FicWad

He sprinted up the stairs, nearly crashing into Narcissa in the process. But he had to hurry; he wasn’t sure if Bellatrix was interested in following him – he wasn’t even sure what had angered her in the first place! – but he wasn’t about to risk it either. So he breathed an apology as he rushed past, and only stopped, briefly, to catch his breath, once he’d reached the landing.

He hadn’t long to steady his breathing as he heard footsteps approach him again from the stairs. He spun around, ready to duck, or make excuses, but it was only Narcissa. She seemed as unbothered as ever; she had done this a billion times before.

She smiled at him and opened the door to the playroom, ushering him inside.

‘In case she comes looking,’ she said. ‘We can’t have that.’

He nodded and closed the door behind them, then looked around to see what they could do to pass the time.

His heart seemed to stop for just a second.

He had expected to see the starry walls and hordes of toys laid out on a blue carpet that depicted whatever the mind could think of. It had been outer space before, or grassy fields, or even Hogwarts itself ... now it was a dull grey, and the walls were brown, and gone were the toys. Instead, a large, double bed stood in the room. And a desk. And a wardrobe. That was all.

And he knew it wasn’t an accident. They hadn’t gone up two stairs instead of one. They hadn’t entered the toilet, and this wasn’t the drawing room.

There were no other rooms on this floor.

This was his playroom. This had been his playroom right up until yesterday, perhaps even up until this morning. And now? Gone. It had become a guest room. A stupid guest room they’d never use, because they never had anyone over. Just his cousins, sometimes. Rarely, though. He and Sirius were more likely to stay over at their house, because his aunt and uncle lived in a country house, and had lots of open space for them to roam. Whereas this townhouse had quite literally nothing. Especially not without the playroom.

It hurt, to see it all gone so quickly. No warning, nothing. Just there one second and gone the next.

It hit him harder than he knew it should. He was supposed to be mature about it. Wasn’t that why the playroom had disappeared? He was grown now, he was old enough, he wasn’t going to cry about something as silly as this, and he definitely wasn’t going to do it now.

He felt a hand on his shoulder but didn’t look up, afraid Narcissa might see the tears that were gathering behind his eyes and judge him for them. He had to bite down on his tongue to stop them from falling.

‘Are you alright?’ came her voice, soft and slightly worried.

He pulled back. ‘I’m fine.’

She sighed, then walked away, towards the bed. He could hear it creaking as she sat down.

‘You should come visit us soon,’ she said, changing the topic. ‘It’ll be September before you know it, and then I’ll be at Hogwarts again.’

He allowed himself to look at her. She sat nonchalantly, playing with a strand of her blonde hair.

He shrugged.

‘I mean it. I’d meant to show it to you when you were over for Bella’s birthday, but, well, you weren’t old enough yet. But now you’re seven’ – she nodded to stress the importance of his age – ‘and you simply must come and see.’

‘Come and see what?’ he asked. His tears slowly made their way back to where they’d come from as his mind worked hard to go through all the possibilities.

‘Oh, nothing. Just a little something I think you’d like,’ she said, smiling broadly. ‘It’s a secret.’

A wave of excitement washed over him. A secret? Few things were better, and few things were more successful in getting him to forget his sadness. He rushed out of the door, yelling back, ‘Let’s ask if I can come over tomorrow!’

He raced downstairs, nearly losing his balance on the stairs. He could hear her following him, both their footsteps clattering down and onto the carpet in the entry hall.

Once there, he could hear the chatter coming from the adjacent dining room. He wasted no time. He burst in without knocking, silencing their conversation about some broom race in Sweden.

He felt Narcissa by his side, her hand brushing against his own in support. It sparked his confidence, briefly, until Grandfather Arcturus sneered and said, ‘Ah, look what the cat dragged in!’

His heart sank to his feet. He just stood there, face red, eyes burning yet again.

‘I was keeping him away, Grandfather,’ Narcissa said, saving him. ‘It’s my fault he wasn’t here. And I intend to steal him once more, tomorrow – if I may?’

She directed that last bit at Mother and Father. They shared a look, then nodded.

‘If your parents agree with it, he may go,’ Mother said.

Uncle Cygnus shrugged. ‘The more the merrier.’

‘That’s settled then.’

Regulus breathed a sigh of relief and stood on his tiptoes to whisper thanks into his cousin’s ear.

‘If the two of you would be so kind as to take up your seats ...’ Grandfather Arcturus muttered impatiently.

Regulus and Narcissa did as asked.

Several minutes they sat in silence, then the door opened and Bellatrix, Andromeda, Sirius and Uncle Alphard all entered – and they escaped Grandfather Arcturus’ nasty comments about cats somehow. They sat down in silence. Even Sirius didn’t talk.

Regulus thought it was very unfair Sirius could come in later than he had and not get a single comment about it, but he had little time to worry about it; with a swish of his wand, Father emptied the table, and with another swish, it filled with presents of all shapes and sizes.

All were soon going to be his.

Grandfather Arcturus’ comments and the unfairness of it all was quickly forgotten about as he unwrapped the presents one at a time.

There were colour-changing inks and a full care package of Honeydukes’ finest chocolate, three new hats (which wasn’t exactly fun, but very useful nonetheless) and a new toy broomstick Mother and Father heavily protested against because they thought him “too old” for it – Regulus agreed with this, but only because he had hoped for a real broomstick, not because he thought himself too old for toys. Mother and Father instead had given him new robes, which would've been boring if not for the fact that they made him look very sophisticated; they were adult robes, flowery and wide and reaching all the way down to the floor.

He also got a calendar that would fill in his appointments whenever he made them. And though he didn’t see the use of it yet, both Andromeda and Narcissa squealed and begged him to get them both one as well, so he supposed it had to be good for something.

He got his very own quill as well, and Narcissa gave him fifty Chocolate Frogs to help him start a collection. Sirius added to that with a wide array of sweets such as Acid Pops, Fudge Flies and even some Peppermint Toads: tasty and fun!

And then it was over. All the gifts were unwrapped and the sun had already set. It had to be the longest he’d ever stayed up, so he didn’t mind it when his day ended quite abruptly, with Mother sending him upstairs for bed, a mere five minutes after he’d unwrapped his last present.

He really was exhausted. It would do him some good, to sleep, he figured, as he trudged up the stairs. It had been a very busy day. And he had a lot to look forward to, tomorrow, with a big secret he could only know about now that he was seven years old, a secret Narcissa would tell him all about ...

He fell asleep the moment he lay down on his bed, and dreamt of birthdays and of secrets, of cousins and spare rooms that once were played in. He dreamt until the morning light illuminated his room and Kreacher woke him up with a snap of his bony fingers.

Regulus blinked a few times and the house-elf’s bloodshot eyes came into view.

Kreacher told him to get ready to travel to his cousins’.

That was right; it was his second day of being seven years old, and there were no robes laid out for him again. It was up to him to look presentable again. Because he was old enough for that.

And so he combed through his wardrobe before settling on one of his older ones, a bright yellow with blue accents. Perfect for a trip to the country.

Downstairs, a much more modest breakfast awaited him, compared to what he’d had for his birthday. All the decorations were gone as well. The house was back to normal, as if nothing had happened.

Mother came in just as he finished his porridge.

‘Still here?’

‘Er ... yes, I—’

‘I’d hurry, if I were you. I imagine they’re not going to wait around all day.’

He stood up. ‘Will you take me?’

‘Ask your father; I’m busy.’

He sighed. ‘Yes, Mother.’

And off he went, to look for Father, though he knew he was likely busy as well. He usually was. And then he’d be sent back to Mother again, and Mother would send him back to Father ...

Father was not in the parlour. He was also not in the drawing room on the first floor, nor in the playroom-turned-guest room (though he hadn’t expected him to be, he’d checked just to be sure of his case).

So he went up to the third floor, where Father’s bedroom was, and knocked three times on the door.

Nothing.

He moved to the adjacent study, and knocked again.

‘Father?’ he called, when nobody answered. ‘Father, are you in there?’

But it remained silent.

He turned around and was about to leave again, to send himself back to Mother, when he heard footsteps coming from above; Father trod down the stairs, coming from the fourth floor, Sirius in tow. He had to stop himself from smiling – it was unbecoming of a Black – and straightened his spine. He waited for Father to see him.

They locked eyes.

‘Father?’

‘I’m busy, son.’

‘But I have—’

‘Later, Regulus. I’m busy.’

Father and Sirius descended more stairs, disappearing from view.

He’d expected it, but he was still disappointed, and Mother’s words came back to him. They’re not going to wait around all day. And they weren’t. She was right. Narcissa had something to show him. A secret. Something he could only know because he was seven. Something important. If he waited for his parents to take him, it could very well be evening before he got there. Narcissa would surely be disappointed then, if not angry. She’d never want to let him in on secrets ever again.

And if he were to go back to Mother now, to ask her again, if she could take him, she’d only repeat that and send him on his way again. And if he were to pester Father again, he’d surely be mad.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he went back to Father’s bedroom. He opened the door, his heart hammering in his chest. His brain – his whole body, really – screamed out at him to stop, but he didn’t. He went over to the still burning fire in the fireplace. He knew the powder had to be around here somewhere ...

He found it on the mantle, and it looked and felt precisely as he remembered it. Soft to touch. Sandy but not unpleasantly so. He hoped it wouldn’t get under his nails. Or in his hair. Or on his robes. He shuddered at the thought as he scooped some of it out with his hand, and threw it into the fire. The flames turned green for just a second before going back to their usual bright orange.

He’d have to act fast.

He’d never done this before. Not on his own. Always with grownups. But he was seven now, and more than capable of handling his own Floo travels, no matter how scary and difficult they seemed.

He threw in another handful of powder and watched the flames turn green again. He’d just have to step in and speak clearly ...

Where did his cousins live, again? Save for “in the country”?

Perhaps this was a bad idea. What if he got lost along the way and could never go home any more?

He put the pot of Floo powder back on the mantle and took a few steps backwards, until his legs stumbled against the bed. He climbed atop it, trying to think of what to do instead.

Both his parents were busy. He had no means of travel himself, nor any idea of where to travel to. Cissy probably already hated him for being late.

Defeat settled in and he let it swallow him. He fell back on the bed and buried his face in the bedspread to stop the tears from falling. When that didn’t work, he crawled under the bedspread, his face pressed into the pillow.

Father’s scent filled his nostrils and it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was almost as if Father was present in the room with him.

‘Regulus?’

His heart soared so high he was certain he’d lost it. He shot up, pulled himself free of the bedspread and pillow and turned his head towards the sound; Father stood in the doorway with an unreadable expression on his face. Regulus jumped off the bed at once, and tried not to be a stuttering mess when he was asked what was going on.

‘You were trying to get to your cousins’, weren’t you?’ Father stopped him.

He looked down. ‘Yes, Father, but only because—’

‘Save your energy. I am not cross.’

‘You’re ... You’re not?’ He dared look up again, but still could not read the look on his face.

Father properly stepped inside the room now, shaking his head slightly. ‘No. Because you didn’t go. You came to your senses, didn’t you? It’s hard to have to wait, but patience is a virtue.’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ Father replied, holding out his arm. ‘Come on.’

He nearly ran over to him, grasping hold of his arm and clinging on for dear life as the world around him distorted before taking shape again. He pushed down the nausea that overcame him and sprinted after Father, towards the grand country house that stood before them.

They’d arrived. They’d actually arrived. He could not be more excited.

Upon reaching the front door, Father pulled out his wand. He tapped the door lightly and it opened for them.

‘I’ll be here to pick you up at five,’ Father said, before spinning on the spot, leaving with the loud crack of Apparition.

He stepped inside the house. He’d been there so often before but it never failed to amaze him. Their entrance was grand and filled to the brim with portraits and other stuff adults liked to look at – and, since he was seven years old now, he liked to look at it as well.

‘Close your mouth; you’re not a fish.’

He could not help himself and grinned widely as he recognised the voice that had spoken those words. Narcissa stood halfway on the stairs, hands on her hips and chin held high. Then she, too, broke out into a big smile.

She ran off the last few steps and tackled him in a hug. ‘It’s good to see you, little cousin. How do you like being seven?’

‘It’s much the same as being six,’ he mumbled, pulling back from her hug. ‘I still can’t do anything—’

‘That’s simply not true. You can learn my secret,’ she interjected. ‘Or, as I should say ... the family secret.’

His mouth opened again. Narcissa had to manually close it. She was still smiling.

‘The family secret?’ he whispered. ‘We have a secret?’

‘Oh, yes. And it’s in this house. Hidden.’

Hidden? She had often told him about secret passages at Hogwarts, perhaps this would be similar? A secret passage in their very own house ... Sirius would be so jealous when he found out!

‘Let’s go find it!’

Narcissa chuckled. ‘So impatient ...’

‘But I’ve been waiting for ages!’

‘There’s no need to search or find anything, Regulus. I already know where it is.’

‘Then take me!’

He did not care he sounded similar to a toddler in his demands, though if an adult had been present that might have been different. As it was, just Narcissa was there – and she was just a child herself. Well, calling her a child was unfair. She’d turned thirteen just a few months ago. She was much older than he was, and he was no child.

She took his hand and pulled him along, but she didn’t pull him with her up the stairs, or further down the hallway. She took him back outside, down the steps, through the gardens that were so grand and colourful he wished they could stop running just to sniff the roses or watch the bees buzz around.

But on they went, until his feet hurt and his legs were tired.

They reached a building made of rough, sand-coloured stone. It had a slate roof and looked very shabby. It had no windows of any kind, nor a door.

And still Narcissa seemed intent on entering.

‘I want you to do the honours. Open it. Open the door,’ she said, giving him a light shove in the right direction.

‘But what door?’ he asked. ‘There isn’t one!’

‘Of course there’s a door,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

She felt up and down the wall with her hand and Regulus watched in awe as, before his very eyes, the stone took on a different shape. It seemed to separate itself and formed a door of sorts. It even had a handle.

She stepped aside. ‘Well, go on.’

His heart shot up into his throat again, and he struggled to contain his anxiety as he reached out a shaky hand.

He opened the door.

He couldn’t see inside it. It was far too dark. The sunlight from where they stood only seemed to make it even darker.

When he didn’t enter, Narcissa strode past him, disappearing into the darkness that lay ahead of him. He could not hear nor see her anymore , and yet, he followed. He crossed the threshold. He couldn’t see. He tried to turn around to find the light again, the sun shining through the open door, but even the outside world had gone black. Or perhaps it had simply gone away.

‘Cissy ...’

‘You’re not scared, are you?’

He didn’t say anything, afraid that whatever he said would be too obvious of a lie.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Reg, it’s just some darkness!’

But despite that, she lit her wand, allowing him to see.

They stood in a square room. It was about the size of their kitchen back at home, and just as oppressive. Only it was filled with books. Rather old books, insofar he could tell. Bound in leather and dragon-hide, possibly containing all sorts of spells or other important things to know. Was that what she’d wanted to show him? But he hadn’t started his education yet, he wouldn’t have a clue what they said if he looked inside ... or maybe she’d read them to him?

She took his hand again and guided him through the rows and rows of books on neat shelves until they reached the end of the room.

‘Now, only those with true, pure, Black blood can enter this secret passage,’ she said, extinguishing her wand as they came to a stop.

‘We’re Blacks! We have true, pure, Black blood!’

Narcissa laughed. ‘Yes, we are. That’s why I’m taking you.’

He held his breath as he heard soft tapping. It was followed by a rumbling and a shaking of the floor that had him grasping Narcissa for balance and safety. It only lasted a few seconds, if that, before the rumbling and shaking stopped and Narcissa tore away from him.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, waving towards the bookcase, except there wasn’t a bookcase any more. And not because it was too dark to see the bookcase, no – the bookcase had disappeared. The room had somehow gained enough light for him to see the bookcase was missing, and that in its place was a big, black, gaping hole.

More darkness.

Narcissa was enthusiastic as ever, and stepped into the big black hole without hesitation, calling back, ‘Oh, come on then! Do you want to see this secret or what?’

Regulus followed, taking a small step, and another. He relaxed a little when nothing seemed to happen, but he couldn’t see Narcissa ahead of him, and the loud thud behind him was enough to make him jump and turn around in fright – the entrance had been sealed up.

‘Cissy?’ he called out. ‘Cissy, please – it’s not funny!’

He could feel the tears prickling in his eyes already and tried to blink them away. He was seven years old, he reminded himself. No longer a child. He was above such silly displays of emotion.

But it really was very dark and very scary.

‘Cissy!’

There was a hand on his shoulder and he jumped up again, heart flying out of his chest – or so it felt, as if it flew a mile high or more, before plummeting down and, bruised and black, finding its way back into his rib cage.

It was only Narcissa. She had put her hand on his shoulder.

And so they walked along a dark and wobbly corridor, her hand fixed on his shoulder, until the dark and wobbly corridor took a turn. They turned with it, to the right, but Narcissa’s hand left his shoulder and he lost sight of her just as quickly. He could only hear her footsteps on the hard floor. She didn’t say anything when he called her name again.

And then, her footsteps stopped. All he heard was his own breathing and the beating of his heart.

‘Cissy?’ he called out again. ‘Narcissa, please!’

No answer.

He was alone in the darkness.

He shuffled closer to where he’d heard her footsteps last, and stumbled headfirst into a wall he hadn’t been able to see in his blindness. He sank to the floor, scared of getting lost if he moved any further. Where had Narcissa gone? Was it all but a joke? Had she tricked him – was that what this all was, a trick?

He just wanted to go home ... Please just let him go home ... back to the familiarity of his house, back to his mother and his father and his brother ... that was where he longed to be now, not in a dark corridor attached to a dark room filled with books and shelves, hidden behind invisible doors and bookcases somewhere out in the country, near his cousins’ house – he never wanted to come here ever again!

Tears pricked his eyes again but this time he let them fall. There was no-one around to see them and judge him for it; Narcissa had left him to his own devices. He had no idea how to get back outside.

He cried. He sobbed into his arms and pulled his legs up close, hugging them. He just didn’t know where he’d gone wrong. He didn’t know what he could’ve possibly done to deserve this.

‘Regulus?’

He hadn’t heard her approach over the sound of his own crying, but she really was there. She stood in front of him with her wand lit and her face illuminated. Narcissa had come back for him.

‘What are you crying for? Don’t you want to come?’

Come?

Narcissa stepped aside and, in the light of her wand, he could easily make out the shape of a door. It wasn’t even hidden all that well. The only thing that had kept it from view had been the total darkness.

‘Just touch the door and it’ll open. It should. Unless you’re not the person you think you are.’

‘What?’

She waved her comment off with her free hand. ‘Just try it. Go on.’

He stared at her, and then at the door. He wasn’t too sure about this. It could still be a practical joke. Or perhaps he really wasn’t the person he thought he was – how was he to know that?!

Nevertheless, he did as she told him. He reached out his arm and touched the door with his fingers, only slightly, but it was enough for the door to swing open. He stared at the darkness the open doorway revealed.

Of course. More darkness was precisely what this day needed.

‘Go on, I’ll follow. Just go in,’ Narcissa told him, gently nudging him.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside, and as he passed the threshold, the darkness changed, first becoming a passage, then growing larger, more rectangular, and brighter.

It wasn’t just a passage, it was an entire room! One that was well-lit with floating candles shining a light upon many different doors on all sides of the room as well as a few odd contraptions in the centre.

He looked behind him again, just as his cousin appeared. ‘What is this place?’

‘The Black family’s burial chamber, of course,’ she said. ‘It’s where we come to be reminded of who we are. Of who our ancestors were ... to honour them and make sure we do not forget their sacrifice.’

‘Ooh ...’ he breathed. Though he wasn’t too sure of the meaning of what she had just said, it did look the part.

She nodded. ‘Only the best of the best get a spot here. There hasn’t been a burial in ages, not since before I existed.’

‘So they’re all really old,’ he whispered, looking around the room once more. ‘Are there more behind the doors?’

Narcissa nodded. ‘We’re underground and this chamber stretches out beneath our full estate and then some.’

He tried to picture the sheer size of it, but that was impossible. It was just too big. His bedroom would probably fit a thousand times or more ...

‘Can we come here whenever we want?’

‘Of course. It’s ours. We’re the next generation of Blacks, it’s up to us to keep it all going – it’s why I come here, you know? To remind myself of why we’re doing it all.’

He nodded even though he wasn’t too sure what she was referring to. He understood enough. These were the people Mother had pointed at on the tapestry. These were the ones who fought for what they now took for granted (or not; his grandaunt Cassiopeia came to mind) ...

It was one thing to hear about them, another to see where they lay. Where, perhaps, he would lie one day.