Chapter 21: A creeping sense of familiarity
Evan chortled a bit at the sight of the auror booth by the entrance of Diagon Alley – Regulus, him, looked away.
It was obvious why his friend thought the auror's presence so humorous, or why the witch was watching them with narrowed eyes even if she didn't know, per se, which of the young wizards in their group belonged to the Death Eaters. It was obvious, and yet – Regulus couldn't find it humorous, himself. The auror was there because people were dying, and while Regulus was on the side doing the killing, while he agreed with the struggle behind those deaths...
Having lived and acted through one of those attacks had him wonder if it was really the best solution to the obvious problems – if, while they were taking too much space in modern society, mudbloods actually deserved to be murdered for all that.
It wasn't like Regulus could speak of his doubts with Evan, though, or with any of the others – so he hadn't. It wasn't like he even knew who, amongst their little group and his other acquaintances, put on a mask at night.
Evan, sure – him and Bella had been the ones to lead him in. Regulus knew the names of perhaps four Death Eaters aside from himself – Evan, Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Tarquin Avery – and had reasonable suspicions concerning a few other people from his social circle – Carmine Wilkes and Lucius and Rabastan came to mind – but there were, for sure, many others who wore the mask without him knowing.
Keep the names a secret, and the secrets won't be broken.
Today, Regulus was accompanying Evan and his friends on their shopping trip – the Bulstrodes were holding a private party later in the week, and the older brother had insisted on sampling drinks himself. There were four other men his age – give or take two years – in their little group, and for all Regulus knew, all of them were Death Eaters too – or none.
Dorian and Valius Bulstrode sure held the necessary views to qualify, and Isidore Accrington wasn't far behind. Marcus Chen generally kept his mouth shut on the subject, with pinched lips and a disapproving look on his face – but no one had ever managed to find out if it was because he disagreed or because he didn't like talking about mudbloods at all. Understandable, considering his paternal grandmother was a muggle and his mother's pureblood ancestry wasn't enough to erase that from everyone else's mind.
Were they in on the secret? Or weren't they?
Regulus had no idea. It didn't seem like something they would do, any of them – well, maybe Dorian, the guy always had opinions about what happened to mudbloods and to halfbloods who forgot their place – but at the same time...
Regulus hadn't known what it really meant to be a Death Eater until the other day, when Evan had come to him and said they were going to raid a mudblood's shop in Otterhey Quarter in Bristol. He'd had no idea of what it meant to have someone beg you for mercy, to see a teenager fall under the cruciatus as your... colleagues... start laughing.
He hadn't understood, and now, now it was obvious that it wasn't something Regulus himself was meant to do, either – he wasn't strong enough, wasn't convinced enough, wasn't... – except it was too late.
Maybe there were other Death Eaters who'd joined and found out that the reality of the Dark Lord's crusade was much more gruesome, much less obvious and natural than they'd expected. Maybe there were others who wanted out, but couldn't leave anymore.
Regulus certainly wasn't going to ask any of them – because he didn't know who they were, because he had no idea which masks held similar doubts as his.
Because Evan had been laughing, too – and he knew Bellatrix enough to say that she'd have laughed too, if she'd been here that night.
Because he didn't believe that their cause was wrong, no – but he wasn't at ease with the means, now, and that meant... That meant he was weak, and, worse perhaps, that his cousin and Evan and everyone might see it and start doubting him, too.
No one wanted Bellatrix Black – sorry, Lestrange – doubting them and their dedication to the cause.
Regulus knew that better than anyone.
And so here they were, now, strolling down Diagon Alley as if nothing dangerous could ever happen there – because their blood meant they didn't have to worry about that, because some of them were the ones threatening the lives of others. As if it was normal that the other people in the street were hurrying past them, seeking refuge inside, where they couldn't be singled out as potential targets.
Regulus didn't know what his doubts meant, but the last weeks had been suffocating.
Valius – a year older than Regulus in Slytherin, he'd graduated more than a year ago and now spent his days doing nothing productive at all, from all witness accounts – rolled his eyes at his older brother's comments on a passing witch's backside.
"You're never going to find a girl willing to marry you, you know that? Not even with the lordship waiting for you when Father finally decides he's done with politics..."
Dorian snorted, a large grin crossing his thin lips:
"You don't get to comment, since Catherine Parkinson could walk out of her grave and try to seduce you and you'd still be drooling at Little Reggie's shameless brother."
That got the older Bulstrode a stinging hex – and Regulus into a brooding mood. Of course someone would bring up Sirius, even with such people. Sirius was better than him on almost all points, his only problem was that he wouldn't see the Merlin-damned truth if it hit him with a cruciatus curse.
Valius snipped:
"Considering all three of Parkinson's husbands died as soon as she got a son from their Houses, I don't see how that's supposed to be a problem. Maybe your hypothetical future wife will have the same aspirations, Brother. It'd explain why she'd put up with you at all."
Evan sneered and shook his head.
"Right, the famous Catherine Parkinson... So beautiful many men lost their heads around her, literally in some cases! She raised three future lords and had the Wizengamot under her thumb for close to thirty years. If I ever have a daughter, I want her to be that competent in whatever she'll try her hand at!"
Dorian guffawed and tried to pat Evan on the back – harshly, without a care for the results of his action, just like himself – but the other wizard took a swift step away.
"You, have a daughter? You're a bachelor through and through, Rosier! How many girls have you gone through in the last year, I'm curious?!"
Evan scoffed and maneuvered himself further away from Dorian – by putting Regulus in between them. How typical.
"I've been occupied with goals of a higher order, lately. You should try it sometime, Bulstrode."
There was a few seconds of awkwardness, as if Dorian could parse the true meaning behind those words, and wasn't quite sure enough of the implications to give any kind of answer – not without being much too obvious in public.
That had never stopped him before, and it wasn't like there was anyone to overhear them here. They'd long gone past the auror booth and the entrance of Diagon Alley.
Regulus, however, could understand the hesitance – he, himself, wouldn't know what to say to such an overture, not when he'd already committed himself to the Death Eaters and wasn't supposed to talk about it with anyone who didn't already know.
Dorian Bulstrode wasn't Regulus, but the point still stood. If Dorian had understood the implications, if he was already involved, if he wasn't, if he wanted no part of it or if he wished he could join too... Saying it out loud in front of anyone, even people you moderately trusted, could come back and bite you in the ass.
Instead, the older Bulstrode rounded up on Regulus and changed the subject:
"Ah, I was wondering, though: Blackie Baby Black, do you remember which Houses were under Catherine Parkinson's hold, back then? I've got the House of Flint and the House of Ollivanders, but I can't actually remember the third one."
"...I think you're mixing me up with Sirius. He's the one who can recite everyone's family tree up to the fifteenth century, even if he only ever does that to embarrass other people."
That had been said through gritted teeth. Dorian Bulstrode liked to... tease... Regulus about his blood-traitorous brother, as evidenced by his numerous mentions of the good-for-nothing wizard – you'd think he was the one who thought Sirius mesmerizing, not his younger brother – and his degrading choices in nicknames.
Bulstrode's eyebrows only rose higher.
Regulus relented – took half a minute to think, because he wasn't Sirius. Still, Catherine Parkinson was famous in wizarding history, and her sons were only slightly less so.
"...The House of Drennan. Her first husband was Solomon Drennan."
"Right, that! I knew you could do it, Black!"
They were about halfway to the cellarman's shop, and Regulus was anticipating the testing of products – with a bit of fairy dust on the side, to wash out the lingering taste in between two bottles – because then he'd have something to focus on that wasn't his older brother or Dorian's harassment.
The group of young wizards turned a corner by Twilfitt and Tattings' windows and Marcus almost walked into a lone boy.
Valius grabbed his friend's shoulder before anything could happen, and the kid – eleven? Twelve? – stared at them with vague apprehension and cautious wariness.
Very dark hair, vivid blue eyes, freckles – he looked a bit like... someone? Someone Regulus might have crossed paths with in Slytherin, for example, another student who wouldn't have been in his year and with whom he'd probably never really talked. There was something vaguely familiar about the boy, sure – but not enough that Regulus could tell what exactly.
Maybe he was the younger brother of that unnamed student?
A look around, though – there wasn't anyone else on the street, only them and the child. Either he'd come to Dragon Alley alone, or he'd left his family inside one of the shops.
Evan snapped his fingers, making both the kid and Regulus jump.
"Look at that, a lost soul! Didn't anyone tell you that it was dangerous to wander alone these days, boy?"
Regulus grimaced, as Evan – and himself, in a way – were the very reason why the streets were so dangerous lately. Not right now, maybe, but it was obvious that Evan was in for a laugh and wanted to abuse his anonymity as a Death Eater to torment a boy who might not have even started Hogwarts yet.
Nothing dangerous, nothing absolutely reprehensible – but just the right amount of hints to stir up unease in an impressionable child. And because none of them could recognize the boy, because he wasn't from an important family...
That meant the child was fair game.
Evan had gotten cruel like that in the last years.
A look around, and Regulus could see how the others were taking it, too. Dorian looked curious and amused – nothing surprising there – and Valius had a long-suffering look on his face but wouldn't intervene. Marcus looked peeved – but once again, about what? Isidore had his eyebrows raised high, though nothing on his face indicated any kind of disagreement with Evan's actions here.
The boy looked to the side for a moment, discreetly ill-at-ease but able to keep it quiet – and Regulus was unpleasantly reminded of his childhood, back before Sirius started openly challenging their mother's lessons. His older brother had often looked like this, like there was something lacking in their Mom's explanations but he couldn't say what or why exactly.
It wasn't exactly the same, no – this boy's lacked Sirius' constant intensity, and the situation was hardly the same – but still.
"I'm not alone. The... others... are inside. But thank you for worrying about my safety, Mister."
That last bit had been tacked on as if an afterthought, something polite to imply the boy hadn't caught on the vicious tone under Evan's words.
Next to Regulus, Isidore snorted a bit at such an obvious refusal to be intimidated.
Evan's smile widened and his eyes got sharper.
"Oh? Needed a bit of fresh air, perhaps? I..."
The shop's door blew open, and an older girl – a bit younger than Regulus, perhaps fifteen, sixteen? – appeared behind the boy with a thin smile and her wand in hand.
"Don't walk out like that. And you, step away, please."
Her eyes had settled almost immediately on Evan himself, judging him to be the biggest threat – and there was no wondering if that was how she saw the group of young men who'd gathered around the boy, not with that look in her eyes.
Regulus was once again assaulted with a creeping sense of familiarity, and absolutely no way to attribute it to anything in particular. Her blue eyes were much, much lighter than the boy's, and they only looked so much alike that you could tell they were related – cousins, perhaps? – but there was something missing, something Regulus couldn't quite...
Evan squinted at the girl, his smile still traitorously pinned on his lips.
"My, my... Brother and sister on a shopping trip, it seems? Are the two of you alone out there? That's irresponsible on your parents' part. Unless they couldn't accompany you, of course. Not familiar with wizarding shops, perhaps?"
Another shadow appeared behind the girl, and Evan stilled. Regulus couldn't see who it was, not from where he stood, but the slight change in mood around Narcissa and Bellatrix's cousin implied confusion – and, more importantly, miscalculation.
Someone Evan had definitely not expected to see standing behind the girl.
The boy calmly walked to the girl, and to whoever had come with her, subtracting himself from Evan's presence with barely a frown. Like someone used to being with people he couldn't trust.
Only then did the boy's eyes fall on Regulus himself, allowing for focus where the threat of an unknown adult taunting him had kept his attention until now.
There was something in the way the kid stared at him, and Regulus didn't like it.
He had no time to ponder on it, though – as the voice behind the teens startled him deeply instead.
"Evan Rosier, do take a step back."
Regulus blinked stupidly as his grandmother put a hand on the boy's shoulder – and, oh.
Grandmother Melania had just walked out of the clothes shop, too, stopping by Grandmother Irma's side while holding onto a baby with blinking silver eyes with one hand, and a younger girl who fit the description of the mudblood child his brother had taken in a few weeks ago – not that Bellatrix had ranted about it or anything. A boy around fourteen slipped by the two elder witches and went to stand before the first child.
Black hair, the boys and the older girl. Silver eyes, the baby.
Sirius' girl.
All of them accompanied by Regulus' grandmothers.
What he'd missed until now was growing increasingly obvious, and Regulus had no idea what it meant – but the things all the children, orphan aside, had in common... It had nothing to do with someone he might have crossed paths with at Hogwarts, and everything to do with them being related to the Blacks. They didn't look overly similar, not stupidly stereotypical of Blacks like his brother, but still – what had been familiar with them was that they could all be some kind of cousins, and they looked like it.
The orphan girl's presence, however... Regulus felt himself tense up. If she was here, then...
But Sirius didn't appear out of nowhere – or out of Twilfitt and Tattings, for the matter – so Regulus relaxed slightly.
Only slightly. There was still the matter of his grandmothers being with all those children he didn't know – and with Sirius' girl, of all people, especially if Sirius wasn't here too, not that Regulus wanted him to be here, not at all.
"Grandmothers..."
Grandmother Irma's pale eyes blinked at him, as if she hadn't noticed him until now – and she frowned.
"...Regulus. You shouldn't harass children out in the streets, really. What if Altair had gotten hurt?"
The young man felt his cheeks burn – he had nothing to say to that.
"Forgive me, Mrs Black, but who are those children exactly? I feel I would have recognized a child of a House of Black, and yet none of us have ever seen those kids before, not even your own grandson."
Evan had shifted gears with practiced ease, fishing for information, and Regulus could only hope to one day reach such a level of social comfort that he'd be able to ignore admonitions to move on as if in innocence.
Next to Regulus, Isidore shifted on his heels, as if disturbed by something – but Regulus ignored him, too busy watching, listening. With greed, almost, with the desire to understand.
A voice rose from behind them, though – and once again, Regulus jumped.
"Ah, yes, of course. Because then you wouldn't go around harassing them, as long as they'd be from the right kind of families, is that it?"
Regulus spun around and felt himself lose all colors as he took in the new group who'd gotten there while they were busy gawking at the Black elders.
That girl – that girl on front...
Callidora Longbottom was there with her husband – a Black elder, once again – and they weren't alone. Just like Irma and Melania, they were accompanied by several children, though all of them seemed old enough to go to Hogwarts. Four girls and a boy.
The oldest one looked so much like Sirius that Regulus couldn't help but think of the sister he might have had if...
She was also the one who'd spoken earlier – and her words, the look on her face, that was something Regulus could have seen from his brother.
"This... What is this, what did..."
"If you'd stayed home like a good son, Regulus, you would know all about it. Grandfather Pollux is such a snitch when it comes to family, I already had to deal with our Dear Mother earlier on."
Oh Merlin.
Regulus closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Sirius would just go away if he ignored his brother's presence. Of course, he wasn't surprised – not after everything else, not after the orphan girl and the Black parade that had somehow gathered in Diagon Alley this afternoon – but that didn't mean he had to be happy about any of this.
He could hear the footsteps coming closer, and he just knew that Sirius was now standing in front of him, looking ever so slightly judgmental of his refusal to actually look him in the eyes.
"Keep your... ah, friends, away from the kids, and you'll be welcome at the family reunion, next Wednesday. And put your last growth spurt to use, now that you can actually look down on me."
...That was unnecessarily mean, so of course it got Regulus to open his eyes and glare at his brother.
He'd indeed grown past Sirius' height, but not by much – he'd never realized, before, as they hadn't looked each other in the eyes or stood side by side in two years.
"You're a fine one to talk about being a good son who does what he's supposed to do! Tell me, what kind of horrible things did you tell Mom, since you just saw her!?"
Sirius' smirk grew wrier, and something cruel glinted in his eyes.
"Don't stay up too late, Regulus, it's not good for your health and future."
On these words, he spun around and didn't look back. The hidden meaning was obvious to Regulus, an accusation more than anything else.
His brother had brought with him another handful of children – Blacks, it was more and more obvious – as well as Grandfather Arcturus and Theresa Rosier. Regulus and his friends were effectively surrounded, a passive claim to a peaceful final. Seven pureblooded adults and fifteen children behind them, all centered around one blood tie. The lord of the House of Black was there and wouldn't let anything get out of hand.
Regulus felt like something he couldn't figure out was slipping out of his grasp and he didn't even know if he wanted to keep it or not – but by the time he'd know, it would be much too late anyway.
He could only watch as Sirius went to speak with Callidora and Harfang Longbottom, as Theresa Rosier stood disappointed between her great-nephew and the children, as Evan tilted his head in consideration and a complete lack of care for his great-aunt's disapproval.
As Grandfather Arcturus looked him in the eyes, impassive, impossible to read and unwilling to offer an explanation while Evan and his friends were there too.