They have a son about Harry's age. I'm sure he'll be taken care of there, at the very least."
"They're Muggles. He's a wizard. He at least deserves to grow up knowing that, knowing his place in the world. Even Sirius would have a fit if he knew where you intended to send him. I can't let you do it. It's unacceptable!"
"Good, then we've settled it." Dumbledore flipped his hat back onto his head and slipped his outer robe off the back of the chair, dangling it over his arm. "He'll stay here, for the time being. Everything you might need to get started is in here. It's the best I could do on such short notice."
He pulled an envelope from his robes and held it out to me. When I didn't immediately take it, he wagged it in my direction, as if that would make me change my mind.
"I don't think you're listening, old man. I don't want him."
"No, I heard you just fine. You refuse to let him live with Muggles, despite the fact that I have nowhere else to take him. Therefore, it is my understanding that the only option is for him to stay here. For now, at least. You've had him for days, and he seems well cared for and healthy to me, despite everything. You have already displayed concern for his well-being. On top of that, I'm also quite impressed with the wards you have on this place. You're a very competent wizard, Regulus. I have no doubt that you'll be able to keep Harry safe."
He shook the envelope again—harder this time, more fervently. My hands shook as I reached for it. Was I really about to do this? What business did I have raising a child? This—every last bit of it—was Sirius' affair, not mine.
All I could hear was Sirius' voice, pleading and desperate, running through my head. I'm the only family he's got, which makes him your family, too, whether you like it or not. I don't know who the hell I can trust anymore, Reggie, but I trust you.
Sirius, who was rotting in Azkaban for putting his faith in the wrong person, had come to me when there were so many other people he could have gone to in my stead. That was one thing we had in common, at least. I knew what it was like to trust the wrong people, and it had come back to bite me in the ass. Despite our differences, I couldn't betray my brother's confidences.
"Fine. I'll take him. For now," I conceded, grabbing the envelop and rifling through the papers. A birth certificate, what looked like some handwritten notes on parchment, and a small wad of Muggle money. Just what did he imagine I had planned? I wouldn't be needing that. "But only with the understanding that when you find a more suitable place, you'll come take him."
"Understood. If you should need anything, have Kreacher send an owl from a discreet location."
"Fine."
Dumbledore made his way to the door, but he paused with his hand on the knob. He turned back and said, "Stay safe, Regulus. A lot of people are counting on you."
With that, he stepped into the hall, and the door clicked shut behind him. Was his comment supposed to mean something? Like I gave a damn about any of those people.
I made my way back to the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets for that bottle of Firewhiskey I kept just in case. It was feeling like one of those nights. I finally found it pushed to the back of a side cabinet, and I took a swig of it.
"Kreacher!" I called, still trying to keep my voice down. A few seconds later, he appeared in front of me.
"Master needs something?"
"It seems our guest will be staying a while longer."
"Master means the filthy half-blood brat?"
"So it seems, though I suppose we'll have to stop referring to him as that. According to these papers," I flipped through the envelope and pulled out the birth certificate, "his name is Harry James Potter. He was born July 31, 1980, which makes him about a year and a half old." I shoved the paper back down with the others and held it out for Kreacher. "Here, take this and store it somewhere safe, somewhere no one save you will ever find it."
"Of course, Master." He took them with a small bob of his head to acknowledge the order and then Disapparated. I was alone again...sort of. But then, it'd be a while now before I was ever truly alone.
The sky outside the kitchen window was just beginning to transition to day. Much too early for any civilized person to be out of bed, so I slunk back to the couch. Each step reminded me just how tired I really was. It felt like heaven as I stretched out and closed my eyes. Just a few more hours.
Just when the stress had begun to drain from my body and I was sure I could relax enough to sleep, the baby began to stir next to me with the occasional grunt. A minute later, it had transformed into a full-lunged wail. There was no hope of going back to bed now.
With a groan, I slung my legs over the side of the couch. Not for the first time, I wondered what the hell I had gotten myself into.
...(X)...
The first week passed in a sleep-deprived stupor. Even the most advanced potions were easier to decipher than what it meant when Harry cried, and nappies remained an enigma.
Thirty minutes ago, Harry had begun to pitch a fit. Again. I couldn't imagine what, at a year and a half, he had to cry about, but he managed. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he wanted. His nappie and clothes were fresh. He had turned his nose up at the bottle and overturned a plate of food on a none-too-happy Kreacher, who had threatened to lock him in a cupboard if he couldn't behave.
"What's wrong with him?" I shouted over the noise. Wait, why was I shouting? This was ridiculous. I pulled my wand out and cast silencio. Silence. Beautiful, glorious silence. Even though Harry still squirmed in my arms, at least I couldn't hear him anymore.
Kreacher tugged at his long ears and shook his head. He'd been as patient as an old House-Elf could be expected to be, but I could tell that even his nerves were wearing thin. He scuttled over to the fridge, mumbling to himself, and pulled out a wet cloth that he had stuck in the freezer a while ago.
"Potter brat is getting more teeth," he said as he stuck the edge of the cloth in Harry's mouth. The baby fussed a few more times before settling down and sucking on it.
"You mean all that noise was just because he's teething?" With a sigh, I reversed the silencing charm. "Good thinking, Kreacher, but I'm not sure that will last long. Go fetch something meant for teething. If we're low on funds, take some from the vault in the manor."
"Of course, Master," he said and Disapparated with a pop.
Money was never something I had to worry about before. The Black fortune had always been available to me. On a whim, I could have anything I desired. Being in hiding, I've had to be careful how I use whatever assets are available to me. Since Father passed, it's been easier to siphon money from Mother's stores. As shrewd as she used to be, if she noticed, she never made mention of it in front of Kreacher. But how much longer could that possibly last? I needed a more sustainable form of income somehow.
I was disturbed from my thoughts by a knock on the door. I shifted Harry to the other hip and drew my wand as I approached, remaining as quiet as I could while I checked the peephole. The landlord was on the other side. He rarely visited, and I made sure Kreacher always took the rent to him so he wouldn't come for it, so I prepared myself for whatever bad news lay ahead.
"Mr. Ratcliffe," I said as I opened the door. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I've been getting some complaints lately about the noise from your apartment, Mr. Friedman." He paused and shifted his eyes to Harry briefly before continuing. "When I leased this place to you, I was under the impression that it would only be you living here."
"So was I," I muttered.
"I know that you can't help how loud babies are, but I made it clear when you moved in that residents here valued both privacy and quiet. I'm afraid if it keeps up, you'll have to find other living arrangements."
"Of course, sir. I understand."
Mr. Ratcliffe sighed, taking off his ratty cap just long enough to rub his balding head before putting it back on.
"I'm not heartless, and I'd never turn out a father and child, so if it comes to that, I'll help you find other living arrangements."
"Oh, I'm not his..." I started before thinking better of it. "I understand. Thank you for the generous offer, but I don't think that'll be necessary. I'll handle it."
"He sure is a happy baby," Mr. Ratcliffe said, poking a pudgy finger into Harry's stomach and earning himself a smile and a coo. Sure, happy now, but that half-hour meltdown was still fresh in my mind.
The smile faded from Mr. Ratcliffe's face as he leaned in closer.
"Huh. That mark on his forehead..."
"Took a tumble into the coffee table a few days ago. They're right dangerous when they start tottering around." I hastily pulled Harry against my chest to hide his face. "Not to be rude, but it's time for his nap, and I really should go."
"Yes...of course," Mr. Ratcliffe replied slowly, still looking at Harry as if there was a mystery there that needed to be solved.
I shut the door before he could think to say anything else, locked it, and put up extra wards just as a precaution. I carried Harry to the living room and set him on the floor as I plopped onto the couch. How could I have been so stupid? Every witch and wizard in Great Britain would be able to recognize Harry. There was nowhere I could bring him that was safe from the eyes of the public. What kind of life did that promise?
I was still on the couch mulling over our situation when Kreacher returned. There was no telling how long I'd been there, but Harry had been playing contentedly at my feet the whole time. I looked on as Kreacher handed him some new toys. The magical car that drove itself was immediately tossed aside in favor of the chew toy. He was a bit like a pet, only I didn't have the good fortune of being able to put him down when I grew weary of him.
"Maybe..." I said, to myself at first. "Maybe we should move."
"Move?" Kreacher asked. His skeptical expression perfectly matched my own doubts.
"You aren't going to like it any more than I do, Kreacher, but Harry has no place in Wizarding society yet. One day, after I've properly trained him in magic and the like, he'll make a proper wizard, I'm sure of it. However, until then..."
I couldn't bring myself to say it. I didn't want to say it, let alone even think it, but this was our only option. It would be for the best, for now at least, and it was only temporary.
"I need you to fetch me the envelope Dumbledore left, Kreacher. We're moving to an apartment in a Muggle city, so we'll need to start packing tomorrow."
"Master can't be serious! But living with Muggles would be—"
"I know, Kreacher. I know."
Horrible. Shameful. Disastrous. Any number of adjectives would suffice to describe the situation, but I could see no way around it.
"Your job is to make sure everything here is packed and ready to go. Tomorrow, I'll start searching for a place, and by next week, we should be ready to move."
Kreacher didn't argue, though he did pace around the apartment grumbling under his breath. He deserved that right, at least.
A new year was just around the corner, and with it would come many changes. I couldn't say I was particularly thrilled about it, but at the very least, Harry would be safe.
Author's Note: Thank you everyone for the reviews so far! I'm actually really enjoying writing this so far, so I have decided to actually expand it past the original three chapters. Not sure how long each chapter will be, but I intend to do a chapter for each year. :) I hope you enjoy, and please review.