Reading Time: 83 Minutes

Title: Do Not Go Gently (Into That Good Night)
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Drama, Family
Relationship(s): Gen, some Regulus Black/OFC and James/Lily
Content Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 92,000
Summary: Arcturus Black is a man facing death—a slow, wasting death—and he will see his line secured if it’s the last thing he does, no matter what he has to do do in order to do it. And that includes wrangling his grandsons.
Artist: greeneyesblue

---

---

Prologue

The healer, Marius Underhill, casts a finite in total silence, and Arcturus Black tugs on his robes, even though they’re still pristine. When Underhill doesn’t say anything, Arcturus snaps impatiently, “Spit it out, man. I don’t have all day.”

“It’s something called Merriman’s disease,” Underhill says reluctantly. “It’s degenerative, and there’s no cure.”

Arcturus appreciates the fact that once Underhill delivers the news, he doesn’t sugarcoat it, and Arcturus isn’t surprised. The tremor in his wand-hand, which started a year ago, has been getting worse. It’s bad enough that he’s considered giving up his seat on the Wizengamot, but he’d wanted to be seen by a healer first.

Underhill had been willing to come to Black Manor, and his oaths as a healer will keep the information private. Underhill came through the floo, from his own private residence, so there will be no reason for gossip.

“How long do I have?” he asks evenly.

Underhill noticeably hesitates. “I can only give you an estimate,” he finally says.

Arcturus refrains from rolling his eyes, but only just. “Yes, I am aware that you’re not the arbiter of Fate, Healer Underhill.”

Underhill flushes. “Perhaps as few as ten years or as long as twenty. It is terminal, but it’s a slow process, my lord.”

Arcturus nods. “How long before it becomes impossible to hide?”

“That’s harder to say, but maybe a few more years, depending on the progression,” Underhill replies. He’s a fairly young man, and has only been out of his training for a few years, but Arcturus had heard good things about him, and his quick diagnosis has confirmed the reports.

Arcturus takes a deep breath, looking around his study. It’s comfortable, richly appointed with tapestries, bookshelves, and leather-bound furniture. There’s a fire roaring, because it’s early fall, and Arcturus has been more bothered by the cold recently. “Thank you for your services today, Healer Underhill. I hope that you might be available in the future, should I need you.”

“Of course, Lord Black,” Underhill replies, his dark eyebrows pulling into a frown. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you better news.”

“I didn’t need better news, I needed the truth,” Arcturus replies. “And I thank you for it.”

Underhill glances away. “I just hate giving this sort of news to my patients.”

“I’m sure,” Arcturus replies. He hands over a small bag with the galleons he had promised as payment, and Underhill tucks it away.

“I will be in touch with possible ameliorative treatments,” Underhill says. “It’s a fairly rare disorder, so I’ll need to research, but I will get back to you within the week.”

Arcturus says, “Thank you,” and then sees him back to the floo, before collapsing back into his wing chair.

His house elf, Cordy, pops into the room immediately. “Can I get Lord Black anything?”

“A fire whiskey, please, Cordy,” he says wearily. “And a light supper, please.”

“I makes your favorite,” Cordy promises and pops away. The glass of fire whiskey appears next to his elbow, on the table between the two leather-bound chairs in front of the fireplace.

Arcturus takes a slow sip and ponders his future. He is not a young man anymore. He’s outlived his wife at this point, and so the only path forward that he has is to ensure that the Ancient and Noble House of Black continues.

He has no real faith in divination, but there are some creatures that are more attuned to Fate than others—the centaurs, of course, but also the goblins. He has the money, and he could seek answers from them. He would like to know if his interference is required in order to set the House of Black on the right path, or if his continued non-involvement would be the better route.

And really, what does he have to lose? He already knows his own fate; whether it’s five years or even twenty, his time is limited, and his job is simple—to ensure his legacy.

~~~~~

Arcturus knows what will sway a goblin, and that’s gold—and respect. He shows the goblin to his study himself, serves the tea—goblin-preferred—himself, and nudges the plate of tea sandwiches towards him. Rockhand is the go-between that he’s been referred to, the one who could take his request to the seers of the goblin horde, and who will take their answer back to Arcturus.

He has spent the last few months investigating every avenue. No human seer had an answer for him, the centaurs ignored every overture, and the Mermish response didn’t bear repeating in polite company. The goblins had at least listened to his request, and eventually had named a price, which he had paid.

And now, here they are.

Rockhand takes a sip of his tea. “You realize that the horde does not usually make deals with humans to provide information from our seers.”

“I do realize that,” Arcturus replies evenly. “I appreciate the fact that you’re even entertaining the request.”

“Good tea,” Rockhand says. “I consulted with our seers, and they have informed me that should you not take appropriate action, the Black line will end, and the magical world will be decimated, including the horde. Therefore, we thought it in our own best interests to provide you with this information.”

“After I’d paid for the privilege, of course,” Arcturus replies, reluctantly amused.

Rockhand’s teeth are sharp behind his smile. “Would you deny us a profit when you have what you asked for?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Arcturus says. “But you still haven’t told me what I need to do.”

Rockhand looks rather put out. “I would think that would be obvious, Lord Black. You have to save your heir, as well as his brother if you want to ensure the Black line continues and prevent the worst from happening.”

Arcturus grimaces. “I suppose you mean that I should get involved.”

“If you don’t, both of them will die,” Rockhand says bluntly.

Beyond naming Sirius his heir, Arcturus had largely been absent from his life and Regulus’, particularly after his wife died. She would have been terribly disappointed in him, he knows, but he’d left them to their parents to raise.

But he believes Rockhand. Goblin seers are notoriously accurate, even if they rarely share that knowledge.

“I see,” Arcturus says. “Then I suppose I know what I have to do.”

Chapter 1

Sirius doesn’t pay much attention to the owl post, since he almost never receives mail, but then James’ hand shoots out right under his nose.

He glances up, startled, watching as the large eagle owl wings its way out of the Great Hall. James waves the letter in his face. “Were you expecting a letter?” He peers at it a little more closely. “It has the Black crest on it.”

Sirius snatches it out of James’ hand and looks a little more closely at the seal. While he hasn’t seen it in years, every Black knows how to recognize it. “It’s not just the Black crest, that’s from my grandfather’s signet ring.”

The great hall is bustling around them as usual during breakfast. Remus is quiet because it’s only a couple of days after the full moon, and it always takes him time to recover. Peter is a little farther down the table, seated next to one of the fourth years that he has a crush on.

That means James is the only one who’s paying attention, and he says, “Your brother got a letter, too. Do you think your grandfather knows what you’re planning?”

“I don’t know why he’d care,” Sirius protests, and he’s half-tempted to just rip up the letter without reading it.

“You should read it at least,” Remus says quietly. “It might be important.”

Sirius scowls, but he knows that Remus is the most level-headed of the Marauders, and he can always rip it up later. He breaks the seal and quickly scans his grandfather’s neat handwriting.

“What does it say?” James asks impatiently.

“Give me a little time to read it,” Sirius replies, a little snappish, although that has more to do with his rising anxiety at James’ question. He doesn’t see how his grandfather could possibly know that he plans on running away from home next summer, going home with James, rather than to his parents’ house.

But there’s a possibility that he could find out, however remote, and put a stop to Sirius’ plans.

After a few moments absorbing his grandfather’s words, he wordlessly hands the letter to James.

James reads it, and then passes it to Remus, who frowns. “Your grandfather wants you to spend Christmas with him.”

Sirius glances across the room at Regulus, who’s sitting at the Slytherin table with his own letter, and his brother looks over his shoulder, meeting Sirius’ eyes for the first time since Sirius had sorted into Gryffindor.

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Do you think he invited your brother, too?”

“Good chance of that,” Sirius mutters. “What the bloody hell is he thinking?”

“Maybe he just wants to get to know you,” James offers, uncharacteristically hesitant. “You are his heir, and technically, Regulus would be the spare. And he’s getting older. Maybe he decided to take an interest.”

“He’s been old as long as I’ve known him,” Sirius says, unable to accept that response. “And I haven’t seen him since my grandmother’s funeral. Unless you can be of some use to him, he has no use for you.”

Remus and James exchange a look. “But you are of use,” James says slowly. “You’re the heir to a most Ancient and Noble House.”

Sirius feels a mounting sense of anger. “Fuck him.”

“Sirius,” James says slowly. “I get that you’re angry, but you said it yourself. He hasn’t seen you since your grandmother died, and now he wants you and your brother to spend Christmas with him? And he specifically said that he’s not inviting your parents.”

That only makes Sirius angrier, because it means that his grandfather has some inkling of how his parents treated him.

“I think you should go,” Remus asserts. “If only so you can tell him to fuck off to his face.”

That idea does have some merit, and then Peter squeezes in between Remus and Mirabella, who’s from their year but tends to ignore them, even if she always sits near them for some reason.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks eagerly.

Sirius feels bad leaving him out, so he allows Peter to read the letter, too. “But isn’t this a good thing? Your grandfather is taking an interest in you, Sirius! He’s the head of an Ancient and Noble House! This could open doors, for you and your friends.”

“For me,” Sirius hears, even if Peter doesn’t come right out and say it. James is set; his family has money and connections, and he’s his parents’ sole heir. Remus is—well, no one ever says it, but they all know how werewolves are regarded. He and James already have a plan for taking care of Remus, as much as he’ll let them.

But Peter, who comes from average parents, and is an average student, could certainly benefit from a connection with Arcturus Black.

The idea irritates him, but Sirius can’t really blame Peter. After all, Peter hadn’t been born to wealth and privilege, and he knows that.

“I’ll think about it,” is the only concession Sirius is willing to make at the moment.

And he does think about it, is completely preoccupied with his grandfather’s letter. That’s why, when he catches sight of Snape lurking around the entrance to the secret tunnel Remus uses to get to the shack, Sirius puts his wand against Snape’s neck with a snarl.

Sirius has been wandering around the castle alone before curfew, unwilling to foist his bad mood on his friends, who are playing game of Exploding Snap.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Sirius demands, backing him up against the wall.

“I know you’re hiding something!” Snape replies, trying to sound tough, but his voice is shaking.

Sirius digs the tip of his wand into Snape’s neck. “I’m only going to warn you once, Snivellus. You leave Remus alone, or I will make you wish you’d never been born.”

“You don’t scare me!” Snape snaps. “He’s a werewolf, and I’m going to prove it.”

Sirius has had enough. He’s off kilter enough that he punches Snape in the nose with his left hand. “Like I said, stay away from Remus.”

If he weren’t so preoccupied, he would have come up with something a little more elaborate, some way to really teach Snape a lesson.

He doesn’t think he’s dissuaded Snape from poking his nose in where it doesn’t belong. Or maybe they just need to make sure they know where Snape is at all times.

Sirius is still brassed off, and he decides to head back to the Gryffindor common room, but an idea is brewing in his mind. He throws himself on one of the couches and watches as James wins the round handily.

“I think we should make a map of the castle,” Sirius says in a low voice so as not to be overheard by any of the other members of their house. “One that shows us where everyone is at any given time. It will be awesome for pranks.”

James gives him a look. “What made you think of it?”

“Snape was sneaking around again,” Sirius mutters. “Right near the entrance Remus uses on a monthly basis.”

“What did you do?” Remus demands, sounding worried.

“I punched him in the nose,” Sirius replies. “My mind was on other matters.”

James knows him better than just about anyone, and he says, “Your grandfather’s letter has really sent you ‘round the twist, mate.”

Sirius snorts. “Because I usually don’t resort to physical violence?”

“No, you’re usually more creative than that,” James comments. “Did you get detention?”

“No one saw us,” Sirius replies. “And I doubt Snape is going to report me. He won’t want to admit that I managed to get the advantage of him.”

Remus frowns. “But he’s still lurking?”

“We’ll make sure he’s not around during the next full moon,” Sirius assures him. “But the map would be very helpful in that regard.”

James’ expression is thoughtful. “You do make a good point. We should work on that.”

Sirius thinks it will be a good distraction from thinking about his grandfather’s letter and what it all means.

~~~~~

There’s never been any question in his mind that he would visit his grandfather for Christmas. Regulus, unlike his older brother, understands his familial duty. He’s also hopeful that his grandfather will realize that Regulus would be the superior heir to the Black legacy.

Sirius has never been able to keep his opinions to himself, and he’s obvious with his disdain for pureblood politics and love of all things Muggle. Surely, their grandfather will see that and realize that Regulus is a true Black, unlike Sirius.

Granted, he’ll have to deal with his brother for two weeks, but Black Manor is huge, and he thinks he’ll be able to avoid him, other than for meals.

Evan Rosier is lounging on the bed as Regulus packs his trunk. “Are you going to make a play for your brother’s position? It would be a real shame to see the House of Black be led by a bloody Muggle-lover.”

Regulus glances up. “Of course. This is the first sign of interest grandfather has shown in either of us since our grandmother’s death. I would hope that he would see who the true Black is for himself.”

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly Slytherin about it, too,” Evan said with a smirk.

Regulus offers a thin smile. “While I’m certain that my brother will be a typical Gryffindor.”

“What do you think he’ll say about the Dark Lord?” Evan asks, his dark eyes sparkling with holy fervor. Most of those in Slytherin from pureblood families are already talking about joining the Death Eaters as soon as possible.

Regulus has no idea what his grandfather will say about the Dark Lord, or becoming a Death Eater, even if he is a blood purist and no friend to Muggles.

“I don’t know,” Regulus admits. “My grandfather has retreated from the world somewhat over the last few months.”

“But he wasn’t vocal in his support of us even before his retreat,” Evan comments.

Regulus shrugs. “But he’s always been a blood purist. How he expresses that might be different, but that doesn’t mean he’s against us.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s for us either,” Evan argues. “Don’t let yourself be roped into a neutral stance, Reg. If you’re not for the Dark Lord, you’re against him.”

Regulus feels a stirring of unease at that, not that he allows it to show on his face. He believes in the cause, but the idea that their grandfather could be a target, even though he’s the head of an Ancient and Noble House, even though he’s a blood purist, makes him wonder.

What if he chooses to remain neutral? What if he doesn’t want to make an enemy out of everyone who disagrees with them in the slightest?

“My grandfather is a known blood-purist,” Regulus replies neutrally. “I didn’t think we were in the business of killing our allies, particularly those with a seat in the Wizengamot, who could support our cause there.”

Evan snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re that naive, Reg. When Voldemort takes over, and takes his rightful place as the ruler of the Wizarding world, we won’t need the Wizengamot. Voldemort’s word will be law.”

Regulus has always been proud of his blood status, both because his family is one of the sacred 28, and because of his grandfather’s position. But he can’t tell Evan that. Evan speaks about Voldemort with the fervor of a new convert, and won’t listen to reason.

“I’m sure I’ll have more information by the time the holiday break is over,” Regulus says evenly.

He prides himself on being a Slytherin through and through, and he’s not going to let anyone know that he’s doing anything other than what’s expected of him—to try to get his grandfather to make him the Black heir.

Regulus shrinks his trunk and sticks it in his pocket. Most of the Slytherins are going home for the holidays, and Regulus finds himself in a train compartment with several classmates, all of whom have expressed sympathy or outright support for the Death Eaters.

They all want to know whether his grandfather is sympathetic to Voldemort, and all Regulus will say is that he doesn’t know, and he plans to ask.

Regulus isn’t surprised when their grandfather doesn’t meet them. Sirius shares an enthusiastic hug with Potter, pounding him on the back. The man holding a sign that reads “Black” is middle aged, and as they both approach from different directions, he says, “Your grandfather asked me to deliver you to Black Manor. My name is Hershel Myer, and I’m the Black family solicitor.”

“Where’s your proof?” Sirius asks, and Regulus notices that Sirius angles his body between the man and Regulus, reminding him of when Sirius would come between him and their mother, in particular.

The man hands Sirius a parchment, and Sirius reads it, then he hands it to Regulus. Regulus is a little surprised by that, but the handwriting matches that of the letter on the original invitation.

Regulus shrugs, unwilling to say anything, because he’s maintained his silence with his brother for years now.

“All right, fine,” Sirius says ungraciously. “I guess you work for our grandfather.”

Myers smiles thinly. “I’ll side-along both of you.”

Regulus knows that it’s rare for a wizard to have enough power to side-along two at once, and Sirius doesn’t appear to be taking the man’s word for it. “We don’t know you,” Regulus says. “And I’ll feel more comfortable if you take us one at a time.”

Myers smiles thinly. “Very well. Who’s first?”

“I’ll go,” Sirius says immediately.

That’s a Gryffindor for you, and Regulus decides to let him go first, even though there’s no way for him to know whether Sirius has made it safely.

Myers apparates with Sirius, and then, a few minutes later, returns for Regulus. “Your brother is safe at Black Manor.”

Regulus shrugs. “Or our grandfather has hired you to kill us for some reason. Or someone else has. And if that’s the case, I’m dead anyway.”

Myers frowns. “That’s certainly an interesting perspective.”

The side-along goes off without a hitch, though, and Myers delivers him to the front door of Black Manor. A house elf greets him, which doesn’t surprise Regulus at all. “I am Cordy, Master Regulus. I take care of Lord Black.”

“Thank you, Cordy,” Regulus replies politely.

Regulus likes house elves, and he always tries to be kind to them. Kreacher has always looked after him, especially after Sirius left for school.

Cordy shows him to a very well-appointed bedroom, and resizes his trunk without Regulus having to ask. “Lord Black said he would give you time to rest and clean up, but is expecting you for an early dinner. Appropriate clothing is in the closet.”

Regulus checks the closet as soon as she pops away and sees formalwear, fancier robes and other garments than what he usually wears. That gives Regulus an idea of the sort of man his grandfather is, requiring a level of formality even from his family members.

He gets the message: this isn’t a pleasurable visit. His grandfather has an agenda.

Somehow, Regulus thinks he’ll be in a better position to handle that than his brother.

~~~~~

Arcturus wishes his wife were still alive. She would have loved having the boys in the Manor, and would have known exactly how to deal with them. She would have met them at the door with hugs, and had a plate of biscuits ready to go.

He doesn’t fear death, because he’s hoping to be reunited with her, but he wishes she were by his side now.

Instead, Arcturus falls back on formality, because that’s how he was raised. He stands at the head of the table, waiting for the boys to arrive. Cordy assured him that they’d been delivered safely, and he’s pleasantly surprised when Sirius arrives early, wearing the formalwear Arcturus had purchased for him. He’s slouching, and wearing a sullen expression, but he stands behind a chair with better manners than Arcturus expects.

Regulus is right on time, also dressed appropriately, wearing a neutral expression. Clearly, Regulus has been taking lessons from his Slytherin classmates, and is mastering the art of not wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Arcturus has little faith that Sirius will be able—or inclined—to do the same thing. And yet Sirius reminds him so much of Melania that he can’t hold it against him.

“Please, sit,” Arcturus says.

With permission issued, both boys sit down, and the food appears on the table. The roast chicken is already perfectly carved, the mashed potatoes are fluffy, and the vegetables are also perfectly prepared. There are soft, buttery rolls, and Arcturus watches as they feel their plates and begin to eat. Their manners are impeccable, but Arcturus notices that they are actively avoiding making eye contact.

He has his work cut out for him over the next two weeks. If the Black line is to continue, they’ll all have to work together, and he plans on making that clear to the both of them.

Dinner passes silently, and Arcturus does not try to change that. He has two weeks, and he plans on speaking to them both separately and together.

Once they’ve all finished, and the dishes disappear, Arcturus says, “I would speak to both of you this evening, but let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

They repair to the study, and Arcturus pours himself a glass of fire whiskey. “Cordy,” he calls, and she pops in. “Get the boys whatever they’d like to drink.”

“I’d love a butter beer if you have one,” Sirius replies, breaking his silence for the first time that evening.

“Tea, please,” Regulus says. “Chamomile if possible.”

“Of course, young masters,” Cordy replies, and soon enough they both have their beverage of choice in their hands.

Arcturus takes a sip. “I asked you both here for the holidays because I have a very important matter to discuss with you.”

Regulus straightens, and Arcturus sees the interest kindling in his eyes. If he’s reading his grandson right, Regulus is thinking that he can take Sirius’ place as the Black heir.

“I’m dying,” Arcturus says bluntly. “Sirius will remain my heir. I don’t know how much time I have left, so I won’t mince words.”

Sirius’ hand with the butter beer freezes halfway to his mouth. “How long?” he blurts out.

“It might only be a few years, or as many as 20,” Arcturus admits. “I might live to see you two grow up, or I might be gone before you graduate from Hogwarts, Sirius. When I found out, I began seeking answers.”

Sirius frowns. “Why not a cure?”

“There is no cure, lad,” Arcturus replies, not unkindly. “And if there is one, I won’t be the one to find it. No, what I sought were assurances that the Black line would continue.”

Regulus takes a sip of his tea. “I assume that’s why you requested our presence.”

He’s too controlled for a boy of thirteen, Arcturus thinks, but he has some idea of what their parents had done to the both of them. He could have intervened, but his own formative years had been just as harsh, and that had been instrumental in forming the man he’d become.

“Indeed, it is,” Arcturus replies. “I wanted to be sure that the Black line would continue, so I contacted a variety of seers. The goblins were ultimately the most helpful.”

Sirius snorts. “Goblins.”

“Goblin seers are some of the best, brother,” Regulus sneers.

Now that is more like it, Arcturus thinks.

“They deal in gold,” Sirius protests. “How was I supposed to know that they were seers, too?”

“You would if you paid attention in History of Magic!” Regulus replies hotly.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Please, all Professor Binns ever talks about are the goblin rebellions.”

“Yes, but if you read between the lines—“

“What lines?”

“Boys!” Arcturus says, keeping his tone stern even if he is secretly amused. “Back to the point. I asked you both here because there are certain things that will have to change if you’re both to survive.”

The silence that falls is gratifying. He has their attention now.

“What’s going to have to change?” Sirius asks suspiciously.

“We’ll talk about your role later,” Arcturus replies. “For tonight, I require an oath of your brother.”

“What sort of oath?” Regulus, equally suspiciously.

“You’re going to swear on the Black family line that you will never join Voldemort,” Arcturus replies.

Regulus’ hand jerks, and tea spills over his hand. “What?”

“You will not join Voldemort,” Arcturus replies. “Or I will formally disown you, and cast you out. And I will do the same for any Black who swears an oath to him.”

Regulus’ expression is clearly torn, and Arcturus knows that he’d half-planned on joining up as soon as he was old enough, probably in a few years. “I have to think about this. It will put me in a difficult position within my house.”

Sirius is staring at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the one who was always talking about family, and the importance of family, and how I was betraying the family, and now you’re going to sit there and defy our patriarch?”

“You don’t understand,” Regulus says defensively. “You don’t know what they’ll do to me if I don’t join him!”

“Are you saying that you’re not smart enough to think of a reason to stay neutral, like your patriarch asked you to?” Sirius demands. “You’re telling me that, as smart as you are, as Slytherin as you are, you couldn’t come up with some excuse?”

Regulus shakes his head mutely, and Arcturus almost feels sorry for what he’s going to ask his grandson to do. “You must. If you are to live, you must.”

“Living for the Dark Lord—“ Regulus begins.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Sirius asks. “Grandfather is telling you that you’ll die if you follow Voldemort. He’s offering you an honorable reason not to join the Death Eaters. You can tell them that your grandfather asked you to remain neutral! Because he wants to be able to continue to build alliances, or whatever. Maybe because he wants to dangle a betrothal in front of the neutral families, especially since I’m clearly going to be dangled in front of light families!”

Arcturus is actually a little impressed with Sirius’ summation. He might be a Gryffindor, but he at least has some idea of the political realities without Arcturus needing to spell them out.

Regulus’ expression turns sulky, and he falls silent, apparently unable to find a way to argue with his brother.

“You have some time to consider,” Arcturus says. “But I’ll require your oath before you go back to school.”

Regulus sets his teacup down. “I’m a little tired. I would like to be excused.”

“Of course,” Arcturus replies. “Sleep well.”

Arcturus watches as Regulus leaves the room, noting the straight spine, but slightly slumped shoulders. He knows that both Sirius and Regulus will face great difficulties, but in very different ways.

Sirius rolls his eyes, and Arcturus fixes him with a sharp look. “Have some compassion for your brother,” he says. “I am putting him in a somewhat difficult position.”

“You’re asking him to swear not to follow a murdering terrorist,” Sirius protests. “What’s so difficult about that?”

Arcturus raises his eyebrows. “Ignorance does not become you.” Sirius slumps in his chair as he finishes up his butter beer. “How many in Slytherin would you estimate to be Death Eaters?”

“The vast majority,” Sirius mutters.

“Even neutrality can be a lot to ask in a situation such as that, although I will provide him whatever cover I can,” Arcturus says.

Cordy pops in and takes the bottle. “Can I get Lord Black and Master Sirius anything else?”

“No, thank you, Cordy,” Arcturus replies.

Sirius shakes his head. “No thanks.” When Cordy is gone, Sirius asks, “I assume that you want something from me, too.”

“I’m going to be expecting quite a bit from you as my heir,” Arcturus replies. “Do you understand why so many pureblood families are joining Voldemort?”

Sirius shrugs. “Why does it matter? They’re terrorists.”

“I don’t condone their methods, nor would I ever approve of allowing someone to subjugate anyone in our family,” Arcturus replies. “But you don’t have to agree in order to understand.”

“What does it matter if I understand or not?” Sirius demands.

“Because if you know your enemy, and you know yourself, you are almost certain to come out ahead in any battle,” Arcturus replies.

Sirius gives him a suspicious look. “You aren’t going to make me promise to remain neutral?”

“Could you remain neutral?” Arcturus asks archly.

Sirius grins crookedly. “Not as long as innocents were being threatened or harmed.”

“You and I aren’t always going to agree,” Arcturus says. “And there will come a day when I’m gone, and you will have to decide how to lead this family, and what that will look like for you. When I’m dead, it won’t matter what I think. Until then, I will try to impart whatever wisdom I can.”

Sirius stares at him suspiciously, and Arcturus knows why. His parents certainly wouldn’t have been so accommodating.

“We do not know each other well yet,” he adds. “And you have no reason to trust me, but I hope we can come to some sort of middle ground, because I want you to live and live well.”

Sirius doesn’t respond right away, and when he does, he says, “Does that mean you plan on getting to know us?”

“You won’t have to go to your parents’ house ever again,” Arcturus replies. “And if you want to spend time with your friends during breaks, I won’t oppose it. I would just ask that you spend time with me as well.”

Sirius’ expression is troubled, but he nods. “My friend, James, has invited me to stay with him and his parents this summer.”

“Perhaps you could spend half the summer here, and the other half with him,” Arcturus suggests.

He knows that he can’t press too hard, or Sirius will run in the other direction, and he won’t be able to influence his grandson at all.

Sirius nods. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Arcturus replies.

Sirius takes a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll also head to bed. Thank you for your hospitality, Grandfather.”

It’s a start, Arcturus thinks, and calls for another fire whiskey.

~~~~~

Sirius keeps waiting for his grandfather to show his true colors—to be angry or violent or to demand that Sirius think a certain way, or behave a certain way. Instead, his grandfather exhorts him to think—really think—about things. He expects his grandfather to try to wring promises out of him—to promise that he’ll support pureblood politics, that he won’t follow Dumbledore, anything.

And yet two days into their visit, right up until Christmas morning, the only thing his grandfather asks is that Sirius think, and to have some compassion for his brother.

In Black Manor, without the constant threat of violence, and without his grandfather displaying the blatant favoritism that his parents had shown for Regulus, Sirius finds himself remembering his brother as he had been as a small boy, back when Sirius had been his protector.

Arcturus warns them that he’s planning to have company for Christmas Eve, and he expects them to be there, dressed formally, and ready to be polite. Sirius really can’t think of anything he’d like to do less, but he’d agreed to this visit, and that means he’s signed up for this gathering as well.

Sirius still doesn’t know how to feel about his grandfather, but he’s been kind, if stern. And if his grandfather could keep Regulus from joining the Death Eaters…

That was something Sirius considered a foregone conclusion, but the idea that he might not completely lose his brother is a novel idea.

So, he dresses carefully, and makes sure his hair is neatly done. His grandfather had instructed them as to when to arrive, and he and Regulus meet in the hallway, outside their rooms.

There’s a tense moment, where they’re staring at each other. There’s been some minute thawing between the two of them, and Regulus’ expression softens. “I think we’ll be the only two kids there.”

Sirius smirks. “Oh, I’m certain that this is a chance for Grandfather to show off his heirs.”

“Dangling us?” Regulus asks.

“That would be my assumption,” Sirius admits.

Regulus nods. “Then I suppose we best be going.”

It’s the most pleasant exchange they’ve had in years, and Sirius has his grandfather to thank for it, so he can pretend to enjoy himself for the evening. Arcturus beckons them over when they meet him in the front hall. “We’ll greet our guests as they enter, and then repair to the ballroom. There will be food and wine. You are both allowed one glass. I will let you two know when you can make your escape, and Cordy will provide snacks.”

There’s something about his grandfather’s calm, direct explanation of how he expects the evening to go that gives Sirius some comfort. Unlike their parents, his grandfather is clear about his expectations. Sirius suspects that if they disappoint him in some way, he’ll pull them aside and calmly explain what they’d done wrong, and why he expected better.

Sirius doesn’t trust it yet, and he’s not sure how long it will take for him to trust it—if he ever does at all—but his grandfather’s calm demeanor relaxes him more than he thought possible in the face of such an event.

As the guests begin to arrive, Sirius finds that he at least recognizes most of the names of those arriving. There’s Minister Jenkins, his face looking a bit pinched around the edges, and Director Yaxley, head of the DMLE. There are a number of members from the Wizengamot, including the parents of some of Sirius’ schoolmates like Niles Selwyn and Abraxas Malfoy.

Sirius feels a reluctant sense of pride as his grandfather introduces him as the Black heir, maybe because his grandfather seems pleased to make the introductions. It comes to Sirius that his grandfather is using them as a display of strength.

Given what they’d been told, that Arcturus is dying, it makes sense that he would demonstrate that the Black line was still strong.

And maybe, by the time his grandfather is forced to retreat from public life, Sirius will be able to take his place. At least, that’s what he assumes his grandfather is thinking.

Not that Sirius is going to give in, at least not right away.

There are floating trays in the Black Manor ballroom, and Sirius and Regulus are the only children there. Sirius finds himself cornered by Mr. Selwyn, who says, “You’re in Gryffindor, are you not?”

“Yes, sir,” he replies politely, wondering what she wants from him.

“I’m surprised that Arcturus would be showing off his grandson, when he sorted into Gryffindor,” Selwyn comments. “I would have thought that he’d select your brother as his heir.”

Arcturus’ hand lands heavily on Sirius’ shoulder. “Sirius displays an ability to think independently, which makes him ideal as my heir. His magic is strong and pure, and his grades are excellent. All of those qualities make him ideal to lead the House of Black someday.”

Selwyn gives his grandfather a sharp look. “You’ve changed, Arcturus. It leads me to wonder why.”

“And that would be family business,” Arcturus replies. “I like you, Niles, but please don’t question my grandson about his place in my family. He’s more than earned it.”

Sirius feels his face heat, and Arcturus squeezes his shoulder. “There’s someone else I’d like you to meet, my boy.”

Arcturus leads him away, and then murmurs, “Don’t mind him. We’ve been at friendly odds since your grandmother chose to marry me, rather than Selwyn.”

“Have you changed?” Sirius asks, because from his standpoint, his grandfather has.

“A glimpse of your own mortality will change any man, Sirius,” Arcturus replies. “This is Ajax Greengrass and his wife, Sarah. They are related to us by marriage.”

The man is stooped and elderly, but he peers at Sirius through clear green eyes. “He certainly has the Black look, Arcturus. I’ve heard you’re at the top of your class at Hogwarts, young man.”

“There are two or three of us who are always vying for top spot,” Sirius replies modestly, knowing that will play better than any kind of bravado.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck,” Greengrass says. “You have some very large shoes to fill.”

“I’m well aware of that, sir,” Sirius replies.

The truth is that Sirius knows all the right things to say, even though he can’t wait to get out of there. At the moment, he can’t wait to go back to Hogwarts, especially if this is going to be what his life at Black Manor is going to be like.

But he spots Regulus across the room, conversing easily with the Minister and Yaxley.

“Regulus was born for this sort of thing,” Sirius mutters, as his grandfather leads him to greet the next Wizengamot ally. “Why didn’t you choose him as your heir? He’d have done a better job.”

“We may disagree on what’s best for wizarding society, but would you advocate for the destruction of purebloods and their ideals?” Arcturus asks.

Sirius quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. I’d like us all to find a way to coexist peaceably.”

“And that is why you’re my heir, “ Arcturus replies. “I would rather the happy medium. Perhaps I have strong pureblood ideals, but I’m willing to admit that bringing in fresh blood is good for our society as a whole. Just don’t bandy that about.”

Sirius smiles briefly, and his grandfather squeezes his shoulder again. “You’re doing well tonight. Keep it up.”

Arcturus stays by his side for the rest of the evening, right up until he dismisses Sirius for the night, and tells him that he and Regulus are free to leave.

Sirius knows that leaving abruptly will not look good, and he wonders if this is a test from his grandfather. So, instead of bolting and dragging his brother along with him, he makes his way slowly across the room until he reaches Regulus.

“Having a good time, brother?” Sirius asks when there’s a break in the conversation, and his interruption won’t be considered rude. Regulus is now talking to the Greengrass and Nott patriarchs.

“I am,” Regulus replies. “Has Grandfather released us?”

“He has,” Sirius says, “and I’m pretty sure there are biscuits involved.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Well, if there are biscuits, how can I resist? I hope you’ll excuse us.”

Greengrass and Nott smile indulgently. “Of course. Happy Christmas to the both of you,” Greengrass says, and Nott echoes him.

He and Regulus leave the ballroom and head for the nearest study, and Sirius immediately yanks off his tie. “Thank Merlin.”

“Come on, you did fine,” Regulus replies. “Grandfather was with you most of the time.”

“Probably because he wanted to be sure I kept a civil tongue in my head,” Sirius replies. “You, he can trust to make nice.”

Regulus treats him to a narrow-eyed glare. “Come on, Siri. You’re his heir. It makes sense that he would be showing you off tonight.”

“Or he could have been showing both of us off,” Sirius argues.

“You’re very kind,” Regulus says dryly. “But you’re the heir.”

“And you’re the spare, which means if something happens to me, you’ll be the heir,” Sirius replies, grinning when a plate of biscuits appears on the table next to him. “Oh, these look amazing!”

Cordy pops in. “Thank you, Master Sirius.”

“They do look really good, Cordy,” Regulus says warmly. “Thank you.”

“Young master is very welcome,” Cordy replies and pops away.

When she’s gone, Regulus says all in a rush, “I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “And that would be different from the last few years? I didn’t get you anything either.”

Regulus also rolls his eyes, and then takes a bite and groans. “Oh, Merlin, this is good.”

Sirius looks at him and sees his brother. “How about we start fresh?”

“What do you mean?” Regulus asks with his mouth full, looking like the kid he actually is.

“I mean, how about we forget that you sorted into Slytherin, and I’m in Gryffindor, at least while we’re here,” Sirius asks, because he suddenly wants that. He loves James, and his friends, but he misses his brother.

Regulus swallows the bite of his biscuit and then washes it down with a gulp of milk. “So, Black Manor is neutral ground, and when we’re here, it’s like it was.”

“I would like that,” Sirius replies sincerely. “I know you have appearances to keep up, and I won’t mess with that, but—I’d like to know that I still have my brother.”

Regulus’ expression softens. “Deal. Eat a biscuit. They’re really good.”

~~~~~

Regulus had expected to come here and convince his grandfather that he’s the better choice of heir only to be shot down, but he’s coming around to Sirius’ point of view. He wonders if that hadn’t been part of his grandfather’s plan in having a Christmas Eve party—exposing Regulus to all of the people that his grandfather knows and knows well. Intended or not, Regulus has been reminded of what he’d be giving up if he chooses to join the Death Eaters, and it’s a lot.

And he likes Black Manor. His grandfather might be rather stiff and formal, but he’s kind in his own way, and Regulus appreciates that he’d been honest from the first day as to what he expects from them.

When Arcturus joins them in the study after they’ve consumed their biscuits and are reading in companionable silence, he unbends enough to smile. “You both acquitted yourselves well tonight. We’ll open gifts tomorrow morning. There’s no reason for you to get dressed up. It will be informal. I hope you both sleep well.”

Regulus can see how those words cause Sirius to glow, and he thinks about how rarely—well, never—their parents expressed any sort of approval for him.

That’s the other part about being at Black Manor; there’s far less tension between the two of them, because Arcturus has so far treated them equally. Granted, he might be showing a slight preference for Sirius, but Regulus expects that, since Sirius is the heir.

Okay, maybe Regulus is a little put out, but that feeling is eclipsed by some unnamed emotion that has to do with his grandfather’s words of praise, with the knowledge that his grandfather might be offering something beyond price—

And Regulus has heard about what’s required for initiation into the Death Eaters. He believes in pureblood superiority, and he believes their way of life is being threatened, but he has no desire to hurt of kill anyone, Muggle or otherwise.

“I’m going to bed,” Sirius announces. “Good night, Reg.”

“Good night,” he replies.

Regulus stays up late that night, mulling over his options, what he might be giving up, whatever he ends up choosing. He already knows what he’s going to do, but he still wants the time to think about it.

Sirius had been right; his grandfather has given him political cover, but Regulus has to figure out how to spin it.

Because if he doesn’t spin it right, he could paint a target on his grandfather’s back. The Death Eaters don’t discriminate between the Muggle-born, and the pureblood traitors who take a stand against them.

Regulus goes to bed very late, and he’s awoken the next morning by Cordy, who opens his curtains and places a cup of tea next to his bed. “Sorry, Master Regulus, but is past 10, and Lord Black wants to have Christmas morning.”

Regulus blinks up at the ceiling. “Of course, please extend my apologies for sleeping so late.”

“He not mad!” Cordy says. “He understands growing boy needs sleep.”

Regulus is glad that he doesn’t need to worry about getting dressed; he just needs to pull on a robe and run a comb through his hair put it in some order, and splash water on his face. Then he heads to the library where Cordy has indicated his grandfather and Sirius are.

There’s a Christmas tree, which hadn’t been there the previous night, and a modest stack of presents underneath. There are breakfast pastries on a sideboard, along with additional carafes of both coffee and tea.

“Good morning,” Arcturus says, sounding almost amused.

Regulus flushes. “I’m sorry I overslept.”

“There’s no real hurry,” his grandfather replies with a smile. “But I don’t normally sit around so late in my pajamas.”

Sirius smirks at him. “And I wanted to open presents.”

“And your brother wanted to open presents,” Arcturus replies.

Regulus can’t hold it against him. Had their positions been reversed, he would have wanted to open presents, too.

“Grab a pastry,” Sirius says. “I’ll pass out the first couple.”

Regulus grabs a pastry and a cup of tea, and Sirius passes him a present, and then passes one to Arcturus. “I’m sorry, I could only manage the one.”

Arcturus’ expression warms. “There’s nothing to apologize for, my boy.”

Sirius grabs a present for himself, and then nods to Regulus to begin.

The gift from his grandfather is that of a nice watch, engraved with his initials and the date. Maybe his grandfather knew, or maybe he didn’t, but Regulus likes watches, and this one is particularly well made. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “It’s beautiful.”

Arcturus smiles. “I’m glad you like it.”

Sirius is the next to open his gift, a custom-made wand holster, and Sirius is clearly pleased. “This is great. Thank you.”

Sirius’ gift to their grandfather turns out to be sweets from Honeydukes, which Regulus doesn’t expect to go over as well as it does, but it turns out that Sirius had asked around to see if anyone remembered which sweets he’d particularly preferred as a student. And then, when it turned out that those were considered old-fashioned and therefore not readily available, Sirius had found a way to source them.

“I haven’t had sweets from Honeydukes since I was a student at Hogwarts,” Arcturus says nostalgically. “Thank you.”

And then he pops a piece into his mouth, with every evidence of real pleasure.

Regulus is glad that he’d purchased a gift for his grandfather as well, although it’s just a leather-bound journal with his grandfather’s initials embossed on the cover. Still, when Arcturus opens Regulus’ gift, his gratitude is just as sincere.

The only truly awkward part of the morning takes place when he and Sirius open the gifts from their parents. Regulus gets a set of books that he’d been fancying on blood magic—generally considered dark by those outside of pureblood families—and Sirius gets a new shirt. It’s not even a particularly nice new shirt.

If Regulus is being honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the stark disparity between their gifts. Seeing his grandfather’s frown, though, Regulus is acutely aware.

“It’s fine,” Sirius insists, catching sight of their grandfather’s expression. “Really, I actually needed a new shirt, so this is useful. I don’t need books on blood magic. Those books will go a long way towards proving that Regulus’ sudden neutral stance isn’t a knock on the House of Black or you.”

Regulus hears the warning in Sirius’ voice, and he privately resolves to claim the books as his grandfather’s gift, not his parents’.

Arcturus nods. “I won’t say anything about it then, but if you need clothing, Sirius, you only need to ask.”

“After this visit, I’m pretty sure I’m set for a while,” Sirius says with forced cheer.

Arcturus’ expression is somewhat remote and cold, but then he seems to remember that he’s not aiming his ire at Sirius, but at their parents, and he smiles. “Well, I think we should get dressed and eat lunch. No need to be formal today, boys.”

Regulus doesn’t really have casual clothing, so he still wears slacks and a button down shirt. Sirius has taken their grandfather at his word, though, wearing jeans and a wild button down that he’d probably picked up at a Muggle thrift store.

There’s an element of defiance to Sirius’ outfit, but their grandfather doesn’t even blink. “Good. Let’s eat.”

Regulus really can’t tell if his brother is more relieved or irritated by the lack of commentary, but he catches a glint in Arcturus’ eye that suggests he knows Sirius was trying to get a rise out of him, and denied him that reaction deliberately.

And Regulus is beginning to think that Arcturus is probably the one best equipped to deal with his brother.

~~~~~

Arcturus breathes a sigh of relief when the boys go back to school. He enjoyed having them with him, but he’s lived alone for a long time, and he’s felt like he’s had to be at the top of his game the entire time.

Plus, he has another meeting set up with Rockhand. He’s made an arrangement with the goblins to check back in with their seers after significant events, and having the boys over Christmas seems fairly significant.

He enjoys a few quiet days at home before Rockhand comes through the floo for their meeting.

“It seems you are to be congratulated, Lord Black,” Rockhand says, not bothering to keep Arcturus in suspense. Although, given what Arcturus is paying, maybe that’s part of the service.

“Our seers are no longer foretelling the deaths of your heir and his brother,” Rockhand replies. “That is not to say that your line is completely secured, just that their deaths are not a foregone conclusion.”

Arcturus breathes out a sigh of relief. “I had hoped I’d made headway.”

“I would say so, but I assume that you asked your spare to make an oath not to join the Death Eaters,” Rockhand says.

Arcturus smiles. “He took the oath. He was reluctant, but Sirius tipped the scales. He shows a surprising amount of political acumen for a Gryffindor.”

Rockhand makes a scoffing sound. “I will never understand the stock you humans place in arbitrary designations. You allow a hat to categorize you, and the rest of your life is predetermined on that basis?”

Arcturus laughs, and doesn’t disagree. “You’re treading on hallowed ground, Rockhand. Do you want a drink?”

“Fire whiskey, if you’ve got it,” Rockhand replies. “You’re my last stop of the day.”

Arcturus pours the drinks himself, knowing that he’ll appreciate the gesture. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“Your heir is still in danger, and it comes from his friends, but I can’t tell you who, or why,” Rockhand replies. “The seers were clear on that much, but agreed that the why was uncertain.”

Arcturus frowns. “I doubt it’s from the Potter heir. They’re thick as thieves, and closer than brothers. I’ll do my own inquiries, though. Thank you for the information.”

Rockhand shrugs. “Our seers have suggested that our future would be brighter if your heir survives. We can do our own inquiries.”

Arcturus smiles. “Thank you. I know that I’m invested in their futures, but it’s nice to know that others are as well, even if it’s not for purely altruistic reasons.”

Rockhand gives him a look. “I would suggest that altruism is always suspect.”

Arcturus is not the sort of pureblood with an inherent hatred of those wizard-kind classifies as “creatures.” He doesn’t approve of mixing with creatures of course, but he does appreciate that they bring certain important things to the table.

Sirius would probably judge him harshly for that, but that’s one of the reasons Arcturus values his input. Sirius has a unique perspective, and Arcturus still believes that he’ll be successful.

The Blacks need an influx of new blood and different perspectives if they’re to survive. Sirius is just the start.

“I would agree with you,” Arcturus says. “I prefer to trust those whose reasons for doing something are either stated or obvious.”

“You are much like a goblin in that respect,” Rockhand says.

Arcturus suspects that it’s a test to see if he’ll take offense, much like Sirius’ outfit on Christmas Day had been designed to invite a negative response. Now, as then, he doesn’t rise to the bait. “I will take that as a compliment.”

Rockhand laughs freely. “Lord Black, you continue to pleasantly surprise me.”

Arcturus smiles. “And I will take that as a compliment as well.”

Chapter 2

His grandfather arranges for them to be returned to Hogwarts via a portkey with the accompaniment of his solicitor, or whatever he is. Sirius doesn’t mind so much. The train won’t disgorge the returning students until the following day, and there’s a long walk p to the castle, their shrunken trunks in their pockets. Both trunks are new, with automatic options that won’t trigger the restriction on underage magic.

It has snowed, and no one has cleared a path, so once they’re past the gates, Sirius casts a warming charm on both of them, and then sends a ball of heat ahead to melt the snow.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Regulus says.

Sirius shrugs. “I’d hate for us to go back with soaking feet. It’s not a big deal.”

They trudge up to the castle, and their feet stay dry. Regulus comments, “I forgot about this.”

“Forgot about what?” Sirius asks.

“How you would do the little things like this,” Regulus says. “You’d just do stuff that makes my life easier.”

Sirius is glad that he remembers. “I tried.”

“Don’t be mad if I ignore you, okay?” Regulus asks anxiously as they get closer to the front door.

“You do what you have to do,” Sirius replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re the one who has to survive in that den of snakes.”

Regulus winces. “Well, you have to survive in that den of lions, and Grandfather said you would have died as well. Watch your back, brother. I know that you trust your friends, but the Dark Lord has a long reach, even into Gryffindor.”

Sirius knows that his brother is right. He hates it, but Voldemort does have a long reach, and he’s upping the ante every day. “I’ll be careful. You should be, too.”

“I always am,” Regulus replies. “That’s the difference between lions and snakes. Snakes always assume that they’re surrounded by people who are about to stab them in the back.”

“Maybe, these days, we all have to worry about being stabbed in the back,” Sirius comments.

They’re met at the door by both Professors McGonagall and Slughorn. “How are you both?” McGonagall asks, and though her tone is relatively even, Sirius can hear her worry.

“We’re good, Professor,” Sirius says with a smile. “We had a very nice holiday with our grandfather.”

“I’m delighted to hear it!” Slughorn says with a broad smile. “How is your grandfather? I went to school with him.”

“He’s doing well,” Sirius lies easily. “He just wanted to see us. It was good.”

Slughorn claps his hands together. “How wonderful for you both!”

“Mr. Black, with me,” McGonagall says, putting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius allows her to steer him through the castle, to her office, where she sits him down on the couch. “I knew your grandfather, you know,” McGonagall says, steepling her hands in front of her face. “I was a little surprised that he requested the presence of you and your brother, but not displeased by it. He always doted on your grandmother.”

Sirius hesitates. “He said he was getting older, and he wanted to get to know his heir.”

McGonagall’s expression softens. “That does make sense.”

Sirius shrugs. “Honestly, before the last couple of weeks, I didn’t know him, and I didn’t have any strong feelings about him, but he was—he was really great. I’m going to spend part of the summer with him.”

“And your brother?” McGonagall asks.

Sirius shrugs. “He liked our grandfather, too, and we—we’re brothers again.”

Her smile widens. “That’s wonderful.”

“Do you think we can avoid fate, Professor?” Sirius asks. He knows what his grandfather is fighting against, and he’s not sure if it’s futile or not. “Like, if we’re meant to die, can we avoid it?”

“I don’t believe in fate, Mr. Black,” McGonagall says. “We all have choices that we make every day, and that’s what ensures our fate, if that’s the word you’d like to use.”

“But what if we make completely different choices, and we still wind up where we were always fated to be?”

McGonagall’s gaze sharpens. “What do you mean?”

“The reason my grandfather asked us to come,” Sirius confesses. “It’s because a goblin seer told him that if he didn’t do something different, the Black line would die out with us.”

McGonagall blinks. “Well, that does make sense, from what I know of your grandfather. He has always been very interested in the purity of the family line.”

“But he still wants me to be his heir,” Sirius says. “Even though I told him I wasn’t going to change my stance.”

McGonagall laughs. “Archie was always very opinionated, and that doesn’t surprise me. He would want a strong leader for the Black line, and your brother is certainly more of a follower than you are.”

“My grandmother called him Archie,” Sirius says softly. “And Regulus told me to watch my back because Voldemort had a long reach.”

He wants her to say that he doesn’t need to worry, but instead she frowns, and sits back thoughtfully. “I would like to tell you that you don’t have to worry, that none of my lions are susceptible to Voldemort’s machinations, but that would be a lie. The Sorting Hat chooses people based on their dominant traits, of course, but people are so rarely easily categorized. I sometimes think that we have done you students a disservice.”

Sirius really isn’t sure what to do with that, but he’s pretty sure he agrees with her. “So, what do you think I should do?”

“Trust your gut,” McGonagall replies. “I doubt you have to worry about Mr. Potter, as he doesn’t have a disloyal bone in his body. I would say the same about Mr. Lupin.”

Sirius does trust his gut, and he knows McGonagall is right. That means that she has doubts about Peter, about his strength of character, and those are doubts that Sirius shares.

“I’ll trust my gut,” he promises. “Thanks.”

“If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me,” McGonagall says. “You have tremendous potential, Mr. Black, and I want you to fulfill that potential. I think your grandfather can help you in that regard, but you’ll need to keep sight of who you are, and your values. You will have to hold the line.”

Sirius nods. “I want to, and I want to protect my brother.” He’s not sure whether he should confide in her, but he wants to. “Grandfather made Regulus swear on his magic not to join the Death Eaters.”

She appears fiercely proud. “Good. He’s probably the only one who might have been able to do that.”

Sirius knows she’s right about that. “Yeah, I know.”

“Keep your wits about you,” McGonagall says. “But I’m very glad that you had a good holiday with your grandfather. It’s important to keep family close, if you can stand them.”

Sirius laughs at that. “True.”

“Go on with you,” McGonagall says. “Try to keep your nose clean this term, hm?”

Sirius gives her his best shit-eating grin. “Come on, Professor. I always keep my nose clean.”

Her lips form a thin line that Sirius knows means she’s trying not to smile. “Get out of here.”

Sirius leaves, going back to a mostly-empty Gryffindor Tower. There are a couple of students in the common room, a first year and a seventh year. Sirius doesn’t know either of them very well, so he just nods before heading to his dorm room. No one else is there, of course, and Sirius throws himself on his bed, staring up at the canopy, going over the last couple of weeks in his head.

He has his brother back, and he has his grandfather to thank for that. Sirius doesn’t know what it’s going to mean for him to be the Black heir, or what his grandfather will expect of him, but the truth is, he’s feeling pretty good about the holiday, even if James will be disappointed that Sirius isn’t going to be spending the entire summer with him.

~~~~~

Regulus endures Slughorn’s well-meaning questions with as much grace as he can muster. He wants to be in Slughorn’s inner circle, because it will offer some measure of protection, even if he finds the man irritatingly obsequious.

“Your grandfather is a very powerful man,” Slughorn says. “I hope you appreciate what he can do for you.”

Regulus maintains a neutral expression. “I do. I know that my grandfather’s interest in me is important. He had a small gathering on Christmas Eve, and we met a number of important people.”

As he expects, that diverts Slughorn’s attention admirably. Slughorn wants to know exactly who had been there, what they’d said, what they’d done, what Regulus had said, all of it.

“I hadn’t taken much notice of your brother before this,” Slughorn muses. “Perhaps that was a mistake. I didn’t realize he was the Black heir.”

Regulus just barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “I’m not sure he’d be interested in joining your inner circle.”

“Oh?” Slughorn says, and Regulus knows that he can’t resist anyone who plays hard to get, and Sirius definitely will, whether Regulus warns him or not. “Interesting. Maybe you could help me with that.”

It would give Regulus a legitimate reason for speaking with Sirius while they’re at Hogwarts. “I might be able to do that, but I’m going to need your help, Professor.”

Slughorn smiles and waves effusively. “Of course, of course. Whatever can I do for you, within reason.”

“My grandfather has asked that I remain neutral,” Regulus says, knowing that he doesn’t have to say much more than that.

Slughorn rubs his chin. “Ah, yes, I can see why that might present some difficulty. I will do what I can, but you’re going to walk a difficult road.”

Regulus sighs. Slughorn hates getting involved in politics. He just wants to collect people with authority and power, and protect himself while doing so. “Thank you for the warning, Professor.”

“Not that I won’t do everything I can for you!” Slughorn is quick to say. “Obviously, if something were to happen to your brother, you would be the Black heir.”

And what he doesn’t have to say is that purebloods who don’t support Voldemort don’t have a long life expectancy.

Regulus smiles thinly. “Let’s hope that nothing happens to my brother. He might be a Gryffindor, but he’s smarter than he looks.”

Slughorn laughs. “I hope that he is.”

Regulus makes his escape soon after that, and wonders if Sirius’ conversation with his Head of House had been so fraught—and what Sirius is going to do with an invitation to Slughorn’s little club.

He’s grateful that the Slytherin common room in the dungeons is completely empty. Everyone had either gone home to their own family or with someone else, and the train won’t be back until the following day.

Regulus sprawls out on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. His head his whirling from everything that’s happened. He doesn’t regret his decision, but he isn’t sure how he’s going to navigate the House politics.

He can’t tell anyone, of that he’s certain. If he did, he would be painting a target on his grandfather’s back, and he’s not willing to do that.

The best he can do is deflect, he decides. He still has two or three years before the pressure to join the Dark Lord becomes overwhelming. At that point, he might have enough contacts through his grandfather that he can claim to be staying neutral. If he can walk the line, he might even—

Regulus stops that thought process. He doesn’t owe the opposing side or the Muggle-lovers anything. He owes his fellow purebloods his loyalty, but he doesn’t owe them an oath sworn to the Dark Lord, not when protecting the House of Black is paramount.

He shoves any thought of the other Blacks and what they might do out of his head. His parents aren’t going to become marked Death Eaters; they’d rather sit around and whinge about Muggle infringements on their way of life. Some of his cousins will certainly join, but Regulus can find reasons to stay neutral.

He’d better, because his life depends upon it.

~~~~~

Sirius is reading an arithmancy book when everyone who has returned on the train piles into the Gryffindor common room, which immediately changes from a quiet library feel to a raucous party. Gryffindors tend to be a noisy bunch, and Sirius can’t really tell if he’s happy to have the commotion.

He had actually enjoyed the quiet at Black Manor. After Christmas, he and Regulus had spent a lot of time in their favorite library, just reading quietly. Granted, Regulus had been reading the books on blood magic their parents gave him, and Sirius had been reading about advanced transfiguration, animagi, and creating magical maps, but it had been companionable.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss that.

James throws himself down on the couch next to Sirius. “School hasn’t even started back up again,” he says. “Why do you have your nose in a book?”

“This is for our project, not schoolwork,” Sirius replies absently, keeping his finger in the book to hold his place as he closes it to focus on James. “I spent most of my break reading up on animagi and advanced arithmancy for the map we want to create.”

James raises his eyebrows. “The visit with your grandfather went that poorly, then?”

Sirius barks a laugh. “No, actually. He was more formal than what I’m used to, I guess, but he was—he was kind. He confirmed that I was still his heir, and said that I didn’t have to go home to my parents if I didn’t want to.”

James frowns as Remus takes a seat nearby. “But we agreed that you were going to come stay with us!” James objects. “Come on.”

“He said I could spend most of the summer with you, or wherever else I wanted,” Sirius replies defensively. “He just wants—he wants to make sure I’m ready to take over as the Head of the House.”

Remus has always been the most perceptive of the four of them, and his eyes sharpen. “What’s wrong with him?”

Sirius rubs his eyes. “He didn’t say that I couldn’t tell you, but please don’t spread it around: he’s dying. He has a degenerative, incurable disease, and he doesn’t know how much time he has left.”

“So, he suddenly cares about you after all these years?” James asks incredulously. It’s a change from his position initially, but Sirius knows that it’s disappointment talking. “I hope you spat in his face.”

Peter joins them. “What’s going on?”

“My grandfather wants to spend more time with us, and he wants to be sure that I’m able to take over as the Head of the House of Black,” Sirius explains. “And he wants me to spend part of the summer with him. Me and Regulus.”

“How did things go with your brother?” Remus asks, derailing the impending debate.

Sirius smiles. “Really well, actually. We’ve agreed that it’s for the best that we don’t speak during the school year, to keep him safe, but we’ve reached an understanding.”

He can see James scowl. “I’m your brother.”

“You are, but Reg is the kid I half-raised, and—my grandfather was able to do something that I couldn’t. Regulus swore not to join the Death Eaters.”

That news sinks in, and Remus’ eyes are bright. “Your brother agreed not to join Voldemort.”

“He did,” Sirius replies, keeping his voice low. “And for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

He’s not going to talk about prophecies, or what his grandfather had learned from the goblin seers. There are some things that feel too private to share, even with his closest friends.

“Your grandfather is a blood purist,” James points out. “Even if he does some good things, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s part of the problem, unless he comes out against Voldemort.”

“And get himself killed?” Sirius asks. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but he’s an old man. He said he expected that we’d disagree about some things, but he asked me to hear him out and promised to do the same for me.”

James opens his mouth, probably to stay something else scathing, but Remus clears his throat, derailing him. “James, think about it for a second. If Sirius becomes the head of the House of Black, and he’s given his grandfather’s blessing, he could do a lot of good.”

“I could,” Sirius agrees. “Particularly for people like Remus.”

Peter also has an avaricious look. “Or for me.”

Sirius knows that Peter will probably do everything he can to ride Sirius’ coattails into a position of some renown, but Sirius knows that Peter doesn’t have a lot of advantages. Granted, Remus is far more handicapped, due to his condition, but he and James will do everything they can for Remus.

And if he’s the head of the House of Black, he can do that much more.

That idea appears to sink in to James’ head, and Sirius can tell when he gets over his high dudgeon and starts to think it through, the way that Sirius had.

“You had to take the deal,” James finally says. “To protect your brother, to protect everyone.”

Sirius sighs. “Now you’re getting it. And my grandfather can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.”

He can’t really explain what it had felt like to have his grandfather promise to listen to him, for his grandfather not to raise his voice or get angry when Sirius had attempted to push his buttons. Regulus probably has some idea, but his friends don’t. James’ parents are kindness personified, as are Remus’ parents. Peter’s parents are maybe a little cold, but they’re certainly not abusive.

“You’re not going to suddenly change all of your ideals are you?” James asks suspiciously.

“Grandfather didn’t make me do anything other than promise to spend a couple of weeks with him this summer,” Sirius says. “He didn’t make me promise not to join the Order, or even to stay neutral. I think he’s really trying.”

At least, Sirius wants to believe that his grandfather is trying, and that he might have some measure of family again. He knows that James’ parents are ready to take him in without question, and they’ll treat him like a second son, but his grandfather is blood.

Sirius isn’t a blood purist by any stretch of the imagination, but the lessons he learned as a very small child, prior to starting at Hogwarts, are still deeply ingrained in his mind.

Some things are more important than blood kin, of course, but not many.

“Let’s hope you’re right about that, Sirius,” James says. “I don’t want you to get hurt by the old man.”

“I don’t really want to get hurt either,” Sirius replies. “And I’m not saying that I completely trust him. I just trust him enough to spend a couple of weeks with him this summer, and it might be nice not to be disowned by my entire family.”

“This is Sirius we’re talking about,” Remus comments, sounding amused. “His head is harder than yours, James.”

Sirius gives him a mild glare. “Oh, thank you so much.”

“It was a compliment,” Remus protests.

“Sure it was,” Sirius replies, but there’s a reluctant smile pulling on his mouth.

The next term should be interesting.

~~~~~

When the rest of the Slytherins come back on the train, Regulus has his mask firmly in place. He’s going to have to walk this line very carefully, so as not to paint a target on his grandfather or brother’s backs. Or on his own, but that might be a foregone conclusion.

He’s reading one of the books he received on blood magic when the other students in his house return, and he’s not surprised that Evan makes a beeline for him. “How did you make out?”

Regulus holds up his book so he can see the title. “Quite well.”

“Nice,” Evan comments. “I see your grandfather is encouraging your passions. Did he announce a change in succession?”

“He said he was still evaluating us,” Regulus lies. “Right now, he’s declared his neutrality.”

Evan frowns. “I thought he was a blood purist.”

Regulus holds up his book. “As you can see, he is, but he’s unsure about Voldemort. He’s a typical gray wizard, and wants to maintain neutrality as long as possible.”

“Did he make you take an oath?” Evan asks.

Regulus shrugs. “For now. He said he’d release me from my oath if it looks like it’s politically expedient to do so.”

That’s an outright fabrication, but Regulus has no problem lying when it serves him. “Slughorn is showing an interest in both me and my brother,” he comments.

“You should definitely take him up on it,” Evan says. “I mean, you’ll make connections there that you wouldn’t even in Slytherin. Maybe your brother will start coming around.”

Regulus barely contains his snort, and schools his face into a serious expression. “Maybe,” he allows. “He seemed to like our grandfather.”

He doesn’t say that their grandfather is leagues better than their parents, because no one in their House needs to know that.

“Well, I still think it’s too bad you couldn’t convince him to choose you to be his heir, but you have time yet,” Evan says. “And the fact that he’s giving you books on blood magic shows that he’s on our side.”

Regulus hadn’t actually said that, but assumptions can be helpful.

“Are you coming to dinner?” Evan asks.

Regulus shrugs. “Sure, this is my second time reading through them. My brother and I ignored each other while at my grandfather’s house.”

That isn’t exactly what happened. They’d spent a lot of time together, just reading quietly, but they weren’t ignoring each other. They can still claim to be enemies while at school, though.

Regulus is just glad that it’s a lie.

They all troop down to the Great Hall for dinner, probably jostling less than the Gryffindors, and they’re certainly less noisy, but spirits are high. Regulus allows himself to enjoy being around his classmates, even though he knows they’re likely to be enemies at some point.

If he can stay neutral through his seventh year, if he can survive, he can make his own way from there, forge his own path.

Regulus sits where he can see the Gryffindor table, and he notices that Sirius does the same, braced by Potter and Lupin. Pettigrew sits across from them, and if he and Sirius catch the other’s gaze, neither of them let on to it.

“Your brother is an arrogant little toe rag,” Snape hisses in his ear. “I’m going to prove that Lupin is up to something.”

“They like to pull pranks,” Regulus says wearily. “And yes, they are all arrogant toe rags. I should know. One of them is my brother.”

“Did he say anything when you were there?” Snape demands.

“No, we didn’t talk about our friends,” Regulus replies shortly. No one in their house particularly cares for Snape, and Regulus is fairly certain that if Potter and his lot hadn’t targeted the other boy, he would have faced much more disdain from their own house than he had from Gryffindor.

“They’re hiding something,” Snape mutters.

“They probably are,” Regulus says, exasperated. “What does it matter?”

“It matters,” Snape snarls, and then doesn’t say anything else.

Honestly, Regulus just doesn’t understand the fascination with his brother and his friends.

Regulus is pretty sure it has something to do with Snape’s fascination with Lily Evans, which goes against pureblood politics, but Snape is just a halfblood himself. He barely fits in with the rest of the House. His brilliance at potions is the only thing that sets him apart.

That night, after the feast, they repair to the Slytherin common room, and Regulus plays a game of Exploding Snap with his classmates. He thinks he’s sold it, that his time with his grandfather had been good, and he desires the House of Black to remain neutral until he makes up his mind as to which will be the winning side.

That resonates with the scions of the houses that have remained neutral, and Regulus can feel the politics of Slytherin shift slightly toward neutral.

“Is your brother still the Heir?” one of the Greengrass brothers asks him.

“For now,” Regulus says airily. “I’m biding my time. And it’s not unheard of to subvert a lion. Slughorn wants him.”

“Oooh, that would be a great boon for you,” Natalia comments. “If you and your brother are both in Slughorn’s circle, you could do so much good, even if your grandfather remains neutral.”

Regulus doesn’t agree. He’s probably going to have to go into hiding at some point, because he can’t see how he could do anything else and survive. “Perhaps,” he says neutrally. Because neutral is what he has to be.

He wishes there were a place in Hogwarts where he could talk to Sirius without anyone knowing about it. Regulus wonders if such a place exists.

Maybe he could find one, or maybe he could make one, or maybe he could just beg Hogwarts for what he needs. Some of the other Slytherins have made mention of a room that isn’t always there, and isn’t always the same room every time you find it.

Regulus doesn’t locate the fabled room, but he does see Sirius at Slughorn’s next gathering. His brother is wearing his best bored expression, which Regulus has figured out is usually a cover for discomfort. He’d never expected to be invited into Slughorn’s inner circle, in spite of being a Black, and being one of the top students in his class.

He might be here just to lure his brother in, but he’s still here.

Sirius sidles up to him. “Is this your doing?” he hisses.

“Professor Slughorn said that he was interested in cultivating the Black heir,” Regulus whispers. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I figured you’d be here,” Sirius replies with a shrug. “I thought it would be easier to see you here than anywhere else.”

“There’s a rumor about a room that is sometimes there and sometimes not,” Regulus mutters. “Maybe that will work.”

“How are the snakes treating you?” Sirius asks.

“I’m spinning it to my advantage,” Regulus replies. “What about the lions?”

Sirius shrugs again. “They’re worried that I might be losing my mind, but what do they know anyway?”

“They didn’t realize you already had?” Regulus asks archly.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Don’t. Keep your ears and eyes open tonight, okay? I’ll do what I can to find this mythical room.”

He squeezes Regulus’ wrist, and then quickly drifts away. There’s something about the contact, as innocuous as it is, that makes Regulus feel better.

He knows that Sirius doesn’t want to be here, but Sirius is here anyway. Sirius is here because he’d known Regulus would be.

Regulus makes the rounds, getting a drink and a plate of nibbles, and chatting with the people who cross his path. To his surprise, he enjoys himself. Slughorn’s tendency to collect students with potential, or family connections, means that he doesn’t limit membership in the Slug Club to purebloods, or to any particular House.

Slytherins tend to be fairly insular, so Regulus hasn’t had contact with many of his classmates from the other Houses, but he realizes that most of those present would be people his grandfather would encourage him to cultivate.

He ends up spending most of his time with Agnes Ermine, who’s a year ahead of him and is a Chaser for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. The Ermines are known as a light family, but one that has generally remained neutral. Regulus discovers that Agnes has very firm opinions on Quidditch teams, and it’s a low stakes conversation where Regulus doesn’t need to be on his guard.

Regulus suddenly realizes that he could be himself at Slug Club. Assuming that no one gets too curious about the fact that he’s talking to people who aren’t in Slytherin, he can build other connections, which he’s going to need if he refuses to join the Death Eaters.

When the gathering starts to break up, Sirius sidles up to him and says in a whisper, “Follow me.”

They’re close to curfew, but Regulus does as Sirius asks, because there’s some part of him that still trusts his brother—or he’s come to trust his brother again.

Sirius leads him to a hallway on the seventh floor, where he paces back and forth and mutters, “I need a private place to talk to my brother.”

On the third pass, a door opens, and Sirius grins triumphantly. “There it is!”

When they enter the room, it’s basically a replica of their favorite library at Black Manor, complete with bookshelves, a roaring fireplace, and two overstuffed chairs. “How did you find it?” Regulus asks, impressed in spite of himself.

Sirius grins. “I asked some subtle questions at the Slug Club. I figured people there might know. I had to promise to take Eva Merryweather to the next Hogsmeade weekend, but it was worth it.”

Regulus looks around the room. “This is perfect.”

“The trick is to think really hard about what you want, and the room appears and suits itself to your requirements,” Sirius replies. “Here.”

He hands Regulus a coin. It looks like a regular galleon, but then Sirius says, “Put your thumb in the middle and think about me.”

Regulus does so, and Sirius pulls a galleon out of his own pocket, and it’s vibrating. “It’s one of a pair?”

“It is,” Sirius proclaims proudly. “So, if you need to talk to me, just activate the coin, and I’ll meet you here as soon as I can.”

It’s an impressive bit of magic, and Regulus is reminded that Sirius could have easily sorted into Ravenclaw, had he not been a lion at heart. “I’ll never understand why you didn’t go into Ravenclaw. Our parents would have accepted that.”

“Maybe that’s why I asked the hat for Gryffindor,” Sirius counters. “I wanted to break free of our parents. I’m just glad that our grandfather is more reasonable.”

Sirius would say that, given that he hadn’t extracted a promise out of him, not the way he had out of Regulus. Then again, given his grandfather’s revelations, Regulus is at least somewhat appreciative.

“We should get back,” Regulus says. “It’s close to curfew.”

“It is,” Sirius says, and then he reaches out and grabs Regulus’ shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Stay safe, Reg.”

Regulus gives into the urge and hugs his brother. He never gets this anymore, not in Slytherin, but Sirius squeezes him tightly. “I’m glad you were there tonight,” he mutters, somewhat embarrassed, letting go.

Sirius doesn’t let go, though, not right away. “I wouldn’t have been there except for you,” he says, and then releases him. “Call me if you need me.”

Regulus barely makes it back to the Slytherin’s dungeon common room before curfew, and he holds the charmed coin in his fist, shoved into his left-hand pocket, and he can’t help but feel comforted.

~~~~~

Arcturus is not about to take chances, and so he’s keeping in close contact with Rockhand to get frequent updates. He knows that he’ll have the boys for at least a couple of weeks during the summer holidays, but they’re out of his custody for more time than he’d like.

In spite of Regulus’ vow, he could still be pulled into Voldemort’s orbit, still end up as one of his followers, even if he does remain unmarked. Sirius could still be a reckless idiot and get himself killed, although Arcturus will do everything he can to ensure his grandson is safe.

He’s laid in a supply of goblin tea, and makes sure that Rockhand has what he would most like.

“What can you tell me?” Arcturus asks, grateful that the goblins don’t go for much small talk.

Rockhand takes a sip of his tea, drawing out the suspense, the wanker. “Your grandsons are forming a strong bond that will keep them both safe,” he finally says. “Our seers currently believe that they’ll both not only survive, but thrive. But when the time comes, James Potter and his wife will need to be protected.”

Arcturus nods. “I plan on inviting Sirius’ friends over at some point, and that will include James Potter. What else?”

“You know that Remus Lupin is a werewolf, do you not?” Rockhand asks.

Arcturus did not, but he asks, “What can you tell me about him?”

“Bitten by Greyback as a child, and Dumbledore accepted him into Hogwarts,” Rockhand replies. “Your grandson has been trying to protect him.”

Arcturus closes his eyes, throttling his first reaction, which is to ensure that Remus Lupin doesn’t come anywhere near his grandson and heir. “Can you do anything for Mr. Lupin?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Rockhand replies. “Yes, we can provide a charm—for the right price.”

Arcturus frowns. “Why wouldn’t you provide such a charm for any werewolf?”

“How many do you think can afford our prices?” Rockhand asks. “We don’t do anything for free, Lord Black. Goblins can’t be infected with lycanthropy. Why should we exert ourselves for the benefit of wizards unless paid to do so? The only argument for equality you understand is gold.”

Arcturus regards Rockhand, and considers what’s been said. “You make a fair point. I would purchase a charm for my grandson’s friend, because it would make him happy, and keep him safer.”

“I will make the arrangements,” Rockhand replies. “As always, thank you for your hospitality, Lord Black.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Arcturus replies. “May your vaults overflow with gold.”

Rockhand smiles, not showing his teeth. “And may your enemies fall before you.”

Chapter 3

Sirius doesn’t really expect much from his grandfather once he’s back at school. He figures Arcturus will do the same thing their parents do—ignore him unless he’s at home. But that’s far from what happens. Once a week, an owl delivers a letter to both him and Regulus from their grandfather. The missives are sometimes short, sometimes long, but his grandfather always asks open-ended questions that Sirius feels compelled to answer.

His grandfather asks about Remus, and whether he’d be amenable to assistance. He asks about James and his circumstances, and he tells Sirius that he can invite his friends to stay for a week during the summer.

“What’s put that look on your face?” James asks in an undertone.

“My grandfather has invited all of us to stay at Black Manor for a week this summer,” Sirius replies, still stunned.

James frowns. “What? All of us?”

“I think he knows about Remus, too,” Sirius whispers, handing James the letter.

James scans it quickly. “How would he know?”

“I told you that he’d been talking to seers,” Sirius says. “I’m guessing they figured it out. What do you think he means by help?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know, but…would the goblins have something?”

Sirius shrugs. “How would I know what the goblins have to help a werewolf?”

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, joining them at the breakfast table. Sirius knows that he’d awoken early to help a first year with their potions essay.

James glances at Sirius for permission, and when he nods, James hands the letter to Remus.

“Why would he want to help me?” Remus asks, obviously mystified.

Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know. But would you want to come?”

“If you want me there, and it’s not during a full moon, I’m happy to go,” Remus replies. “As long as my parents agree.”

Peter shows up, late to the party as usual, but probably because he overslept. “What’s going on?”

“My grandfather has invited all of us to visit Black Manor during the summer holidays,” Sirius replies.

Peter perks up immediately. “That was kind of him.”

Unlike Remus, Peter doesn’t ask why Arcturus Black might want to host him, and Sirius figures that it’s just Peter assuming that the world owes him something. But that’s Peter for you.

“I’ll write to him and suggest some dates,” Sirius finally says. “Something that works for all of us.”

James gives him a worried look. He’s started to come around to the idea that Sirius has family other than him. “Your grandfather seems like he’s really trying.”

Sirius frowns. “Yeah, I know.”

“Are you really going to ditch us this weekend?” James teases, changing the subject neatly.

Sirius doesn’t mind taking Eva Merryweather to Hogsmeade. She’s pretty and smart, and she’s the Keeper for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. “Hey, just because you can’t get Lily to go out with you doesn’t mean I can’t date.”

He hasn’t even told James about the Room of Requirement, and he’s debating on whether to include it on the map they’re working on. There’s something about his relationship with Regulus that feels very tentative, and very private.

Even from his closest friends.

He can’t say why he feels that way, but he does, and right now he’s going with his gut. He’s going to keep some things close to the vest.

Sirius feels the coin in his pocket vibrate, and he guesses that Regulus wants to know what Sirius is going to do with their grandfather’s proposal. He can only assume that Regulus received the same invitation.

They’ve worked out the timing, which means Sirius will make his way to the Room of Requirement after classes are over and before dinner. They have potions, transfiguration, and arithmancy that day. Well, Peter is taking Muggle studies, because he thought he could get an easy O on his OWLs, but the rest of them are in arithmancy.

Sirius knows they have to keep the map a secret, but he wishes they could use it as one of their projects. They’d get E’s in every class it touched if they could, but Sirius knows better than to reveal it.

He does catch Snivelus watching Remus in the class they share with the Slytherins, but so far he hasn’t tried to make another move.

Sirius has a word with James after their last class. “I need to do something. I’ll be around for dinner.”

James frowns. “Does this have something to do with your grandfather?”

“Indirectly,” Sirius replies. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous.”

James snorts. “I would hope not. We get into dangerous situations together, remember?”

“Always,” Sirius replies.

He makes his way to the Room of Requirement circuitously, not wanting to risk being followed, and he finds Regulus waiting for him, as expected. There’s a roaring fire, and a tray with tea and biscuits, and Sirius throws himself into the second chair. “What’s going on?”

“Did you receive Grandfather’s invitation?” Regulus asks.

Sirius nods. “I did. Are you going to invite friends, too?”

“What friends?” Regulus asks bitterly. “Most of them are going to join the Death Eaters, and they’ll drop me when they realize that I won’t do the same.”

Sirius notices that he doesn’t say “can’t,” which is promising. “Or maybe invite the ones you think might be on the fence,” he suggests. “They’ll see Grandfather as the head of a house traditionally thought of as dark, and he isn’t joining Voldemort. Maybe more of them will decide to remain neutral. Cultivate your own following, brother.”

Regulus frowns, clearly mulling that over. “You may have a point. There are a couple of people I could probably approach.”

“There you go,” Sirius replies. “Show them the benefits of neutrality, and maybe build a coalition within Slytherin. Give people the option.”

“I can do that,” Regulus says. “That’s a good idea.”

“I’m not brainless, even if I did get sorted into Gryffindor,” Sirius jokes, not above poking fun at himself or his house.

Regulus rolls his eyes. “I thought that was a requirement for Gryffindors.”

“No, we just pretend to be idiots some of the time,” Sirius teases.

Regulus hesitates. “Is Severus bothering you?”

“He’s following Remus around, trying to get him into trouble,” Sirius replies. “Is there anything you can do?”

Regulus shrugs. “Probably not, since Potter’s interest in Lily Evans is evident.”

Sirius shrugs. “He’s a blood purist. Why would he be interested in a Muggle-born?”

“They were childhood friends,” Regulus replies. “And Lily Evans is one of the brightest witches here. I think you’ll find that a lot of blood purists are willing to put their principles aside to fuck someone they think is hot, Siri.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sirius replies, even if he thinks it’s fucked up. “Does Lily get a say in this?”

Regulus snorts. “Not if you’re Severus.”

“What a wanker,” Sirius mutters.

Regulus laughs. “On that, we agree. He is a wanker.”

It’s a good moment.

When he joins his friends at dinner, James elbows him. “Where were you, mate?”

“Having a private conversation with my brother about the invitation from our grandfather for this summer,” Sirius replies in an undertone. “Not a big deal.”

James frowns. “Where did you go?”

“A secret place,” Sirius replies. “I’ll show you sometime, but I won’t include it on the map. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He has plans for how to keep the map safe from others, but this is his and Regulus’ secret. What if it did fall into the wrong hands, and they figure out how to make it work for them? He knows just how dangerous it could be.

“What’s so special about this room?” James asks.

Sirius shrugs. “You’ll see.”

He knows that James won’t rest until he sees the room, but he’s glad when it’s just James who follows him out after dinner. Remus heads for the library, and Peter accompanies him.

“Are you sure you can trust him?” James asks insistently. “He’s a snake, Siri.”

“He’s my brother,” Sirius counters. “And we’ve found common ground. He’s agreed not to join the Death Eaters, but I won’t risk his life by meeting with him openly. James, we have an opportunity here. I won’t use my brother, but what if—“

“What if he could do us some good?” James asks. “I understand.”

Sirius paces outside the door three times, although he doesn’t think the same thing that he had when he’d been with his brother. This time, he thinks about needing a place to hide, and when the door appears and they enter the room to find it full of things that people had probably wanted to hide—books, various artifacts, pieces of broken furniture.

“This is where you met your brother?” James asks incredulously.

Sirius shakes his head. “It didn’t look like this when Reg and I were here. But I wanted a private, comfortable place for us to meet. Here, I asked for a place to hide.”

“Well, it definitely looks like a place where people have done just that,” James replies, looking around. “What did it look like before?”

“Roaring fireplace and a couple of chairs,” Sirius admits. “Regulus can’t risk the rest of the snakes knowing, but I think he might be able to start another faction within his house.”

James nods. “That could only help us.”

“I didn’t suggest it to help us,” Sirius replies. “I suggested it because I want Regulus to survive.”

“I know you do.” James says. “I’m sure I’d feel the same way if I had siblings, and Regulus seems to be coming around.”.

“He’s my brother,” Sirius admits. “If I can save him, I will.”

“I thought you’d given up on him,” James admits.

Sirius hesitates and then says, “Maybe I did. If so, it’s not something I’m proud of.”

James nods. “Fair enough. You know I have your back.”

“I do know that,” Sirius replies. And if things don’t work out, Sirius knows that he always will.

~~~~~

Regulus can’t just come right out and ask classmates to come with him to visit his grandfather in the summer. Coming right out and asking would be a Gryffindor move, and he knows he needs to be a little more subtle about it. The problem is that the two or three people in Slytherin who haven’t been vocal about their support of Voldemort have also kept to themselves, and they aren’t friends with him.

It would probably be suspicious if he just suddenly tried to make friends with the only people who haven’t been interested in joining the Death Eaters for the last couple of years.

So, he starts by distancing himself from his friends, pleading schoolwork and Quidditch practice, and a desire to work through the series on blood magic that his grandfather ostensibly gave him.

He remains cordial, of course, because he doesn’t want to burn bridges, but he asserts his independence. He spends more time alone in the library, and he spends time with his brother in the Room of Requirement. He pretends that he’s just absorbed in his studies, and that isn’t terribly out of character for him. Other than Quidditch, he’s known as being the type to get lost in learning.

He cultivates the persona of the absent-minded scholar easily over the course of the term, lost in his study of blood and ritual magic. If his parents learn about it, they won’t even mind. Eventually, as he hoped, people stop issuing invitations. Regulus still attends Slug Club and Quidditch practices, but he notices that a few of other students from Slytherin—both from the classes above him, and the ones below—start to gravitate towards him in the library.

Regulus knows how Slytherins operate, and they’re going to take their time feeling him out making sure that this isn’t some sort of a ploy or a trick.

The day that Violet Miller sits down at his table in the library, Regulus knows that his strategy is working.

“You haven’t been hanging with your usual crowd,” Violet observes quietly. “Some of us have been wondering why that is.”

He’s noticed Violet in the past; she’s hard not to notice, since she’s in his year, a Slytherin, a good student, and very pretty. With her thick, dark hair, dark eyes, and fair complexion, she would probably have her pick of suitors—except for the fact that her family isn’t particularly well off and is publicly neutral.

“I’ve been offered another path,” Regulus replies, just as quietly. “My grandfather has been generous.”

Violet perks up at that. “Lord Black has decided not to take sides?”

“He’s remaining neutral, and he’s asked me to do the same,” Regulus admits.

Violet raises her eyebrows. “And is there room at the table with you?”

Regulus smiles. “Of course, but that isn’t for public consumption.”

Violet smiles briefly. “Yes, well, I’m not exactly advertising my neutrality either.”

Regulus inclines his head. “What electives are you taking?”

Their whispered conversation covers their electives, and what they’re planning to do for their careers. Violet also tells him that there are others in Slytherin who are looking for a way forward that doesn’t involve becoming a Death Eater.

They make arrangements to study together the next evening, at the same table, and Regulus starts packing up his things. He allows Violet to go ahead, knowing that it will be better if they’re not seen to be too close, at least for the moment.

But that does mean that he’s walking back to the common room alone when he’s stopped by a couple of the Slytherin seventh years, some of the main recruiters for Voldemort. He knows Thorfinn Rowle best, and Regulus braces himself, because Rowle is brutal, and one of the main reasons that Regulus has tried to be careful.

“What sort of game are you playing, Black?” Rowle asks in a growly voice. “I thought you were one of us. Do we need to have a word with your grandfather?”

Regulus feels a stab of alarm. “I’m just considering my options,” he says, scrambling for a response. “And I find blood magic fascinating.”

“I think you’re getting cold feet,” Rowle says. “I think you’re scared, but you need to be concerned about what happens if you don’t join.”

Regulus tilts his chin up. “I’ll do what I want.”

He would have said the same to his brother or grandfather if they told him what to do, but then Rowle’s wand is in his hand and Regulus has his arm full of books, and he braces himself for something.

And then Rowle drops with the use of a stunner that comes from a point in the hall where someone has apparently disillusioned themselves. His friends get dropped from behind Regulus.

He’s rather surprised to see that Sirius is one of his rescuers. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

“You’re welcome,” Sirius replies. “And you get to pick your hex to claim we hit you with. We’ll leave the others here to violate curfew.”

Regulus has to admire his brother’s cunning in that moment, and he sighs. “Fine. Thank you. I’ll take Petrificus Totalus.”

“You won’t be able to get out of here,” Sirius points out.

“Sure, but I’ll tell people that they weren’t trying to break curfew, and that we were all hit from behind,” Regulus replies. “That will ingratiate me, and I’ll claim I didn’t see anyone’s faces. Just make sure to cast a couple of spells to throw off the scent.”

“As you like,” Sirius replies, and hits him with the jinx. “Let me know if you need me, brother.”

And then Sirius and his friends leave them all there, Regulus isn’t entirely sure how he’s going to explain why he got a different curse than the others, or why he wasn’t stunned when everyone else was while not giving his brother up, and then he comes up with a very bright idea.

He manages to wriggle his right hand free of the bind enough so that he can reach his wand, and then cast a finite.

At that point, he runs to Slughorn’s office and knocks loudly. “Professor,” he says, quickly dissembling. “Come quick. We were attacked.”

Slughorn is wearing pajamas and a hastily-tied robe, and he shoves his feet in slippers before following Regulus. Rowle and his cronies are just beginning to stir, and Slughorn casts a renervate on them all.

“You all are lucky Black woke up and alerted me,” he says. “You’d have violated curfew otherwise. Did you see who did this?”

They all had to admit that they hadn’t, and Regulus also said that he hadn’t seen anyone, nor does he admit that Rowle and his cronies had been threatening him before.

Rowle and the others glare at him, but Regulus figures he’s bought some leeway with this silence.

“Who attacked us?” Rowle demands as soon as they reach the Slytherin common room. “I know you know.”

Regulus opens his mouth to retort, and then one of the disaffected students, Elias Oldham, says, “The other three houses hate us as a body. We’re always getting attacked in the corridors. Be thankful this was your first time.”

And that is a point well taken, and Violet chimes in, “I’ve already been hexed three times this year, and do you see me whinging about it? You’re being babies. So, you got stunned. You don’t see Black moaning.”

He would have preferred she left him out of it, but he says with a shrug, “Sure. No need to whinge about what happens in the halls. We’ve hexed a few lions in our time, too.”

That shuts Rowle down entirely, and Regulus breathes a purely internal sigh of relief as they drift away.

“Are you okay?” Violet asks in an undertone. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Who?” Regulus, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Rowle and his friends,” Violet replies. “I know what they’re like, and no offense, but I doubt you’d have been able to get the drop on all four of them, which means someone was helping you.”

Regulus glances around the common room and quickly shakes his head. “Not here. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

Violet gives him a knowing look. “You know, my sister was sorted into Ravenclaw.”

Regulus didn’t know that. “Older or younger?”

“Older,” Violet replies. “But she probably knows more jinxes and hexes than most seventh years. Rowle tried coming after me exactly once.”

Regulus relaxes slightly. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“Just don’t go anywhere alone,” Violet advises him. “Rowle tends to hold a grudge.”

Regulus knows how true that is, and he resolves to be careful in the future. He can’t always rely on his brother to save him.

~~~~~

Sirius has been avoiding Regulus, knowing that if they’re seen together, it wouldn’t be good for him and his standing with the other Slytherins. But it just so happens that he’s in the library, studying with Remus, James, and Peter, when he sees Regulus packing up. That wouldn’t have been enough to alert him to a problem, but then he sees Thorfinn Rowle and three of his friends follow him out of the library.

“Heads up,” Sirius murmurs. “I think my brother is about to get himself into trouble.”

James follows his gaze, and his eyes sharpen. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I’m not letting my brother get ambushed, even if they are members of his own House,” Sirius replies. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I have my cloak,” James replies. “I’ll go first, and you three follow behind me.”

Remus has already started to pack up, and Peter follows his lead, but more slowly, clearly reluctant. “Why are we sticking our necks out for a Slytherin?” Peter mutters.

“He’s not just a Slytherin, he’s my brother,” Sirius says firmly. “You don’t have to come with us, Peter.”

Peter sighs. “I’m right behind you.”

Sirius and Remus both cast disillusionment spells on themselves, but Peter hasn’t quite managed the charm yet, and neither of them have ever successfully managed to cast it on someone else.

So, James takes the lead, and Sirius and Remus follow closely, with Peter reluctantly bringing up the rear.

James is the first to cast a stunner when they spot Rowle and his friends surrounding Regulus, whose arms are full of books. Rowle is obviously about to hex or jinx Regulus, and Sirius can see his brother close his eyes, bracing himself.

Sirius pulls his own wand and sends a stunner at one of Rowle’s friends, and Remus does the same, with James sending a second stunner at the last one standing. Peter never even pulls his wand.

Sirius dispels the disillusionment charm, knowing that James isn’t going to want to reveal that he’s wearing a cloak. He thinks his presence will distract Regulus, who hisses at him like an angry cat.

He casts the spell Regulus asks of him, and then he hides nearby, watching as Regulus manages to wriggle his way free, and runs for his Head of House. Sirius is a little irritated that the Slytherins aren’t going to get detention for breaking curfew.

But then he heads back to the Gryffindor common room, because he doesn’t want to get detention himself.

James grins at him when he enters. “Well, that was fun. Are we going to start rescuing your brother now?”

“Only when the opportunity presents itself,” Sirius replies. “I didn’t want Rowle to hurt him.”

“He wasn’t very grateful,” Peter points out.

Sirius shrugs. “That wasn’t the point. Just—keep an eye out for him. He seems to be coming around, and Rowle targeted him because he’s not hanging out with the Death Eaters these days.”

“Of course,” James agrees easily.

Sirius gets a letter from his grandfather a couple of weeks later, and he starts to read it.

Dear Sirius,

Your brother tells me that he’s making some headway with his housemates, and it seems that your actions have played a role in it. I’m proud of you for putting aside House rivalries and standing by your brother in a way that also protects him. I look forward to hosting you and your friends soon. Work hard for the rest of the year, and I know you’ll do well on your OWLs.

Always,

Your Grandfather

Sirius stares at the words on the paper, hardly able to make sense of them. He doesn’t think either of his parents have ever expressed pride in him or his accomplishments, nor have they offered any sort of encouragement.

“You okay?” James asks. “Did your grandfather say something to you?”

“He said he was proud of me,” Sirius mutters. “I don’t even know what to do with that.”

Remus overhears him, and he smiles gently. “Is that so bad?”

“It’s weird,” Sirius admits. “Also, I think Reg must have told him about our intervention with those bullies. I certainly didn’t, but he seems to know all about it.”

“Maybe,” Remus says slowly. “But don’t you have at least one relative with a portrait here?”

Sirius blinks. “Oh, yeah. Phineas Black was a headmaster here, although I’m not sure when.”

“Or maybe your brother told your grandfather what you did,” James says, apparently knowing what Sirius wants to hear. The idea that Regulus would have told their grandfather something good about him is almost foreign.

But maybe it means their relationship has truly turned a corner.

“Are we going to work on the map again tonight?” Remus asks quietly, changing the subject.

Sirius nods. “Absolutely. I think I’m learning more from this project than I have from our classes. I figure it’s good for our OWLs, too.”

They’ve made good headway, and Sirius thinks it will be completed by the end of the year, probably around the same time that Peter manages the transformation. He and James have already found their forms, and can go back and forth with ease, but it’s taking Peter a little longer.

Sirius thinks that might be because Peter knows his form is a rat, and he’s disappointed that his form isn’t more regal. Then again, as he and James have reminded him more than once, a rat is dead useful, since it’s small and unobtrusive, and easily overlooked. They’ve already come up with pseudonyms for the map: Padfoot, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail. Peter doesn’t like his nickname, but Sirius thinks it’s fitting.

That evening, they work in the library until it’s nearly curfew, and then they head back to the common room. There’s no excitement on their way back to the common room, and they sprawl out on the couches to talk idly until they’re ready to go to bed.

The time heading up to their OWLs is rushing by. Gryffindor have a game against Hufflepuff that weekend, which they win, but that’s the last game of the year. Peter manages the transformation the following weekend, and they spend the next full moon with Remus in the Shrieking Shack.

The map is completed the weekend after that, and all the while they’re cramming for their OWLs. Once the map is complete, Sirius hangs onto it, checking obsessively to see where Regulus is, and whether he’s alone. He notices that Regulus is surrounded by other people more and more—Violet Miller, Elias Oldham, and a few others from Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.

No one from Gryffindor, of course, but Sirius is relieved that Regulus isn’t by himself, and that he’s unlikely to be caught alone in the halls again.

And it looks like Regulus will have some friends to invite to their grandfather’s house that summer.

“Are you going to come to my grandfather’s house?” Sirius asks his friends the week before they’re due to take their OWLs. His grandfather hadn’t said why, but he’s extended the invitation from one week to two.

“I am,” James agrees easily. “Someone has to watch your back.”

Remus hesitates. “What about the full moon? It’s a week after we’re due to arrive.”

“He moved the dates around when I asked him, so we can avoid the full moon,” Sirius replies. “It will be fine.”

Remus breathes a sigh of relief. “Then yes, I’m going. My parents just wanted to be sure I’d be home for that.”

Sirius can understand why Remus and his parents would be hesitant. If something happens, and Remus hurts or kills someone, it would be bad.

“Of course I’m going,” Peter says. “Knowing the current Lord Black can only help.”

Sirius is a little uncomfortable with that, but it’s Peter. “Well, sounds like a real party then.”

“And then you’re coming to mine,” James asserts. “My parents are looking forward to having you there.”

Sirius can’t quite believe that he’s not running away to James’ parents immediately, but his grandfather is starting to win him over, and he’s beginning to trust that his grandfather actually has his best interests at heart.

~~~~~

Arcturus has started getting creative about spying on his grandsons. Phineas Black still has a portrait in Hogwarts, and he’s skilled at moving from frame to frame and getting around the castle. Phineas is the one who originally alerts Arcturus about the attempted ambush in the hallway, and Sirius and his friends’ roles in interrupting it.

But he’s also heartened the following day when he receives a letter from Regulus, off-handedly mentioning the incident and expressing surprise that his brother would act as his protector, but also, that his friends would get involved.

To Arcturus, it bodes well for them to be able to rebuild their relationship, and perhaps strengthen their bond.

He hasn’t been idle over the last couple of months. He has a dueling instructor booked for Sirius and his friends, and anyone in Regulus’ crowd who might want to participate. He has a couple of other treats lined up, too—both of his grandsons play Quidditch, so he sets up a temporary pitch.

Arcturus is bribing them, and he knows that, and he expects that they’ll know that, too. He doesn’t care, though. He thinks they’ll come around, and will understand that he’s doing it because he cares. It’s not just the grand gestures; it’s the weekly letters, and the packages of sweets and other goodies he has his house elves deliver right before Regulus’ finals and Sirius’ OWLs.

Granted, he cheated a bit and had his house elves spy on them, and ask the Hogwarts elves what they’d like best, but he gets letters in thanks from both boys.

Really, he has no idea what his son and his wife were thinking. Sirius might have been sorted into Gryffindor, but he’s still a good boy with a strong desire to protect his family. Regulus is smart and talented, with a certain native cunning.

The two of them together could take on the entire wizarding world, and change things for the better.

What that might look like, Arcturus doesn’t know, but he thinks the two of them will balance each other out nicely.

He receives a letter from Regulus right before finals are due to begin, giving him a list of names of students who have agreed to spend two weeks with him. It’s a mixed crowd, with someone from every house other than Gryffindor, and Arcturus is pleased to see Regulus’ inner politician is functioning at a high level.

Arcturus is quite looking forward to having the children in the Manor. He dispatches the house elves to ensure that the rooms are aired out and will be comfortable for everyone. Most of those visiting are from older families, and will be used to a little more formality at dinner.

The day before the children are due to arrive, Arcturus arranges a meeting with Rockhand to collect the charm for Remus Lupin, as well as to get the rest of the information that he requested.

As always, he ensures that there is food and drink that Rockhand prefers, and they sit in front of a roaring fire in his study. Arcturus pours the tea, and Rockhand sighs over it. “You are far more hospitable than most wizards, Lord Black.”

Arcturus snorts. “Most wizards don’t understand their own self-interest, and what’s good for them.”

Rockhand nods. “Too true. Before you ask, the seers do not believe that young Mr. Lupin would be a danger to your grandson, even without the charm, but having it will improve his quality of life quite a bit.”

“And making a difference to Mr. Lupin will make a difference to my grandson,” Arcturus replies. “Which is reason enough for me to do what I can for him.”

“Most admirable,” Rockhand comments.

Arcturus shakes his head. “Hardly that. I don’t particularly want my grandson to be friends with a werewolf, but I know Sirius, and he’s loyal as the day is long. This is the best way to protect him.”

Arcturus is no fool, and he believes he has Sirius’ measure. An order from him to abandon his friend will only send Sirius running. Doing some small favor for Lupin—and it is a small favor—will have the opposite effect.

And he’s ensured that Lupin will not be at the Manor during the full moon by having them here immediately after the school year ends, in deference for keeping his secret, as well as the safety of the other children.

“We would do many things for our children,” Rockhand states knowingly. “Even accepting that they will make choices we do not always approve of.”

Arcturus has to admit that that he might have had more influence had he acted sooner to intervene in Sirius’ life, but he’s forfeited some of that, and that’s his own fault, and his own choice.

“I suppose that’s true,” he admits. “Sirius is fifteen, soon to be sixteen, and while I’d like to wrap him cotton wool, it’s simply not possible.”

Rockhand shakes his head. “No, of course not. There is a war on, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“No, in a war there is only survival,” Arcturus replies.

He exchanges the charm for a pouch full of galleons, holding it up to the light. “He wears this around his wrist?”

“Or around his neck,” Rockhand says. “The cord will resize to his preference.”

Arcturus nods, satisfied with the purchase. “Excellent craftsmanship as always, Rockhand. I hope you’ll pass along my compliments to the artisan.”

“Certainly, Lord Black,” Rockhand replies.

He takes his leave soon after, and Arcturus moves through the Manor, checking to be sure that everything is ready for his guests. He knows that he probably won’t be able to do much hosting in a few years, but if he can at least get the boys through Hogwarts, that might be enough.

He sends two cars to collect the children, one for Sirius and his friends, and the other for Regulus and his. He’s hoping that after two weeks, they’ll have learned to get along with one another, but he’s not going to hold his breath.

When the cars pull up, Arcturus is there waiting for them, leaning on a cane. It’s an ostentatious one that he can pretend is an affectation and isn’t becoming an actual necessity.

The car with Sirius and his friends is the first to pull up as befits his status as the heir. Arcturus is pleased to see that all four boys are smartly dressed in trousers and button-down shirts. Apparently, Sirius had warned his friends that his grandfather expected a certain formality.

“Welcome,” Arcturus intones. “I hope you all will enjoy your stay here.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Black,” James Potter says, bright, handsome and charming. He shakes Arcturus’ hand with a firm grip.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Arcturus replies, and then looks at the scarred boy. “You must be, Mister Lupin.”

His diffident manner doesn’t prevent him from meeting Arcturus’ handshake with a strong one of his own. “Thank you for having me, Lord Black.”

“Of course, any friend of Sirius is welcome here,” Arcturus says. “And Mr. Pettigrew, welcome.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Black,” Peter stutters.

“Cordy will show you to your rooms,” Arcturus says just as the next car pulls up in front of the Manor.

He extends the same courtesy to Regulus and his friends, Violet Miller, Elias Oldham, Myra Endicott, and Byron Bertrand. The latter two are from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively, and seem a bit awed at the Manor. He’s done his own research, and he knows they come from mostly pureblood families who don’t have many resources.

Arcturus understands the value of developing relationships with members of cadet houses who don’t have much, but will have considerable loyalty if treated well.

He’s glad to see that Regulus is cultivating those relationships, as it will only help the House of Black in the long run.

And then Arcturus takes in a long, deep breath once he’s sent them off with another one of the house elves. It’s going to be interesting.

 

---