[1985]

"All right, let's run through it one more time, shall we?" I asked as I knelt down before Harry and fussed over his clothes.

"But Daaaad," Harry whined, tugging at the collar of his uniform. I swatted his hand away and fixed the mess he'd made of his tie, smoothing it out and tucking it into his vest.

"Once more. What are we not going to mention at school?"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Magic."

I pursed my lips. One could only hope he'd manage to keep his accidental outbursts under control while he was around Muggles, but there wasn't a whole lot to be done about that. I was more than capable of cleaning up whatever messes he might make—both figurative and literal.

"And?" I prodded, doing my best to flatten down his unruly hair. I was pretty sure my efforts just made it worse, and it sprung back up in all directions as if out of spite.

"Kreacher." Harry pushed my hand away and mussed his hair up again, the way he liked it, glaring at me all the while.

I sighed but forfeited the battle. It was a futile one, anyway. "And?"

Harry stared at the ground, digging the toe of his trainer into the carpet, but he didn't answer.

"Harry. What else are we not going to mention at school?"

"Farts," he mumbled so low I almost couldn't make it out.

"That's right. No fart jokes."

Kreacher cackled as he passed us on his way to the kitchen, but when I shot him a look he covered it with a series of wheezing coughs. I was well aware that Harry's latest obsession had been entirely Kreacher's doing. It wasn't like I could watch them both 24/7. I decided to take heart in the fact that it was just harmless jokes Kreacher was teaching him, and not the things I had learned from the House-Elf at Harry's age.

I hesitated, doing a brief mental inventory of everything he would need. Nothing missing, as far as I could tell. "You really are ready, then?" I asked, with the sinking feeling that everything had gone far too smoothly so far.

With a roll of his eyes, Harry heaved a huge sigh and answered, "Yeeeees. Can we go now?"

I paused once more for a final final inventory. Coat, check. Glasses, check. Rucksack, check. Shoes, check. Lecture about keeping magic a secret, check. Surely there was something I was missing—there always was—but for the life of me, I couldn't think of it.

"I guess, then . . . we're ready," I finally said, brushing his bangs over his scar one more time for good measure. "Kreacher, we're going," I called to the rest of the flat. I had no idea what the House-Elf would get up to with his newly-won free time, but he had always managed to find something to fill the void before, so I wasn't too worried about it. He could always return to the manor to pester Mother, at the very least.

I opened the door to our flat to find the hallway already occupied, as the man across the way was just coming home. "Late night, Jay?" I asked, locking the door behind us.

"Oh, you know how it is." He scrubbed a hand over his face as he yawned. "Paper due this morning. Pulled an all-nighter, but I got it done."

Jay had traded his carefree nights of partying to attend uni, which he assured me was a solid life decision on his part. I had only seen evidence to the contrary, between his late nights, sour moods, and empty wallet, but I figured the benefit would kick in eventually. He seemed certain of it, at least.

"Hey, little man." Jay crouched down and held up his hand for a high five, which Harry was all too eager to return. "First day of primary, huh? Come see me when you get home and tell me all about it, okay?"

"Mkay," Harry agreed, pulling at the straps of his knapsack.

"Best be off. Don't want to be late," I said, glancing at my watch.

"Good luck," Jay told Harry, ruffling his hair. As he stood, he made eye contact with me and mouthed the same thing. I nodded my thanks. Not that I particularly needed it—Harry was the one starting school, after all, not me—but I appreciated the sentiment, at least.

I took Harry's hand in mine as we descended the stairs. It was tiny still, but seemingly growing larger by the day. Once, his hand fit snugly around two of my fingers, but that felt like an eternity ago. It wouldn't be too much longer before he decided he didn't need to hold my hand at all, I imagined—way before his hand would actually outgrow mine.

We left the front door in plain sight and headed down the street, as anyone would expect. Several blocks later, though, I pulled Harry into an alley and checked to make sure no one was around.

"If anyone asks, how did you get to school?" I asked Harry, even though we had trained endlessly for this and I was sure he had it memorized. Couldn't be too careful as far as Muggles were concerned.

"We took the bus," Harry answered in a bored tone.

Good. That meant he did have the ability to listen. I'd had my doubts about that recently.

"Close your eyes and hold on tight, okay?"

Harry's grip on my hand tightened as the world spun out of focus. My stomach lurched as we came to a sudden stop. It'd been a long time since I had Apparated. I'd almost forgotten how rotten it felt.

"My tummy hurts," Harry whined.

"Mine, too, kid. We'll both get used to it with a bit more practice."

The space we were in was as big as our kitchen—which wasn't saying a whole lot, considering. Enough for both of us to fit in comfortably and not a whole lot more than that. It also happened to be terribly dusty and inhabited by more than a few spiders . . . and possibly other things. How they found their way to it, I hadn't a clue. Still, despite its shortcomings, I was proud of it because, one, I hadn't used more than simple spells in years, and two, it was rather impressive magic even in the best circumstances. Certainly nothing I would have been able to accomplish during my time at Hogwarts. My research, while not getting me any closer to horcruxes, hadn't entirely been in vain.

I poked my head out the door to check the coast was clear before pulling Harry out behind me. To any bystander on the street, it would appear that we had just emerged from a narrow alleyway between buildings. Even I was impressed by how well the cloaking and glamour spells had combined.

From that spot, the school was just a block away. I had planned the route months in advance, but it went smoother than I had expected. Harry and I stopped just outside the gate, and I knelt in front of him, making eye contact to ensure he was listening. His green eyes were large and terrified, but he hid it well. Like a proper wizard. I hoped that would be enough to get him through. The kid had defeated a dark lord, for Merlin's sake. Certainly primary wouldn't give him any trouble.

"You remember what I told you?" I asked one more time for good measure.

"If any of the Muggles bother me, you'll hex them into oblivion?"

In retrospect, I probably should have chosen my words a bit more carefully. "Yes, but no. I meant the things we went over all morning."

"Oh. Yeah, I remember."

Harry's tone did not inspire confidence, but there were only so many times I could repeat myself before he either got it or he didn't. So instead, I asked, "Do you want me to walk you in?"

Harry hesitated, but after thinking about it for a minute, he said, "No, it's okay." His hands were clenched, though, and his face nervous.

"You sure?"

He looked up at me and grinned. "Yeah. I'm a wizard, right? And wizards are supposed to be brave."

I glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to have overheard. "Yes, Harry, you are. But also, what were we not supposed to mention at school?"

"Oh. Right."

I was pretty confident we were going to need a miracle to get through this day, but I made sure it didn't show on my face. Instead, I pulled him into a hug and whispered in his ear, "Be a very brave wizard today, Harry."

"I will. Bye, Dad."

Harry hiked up his rucksack higher, gripping the straps until his fingers turned white, and joined the crowd of students flowing into the large, brick building. A few minutes later, he passed through the doors, and just like that, he was off on his first day.

Wizards were traditionally homeschooled, but that had never really been an option for Harry. I knew that from the start. I just didn't know what to expect from primary, having never gone myself, and it was the not knowing that ate at my nerves the most. How exactly was one meant to keep a child safe when they were out in the world without you more time than they were actually with you at home? As always, Muggles did things very backwards.

I tore myself away from the school and made my way to Moe's to start my shift. Andy was in the back, as usual, but he came out with two steaming cups as I made my way behind the counter. He held one out for me.

"Coffee?" I asked as I took the mug.

"You look like you could use a pick-me-up." Andy sipped at his own cup, closing his eyes and breathing in the freshly brewed aroma as he did so.

"Thanks." Coffee had never really been my thing, and I was certain Father would be rolling in his grave if he could see me standing in a tiny, forgotten Muggle diner drinking the stuff. Of course, Father would disapprove of a lot of things I did these days. Maybe it was fortunate we both died when we did.

Not that I had any sort of frame of reference for it, but I was pretty sure Andy made the best coffee in the world. He certainly seemed to think so.

"First day's always the hardest. It'll get easier. For both of you." Andy took another sip and let out a satisfied sigh before tilting his head and glancing my way. "He didn't cry, did he?"

I nearly choked on my drink. "No. Why? Do you think he will?" The thought hadn't even occurred to me. Was he waiting until I left? Had he planned to find a corner somewhere, alone and out of the way? I'd spent the past four years telling him to stop crying. Maybe he thought that meant he couldn't cry in front of me?

"Not likely, if he didn't when you dropped him off. He'll be just fine. You, on the other hand . . . you might just need another cuppa. Have as many as you want. On the house, just for today. It's not every day your kid starts primary, after all."

Andy held his mug up in a cheer, and I obliged, relaxing a little as the glasses clinked together. Harry would be fine. Merlin, he'd defeated a Dark Lord before he could even talk. Granted, it had been a fortunate accident at the time, and he hadn't exactly done anything to accomplish it, but a kid with that kind of luck could surely handle whatever Muggles threw his way. I took another long sip, letting the coffee heat my entire body on its way down.

"Is this how you handled it when Lizzie started?" I asked. "Lots of coffee?"

"Oh, no, I definitely needed something stronger than coffee when Lizzie started." Andy shook his head and laughed. He clapped me on the shoulder and held my gaze as he added, "You, however, don't have that luxury, because you have work to do." He patted my shoulder one time for good measure before heading into the back.

"Coffee it is, then," I said with a sigh, wondering if Kreacher was faring any better back at the flat on his first of many days alone.

...(X)...

I had come to realize the sanctity of the fifteen-minute break. It seemed like such a little thing. Certainly, in my previous life, I never would have spared it any thought. Back then, I had nothing but time to myself and no real need to work. After several hours of serving Muggles, though, I needed the break, and I'd earned it.

Which is why I wasn't thrilled when Andy poked his head around the corner. I liked him well enough, especially as Muggles were concerned, but I was on break. I would've thought that meant something to him, of all people.

"Can I help you?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Someone's asking after you," he said, gesturing his head toward the front.

"For me?" I couldn't help but frown as I mulled over the possibilities. Very few people knew where I was, and certainly none I was eager to see. "Are you sure?"

"I was surprised, too, but she asked for you by name, Reginald." Andy smirked as he added extra emphasis to my full name, which he knew full well nobody ever called me. Mostly because it was stupid.

I had deferred to my older brother in choosing a name, like I had deferred to him for so many things in life, assuming he knew better about Muggles. I should have known better. More and more, it seemed like my chosen name was little more than a cruel joke.

"Wait . . . she?" As far as I knew, I wasn't aware of any women who should know my whereabouts.

Andy must have mistaken my confusion for something else, because he laughed and said, "Don't get your hopes up. Think she's a bit old for you." He vanished back through the door before I could ask for further clarification.

With a sigh, I pulled myself to my feet and smoothed out my apron. The diner was mostly empty as I emerged from the back. It was that deceptively peaceful time between lunch and dinner when most people couldn't be bothered to eat out, and the ones who did were generally laid back, just looking for a good experience and nice atmosphere.

Mrs. Braun was in her corner, like always, her tea gone cold as she pecked away at her keyboard. Fancied herself a writer, now that she had retired, but I suspected she was more of a people watcher who needed a cover. Outside on the patio were some teenagers I had never seen before, and their intermittent fits of laughter filled the room. Then there was Mr. Tippin at the bar, nursing his coffee and reading the paper as he did every day during his lunch. I had no idea what he actually did for a living—I never cared enough to ask—but whatever it was had left him worn out and cynical. Or maybe he'd been born that way. In either case, I liked him.

The only person I didn't immediately place was an older woman in a long, dark red sundress sitting at a table in the middle of the diner. Her black hair—long shot through with gray—was pulled up in a severe bun without a strand out of place. She stared straight ahead as I approached, as if lost in thought. It wasn't until I was nearly beside the table that I finally recognized her.

"Professor McGonagall?" I asked, not trusting my eyes. It made no sense for her to be there, and even less to see her in Muggle clothes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she was a half-blood and, of course, must have worn Muggle clothes at some point. But the image of her in front of me, looking almost like a harmless grandmother, conflicted with the terror she had been during my Hogwarts years.

As if reading my mind, she shot me a withering glance that definitely reminded me of my time at Hogwarts. "We aren't at school, and you aren't a child anymore. Please, I'm just Minerva here."

"Well, Minerva, is there something I can help you with?"

She motioned her hand to the chair across from her and inclined her head slightly. I heard the order loud and clear. Sit. I glanced around the diner, prepared to use my job as an excuse to get out of . . . well, whatever this encounter was. Ultimately, though, I did as directed, settling into the chair sideways on the off chance I would need to make a quick escape.

She was quiet for several minutes, and I had to fight the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. She was right; I wasn't a child anymore. Nor would I allow her to intimidate me. Probably. Old habits did die hard, after all.

"I have to admit"—she folded her hands under her chin as she spoke—"I'm quite surprised to find you here, of all places."

"You and me both," I muttered, though that wasn't technically true. Not anymore. I'd had years to warm up to the idea, and while I wouldn't say I enjoyed the situation I found myself in, I also had trouble imagining myself anywhere else at this point. My life previously had revolved around school, family, and the Death Eaters. I was too old now for the first, too changed for the second, and too jaded for the third. What else, exactly, did that leave me?

The conversation—if that's what one could call it—was interrupted by Andy bringing over a cup of tea. He glanced between the two of us—first her, then me—as if assessing the situation.

"Friend of yours, Reg?" he asked in a light,easy tone, but I understood what he was really saying. Did I need him to swoop in and save me? Not hardly. Though, I appreciated the gesture all the same.

"Former professor, actually." I did my best to match his tone and let him know that I didn't need rescuing. I must have done a fine job, because he grinned in response.

"In that case, I'm sorry," Andy said to Minerva as he set the steaming cuppa before her, "and the tea is on the house."

Minerva's lips twitched as she nodded at him. "Much obliged."

Was that . . . a smile? No, I was pretty sure it was a smirk. I couldn't recall ever seeing Minerva smile once in all my time at Hogwarts. Rumor was that it would break her face if she did, so she best not risk it.

Andy winked at me as he left, and I rolled my eyes at him, which only made him grin all the more.

"Not that it isn't lovely to see you, Minerva, but . . . why are you here?" I asked once he was out of earshot, dropping any pretense of cheeriness.

She took a long sip of her tea before setting down her cup and pursing her lips—a look I remembered all too well. "You are not an easy man to find, Regulus."

"That's kinda the point."

"Took quite a bit of convincing to get Albus to tell me where you were."

Not that I had thought, even for a second, that relocating and surrounding myself with Muggles would stop Dumbledore from finding me when he wanted to, but I had hoped it might have taken him a bit longer. If Dumbledore could find me, I shuddered to think who else might if they really wanted to. My only consolation was that everyone who might care to do so thought I was dead and had no reason to believe otherwise. If I was lucky, it would stay that way.

"Why would you bother going through all that trouble for little ol' me?" I grabbed a napkin from the center of the table and began folding it, just to give my hands something to do.

"I didn't do it for you, Regulus. I did it for Harry." A softness shone in her eyes for just a second before they hardened again. "Tell me, how is he doing?"

"Harry is fine," I said with much more confidence than I felt. While it was true he had taken well to primary school, he wasn't particularly exceptional. He didn't excel in anything and succeeded only at being spectacularly mediocre. I couldn't decide if it was a fault of his genetics or his upbringing—or a combination of the two—but I was sure I had somehow let him down.

"Yes, but is he happy?"

I scoffed. "He's five. Of course he's happy. Bit like a dog at that age, aren't they? You feed them, water them, and pet their head once in a while, and they think you've given them the world."

Minerva set her cup down hard, creating a loud chink against the saucer, and scowled. "A child is most certainly not like a dog."

I was inclined to argue, but I bit my cheek and glanced out the window instead. It wasn't like Minerva had ever raised a brat herself. What did she know? I'd had the pleasure of both a dog and a kid, and there were definitely similarities between the two, even if she refused to admit it.

"I won't lie, I was surprised you decided to keep Harry in the first place. I, of course, argued against it. Well, we both know what you were like, and I don't think you'll take any offense in me saying so."

I sure would have liked to . . . but she had me there. The Regulus she knew wouldn't have been caught dead raising a half-blood. Then again, the Regulus she knew was dead. That left an awful lot of room for improvement.

"But we also know what that child means to the wizarding world," Minerva continued without waiting for a response from me. She ran her fingers around the rim of her now-empty teacup as she spoke. "A boy like that deserves a family. He needs a mother and a father that will love him. He needs—"

"I don't need you telling me what Harry does and doesn't need, Minerva!" My outburst was louder than I'd intended it, earning me a concerned glance from Andy. I lowered my voice as I continued. "For Merlin's sake, he's my—" I trailed off as Minerva raised her eyebrows at me over her teacup.

"Your what, Regulus?"

I'd spent so much time around Muggles, gotten so used to the word and how much easier it made things, that I'd almost forgotten it wasn't true. Not really. I'd just been fooling myself. Minerva, though, had known Harry's real parents, had understood that my role in his life was always meant to be a temporary one.

"He's my ward, Minerva, and I'm more than capable of determining what's best for him." My tone was frigid, even to my ears.

As if on cue, Andy swooped in to refill Minerva's tea, offering me a pointed look as he did so. "Has he shown you the pictures of Harry yet?" he asked casually.

"I hadn't thought to ask," Minerva answered curtly.

"Cute as a button, that kid. Looks nothing like his Dad, lucky for him."

If only he knew. "Thank goodness for small miracles," I agreed.

"Anyway, just thought you might want to take a look. Isn't every day you get to see a former student. Almost makes the not throttling them while they were in your class worth it, I imagine." Andy winked at her and—miracle of miracles—earned himself not only a smirk but a small chuckle from Minerva. I would never understand how that man managed to work that sort of magic on people.

He left as abruptly as he'd arrived, and Minerva turned to me expectantly. After a minute, she said, "Well?"

I hesitated for a moment before reaching into my back pocket and withdrawing my wallet. Muggle pictures still creeped me out, with their rigidity and stillness, but they were expected anytime someone found out you had a kid. Not having them would have called too much attention to myself. I laid my wallet on the table before her, flipping to the very first one, taken just before Harry's birthday last year. There were only a handful in total, but I watched as Minerva flipped through Harry's first school picture, the one Andy insisted I take when Harry lost his first tooth, and one of Harry blowing out the candles on his birthday cake here at Moe's just a few months ago.

With every one she passed, Minerva's countenance softened, her expression becoming less stern and her wrinkles more pronounced. Again, she looked almost grandmotherly. It was a wholly unnatural side of her, and it unnerved me.

"As you can see, we're doing just fine," I said as I snatched the wallet back and returned it to my pocket. I stood and pushed my chair in as I added, "You can pass that on to Dumbledore. And no more checking up on us. If we need anything, I'll contact you." I decided to omit the fact that hell would have to freeze over first.

"Regul–Reginald. Reg. Please." Minerva gestured for me to take a seat again.

I wavered, so very ready to be done with this conversation, but I eventually gave in. Something about her demeanor had shifted. She was less antagonistic, almost like she'd deflated. So I retook my seat and gave her one more chance.

Minerva leaned in closer and lowered her voice so no one would overhear. "I confess, I have an ulterior motive in coming here."

"You mean you're not just here to spy for Dumbledore and make sure I haven't killed the brat yet?"

Minerva smiled, but it was a pitiful thing, not quite reaching her eyes. "Believe it or not, Albus has every confidence in your ability to raise Harry."

That stunned me into silence for a moment. I had always assumed Dumbledore to be wise. Misguided and frustrating, yes, but a great wizard nonetheless. Now I doubted his decision-making skills.

I shook myself out of my thoughts long enough to mutter, "That makes one of you."

"Well, from what I can see, Harry is clean, clothed, and at least moderately happy, which is more than I can say would have been the case had he been sent to the Dursleys, nightmare that they are. So it seems you haven't done an entirely poor job of it. We should all be thankful, perhaps, that raising a child isn't anything like transfiguration."

I surprised myself with a small bark of laughter at that. As much of a struggle as Harry could be sometimes, he could never live up to Transfiguration. I still had nightmares about that class from time to time.

Minerva offered me a small, genuine smile before her countenance fell again. "While I was genuinely interested in Harry's well-being, that's not really why I'm here. I'm afraid I have some difficult news. I wanted to make sure you heard it from me, Regulus, and not some paper or something. I'm afraid Walburga—your mother, I mean—has passed."

A surge of emotion rose inside me like a whirlwind, and I was utterly lost, trapped in its vortex. My mother. It should be easy to accept, having not spoken with her in six years, and being dead as far as she was concerned, but still . . . I remembered. The nights where she would pull me into her lap and read from the same book of fairy tales I read to Harry. Her presence at my bedside when I was sick, tending to my needs and chasing away the nightmares. The pride in her voice when she introduced me to others. The way she would sit us down, Sirius and me, one on either side, at the end of the week and stroke our heads as we told her about our day. Merlin, I really had been like a dog.

My mother was a lot of things—not all of them good, not even most of them—but in the end, she was still my mother. And I love her. No, I loved her. Because once a person dies, everything they were becomes past tense.

"Regulus?" Minerva asked, pulling me away from my sinking thoughts. Concern flooded her eyes, and it only served to ignite a fire in me. How dare she feign worry. As if she cared one iota that Mother was gone, or how I would react. Minerva McGonagall had never once spared me a thought at Hogwarts, and I certainly didn't need her to now.

"I see," I said, pushing myself back from the table and standing. "If that's all, then, you've told me. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Minerva called after me, but I ignored her this time. She'd told me what she'd come to say, and I didn't owe her anything. Certainly not my grieving—not that I was. The news was just shocking, is all. Part of me had expected my mother to live forever, purely out of spite. But then . . what did she even have to live for? A late husband, a disowned and criminal son, and the grief of a dead child. Some small part of me wondered if it was our fault, if Sirius and I had broken her spirit, in our own separate ways.

I wasn't sure how I ended up in the kitchen, but I looked up to find Andy in front of me, giving me a once-over.

"You all right, Reg?" The way Andy eyed me implied he already knew the answer. And I'd thought I was doing such a good job of hiding it.

"Fine," I said, but it sounded hollow even to my own ears. "It's just . . . it seems my mother's passed."

His brows furrowed as he reached out to grab my shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. We weren't close." And we weren't. But even so . . . I remembered.

"Still, why don't you take the afternoon off? We're pretty slow here. I can manage."

I should have argued with him, insisted that I stay. I needed the money, after all. Instead, I found myself nodding. My hands had slid to the back of my apron and tugged the knot loose before I even realized what I was doing.

"I suppose you're right," I agreed. "I'll see you in the morning."

I couldn't recall anything about the walk from Moe's to my flat, only that I appeared in front of my door with two bottles of whiskey in hand. How they had gotten there, I couldn't have said, but I was thankful for their presence all the same. Everything was quiet as I opened the door, so I dropped onto the couch and tucked into the first bottle. It was nearly gone by the time a loud POP heralded Kreacher's arrival.

"Master . . . your mother—" he exclaimed as soon as he saw me. "Madame—"

"I know, Kreacher. I've heard." I took another long swig of my drink as he let out a pitiful wail. The whiskey burned on the way down, and as much as it hurt, it was nice to feel something other than the yawning void growing in my chest. "Looks like it's just you and I now."

The wails died down into sobs as the realization sank in. He dropped to his knees in front of me. "Kreacher will never leave Master!"

I examined the House-Elf closely. In all the years I'd known him, as much as I'd changed, as much as I'd put him through, he was still the same as ever. Doomed to serve my family—who, historically, were not the best of people, and that was putting it mildly. Through everything, he stayed. Even when Sirius left. When my father died. Now, with Mother . . . still, he stayed.

"You've been a good friend, Kreacher." I reached out and patted his head gently. "More than I deserve."

"Kreacher is . . . Master's friend?"

I wanted to say of course not. A House-Elf was merely a servant. No one that was forced to spend time with someone else could truly be considered a friend. That was the luxury of the free. Instead, I found myself saying, "Of course, Kreacher. Now, a toast."

I snapped my fingers and two wine glasses flew out of the cabinet, into my outstretched hand. I filled both with the rest of the whiskey from my bottle and passed one to him. Kreacher took it suspiciously, looking like he had no idea what to do with it.

"To Mother," I said, raising my glass.

"To Madame," Kreacher agreed, clinking his glass with mine.

I downed my whiskey in one gulp, hoping it would drown out the thoughts swirling in the back of my mind.

I never thought I'd live to see the day, but I could no longer avoid the fact. Once and for all, the Noble House of Black had fallen.