Buffy sat in silence, listening to a group discuss why Regulus, her supposed "uncle," had brought her to Los Angeles and concealed her magical signature. The conversation was filled with back-and-forth exchanges, with Giles occasionally chiming in. His concern for Regulus was evident. He had been one of Regulus's closest friends during their school years and was trying to defend his old friend to those present in the room.
"I think it would be wise to get a pensieve and view the memories he left in Buffy's locket to understand Regulus' motives of bringing Buffy to LA the way he did," Giles suggested, his tone calm but tinged with growing frustration at her father's relentless rants about his 'death eater'' brother.
"Yes, I do believe that would be the best course of action, Rupert," Albus agreed, nodding at Rupert.
"What's a pensieve?" Willow leaned forward, her curiosity piqued.
Remus flashed a warm smile, clearly delighted by her enthusiasm, she reminded the former professor of Hermione with her eagerness to learn. "A pensieve is a magical object that some would say is a gateway to one's past. A witch or wizard would extract their memories and store them inside the pensieve, which by doing gives others a chance to relive those moments just as they happened."
"How does it work?" she pressed on, leaning even further onto the table, her neck stretched as forward as it could go, hanging onto every word.
"It's a bit like an immersive experience, Willow," Giles interjected. "You lower your head into the pensieve, which can take the form of a few different objects; most tend to be in the shape of a small fountain-like sink. Once you lower your head into it basin of it, you are then quite literally slipping into another person's memory, witnessing their past as they viewed it, watching it unfold around you as if you were there yourself walking alongside them."
Xander's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. "Like a 3-D movie?"
"In a sense, yes."
"That sounds sweet!"
"I did bring my family's old pensieve from London, which was passed on to me right before my grandfather's death," Giles said, his brow furrowing in thought. "Though, I haven't bothered to see if it works on the Hellmouth since arriving."
"Well, that would be a good place to start, but I do believe it would be best to continue this discussion tomorrow, Rupert," Albus said appreciatively. "It has gotten late, and I must admit that I am feeling a bit peckish."
"Yes, of course," Giles agreed, nodding.
"We did reserve a few hotel rooms for the night, seeing as getting a portkey is more complicated than usual here." Albus's eyes twinkled. Despite the challenges this town posed to their magic, it also sparked new wonder within him about all that they had yet to discover in the world they lived in. "Perhaps tomorrow around noon would be a good time to arrange the viewing, Rupert?"
"Yes, that should work fine," Giles said, now standing from his chair and nodding respectfully at the older wizard.
Joyce cleared her throat, the sudden hush of the room drawing the men's attention as they shifted in their seats. Shadows flickered on the walls, cast by the overhead lights, hinting at the late hour. She smiled warmly at them. "Do you four need a ride to the motel? I didn't see any cars parked out front besides my neighbor's old Ford that's been sitting there for weeks now."
Remus glanced at the others before shaking his head, "We wouldn't want to impose, Mrs. Summers; it is getting a little late now."
"Oh, nonsense! It's no trouble at all, and I must insist!" Joyce waved her hand dismissively at the men. "Besides, Mr. Giles's car won't fit all four of you; it barely fits him and the kids!" She offered a small smile, hoping to build a connection with these men, even if just a small one. They could play a significant role in Buffy's life going forward, therefore, playing a role in hers as well.
"Plus," Joyce added, her tone becoming more serious, "Your magic doesn't work well here in Sunnydale. You would all be sitting ducks if you encountered any of the local… nightlife." She paused, glancing at the clock, a hint of worry crossing her face. "I also must apologize; it seems to have slipped my mind all evening to offer you all something to eat. I promise, normally, I am a much better hostess, I swear!"
Sirius felt a heavy wave of guilt wash over him, tightening in his chest. "No, no, please don't," he urged, his voice filled with sincerity. "We barged in uninvited on both you and Buffy here. We could never judge you based on the circumstances of this evening." He sensed the importance of this moment, a fragile thread binding their lives together for their daughter's best interest. With a sincere gaze, he silently vowed to ensure that his relationship with Joyce became solid, to build a good foundation as blended families for Buffy as well as Harry.
"Honey?" Joyce called, her voice cutting through the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. The rich aroma of cinnamon and fresh-baked cookies wafted through the air, mingling with the hints of lemon from the cleaning supplies used throughout the house.
"Yeah, Mom?" Buffy replied, pausing her tidying efforts in the family room, setting down the stray magazine in her hand back onto the coffee table.
"What time did Mr. Giles say they would finish up with that memory-walking thing?"
"Um, he didn't really give an exact time," Buffy called back, heading over to the couch to fluff the throw pillows up some more. "He wasn't sure how long it would take, but he didn't think it'd go past four or five at the latest. He also said he'd call the house when they were finishing up at his place for a better heads up to you; he felt bad about last night."
"He had nothing to do with what happened last night and shouldn't feel any responsibility for it," Joyce sighed as she walked into the family room from the kitchen. Her expression displayed a mixture of hope and anxiety. "I just want everything to go smoothly," she said, glancing at the wall clock. Its hands moved slowly, almost mocking her in their leisurely pace. "It's almost three now. Are Willow and Xander still coming as well?"
"Yeah, Xander said he was going to be doing some yard work for one of his neighbors down the street first," Buffy said, glancing out the window. "He said he and Willow would walk over once he finishes up there, which I think should be soon now." She picked up the duster, swatting at imaginary dust on the window ledge behind the sofa. To Buffy, the house always seemed clean and mostly spotless, so she didn't understand why her mom was so stressed about it.
"Okay, good." Joyce nodded, glancing around the room to see if anything else needed attention. Her gaze landed back on her daughter, who was flicking the duster around but not really accomplishing much dusting. Joyce swallowed a small laugh; Buffy's attempts at cleaning to reach Joyce's levels of OCD perfection for a clean home were always more about the performance then actual accomplishments, but at least her daughter was dedicated to the facade of her OCD cleanliness.
"So, what do you think—should we go for Chinese takeout for dinner, or should we venture out for...something else?"
"I mean," Buffy said with a half-hearted shrug, pausing in thought as she turned back to her mom, "Chinese would be a good choice, but so would pizza. Pizza is always super safe and simple."
"Hmm, it is," Joyce replied, looking up at the ceiling with a hint of mental turmoil. "But is it too safe and too simple? I don't want to come off as being too casual, especially since we don't know them well enough yet for a laid-back get-together..."
Buffy felt a wave of guilt wash over her; she hated that her mom was overthinking everything because of the mess she had caused. "Well, I don't know anyone who doesn't like Chinese takeout— but only if we order from the good place!"
Joyce nodded. "Of course it will be the good place! I'm not a martyr!" she joked, allowing a small laugh to escape. They had tried a few other Chinese takeout places since moving to Sunnydale, and each one had encountered some issue—whether it was undercooked food, cold dishes, missing large portions of their order, or even receiving the wrong order entirely.
"I'll order our usual dishes and check what I wrote down for Willow and Xander the last time they were over," Joyce said. "Any thoughts on what Mr. Giles and the others might want?
Buffy paused, "Maybe we should order a few large family dishes and make it more of a buffet-style takeout? That way, everyone can see and pick what they'd like instead of us trying to guess what they'd prefer and bomb at it?"
"That's a great idea, Buffy," Joyce said with a playful wag of her finger as she walked over to the house phone to place the order. "I'll call in the order now, and then I'll run to the store to pick up some more drinks and snacks before dinner. The food should be ready for pickup by the time I finish at the store." Joyce pressed the power button on their new cordless phone. "Please, though, page my beeper if Mr. Giles calls to say they're on their way and I'm not back yet, Buffy! I'd like to be here to greet everyone when they arrive."
"Yeah, of course, Mom," Buffy replied with a nod.
"Okay, good," Joyce sighed, still feeling a bit anxious. "Also, could you please make sure the powder room is cleaned and stocked for me, honey?"
"Yeah, I'll do that as soon as I finish up in here," Buffy assured her, returning to her tidying. "And stop stressing so much, Mom. Everything will work out tonight; you'll see!" The anticipation of the evening was building in the back of her mind as well.
Giles sat in the dim light of the den, a heavy silence surrounding him as Regulus' memories looped relentlessly in his mind. He had always known about Regulus' reluctance about becoming a Death Eater. Regulus had never fully embraced the blood supremacy dogma, a reality that should have been evident to others in their years of friendship—Giles, a half-blood himself, with a Muggle father, always being welcomed by the youngest Black heir.
One of the many memories stored in the locket surged to the forefront of Giles's mind, replaying over and over as a vivid recollection from his own past of that memory stirred in him. Giles could almost hear the frantic pounding of his heart in Regulus's memory, echoing loudly amid the chaos of that evening.
Regulus had stormed into Giles's old one-bedroom flat near Diagonal Alley, breathless and wide-eyed, yelling at both him and Severus, who had been visiting for the evening, Regulus looking like a madman as he did. There was no time to waste; he had to act. The unhinged laughs of Bellatrix haunting his mind, the Potter's were going to be ambushed tonight. Peter Pettigrew, who Regulus had not known was a death eater till that night, had revealed the location of James and Lily Potter. He needed Severus to get to Hogwarts to inform the Headmaster—Regulus knew that Albus Dumbledore could fix it all—Regulus just needed to get the intel to Dumbledore in time—and Severus, being the current Potions master, and having quick and easy access to the castle and Headmasters office from floo in his family's old home in the country, he could get it to him the quickest while Regulus went to the Potter's home and Giles to parent's—getting an alarming phone call from his muggle father just moments after Severus had left for Hogwarts, of strange men in clocks outside their family home.
Watching from Regulus's perspective, and reliving the memory through his perspective, Giles felt a swell of pride. Regulus had always struggled with the Death Eater ideology, and he had been ready to defy it, just as Severus was ready to defy for the sake of Lily and his friendship after the shocking news of Kira's death shook the Wizarding World. Giles also felt a small twinge of guilt at the immense satisfaction he had gotten when he saw Sirius's face while viewing the memory. The older Black had a face of disbelief, the pensieve revealing the harsh truth to him—Regulus had ultimately turned against Voldemort, a betrayal unbeknownst to Sirius even after all these years had passed.
The memory following, transformed into one of destruction and chaos.
Regulus had been too late.
The small village of Godric Hollow was in tatters. The few shops in the village had their windows shattered, and pieces of their doors and siding broken off. Many neighboring homes were similarly affected, with roofs missing shingles, windows cracked or completely shattered, and fences reduced to rubble.
All the onlookers observing Regulus's memory could see the color drain from the young man's face as he surveyed the devastated village. He turned his attention to the structure that had suffered the most damage. Shivering, Regulus took a deep breath and walked toward the ruined home, stepping over and kicking large pieces of debris out of his way to reach what had once been the main entrance. The door was split down the middle, with the remaining half hanging off the hinges and squeaking loudly as the wind blew it back and forth.
As he stepped cautiously into the charred remains of the Potter home, the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the bitter tang of ash. His heart ached at the sight of the once-vibrant rooms now reduced to a haunting shell of their former glory. Broken furniture lay strewn across the floor, and flames flickered menacingly in several corners, crackling and spitting embers, threatening to grow and damage more of what was left of the house. With a flick of his wand, Regulus damper the fire, putting it out. The hissing sound of fire meeting water echoed in the silence, each droplet a small act of defiance against the destruction and violence that had claimed this home.
The pensieve memory shifted as Regulus continued to move through the debris, coming across the lifeless body of James Potter, having to step over it, as he was blocking the entrance to the staircase—seemingly trying to protect it from whoever had destroyed the home. Regulus paused to stare at the dead men, his face twitching with small flicks of emotion showing, and mumbled a small "I'm sorry" before pushing his way up the stairs.
The tension hung heavily inside of the Pensieve. Remus fought back tears, keeping his gaze on James' fallen figure until he disappeared from view as Regulus moved up the stairs. Witnessing his friend's lifeless body was something he knew he would never be able to unsee. Hearing about his old mate's death and picturing it was one thing, but seeing James dead in front of him was something entirely different.
Sirius shook with anger and grief as his own emotions swirled inside him. He heard his younger brother whisper "sorry" to his deceased best friend, the words cutting deeply into his heart. Regulus had tried to save them; he had sent Snape to warn Dumbledore and get back up ready. He had broken his loyalty to their family and Voldemort to try and save James and Lily. For all those years, Sirius had believed his brother to be the enemy, but now was coming to realize that everything was not as black and white as it had seemed.
Giles felt deeply uncomfortable. He had never been on friendly terms with James Potter; in fact, he considered him a jerk and disliked him. However, he never wished for this to be Potter's fate. Despite Potter's bully-like tendencies during their school years, Giles recognized that he was a good man beneath the immaturity. It was a shame.
Albus and Aberforth appeared to be blank canvases, making it difficult for Giles to discern their true emotions. However, the grief and sadness reflected in their eyes were unmistakable. They had witnessed so much death over the years, and this loss weighed heavily on them, just as all the previous ones had. This sorrow served as yet another motivation for them to continue their fight against the darkness, striving to ensure that the light side emerged victorious in this war once and for all.
Giles shook his head and turned back to Regulus, concentrating fully on the memory unfolding before them. The memory depicted Regulus as he made his way down the worn second-story landing, approaching the last door. Inside the room, Lily's lifeless body lay in front of a baby's crib, as if she had tried to guard it from the intruder but had failed.
Regulus made a girdle choking sound at the view of Lily, but swallowed deeply and stepped over her lifeless body just as he had with James at the stairs to view into the crib. His body was trembling as he approached the crib, unsure of what he would find inside. Half of the crib was split down the middle; it was gone, likely turned into rubble along with the rest of the nursery that had collapsed down to the first level of the house. Smoke was rising from the debris below, remnants of the small fire that Regulus had just extinguished moments before.
To his surprise, there was not just one baby in the remaining half of the crib, but two!
The two infants were cuddled together, keeping each other warm amid the cool night air that seeped in through the gaps in the room. The boy, who was asleep, was gripping the girl's onesie, which Regulus recognized had to be Harry.
The child beside him was awake, her large eyes staring back at him.
Regulus knew this was Lyra.
There was no doubt that she was his brother's daughter. Although he had yet to meet Lyra due to his strained relationship with Sirius, it was unmistakable—she was indeed Lyra. Her eyes perfectly matched Regulus' gray-silver ones, which was an easy identifier in the Wizarding World for a member of the House of Black. This was especially true along with their trademark black hair; however, in the last few decades, more and more family members had been born without it—Lyra appeared to be one of them.
If that hadn't been a clear indication, the picture published just a week ago in the Daily Prophet confirmed it. The image was of a baby girl, released following the announcement of Kira Dumbledore's murder in Diagon Alley. Regulus studied that picture for hours after Kreacher had brought him the newspaper, taking in every feature of his niece.
Taking a closer look at the two babies, who seemed relatively unharmed except for the dust and smoke from the damaged home, Regulus noticed a fresh cut on Harry's forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt, with a few tiny droplets of blood spilling from it. Lyra had a small patch of blood on the side of her neck where it met her collarbone, extending toward her shoulder. Gently, Regulus shifted the sleeping Harry slightly away from Lyra and pulled down the collar of her onesie to reveal an identical cut matching Harry's. He was left stumped by how the two could have identical injuries. It was odd, even for the Wizarding World.
During this part of the memory, every wizard in the room, except for Giles, gasped—even the two Dumbledore's. Clearly, Giles was missing something, and he wasn't quite sure what it was. That night marked the last time Giles was an active member of the Wizarding World.
Shortly after, or perhaps during, the attack on the Potter household, groups of Death Eaters began targeting Muggles connected to witches and wizards they knew, as well as muggleborns and their families, striking without any warning.
His muggle father was one of them…
Giles's mother, a pureblood from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, stood out from the rest of her family. Unlike her relatives, who had been sorted into Slytherin or Ravenclaw for centuries, she was placed in Hufflepuff, where she made many friends who were halfbloods or muggleborn. One of her closest friends, Emma, who was a muggleborn—and later became Giles's godmother—lived not far from his mother's childhood home in Hampstead. Because of this close proximity to their homes, the two often played together and spent a large amount of time with one another during their time away from Hogwarts. Additionally, Emma's next-door neighbors also become a large staple in his mother's summer and holiday months as well, which where his father and aunt, and the rest was history.
Unfortunately, there wasn't a magical happy ending for his parents. While they shared a wonderful and loving marriage and led a fulfilling life, Giles's mother was diagnosed with an incurable magical disease shortly after Giles's fourth year at Hogwarts. She succumbed to the illness the summer before his sixth year. Giles's father took her death extremely hard, immersing himself in his work at the Watcher's Council as a way to cope. Consequently, the relationship between Giles and his father became somewhat strained in the final years before Giles left the Wizarding World. Nonetheless, they continued their weekly calls and tea together to stay informed of the happenings in one another lives, but it wasn't as it had been when Giles' mom was still alive. Greif can weigh heavily more so on some people than others.
Rupert Sr. was aware of the Death Eaters and Voldemort due to Emma's discussions about wanting to join the resistance against them, as well as his own desire to keep tabs on the world in which his son and wife were fully immersed in. So, when he saw the clock figures outside his home, he immediately rang up Giles to inform him.
When Giles had gotten there, just a mere minute later, the house was a mess, and his father was stone cold.
He, too, like Regulus that night, had been too late.