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Chapter Text

Chapter Title: The Ghost’s Voice of Sorrow

The heavy and gloomy atmosphere that had lingered over Grimmauld Place for centuries had found a new weight. Sirius’s death had affected everyone, especially Harry. But Harry had reacted in a way no one expected—he had shut himself away in the room that once belonged to Sirius’s younger brother, Regulus Black. No one truly understood the depth of his despair; worse still, they continued to expect things from him.

They expected him to keep fighting.

But he had already lost dozens—his friends, even his parents—and never before had he reacted this strongly.

What they didn’t understand was that, for the first time, Harry had lost someone from his family.

He had lost his parents at an age too young to remember them. He hadn’t even seen a picture of them until he was eleven. His identity as a wizard had been hidden from him, just as the truth about their deaths had been withheld in the most vile of ways. How much mourning could he truly have done? Out of all the deaths he had felt responsible for, Cedric’s had probably hurt the most—but even that grief had been shelved. Cedric was someone he had only seen around school a few times. There had been no bond—only guilt.

Just an ordinary loss.

But Sirius… Sirius was different. He was the only remaining family Harry had. His godfather. The first person who gave him a sense of peace, of familial love. He had seen Sirius as a father—because he was one. The pain of losing him couldn’t and shouldn’t be compared to anything else.

It was their nineteenth day at Grimmauld Place, and Harry was staying in one of five rooms in the mansion’s left wing. It was the only place in the house where he felt safe—and it had once belonged to Regulus Black. The room had a distinct scent.

Harry assumed that, even after twenty years, the room still smelled like Regulus. The scent was strongest around the bed and wardrobe, which led him to that conclusion. He remembered Sirius once mentioning that their mother had never allowed anyone to touch the room after Regulus's death. Sirius himself, even after moving back into the house, had never entered the room, nor allowed anyone else to.

Harry’s chest tightened again, weighed down by guilt. He shifted uncomfortably, burdened by the fact that he was doing something his godfather had forbidden.

This was his seventeenth night in the room, and not one of them had passed without nightmares. But instead of dreams about Sirius or the many deaths he felt responsible for, the nightmare was always the same: a muffled scream of a young man. Harry often woke up gasping for air, the dream always starting with him trapped in a dark cave, surrounded by echoing screams that only seemed to multiply with time.

By the fifteenth night, he realized the nightmares were tied to the room itself. On one occasion, Hermione and Ginny had forced him out, and he’d ended up falling asleep in the small sitting room. Believe it or not, he had no nightmares that night—at least not the ones with screams. That night, he had only seen the green flash and heard his mother’s final scream.

The day he was marked.

Now, Harry stood in front of the room, his back leaning against the door, hesitating to go inside. It was late, and he doubted anyone else in the house was still awake. Minutes passed meaninglessly. He knew he had to sleep eventually, but he didn’t want to go back into that room. So he turned toward the small sitting room instead.

But just as he reached the end of the hallway, he heard a faint rustling sound from Regulus’s room.

His hand instinctively went to his wand strapped to his leg, and he rushed back to the ebony door. As he entered the room, he noticed something glowing faintly on the far-left wall—a painting. It was of the Leo constellation. The heart of the lion pulsated gently with light, not enough to hurt the eyes.

He approached it cautiously, wand still in hand. The silver frame shimmered, just like the lion’s heart. Harry traced the surface of the painting with his hand, almost unconsciously. When his fingers reached the star labeled Regulus, a sharp sting shot through his ring and middle fingers.

He pulled his hand back quickly. Thin, horizontal cuts had appeared on his fingers. He brought them to his lips and sucked briefly, eyes returning to the painting—and froze.

The blood had moved.

It was forming a shape around the constellation: the outline of a crow. Harry knew that symbol well. The crow had been the Black family crest for centuries. A chill ran down his spine, and he took a few steps back.

He turned toward the door to leave—only to find something he wasn’t expecting.

A figure sat on the bed in the middle of the room, back turned to him.

Harry aimed his wand at the bed, heart racing. He knew he should be ready for danger—but every instinct in his body screamed that he wasn’t in danger at all.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Turn around.”

The figure trembled at the sound, then slowly, the muscles in its back tensed one by one. It rose—slowly, heavily—and turned to face him.

Harry’s entire body shivered at the sight.

“…Regulus.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Title: The Curse of the Stars

Regulus and Harry stood face to face. One stared with a blank expression, while the other gazed back in shock.

There was someone in the room who was supposed to be dead.

Perhaps two?

Harry was standing before a man he knew had died twenty years ago.

In his room, in his house, in his life… Now that he thought about it, everything belonged to Regulus.

The worst part was that he felt safer than he ever had. It was as if peace had found him for the first time in years.

“What are you doing in my room, Potter?”

Harry flinched at Regulus’s words. At first, he thought the question was directed at him, but he soon realized otherwise. Regulus was talking about his father. He had mistaken Harry for James. Regulus stepped forward and quickly realized the boy in front of him wasn’t James. The boy looked just like James in every way—except for those piercing green eyes. Evans’s eyes. He was sure of it. This was James’s son. Probably no older than 14 or 15.

A bit scrawny. Very scrawny and short?

For Merlin’s sake, this kid was a Potter—why was he so skinny? Regulus, who had a soft spot for children—especially Potter children—immediately wanted to curse James and then himself.

“You… You’re James’s son, aren’t you? Aaron? Or Corvus? James always said if he had a son, he’d name him Aaron or Corvus,” Regulus muttered, lost in his memories. His eyes, focused on the floor, shifted back to Harry.

“No, my name is Harry. Harry James Potter. Not Aaron or Corvus.”

Regulus was stunned. His middle name being James didn’t make sense. Not unless… if his suspicions were right, this boy wasn’t of his bloodline, not close enough to the main line to inherit from their great-aunt Dorea. That left only one possibility in his mind.

“Harry, would you turn around for me, please? I’ll explain everything afterward.”

Harry hesitated but followed his instincts and turned around. As he did, he heard footsteps approaching behind him, and then Regulus placed a hand on the back of Harry’s neck. He gently brushed his fingertips over a specific spot. Harry shivered at the touch but said nothing. When Regulus withdrew his hand, Harry turned to face him. Regulus’s face was tense with concern, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Did Sirius adopt you by blood?”

Harry nodded. He was curious how Regulus knew that but realized from his expression that it was better not to ask.

“Those two idiots... How could they do this knowing about the curse? Are they trying to drive you mad? What if I hadn’t shown up as your guardian?”

Harry was confused. He had no idea what Regulus was talking about. Regulus sighed heavily and began to explain.

“About four centuries ago—or roughly that—our family, the Black family, was cursed. Some see it as a gift, but thanks to this so-called 'gift,' many heirs have lost their minds. People have tried for centuries to break it, but it’s a blood curse—impossible to lift. Now, only my father, Sirius, and I remain as the last threads of the curse.

It was first seen in my great-great-grandfather, Sirius II, and then in his nephew, Sirius III. Not long after Sirius II died, people began noticing Sirius III slowly losing his sanity. He’d talk to thin air, even argue with himself. My grandparents, Ursula and Phineas, were deeply disturbed by their son’s behavior and called in their sister, Lyra, who was a healer. After several examinations, Lyra believed Sirius III had gone mad and had him locked away in one of the attic rooms. Later, Phineas passed away, and another member of the Black family began exhibiting the same symptoms. That’s when the family started calling it the Curse of the Stars.

Each new heir who inherited the name of a previous one began to live under the watch of the original. They were haunted, in a sense, by the previous namesake’s spirit.”

“The story continues from there. When I was born, my mother didn’t believe in the curse and named me after my godfather and uncle, Sirius III’s brother, Arcturus. It was the first time someone gave a child two watchers. And I must admit, it was horrible. Their fights were worse than mine and Sirius’s. But they always had fun while we argued. Anyway, that’s why I asked whether Sirius adopted you—and why I looked at your neck.

One of your parents—he said this with a pained expression—must have named you Regulus or Arcturus. So now, I’ll need you to either cast a lineage spell or call a Gringotts official. We need a blood analysis.”

Harry was overwhelmed. What he’d heard was insane—but then again, hadn’t he been through countless insane things already? Disasters unimaginable even to the most magical of bloodlines had started before he was even born. There was a prophecy about him before his first breath. He’d never known his parents. And perhaps the craziest of all—he was the target of the most powerful Dark Lord in a century.

Voldemort was punishing him for the pain caused by his parents. And now, another madness had entered his life. Not only was he the godson of a Black—he was spiritually bound to another Black.

Because of yet another mistake made by his parents.

Maybe Sirius was right. He really was James Potter’s son. And trouble truly was James’s middle name.

Just like it was Harry’s now.

Harry took a deep breath. It was heavy with hopelessness and sorrow. As if he wasn’t already carrying enough, now this too was placed on his shoulders.

“What’s on my neck, Mr. Black? I assume you realize you’re dead, but I have a question. Sirius—did he have this curse too?”

Regulus looked at the boy strangely. How could he not know about the curse? James was a Black on his mother’s side. Dorea, his mother, was Walburga’s youngest aunt. James knew about the curse very well. Years ago, Dorea had broken family tradition to avoid this very danger, and the family never forgave her for it. Her only child, born late in life, was not given a star name.

As for Regulus himself, he’d fought with their grandfathers countless times at James’s side. James always treated him with sensitivity about it. He even argued with the ghosts of uncles he’d never seen. Regulus smiled at the memories. Before him stood a slightly younger version of the man he once loved.

Before going to the cave, Regulus had heard rumors that Lily was pregnant, but he hadn’t been able to do anything. The man he loved had left him for his choice—and returned to his first love.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so much to look into those eyes.

His love for James hadn’t faded. Every second, it grew stronger, just like before. Soon, he’d see him again. With his wife, and possibly their children, living as a happy family. Regulus lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt it pierce his lungs.

That feeling would never fade.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. If James and Lily were alive, why would Sirius adopt Harry? Where the hell was his brother? How had he allowed James to name his son after Regulus? Why had he adopted Harry? Hadn’t he thought about the cursed madness of the Black line?

He jerked his head up.

Harry, startled, met Regulus’s sharp grey eyes.

“First, Harry—there’s a raven mark on your neck. The raven represents the Noble House of Black. As noble as we are. To answer your second question—yes, I am aware I’m dead, unfortunately. Black Lords and Heirs are taught this from a young age. The mark of a Guardian Lord appears on the wrist—a flying raven, like a tattoo in Muggle terms. In the Heir, the raven appears on the nape of the neck.

And Sirius—he’s always been rebellious. Ever since we were kids, he caused problems and denied his heritage. Even if Grandfather Sirius passed the guardianship to him, it must have happened after I died. But I doubt it. Your father was saved from this fate thanks to his mother—our great-aunt Dorea.”

When Regulus finished speaking, a few blanks in Harry’s mind began to fill. He’d already learned from Sirius that his grandmother was a Black. He didn’t know her full name yet, but he’d find out soon. He pushed that thought aside. He’d face these problems one by one—but for now, all he wanted was to sleep. He was exhausted, and everything that had just happened had only made it worse.

“Regulus, can we just sleep now and deal with the rest in the morning?”

Regulus noticed how tired Harry was. The boy had deep circles under his eyes.

“Sure. That sounds like a good idea. Do you mind if I sleep with you? I’ve missed my bed terribly, and it’s been ages since I’ve felt warmth.”

Harry’s heart raced. Regulus’s offer made him happy—but there was one problem. He’d never shared a bed with anyone before. His mind saw it as a problem, but his body longed to feel Regulus’s presence. He just nodded.

He walked to the wardrobe on the other side of the room and pulled out two sets of pajamas—both belonging to Regulus. He handed the green one to Regulus, turned around, and put on the black one himself. Then he climbed into bed, fluffed the pillows, and lay on the right side. Not long after closing his eyes, he felt the bed dip on the left side and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

The Warmth of the Stars

The Black Manor had started the day in a particularly strange way. The usually suffocating and pale colors of the house appeared vibrant and alive. Kreacher was the first to notice. He hadn’t seen the house like this in years—since before Mistress Walburga had succumbed to her pain and died. For a fleeting moment, the house-elf felt a flicker of joy. But with Master Sirius gone, there were no true Black heirs left. That reminder stung deeply, and the pain of loss returned in full force.

The last time he had felt such sorrow was when young Master Regulus had died.

Burdened with grief, he returned to preparing breakfast. He still loathed the mudbloods and blood traitors, but there was something in him—something he couldn’t name—when it came to Harry Potter. Once the meal was ready, he arranged it on a tray and made his way to young Master Regulus’s old bedroom.

Harry hadn’t left the room in days, hadn’t eaten either. Kreacher entered to find the boy asleep—peacefully so, for the first time in a long while. “Potions and dreams,” the elf muttered, setting the tray down on the small table near the sitting area and leaving the room. He had no idea that the boy’s sense of peace came from the room’s true master.

Harry was the first to wake.

His head was resting on the space between Regulus’s neck and shoulder, one of his legs tangled between Regulus’s. He knew he was a messy sleeper, but this surprised him. He had never shared a bed with someone before, and strangely, he hadn’t moved around as much as he usually did.

Carefully, he shifted his head off Regulus’s shoulder and back onto his pillow—but left his legs where they were. He was too comfortable to move.

As his head hit the pillow, his eyes instinctively searched for Regulus. The sleeping boy wore a strange expression—one Harry couldn’t quite name. While he watched, a sudden warmth spread through Harry’s left hand, followed by a gentle stirring. He looked down and found Regulus’s fingers tightly entwined with his own. Harry usually disliked touch, but this felt… different. He didn’t feel the urge to pull away. Instead, he laid his head back down and let his eyes drift closed once more—unaware he would soon fall back asleep.

Shortly after, Regulus stirred and opened his eyes. For a moment, he was stunned by the face before him—he had thought it was James. But then he saw the scar.

The curse mark on Harry’s forehead.

He knew what it was. His body bore many such cursed imprints—gifts from his mother and father. Regulus couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy, and the urge to touch him grew stronger, spreading through him like an incurable sickness.

As he reached out, something held him back.

He looked down and saw their hands still locked together—fingers interlaced, clinging tightly, as if neither intended to let go. He couldn’t stop staring at them. Eventually, he withdrew his hand, though his fingertips ached with the desire to touch again. This time, they brushed lightly against Harry’s face.

With the care of someone studying a priceless artifact, he traced the boy’s skin, gliding gently toward the scar. When he reached it, his fingers slowed, tenderly caressing the mark. A voice inside him whispered that this boy had suffered deeply. Regulus hoped, silently and fiercely, that the voice was wrong.

The touch woke Harry.

When his eyes opened, he met the sight of storm-grey eyes—eyes that were not looking into his, but remained fixed on his scar. Regulus stroked it as though in a trance, completely unaware of time or space, as though nothing existed but the boy before him.

Eventually, their eyes met.

Regulus hadn’t realized Harry was awake. Startled, he pulled his hand back, then himself—pressing against the headboard.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

Harry shook his head with a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He adjusted his body to sit next to Regulus, leaning back against the headboard. That’s when he noticed the breakfast tray on the table across the room. Panic flared in his chest.

“Someone’s been in here,” he whispered. “They must have seen y—”

“No,” Regulus cut in firmly. “Harry, only you can see me. Only you can hear me, touch me… I’m entirely yours.”

As he spoke, he turned toward Harry, moving closer. Each word was matched by a gesture—his voice firm, eyes locked on Harry’s, one hand gently taking Harry’s, the other brushing the raven tattoo at the base of his neck. Then, he placed a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead before retreating.

Harry, lost for a moment in the tenderness, gathered himself with a smile. He stood, grabbed a teacup from the tray, and before returning, reached into the hidden compartment in the desk drawer to retrieve his spare wand. He conjured another cup of tea and returned to the bed, offering one to Regulus.

Cross-legged, he turned to face him fully. Regulus’s curiosity was growing by the second, and Harry could feel it. Eventually, Regulus gave in.

“How did you get that scar? Why did my mother—or maybe my father—let you stay in my room? To even enter this house, someone of the Black line has to permit you. My parents would never have allowed it. Did Sirius return here after I died? Where is he now? Where’s James? Are they together?”

Harry listened patiently, his grip tightening on his cup with each question. His breath slowed. The pain was raw.

“I need you to let me finish everything before asking more,” he said gently. “I know you’re confused. But please, just listen.”

“I was born on July 31, 1980. Before I was even born, a prophecy was made about me. On Halloween night, 1981, Voldemort killed my parents. Sirius arrived too late. He realized Peter was the traitor and went after him. Then he spent twelve years in Azkaban.

I was in my third year when he escaped—he did it for me, after realizing I was in danger because of Peter.”

Harry paused to take a sip of mint tea.

“I was raised by my mother’s Muggle sister, Petunia. She and her husband hated magic. They called my father a drunk and my mother pathetic. I didn’t know anything about magic or myself until I turned eleven. They told me my parents died in a car crash. Hagrid came to deliver my Hogwarts letter, and that’s how I found out who I was.”

He looked down for a moment, as if grounding himself.

“Sirius died eighteen days ago. In the Department of Mysteries. I’ve been here ever since.”

Regulus was silent.

Each word Harry spoke felt like a dagger. The weight of it all crushed him. Were his parents, Sirius, James… all dead? The boy before him—how had he survived it? How had he endured what Regulus could barely even hear?

Dumbledore… how could he have done this?

The rage and grief inside him rose like a tidal wave. He remembered his own pleas for help, the old man’s gentle smile as he sent Regulus to his death. He had gambled with Regulus’s life—just as he had with Harry’s.

Suddenly, Regulus couldn't bear it anymore.

In one swift movement, he wrapped his arms around the boy and held him tight.

Chapter Text

Truths Hidden in Pure Grey

Just like Harry, Regulus hadn’t expected the hug. In fact, Harry’s hands were awkwardly stuck between them. After a brief silence, Harry wrapped his arms around Regulus as well. They held each other for a short while before pulling away, eyes darting everywhere except toward one another. They were embarrassed, yet neither showed it. It was their first embrace—and clearly not the last. A warmth bloomed within both of them, one they couldn’t explain, and neither would mind feeling it again.

When Regulus cleared his throat, Harry’s eyes returned to him. He felt mesmerized by those stormy greys gazing at him with such sincerity. Unsettled, he averted his gaze. It bothered him more than he expected. He always maintained eye contact when speaking with others—but with Regulus, he simply couldn’t. Every time their eyes met, something strange stirred within him. He looked away and stood up from the bed.

—“I don’t think we need the identity spell. Let’s just go directly to Gringotts. Everything will come out there, won’t it?”

Harry asked as he changed clothes. Once done, he turned to look at Regulus, who was already watching him intently, giving only a silent nod.

—“Alright then, get dressed too. Let’s head out. We have truths to uncover. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.”

With that, Harry left the room, not paying any mind to the stunned Regulus behind him.

Regulus didn’t keep Harry waiting. He quickly joined him, and the two left the house without dawdling. Now, they stood before Gringotts. A sense of unease crept into Harry—something was about to happen, and he knew he wouldn’t like it. The discomfort settled deep in his bones.

To ground himself, he grabbed Regulus’s hand and stuffed it into his pocket. He knew the boy beside him was shocked, but frankly, he didn’t care.

They entered Gringotts and were greeted by Chief Teller Ricbert.

—“Welcome, Heir Potter.”

Ricbert bowed respectfully to the boy before him.

—“I assume you are here for your lordship rings and Mr. Black’s will. I’ll direct you to the Chief Goblin immediately, sir.”

Harry didn’t object—he was here to see the Chief Goblin anyway. He walked quietly, Regulus at his side. When they reached the Chief Goblin’s office, the goblin named Gornuk looked at Harry through his glasses and then turned to Ricbert.

—“You may leave. I’m listening, Heir Potter.”

—“I’d like to take an inheritance test.”

Though surprised, Gornuk showed no sign of it. He promptly retrieved a scroll from a drawer on the left side of the room and brought it to Harry.

—“Drop seven drops of your blood on this.”

Using the enchanted dagger that appeared on the desk, Harry did as instructed. Within moments, the scroll began to reveal text. Gornuk took it, eyebrows raised, and then handed it back to Harry.

Name: Hadrian Corvus Regulus Potter Black
Date of Birth: July 31, 1980
Blood Status: Pure-blood
Core Type: Dark

Father: James C. Potter (Deceased)
Adoptive Father (By Blood): Sirius O. Black

Mother: Lily R. Potter (Adoptive; maiden name Evans)
(Roseline Amelia Crouch – Deceased)

Godfather: Sirius O. Black
(Rabastan C. Lestrange – Adoptive by Blood)

Godmother: Alice F. Longbottom (Alive)
(Diana H. Yaxley – Adoptive by Blood)

Spouse: Blocked

Heirships and Titles:
Potter: Lordship by blood (Father)
Black: Lordship by blood adoption (Father)
Crouch: Second-degree heirship by blood (Mother)
Lestrange: Second-degree heirship
Yaxley: Second-degree heirship
Peverell: Lordship by blood (Father)
Gryffindor: Lordship by blood (Father)
Slytherin: Heirship by magical conquest
Ravenclaw: Heirship by blood (Mother)
La Fay: Lordship by magic

Abilities:
Inherited Abilities:
Parseltongue (70% blocked)
Metamorphmagus (100% blocked)

Blocks:
Power (85% blocked)
Wandless and wordless magic (70% blocked)

—Hate potion against Slytherin and pure-blood families
—Love potion to fall for Ginerva Weasley
—Unconditional trust in the Light and the Order
—Obedience potion toward Dumbledore
—Friendship and obedience potion for Ronald Weasley
—Permanent hate potion against Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Dark Arts/Dark wizards

The list went on—but Harry focused on one glaring truth.

—“My mother? How can she be a pure-blood? And a Crouch?!”

Harry looked first at the goblin, then at Regulus beside him. Regulus looked just as stunned. Their eyes locked, confused. It didn’t make sense. Lily had always been shunned for being Muggle-born, and now she turned out to be a pure-blood? A Crouch?

As they tried to process this, Gornuk returned holding two scrolls.

One was a birth certificate:
Name: Roseline Amelia Crouch
Date of Birth: May 21, 1960
Mother: Amelia R. Crouch (née Prewett)
Father: Bartemius C. Crouch
Sibling: Barty Jr. Crouch
Blood Status: Pure-blood
Core Type: Grey

The other scroll was a missing person report dated June 25, 1960.

It was mind-boggling. His mother had been a Crouch all along—a pure-blood. That made Harry a pure-blood too. He’d been labeled a half-blood for years, but now it was clear: the blood wards had never worked because he was never truly an Evans. He was a damn Crouch, and he’d been trapped in that cursed house all those years for nothing.

He pushed those thoughts aside for the moment. There were blocks to remove and powers to regain. He placed the scroll on the table so Regulus could see it and turned to Gornuk.

—“I want all the blocks removed. I also want my heir and lordship rings. And I need to know about the soulmate that was blocked. Immediately.”

Gornuk nodded silently and left the room.

—“For Salazar’s sake… your mother was the missing Crouch? And your godfather is Bastie—my best friend Rabastan? What the hell is going on?”

Regulus was just as overwhelmed as Harry.

—“We’ll find out. But first, we lift the blocks and get the rings. Then maybe… we pay Wiltshire a short visit. What do you say?”

He winked.

Until Gornuk returned, the silence between them remained. There was nothing more to say—both were in too much shock.

Gornuk returned with several goblins, and everything proceeded swiftly. All that remained was a magically exhausted Harry, passed out, and Regulus, standing quietly at his side.

Chapter Text

Chapter Title: True Identity, True Self

Imagine a deep, pure, and dark darkness, then a corridor slightly illuminated by light falling on the ground. This is exactly where Harry found himself. He wasn’t turning left or right, just walking straight ahead. Although he couldn’t comprehend it, he felt like he knew the path in the unknown. Then, a navy-blue door appeared a few meters ahead. The door seemed to shine under spotlights, but the light was not enough to fully illuminate the darkness. After taking a few steps toward the door, Harry reached it and stepped across the threshold. With his step, he found himself at the edge of a shallow body of water. About 150 meters ahead, on a bridge, he saw three individuals who looked quite similar to each other, arguing. The tallest one was making strange gestures with his hands, speaking with a proud expression on his face. The two men in front of him were roughly the same height, maybe a few centimeters apart, but Harry couldn’t be sure. The one facing him kept throwing a moderately sized stone in the air and catching it, listening with admiration in his eyes. However, Harry never saw the one with his back turned. He had no idea what his face looked like or what he was doing; his gaze was fixed, slightly inclined towards the ground. Harry watched the men for minutes, but the man with his back turned only looked down, doing nothing else. After a while, Harry began to feel a strange coldness in his body. When he looked at himself, he saw his form fading. Just before he disappeared, his gaze shifted to the bridge, where the man with his back turned was now staring at him. The others were nowhere to be seen, and behind the man was a shadow.

The surroundings suddenly went dark, and Harry lost consciousness again.

When his consciousness returned, he didn’t open his eyes immediately. He wanted to feel and listen to his surroundings first. The smell of potions filled his nose, and there was a weight on his left hand. He assumed he was at St. Mungo’s. He opened his eyes without waiting. His first sight was a white ceiling. Looking slightly to the right, he saw various potion bottles on the bedside table. Then, he turned to his left. On his hand was a Muggle-style serum. He saw Regulus sitting next to him, deeply focused on the Healing book he was reading. He couldn’t help but cough, unable to suppress the dryness in his throat, which immediately caught Regulus’ attention. Regulus set the book aside and picked up a glass of water he had prepared earlier, sitting next to Harry. After handing him the water, Regulus leaned against the bed.

“You look quite different. Your eyes, especially your eyes, are beautiful. Maybe ‘beautiful’ isn’t enough, I don’t know.”

Harry tensed at Regulus’ words. What could have changed about him so drastically? With a slight flick of his fingers, he summoned a mirror. Seconds later, Harry was drawn into a state of shock as he stared at his reflection.

His skin appeared a couple of shades lighter. His lips, once a rose tint, were now a striking red. His cheekbones were more pronounced, with a soft pink hue added to them. His eyelashes were fuller, but most striking were his eyes. He had two different-colored eyes...

“Barty’s mother, as far as I know, had heterochromia. It looks like this trait was passed down to you from your mother.”

Even though Regulus was speaking, Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror. His green eyes were gone, replaced by something truly stunning. One eye was still green, but now the shade was the reflection of the deadly curse’s essence—an intense green that seemed to scream danger. The other eye was a striking hazel, surrounded by dark blue, with star-like speckles that resembled a nebula, as if it contained entire universes within. It looked like an explosion waiting to happen, or perhaps, it was the remnants of a sun long gone.

Then, Harry’s eyes fell to his hair. It seemed to have darkened a bit, but it was still somewhat messy. As much as it appeared orderly, it was still unmistakably a Potter's hair, impossible to tame.

“I… I don’t look like myself.”

There was confusion in Harry’s eyes, like he didn’t know what to do or how to react. Seeing his distress, Regulus cupped Harry’s face, aligning their eyes.

“No, Harry, actually, for the first time, you look just like yourself. No… no, for the first time, you are truly in your true identity.”

Regulus only gave a slight nod, leaving the mirror in Harry’s hands. Their eyes locked, and Harry saw so many emotions passing through Regulus’ gray eyes. Regulus pulled his hands from Harry’s face, placing them on Harry’s waist and back, drawing him into his arms. Harry, overwhelmed by confusion and despair, was comforted by Regulus’ embrace. Regulus gently caressed his hair. Feeling safe, Harry began to cry, and Regulus held him even tighter, soothing him.

Hours passed. Harry calmed down, perhaps even fell into a deep slumber, but when he woke up, he rubbed his dry tear tracks. He looked adorable, still groggy. Moving away from Regulus, he swung his legs off the bed and headed to the bathroom in the room.

After a few minutes, he freshened up, dressed in clothes from the cupboard by the bathroom, and stepped out of the room, where Regulus was waiting. They left the room, then Saint Mungo’s.

After leaving the hospital, they decided to go somewhere else. After a brief brainstorming session, Regulus suggested going to a lake house belonging to the Black family. It had been bought by his uncle Alphard while Regulus was still alive, and he was sure only Regulus and Sirius knew about it.

Now that he thought about it, all three men who knew about it were dead.

The proposal made sense to both of them, and Harry linked his arm with Regulus’. The two apparated together.

Chapter Text

The Silence of Death

The noise within the eerie silence.

This is how Harry would describe forests. Since childhood, he hadn’t been particularly fond of them. After all, anything could happen in a forest. He could die, be attacked by an animal, get lost and wander hungry and thirsty for days, or even be brutally killed by someone in the forest.

Wait, all of these lead to the same place. In conclusion, the chance of dying is quite high.

When they apparated, Harry tensed with that unpleasant knot in his stomach, a feeling he absolutely hated. It had been years since he entered the wizarding world, but he still couldn’t get used to Apparating.

When his feet met the ground, he first grabbed onto Regulus, struggling to find his balance. As he scanned the surroundings, he noticed they were quite close to the lake. The area seemed to be divided like a piece of architectural design, and the lake was positioned perfectly. But the most intriguing feature was a rather long, skeletal structure resembling a cabin. Calling it a cabin seemed a bit crude, but for the Black family, this truly was a cabin. The path along the lake was fairly wide, and Harry could see a few benches from where he stood. On the other side of the path, the entrance to an endless forest awaited. The sight of the forest sent a shiver down his spine. He really didn’t like it.

As he examined the surroundings, Regulus had already moved 50 meters ahead to the dock. Without hesitation, Harry followed him. The dock appeared quite old and damaged, but that was before Harry took his first step onto it. As soon as he stepped, the dock began to renew itself, and along the way, he encountered candelabras that emitted lively flames. When they had left the hospital, it was around 5 PM, and the sky was beginning to darken. Here, however, the sky had transformed into shades of green and orange with the setting sun.

Regulus stepped in front of Harry and began walking ahead. After quite a long walk, they reached the house. Regulus tried to open the door, but the attempt was unsuccessful. Yes, he could see and feel the door, but it was that of a dead Black. Magic didn’t work on the dead. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and Harry could see it clearly from behind. He felt sorry but didn’t say anything and instead reached for the door handle. Just like in the picture, he felt a sharp pain, but this time, the magic and traces of enchantment were checked. A few seconds later, the door opened. Upon entering, the warm air of the house greeted them. The house had been enchanted by Alphard many years ago. This would be a sanctuary for him and his two nephews. Whenever they got into trouble or felt down, the house would open its doors to them like a warm family home. The true purpose, however, was to escape the coldness of their terrifying family. Sirius had succeeded in this at 16, but the other two weren’t as lucky.

Harry followed Regulus as he led the way. They descended the stairs and entered a spacious living room. The most prominent feature in the center was a lit fireplace. On the left side of the room, there was a small kitchen, while across from it, surrounding the fireplace, was a seating arrangement, and to the right, two doors—one made of glass and the other wood. The glass door likely led to the garden. Harry continued examining the room and sat on one of the chairs. Shortly after, he found himself staring at Regulus, who had his head buried in his hands. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace.

"I've never felt this dead before. This place recognizes its magic, its magical core, but it couldn’t feel me. The only meaning of that is that I’m dead."

Harry merely nodded. He didn’t know what to say. What could you say to someone who’s dead?

As the silence took hold of both of them, the outside world had grown dark. Back at the Black Manor, there was a sense of urgency. They had only noticed Harry’s absence two hours ago, and with the darkening sky, a sense of worry had begun to settle in. The young hero might be dead or captured.

Arthur and Remus, filled with genuine concern, had gone out to search for him. Molly, on the other hand, sat at the kitchen table, cooling herself with a magical fan and muttering under her breath. She, along with the children and Hermione, waited anxiously. Kreacher, unable to tolerate the disrespectful talks about his master, had gone to join Walburga.

Walburga had been silent for days. She had only muttered a few words about not wanting the “blood traitors” and “scum” in her home, but her tone wasn’t one of the usual fury. She was deeply affected by Sirius’ death, but the real sorrow wasn’t about losing her son or even Sirius—it was about the child who spoke of the entire family’s demise.

"Lady Walburga?"

"Kreacher, what’s all this noise? What’s happening in my house? Why are those blood traitors still here?"

Kreacher, at a loss for words, quickly clasped his hands in front of him.

"Lady Walburga, young Master Potter is not at home. They are looking for him. They are worried something might have happened to him. The blood traitors and Master Lupin have gone out to search for him."

A wave of worry swept over Walburga. Unlike the others, when she thought of the possibility that the child might have harmed him, she stepped away from her portrait and headed toward the empty one in Regulus’ room. She knew that the young boy had stayed in this room. At first, she had been furious, but she remained silent due to both the child’s grief and his resemblance to her late son. As she entered the room, she encountered a strange energy wave. There was a signature of Black magic in the room. Concerned, she moved toward the empty portrait on the top floor. This room was where all the Blacks had portraits. Most were in different places, but one never left—her younger brother, Alphard.

Chapter Text

Chapter Title: The Screams of the Portraits

Walburga Black was a good daughter, a good student, a good sister, a good wife, but she had never been a good mother. This was something her eldest son Sirius had yelled at her when he was just fifteen. Later, just before he disappeared, her younger son Regulus had shouted similar words at her. That was when Walburga had to face the truth. She shouldn't have raised her children with the same rules and punishments her mother had used, but it was too late for both of them. She had lived knowing Sirius would never accept her, and Regulus had never returned home after that fight.

The last time she saw her son, the hatred he had screamed at her was still fresh in her memories, the conversation was filled with nothing but hatred and tears.

- You feel it too, don't you, sister? The imbalance in the house, you feel it too? You see and feel our family's signature?

Walburga exchanged looks with her younger brother to indicate she agreed.

- Sirius adopted the child by blood, but I don't think he ever thought the magical signature would change this much, that it would resemble the Black signature. There's something else. The mark left behind by the core is very fresh, a young mark.

- But other than Draco, no Black heir is left, sister, you know this too. There must be something else.

Walburga was lost in thought. She couldn't understand what was happening in her home, but the thing that troubled her most was Potter's disappearance. The place where magic was most palpable was the room he had stayed in. A wave of irrational worry filled her. She knew the only thing she could do was wait, and she sank into silence.

---

There was a deep silence in the cabin. It had been nearly two hours since they arrived, and about an hour ago, Harry had gotten up from the chair he was sitting in and had laid his head in Regulus' lap, who was sitting right in front of the fireplace. He felt a strange chaos towards him. It was as if his family was beside him. Regulus was giving him the safety and warmth that a family would provide.

His head rested on his lap, and he was staring at the face in front of him. Regulus' pale skin was decorated with the dancing flames, and it was a beautiful sight. The confusion began here: Harry admired Regulus. His skin, his gaze, his movements—maybe these traits were present in everyone who carried Black blood, but what attracted him the most, without a doubt, were Regulus and Draco. They had a clear resemblance, or at least that’s how it seemed to Harry.

He took a deep breath, stood up from his lap, and squeezed himself into the small space between the armrest of the chair and Regulus. He stretched his legs over him and rested his head on the armrest. Regulus looked at him in surprise and instinctively placed his hand on the boy's thigh. Anyone looking from the outside might have misunderstood their position, but Harry didn’t seem to care much.

Regulus quickly adjusted to the situation, turned his position slightly towards Harry, and rested his head on the armrest, just like him. They began to watch each other in the dim light reflected on their faces.

- What are we going to do? How are we going to move forward? We haven’t even learned everything yet. We need to go back to the bank.

Regulus pulled his gaze away from the lips of the boy speaking and returned to his eyes. He shared some of the questions in his mind, but the part that troubled him the most was the fact that the boy was under the influence of the Black curse. Unfortunately, there was no solution to that. Even if there was, he didn’t know if he would want to separate from him so soon. He took a deep breath and held one of Harry’s hands, which was resting between them. A feeling inside him wished that hand would never leave his. He had never experienced such a feeling before, and it was a bit frustrating to have it after death.

- I think the first thing we need to do is go back to the bank tomorrow morning and reclaim what belongs to you. After that... honestly, I don’t know. Little star, after you learn everything, I don’t know how you’ll feel or what decisions you’ll make. I don’t want anything I say or suggest to upset or anger you. I don’t want to lose you, Harry.

Harry's eyes sparkled with understanding. How much more disappointment could he take? Everything in his life had never gone right. What he loved had always been taken from him. For example, when he was a child, he had found a little stuffed bear he loved so much lying by the side of a street when he was coming back from the market. He had felt so embarrassed taking it, but with courage, he took it. He had only spent three days with that toy, and on the third day, his cousin had seen the bear and complained to his parents. He still remembered the beating he had received that day. Vernon had accused him of stealing and had burned it right in front of his eyes. Then there was Sirius, whose death had been caused by Bellatrix right before his eyes. Now, with a clear mind, he remembered what had happened. Bella had accidentally caused his death. He had seen the fleeting crack on her face and heard the silent whisper from her lips. The childish fight, as Sirius had described, had resulted in a point where he could never return. After that, Harry had lost himself. He had wanted to hurt her the way he had been hurt. He wasn’t regretful, but he knew deep inside, neither of them would willingly harm each other. And then there was Ron, the first friend he had ever had. His best friend. And now he had learned that it had all been a fake friendship. How much more could he endure...?

Lost in his thoughts, Harry never took his eyes off Regulus. He wanted him to understand. He couldn’t be broken anymore, couldn’t be worn out anymore.

- I would go to our family, Harry. Our family is always the ones who will protect us. No matter how much the Black family sinks into the depths, no matter how far they fall, they always have each other. If they fall, we’ll lift them. If we sink, they are the only ones who can pull us out of that darkness. Family means everything for this family, no matter what the outcome is, even if it ends in death.

They spent the rest of the night talking about what they would do and eventually fell asleep, holding each other. Even if they had nothing, Harry had him. They had each other.

Chapter Text

The sun had risen with all its brightness and hope. The first light of the day had already fallen upon the lake, and time was advancing. Harry and Regulus were still asleep on the armchair in front of the fireplace. Regulus's head rested on Harry's chest, and he was holding him close. Harry had buried his face in Regulus's hair, his arms wrapped around the young boy. A blanket had been draped over them. The fireplace had magically extinguished in the early hours of the morning. The house's magic, anticipating the possibility of them getting cold, had covered them with a thin blanket. This spell had been cast years ago by Alphard for his youngest nephew, Regulus, who often fell asleep in a corner. The house's magic still recognizing them was quite beautiful and meaningful.​

This time, it was Regulus who opened his eyes first. The first thing he saw was the fireplace in front of him. Then, he focused on the body breathing beneath him. Both had their arms wrapped around each other. He could feel the breath hitting his hair. With a momentary sense of peace, his lungs filled with air. He didn't even consider moving from his position. This peaceful environment was priceless to him.​

After some time had passed, as the clock approached nine, Harry also woke up. He smiled at the black curls in front of his eyes. He wasn't even surprised by their position. The night before, he had thought he wouldn't find him like this in the morning, even fearing he might be a figment of his imagination. But thank Merlin, his fears were unfounded. Regulus was right there in his arms. With the joy he felt in his chest, he lowered his head slightly and placed a kiss on the spot between his hair. He didn't know why he was so attached to him. He didn't understand these feelings inside him or this dependency he felt towards Regulus, but Regulus belonged to him. Now, in the past, and in the future. He was sure of it; he felt it.​

With the kiss he received, Regulus lifted his head. Now, Harry felt like he was truly home. With the sunlight hitting his eyes, he was so beautiful that he knew nothing else in the world could be this beautiful.​

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

After staying in their position for a while longer, they decided to get up. There was a steaming breakfast waiting for them on the kitchen counter. After nibbling on a few things, they got ready and left their home; they had a lot to do today. They went to the place they had Apparated to the previous day, took one last look at their home, and disappeared.​

When they arrived at Gringotts, they went straight to Chief Goblin Gornuk, with whom they had meetings the day before, without stopping by the counter or anywhere else. Gornuk seemed already prepared for this visit. With the rings lined up in front of him, they could begin the Lordship ceremony.​

"May your gold flow, Master Gornuk."

"May your enemies be laid low, Heir Potter. Now, instead of the general procedure, we will proceed in a different manner. After the truths you faced yesterday, we are considering conducting another inheritance test to see if there is anything hidden. Additionally, there will be a ritual to find your soulmate, through which we will determine who your soulmate is. Under normal circumstances, every magical individual begins to share memories or dreams with their soulmate after turning thirteen. However, due to the blocks on you, we believe this hasn't occurred. Even if you felt an attraction to your soulmate, you might have thought it was just a fleeting admiration. After the ritual, you will bear a mark on your wrist belonging to your soulmate. If your soulmate recognizes you, the same mark will appear on their wrist as well. Now, if you're ready, let's begin."​

Despite his unease, Harry nodded. Just like he did yesterday, he reached for the dagger and parchment on the table in front of him. The reason for his unease was that he had only ever felt attracted to two people. One of them was sitting right next to him, but he was dead. This fact, though painful, was unchangeable. Regulus was a dead man, and this reality couldn't be altered. The other was, unfortunately, Draco Malfoy, who had declared himself his arch-enemy at school. Interestingly, both carried Black blood. Even now, he could see some similarities between Draco and Regulus. No matter how much Draco was a Malfoy, it was clear as day that he was a Black. His facial features resembled his mother, and thus Regulus. On the other hand, there were the eyes. Draco and Regulus's eyes were so similar that it sometimes took Harry's breath away, and their smiles. Last night, he had clearly seen that Draco had inherited his uncle Regulus's smile. However, Harry pushed this thought aside.​

Just like he did yesterday, he dropped his blood onto the parchment. As his blood was quickly absorbed by the paper, he waited in deep silence.​

Name: Hadrian Corvus Regulus Potter Black

Date of Birth: July 31, 1980

Blood Status: Pureblood

Core: Dark

Father's Name: James C. Potter (Deceased)
                       Sirius O. Black (Blood adoption)

Mother's Name: Lily R. Potter (Adoptive, maiden name: Evans)
                         Roseline Amelia Crouch (Deceased)

Godfather: Sirius O. Black

Rabastan C. Lestrange (By blood adoption)
Godmother: Alice F. Longbottom
Diana H. Yaxley (By blood adoption)

Siblings:

• Neville F. Longbottom (Godbrother)

• Ares C. Yaxley (Godbrother)

• Iris D. Yaxley (Godsister)

Spouse: Not yet found

Heirships and Lordships:

• Potter: Inherited Lordship (Paternal)

• Black: Lordship by blood adoption (Paternal)

• Crouch: 2nd-degree heirship (Maternal)

• Lestrange: 2nd-degree heirship

• Yaxley: 2nd-degree heirship

• Peverell: Lordship by blood (Paternal)

• Gryffindor: Lordship by blood (Paternal)

• Slytherin: Heirship by conquering magic

• Ravenclaw: Lordship by blood (Maternal)

• La Fay: Lordship by magic

Abilities — Hereditary Skills:

• Parseltongue

• Metamorphmagus

• Necromancy

The test didn’t reveal many changes. He had god-siblings—Neville and the Yaxley twins. The twins had always shown him a strange kind of courtesy. The girl was in Slytherin, while her brother was in Ravenclaw. Even though they were in different houses, it was rare to see them apart.

Another new detail was added to his inherited abilities: necromancy. It was considered illegal in this country, but in other countries, there were no penalties for hereditary magical traits. Harry remembered Hermione reading a paper about it aloud a few months ago. Hermione had been quite vocal about how absurd it was to outlaw something inherited. She had complained about it multiple times.

Looking at the parchment again, he found nothing else had changed. All that remained was to find his soulmate and wear the rings. It appeared they would receive the rings first, and then prepare for the ritual. Gornuk approached and picked up the ceremonial document.

After scanning the paper, he began handing Harry the rings he had previously brought. The first was the Potter family ring. It was silver, engraved with a sword crossing through a letter "P". On the hilt of the sword was a tiny ruby, and beneath it, engraved in bold, small letters: “Virtus Sanguinis.”

Regulus whispered beside him,
"Courage comes from blood."

Following his guidance, Harry slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand. At first, it greeted him with a burning heat, but then it softened and embraced him. From that moment on, Harry could hear every sound in and outside of the room. Then, the sensation disappeared.

Next was the Black family ring. It was matte black, with a large "B" at the center. On either side were carvings of ravens, emeralds embedded in their eyes. Its slogan was striking:
“Toujours Pur.”
He already knew what that meant: “Always Pure.”
A perfect slogan for the Black family.

He placed the ring on the index finger of his left hand—purely on instinct. Its magic felt overwhelming and cold, but when Harry accepted it, the ring slowly wrapped around him. It felt like home.

Two rings remained: Ravenclaw and Peverell. He couldn’t yet claim the others—doing so would reveal all that he had learned.

He reached for the Peverell ring first. It was silver, marked with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The inner circle was encircled with small sky-blue rubies. Below was the Latin inscription:
“Proximus hostis mors est.”
“The nearest enemy is death.”

Regulus had told him stories about the Peverell family the night before. It was mostly just myth, but better than nothing. Harry chose his pinky finger for this ring, believing some say it’s closest to death. The ring accepted him silently, and he heard screams and felt the presence of death fill his mind. Grief seeped in.

The last was the Ravenclaw ring, featuring a raven made entirely of sapphires. No inscription, no carving—just a proud symbol of wisdom and wealth. Without hesitation, he slid it onto his right index finger. It radiated only peace and calm.

After placing the last ring, he turned toward Gornuk’s desk and sat.

— Lord Potter-Black, you have received your rings and titles. The Potter ring possesses an ancestral charm that protects you against mental attacks.
The Ravenclaw ring shields you from harmful potions and runes. For instance, in the case of Amortentia, the ring will emit a slight warmth as a warning.
The Peverell ring can render you invisible. More precisely, it allows the bearer to use the powers of the Hallows without physically possessing them. So, even if the cloak isn't with you, you can still utilize its magic. If you hold the stone’s title, you may speak with the dead without having the stone itself. As for the wand, its whereabouts remain unknown, and therefore, we don’t yet understand its link to the ring. If you come to possess it one day, it is likely it will accept you as its master without a duel.
Lastly, the Black family ring... truthfully, its function is known only to family members. The family has chosen to keep it a secret.
And now, Lord Potter-Black, if you're ready, we can proceed to the chamber prepared for your ritual.

Though shaken by the sense of power surging within him, Harry stood up at Master Gornuk’s signal and followed him. Gornuk led him several floors below to the ritual center. Many chambers and altars lay within, but the most fascinating part was the carved relief at the end of a long corridor. It depicted a young woman with long brown hair, golden eyes, and a purple cloak. Her hands were lifted in prayer as she looked skyward.
Many candles stood before the wall—only in deep blue and black shades. At the center was a bowl seemingly made of Amatis and Obsidian.
Still, Harry didn't linger to observe more closely and stepped into the room Gornuk had stopped in front of. Regulus, walking behind him, gave him a sense of security in this eerie place. Harry stepped forward.

— Only you, Lord Potter-Black. Mr. Black must wait here.

Harry’s eyes widened. He turned sharply toward the goblin. So did the boy behind him.

— You... You can see him?

The goblin smiled.

— Ah, sorry. No. But the bank has kept the magical signatures of every witch and wizard for generations. Mr. Black may be deceased, but his signature remains with him. We've sensed it ever since he first entered. We simply don’t record it. Now, please proceed. I'm sure Mr. Black can wait for you here.

As soon as the goblin finished his sentence, he smirked and walked toward the ritual chamber, completely unfazed by the stunned young men behind him.

Harry and Regulus continued staring at each other in shock. The younger boy tilted his head with a small smile, then turned away from the older one and disappeared behind the goblin through the door.

Chapter Text

The ritual chamber had the coolness of the underworld, only candles with blue and purple flames defying the darkness. In the center of the room was a stone circle surrounded by ancient runes. In the center of the circle was a glowing obsidian bowl. Gornuk's voice was barely a whisper, but it was amplified by magic; the stone walls filled with echoes.

- The ritual begins, Lord Potter-Black.

Harry gently pressed the small knife in his hand into his palm. His blood dripped into the obsidian bowl. The dark liquid swallowed the red drops as if it were turning into a star. At the same moment, a dark figure approached from a corner of the room: Regulus. He silently cut his palm and dropped his blood into the bowl.

The bowl burst into flames. The flames danced with blue and purple colors, the air in the room thickened. Harry's eyes grew heavy, his head spinning. When he closed his eyes, he was suddenly somewhere else.

It was not a memory, more of a vision. A sky—constellations shining in the endless darkness. His eyes found them immediately: the Lion and the Crow. The two constellations were connected by bridges of light. A single star shone in the center of the lights. It was much brighter than the others. Regulus.

Harry felt a warmth seep into his heart. It was not only a soul bond, but also an acceptance, a destiny.

When he opened his eyes again, the flame had gone out, but the air in the room still trembled. He felt a warmth in his wrist. When he raised his arm, he saw the boy across from him doing the same.

They saw the symbol that had just appeared on their skin. The lion and the crow, drawn with stars. And at the very top, right at the level of his heart, a single star shining: Regulus.

Harry caught his breath. The void in his heart was filled, a silent “yes” echoed through him. Regulus bowed his head and smiled. Gornuk spoke quietly:

– Souls have met. Now hearts know too.

No words were needed from then on. Just the gaze, the symbol, and a star in the sky said it all.

When the ritual ended, the room was silent. The candles were still, as if they were watching them. Regulus looked at Harry as he touched the symbol, still warm on his wrist. It was as if they were the only ones there; time had stopped.

Gornuk walked slowly towards the center of the ritual. His face was grave, as usual, but there was a strange gleam of respect in his eyes. He did not speak for a moment, only looking at them both.

– This… this is not a bond we come across very often, he said quietly.
– This kind of Soul Bond has only been recorded once, centuries ago. Between Merlin and… his lover King Arthur.

Harry looked up, his gaze filled with astonishment.

– When Arthur died, Merlin could not completely tear his spirit from the world. The bond between them was so strong that Arthur could only be resurrected by Merlin’s touch. This bond was a magic that defied time and death. Forbidden, ancient, and so sacred…

Regulus turned slightly to Harry. A sad but accepting smile graced his lips.

Gornuk continued:

– There are similarities in yours. Regulus Black, despite being dead, has become yours through this bond, Lord Potter-Black. Whenever you touch him… he will be here physically. Your touch will strengthen his presence. This is not just a physical union, but a spiritual one.

Harry’s hands trembled slightly, but his eyes were determined.

– So… every contact we make brings him back?

– Yes, said Gornuk. But only at his request. Regulus, you will be able to appear physically in this world as long as you allow it. Your bond is based on this balance.

Regulus nodded. His eyes were on Harry’s hands.

– I didn’t belong anywhere else anyway. If I can return, I will only return with him.

Gornuk took a step back. The formal expression on his face gave way to a slightly softer tone.

- Soulmates are linked by magical bonds. But yours is the Aether Vinculum, a bond from ancient times. It is like a knot made from the essence of the universe. It cannot be broken, it cannot be worn. You are now bound to each other's existence.

Harry turned his eyes to Regulus. The emotions that surged through him were beyond words. But when he reached out and touched Regulus' fingers, his reality came to life once more.

And that's when Harry realized: This wasn't just a ritual, it was a promise of eternity.

A few hours after the ritual, they ascended the stone steps of Gringotts and disappeared into the night. Their destination was unknown; a place only they could know, a place they could find only by the call of their blood.

The ancient castle of the Black family was hidden in the misty mountains of Scotland. Behind a veil of reality, sealed by magic. As they approached, the air changed; the wind grew heavier, the sky clouded over. Only those with Black blood could see the castle, only the chosen could enter it.
Harry and Regulus stood in front of the tall black iron gates. The gates stared at them, motionless; as if they were alive. In the middle was a large letter "B" carved in black stone. The letter was surrounded by ancient runic symbols.

Regulus nodded slightly.

- Here we go.

Harry opened his palm first. He traced his fingers with his magic dagger. He dripped the blood from his hand onto the black stone in the middle of the gate. The blood slowly spread over the stone and the runes began to burn one by one.

Then he raised his wand.

- Hadrian Corvus Regulus Potter-Black, he said in a clear voice. Bound by blood, sealed by magic. Recognize my lordship, House Black.

Regulus also left his own blood on the stone, then bowed his head.

- He is the heir of the house. I am his past. Recognize him, protect him.

The gate was silent for a few seconds. Then it vibrated heavily. There was a cracking sound coming from deep within. The black stone shimmered, then the two doors opened of their own accord. The wind from inside blew Harry's cloak away. The runes on the upper part of the door slowly began to form a sentence in its own language:

"Lord Black has returned."

The interior of the castle was cold but awe-inspiring. The footsteps echoing in the stone corridors were greeted by walls that had been silent for years. Portraits of the Black family on the walls watched them with their eyes. Some bowed their heads, others squinted.

Finally, a large symbol lit up in the middle of the entrance hall: a lion and a crow with a star. The shining star: Regulus.

Regulus whispered:

- The castle has accepted you, Harry. You are its Lord now. And it is yours now.

Harry felt the magic echoing deep within his heart. This castle was now his place, his home, his past and his future.

Regulus silently led the way as Harry walked deeper into the castle. The footsteps echoing between the black stone walls reached his ears like whispers from the past. Finally, Regulus stopped in front of a large, double-winged door covered in onyx runes. In the middle of the door was the familiar letter: a large “B”, surrounded by three intertwined runes that glowed. These runes symbolized that no one in the meeting could harm anyone else, either physically or magically.

Regulus touched the door with his hand.

– Sanguis et Umbra.
Blood and shadow.

The doors opened slowly, as if he were exhaling deeply.

The interior was spacious. The ceiling was almost invisible, and was covered with a moving mosaic made by magic, resembling the sky. Portraits of the Black family stood on the walls, looking at them from dark frames. Each of them looked at them, as if they were saying something, even if they were not speaking.

In the middle of the room was a huge round table. The table was made entirely of obsidian, and in the center was the Black family crest, carved in silver: a crow, atop a crescent surrounded by stars. Just below the crest was a Latin phrase:

"Puritas per Tenebras" – Purity comes with darkness.

Surrounding the table were high-backed black leather chairs. Each chair had the magical rune of a different Black person on the back – meaning only they could sit there. However, one chair was slightly higher than the others. The Lord's chair.

The stone floor glowed beneath Harry's feet as he stepped inside. Runes that answered only to the Lord were activated. A silent blue flame surrounded the round table. The magic of the room had recognized him.

Regulus took the seat next to him. It was as quiet as a whisper, but jarring:

– This place was made for talking only. No one fights here, no one gives orders. All are equal, but must be respectful. It is family law.

Harry put his hand on the table. The surface was cold but peaceful. The room had accepted his presence. One by one, the portraits bowed their heads.

Gornuk’s words echoed in his mind: “You are Black now. And this house knows you.”

Harry was silent for a moment, then took a deep breath.

– Now this table will be a symbol of the construction of the future, not of the fights of the past.

And perhaps at that moment, the fate of the Black lineage was written not in darkness but in hope for the first time. Harry sat in the Lord’s chair in the Black family meeting room. He clasped his hands in front of the black obsidian table, deep in thought. The magic of the room was still active; blue flames circled around the table, the magical seals behind each seat were slowly burning.

Regulus was silently at his side. His gaze was on Harry, but his eyes seemed to remember a distant past. The silence was broken by an ancient whisper. Harry raised his wand. His eyes were determined, his voice clear.

– I, Hadrian Corvus Regulus Potter-Black, Lord Black, call.
– Bound by blood, sealed by magic, every bearer of Black blood... Take your seat at the table.
At that moment, the magical seals in the room lit up one by one. The table seemed to begin to spin, the runes glowing with fire. The energy in the air intensified. The invisible waves of magic stretched from Scotland to France, from Germany to America. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing...

There was no resistance to the call.

The first to arrive was Bellatrix's niece, Andromeda's daughter. Then a young woman from France... Then an old man from Germany, from a distant branch of the Black line... Then another from the Dolohov line, bearing the name Black by marriage... In all, more than ten people were teleported into the room one by one. Confused, angry, stubborn... but they came.

As each one came, the runes inside the door scanned them, approved, and let them in. Their eyes went first to Harry, then to the table. No one could object. For the table would only respond to the Lord's call. And the call had been made.

The chairs burned one by one; everyone who came had to sit in their own sealed place, even if they didn't want to. The spell was guiding them gently but firmly.

Finally Harry spoke. His voice echoed off every wall. Strong but not threatening. Calm but firm:

- This table will hold the balance of the future, not the darkness of the past. No longer will the Black family fight against itself. This family will come together to live rather than to perish.

Some looked away, some bowed their heads. But none of them rose from that table.

Because the spell had not only summoned them.

It had bound them together.

And in that moment, the Black family was forced to look each other in the eye for the first time.

The tension in the Black meeting room was as sharp as a knife. Harry sitting in the Lord's seat was an unacceptable reality for some. Especially for Cassius Black. The old man stared at Harry with eyes blazing with anger, struggling to contain his anger.

- You... how dare you sit at this table? A blood tainted by the Potter line cannot be the head of Black!

The others were silent. Some turned their heads, some watched with curiosity. Harry’s gaze was fixed.

- The blood that called me. The castle that knew me. The magic that accepted me. What this table says is more valuable than your prejudice, Cassius.

Mirielle Black, a noble but arrogant woman from France, intervened:

- One blood is not enough, Hadrian. This table demands not only the Lord’s power, but also his family’s bond. And you are alone. With not a single Black here to stand beside you, how—

At that very moment.

A vibration passed through the room. The table shook slightly for a moment. Faint runes glowed briefly. A figure slowly emerged from the seemingly empty seat to Harry’s left. As if woven from shadows; first his silhouette, then his face, then his eyes.

Regulus Arcturus Black
He sat down silently in his chair. The air in the room changed in an instant. Breaths were held. Cassius drew back, his eyes widened. Mirielle's lips parted, but not a word came out.

Regulus placed his hands on the table. He spoke in a calm but shocking voice:

- I am here.

The room was plunged into silence.

- Lord Black is not alone. His blood has called not only you, but also me. And I have come. For this table is set for those who still bear the Black name. And that name has my approval.

Harry was calmed by his presence. The weight on his shoulders eased.

Regulus turned his eyes to Cassius:

- If you cannot bring loyalty to this table, then be silent. For your right to speak comes not only with blood, but with honor.

From that moment on, no one could say that Harry was alone.

Because Regulus had returned.

Only a few minutes had passed since Regulus had appeared silently but shockingly in his chair. The room was still silent, but this time it was respectful. Until Mirielle Black fixed her eyes, burning wildly, on Regulus.

- Shouldn't you have been dead years ago? Since when have we been raising the dead, Hadrian? Did you seek help from a Dead man when you were not wanted in the family?

Regulus sat calmly to Harry's left. His very existence was a challenge.

- I was not resurrected, he said. There was both resentment and confidence in his voice.
- There is an Aether Vinculum between Harry and me. This table, this castle, even your family blood cannot deny this bond. My soul is here because the person I belong to is here.

Cassius growled.

- This is a cursed bond! Our lineage is based on holiness, not darkness!

Harry placed his hand on the table. The runes on the surface glowed faintly. His voice did not rise, but the whole room echoed:

- Since when has our family been considered ''sacred'', Cassius? As far as I know, our family is more cursed than sacred, and you seem to have drifted far away from our family. Would you like me to remind you of our darkness again?

Harry's open threat was enough to nail Cassius to his place. It was indeed a Black.
The madness in his eyes was an undeniable fact.

Chapter Text

After the clear hierarchy display, the room was silent. No one dared to make a sound. Some were still in shock. Until a resounding laugh echoed off the stone walls of the room. The shrill, mocking laughter from the other side of the table stopped for a moment like a knife.
- Stop talking nonsense, a half-breed, a child, sits at the Black table as Lord, and right next to him is our cousin who should be dead. Tell me, Potter, what is going through that dirty mind of yours? Do you really think we would allow a half-breed to rule this family? And I won't even mention that ridiculous bond between you two.
A chill ran through the room.
Harry turned his head. The woman sitting across from him bore a face that even time could not completely erase. Her hair was spread out like a black vortex. Her eyes were still shining with madness: Bellatrix Lestrange.
Bellatrix did not even glance at Regulus. She stared directly at Harry. There was a contemptuous twist on her lips.
- A half-breed of the Potter line. The Evans blood is still in his veins. And are we going to recognize this vile mixture as a Lord? Since when was a flower that grew in mud considered worthy of our ancestors' seat?

Harry didn't even get to his feet before Regulus turned his head and looked at Bellatrix. But his eyes darkened, and his tone was icy:
- I am not a flower that grew in mud. Those who question the purity of my blood should first look in the mirror. After all, I am not the one worshiping that flower, and our family magic does not accept worship. Would you like to look in the mirror, Bella?

Regulus added in a low voice:
- That mirror is here.
And at that moment, Harry raised his left hand. The Black ring shone on his finger. Then the Ravenclaw, Peverell, and Potter rings in order... but Black's shone the brightest. The emerald eyes in the crow carving on the ring began to burn. The room glowed with a magic emanating from the ring.
At that moment, the table began to recognize those related by blood. The runes began to activate, new symbols appearing behind each chair. And Bellatrix's chair...
It darkened with a crimson color.
The castle's magic came to the fore. An ancient voice echoed in the room.
- The spell gave its verdict. Lord Black's blood runs through the deepest veins of the Black bloodline. Lily Evans, you say? Evans was just her name. His real mother was Roseline Amelia Crouch... The oldest bloodline from the intersection of the Crouch and Shafiq families with the Blacks. Harry Potter-Black, you are not just a Black, you are the oldest vein of our bloodline.

The room was plunged into silence.
Bellatrix's face had turned chalky. The only word that came out of her lips was now a whisper:
- No...
Harry smiled. But this smile was not an expression of victory, but of a result.
- Yes.
And at that moment, everyone at the table understood something.
This boy was no longer just a Potter.
He was the true heir of the Black bloodline.
In the most tense moment of the arguments, Bellatrix's shadow had openly insulted Harry's lineage, and as if that were not enough, she had belittled their sacred bonds. The table had fallen into a cold silence. Cassius' eyebrows were furrowed, Mirielle's lips were pursed, and Draco's gaze had turned to Harry. Everyone wanted to say something, but at that moment, the woman sitting to Harry's right had her fingers gently tapping the table.
Knock, knock, knock...
Three clear taps. The runes flashed. Everyone fell silent.
Aquella Black spoke.
The eyes of the entire room turned to her. She was old but sitting upright. Her thick gray hair was tied up in a bun, her eyes were deep as dark amber. She wore a dark green robe embroidered with silver. The lines on her face carried not the power of time, but the wisdom.
- Enough.
Her voice was loud and clear despite her age. And everyone knew this voice. Because she was the oldest living member of the family. James Potter's aunt. The last "Lady" of the Black line.
- Everyone who sat at this table answered the call with their blood. No one volunteered, you all had to. Because magic knows who is real.

Her eyes turned to Bellatrix's shadow.
- Not your grandchildren, children, or darkness... she chose the pure, the brightest of blood.

She gently touched Harry's hand with her hands.
- Hadrian... of my blood. Of James, Dorea, Regulus... and yes, Roseline Crouch. She is the atonement for the past and the hope for the future. So I, Aquella Black, recognize the new Lord of this table with my Ladyship.

Harry held his breath. Tears briefly formed in his eyes, but he pulled himself together. Aquella's hand was as steady as his.
Regulus bowed his head slightly to Harry's left.
- Now you are truly not alone.
The magic on the table reacted again. The Black crest flashed on the table surface, and new writing appeared beneath it:

“Dominus Novus – By Blood, Loyalty, Honour.”

(New Master – By Blood, Loyalty, Honour.)
Cassius turned his head, Bellatrix’s disdain fading. Draco lowered his eyes.

Harry spoke like a Lord:
– I do not recognise those who do not recognise my table. But I do recognise those who show respect, no matter what their background. Even you, Bellatrix, despite your disrespect for me and Regulus, and for causing Sirius’ death, even you. Choose your side, your family, or your doomed Half-Blood Lord?

Chapter Text

The certainty in Harry's voice cut the air in the hall like a knife. Many people, especially Bellatrix, froze. At that moment, most of them forgot that Harry was still a child. This voice was too determined, too clear, and carried a frightening darkness to belong to a child.

Only two people looked at him with admiration: Regulus Black and Lady Aquella.
The proud smiles on their faces seemed to have found a hope they had lost in the past. Harry was an orphan, but someone who had known family through nothing. So in his eyes, "family" was not an indifferent bond, but a sacredness that had to be fought for.

Maybe this was a war he could not win.
But Harry James Potter, Black was not willing to waste even a drop of his blood for Tom Riddle.

There was a conflict in Bellatrix's eyes that went back and forth between her and the carpet on the floor. She had always stood loyally by the Lord, but... This was the first time she had been shaken by her family this much.
On one side, a mad faith, on the other, blood ties...

“I will protect you, all of you, Bellatrix,” Harry said, his voice not breaking. “We are family. I want you to think now. Everything you saw here today, everything you felt, your fears... Think.”

The room was silent.

“Either you will remain in the dark darkness you are in and be cast out of this family... or this family, together with me, will raise the darkness—the real darkness—again.”

There was no threat in his voice; there was a real, cold, sharp clarity.

“You have nothing to fear. Whatever you choose, I will make sure you get out of here safe and sound. But what comes next... is not my problem.”

Harry’s green eyes swept over each person.
No one could question how serious he was.

“Blood is blood, revenge is revenge…” he continued. “And I will not stop for a second until I have my revenge. I do not care who the blood will be from.”

The words echoed through the Black family’s magnificent hall, and shadows stirred on the walls. Even the ancestors in the old portraits seemed to hold their breath for a moment.

“Tomorrow evening, at the same time. You will swear fealty to me or…”
He paused.
“You know the rest.”

Silence.

Then Harry flicked his wand.
The ancient spells that surrounded the castle were activated.
Everyone except Lady Aquella was swept out of the hall, one by one, like shadows.

Regulus, sitting to the right of his chair, and Lady Aquella to the left, were still there.
The castle had obeyed its new master.
Like an obedient creature… loyally.

Harry let out a deep breath.
His shoulders slumped for a moment.

“I really hate this family,” he whispered through his teeth.

Aquella laughed a graceful laugh, despite her age.
Her laugh echoed an old memory.

She placed her hand gently on Harry’s; her touch was old but soft and warm.

“No, my dear… you don’t,” she said. “You have always looked for a family. Now, you have found one that will be loyal to you even in death. You don’t trust them, yes… but you don’t hate them.”

Harry turned his head. Her eyes seemed to find someone he hadn’t seen for years.

Not James then.
No.
It was clear that she was remembering Regulus.

“Lady Black… they are not loyal to me. They only need me,” Harry said. “There is a fine but important line between the two.”

Aquella nodded.

“You are right, Hadrian,” she said. “But in time… their loyalty will also be yours. Now please, call me ‘Aquella’ or ‘Auntie.’ I am not a stranger, I am your family.”

She stood up. She smoothed her cloak over her shoulders.
“I will now retire to my apartment here. You and Regulus must have much to talk about. And you… are tired. Don’t stay out too late.”

A smile.
Then a turn.
And like the wind it was gone…
Only the empty chair remained and the warmth that had not yet faded.
Harry bowed his head. For a moment, he could still feel Aquella’s touch under his hand.

Regulus’ voice sounded quietly from beside him.

“It’s hard being a leader,” he said. “But you’re Black. You’re not alone.”

Harry closed his eyes.
For the first time… someone’s words “you’re not alone” had felt so real.

When the hall was empty, Harry remained silent for a while longer. The castle was silent… but the silence wasn’t threatening, it was peaceful. For the first time… he hadn’t wanted to be alone.

Regulus remained silent beside him.
He looked at Harry’s face, his eyelids, his furrowed brows. It was impossible to put into words the weight this boy was carrying. Even in his own time, he had never been exposed to it like this.

Finally, he spoke in a gentle voice.

“Are you okay?”

Harry swallowed hard.
“No,” he said honestly. “But I have to be.”

Harry felt an incredible pull and desire at that moment. The desire to be closer to Regulus, he leaned over Regulus a little and pulled the chair under him a little closer. Now at least their knees were touching.

- I would rather spend a whole day with you than all of this.

Regulus nodded for a moment, then moved slightly to the side and touched Harry's shoulder. It was not an unfamiliar touch. It was strangely familiar, almost... like home.

Harry looked at him with his head bowed slightly.
And then, he leaned on Regulus' shoulder.
Not like a little child... just like a tired warrior.

"When did... everything become so heavy?" he whispered. "When does a person become nothing more than the darkness within themselves?"

Regulus stroked his hair. His fingers were gentle; the touch of a brother, a brother, perhaps longing for a life he had lost.

“You are not darkness, Hadrian.

You are… a shadow in the light. Tough where necessary, but still human at heart.”

Harry closed his eyes.
The words touched him deeply.
“If only someone had said that sooner,” he said. “Maybe I would have been less alone.”

“You are not alone now,” Regulus said. “I am here. And as someone who understands you, I have no intention of leaving.”

The silence that stretched between them was healing, not uncomfortable.
Harry looked up, looking tired but more at peace.

“Regulus… can we stay in a room inside the castle, if possible… quiet? Just… no one else. Even the walls feel like they can breathe.”

Regulus bowed his head. “Come. I have a room. Quiet, not cold. Sheltered. If you want to pour out your heart, I will listen… but if you just want to sleep, I will be there.”

Harry smiled slightly.

That smile did not echo through the castle. Because for the first time, a smile was hidden in a whisper.

It remained a moment of its own.

They got up together. They walked down the corridor with silent steps. Candlelight illuminated their way, the castle opening its way as if it knew them.

Regulus' room was not large, but its touches were clear: old books on the shelves, heavy velvet curtains on the window, pictures of his childhood on the wall, a small fireplace burning in a corner... It was warm and sheltered.
Just like Regulus' presence.

Harry took a deep breath as he entered.
There was... peace in the room.

Then he sat down on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes. And he only murmured:

"Don't leave me, will you?"

Regulus leaned forward.
He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, leaning his forehead against his.
He answered in a whisper:

"I won't leave, Hadrian. Never."

The boy turned his forehead away a little, a small smile on his face, "You call me Hadrian. You really make me feel like I'm me.''

''Because that's what you are, little star. The new Lord of the Blacks and my soul...''

There was a deep silence between them. Hadrian was deeply affected by the words, especially the ''soul'' part, it could have dragged him into another universe, but he decided to stay in that moment. He turned his body away from the boy and walked towards the wardrobe in another corner of the room. He took a pair of pajamas for himself and Regulus and handed one to the one who was two years older than him.

While one of them got into bed, the other sat in the armchair positioned in front of the window right across from the bed. The little boy fell asleep in seconds. A sleep that was perhaps peaceful or perhaps lacking in peace...

Chapter Text

The night passed with the wind outside the castle and the old whispers that slipped inside. Harry curled up at the corner of Regulus's bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. It was silent, but the tension in his body showed that his mind was far from peaceful.

Regulus sat in the chair by the window, lost in a book. Every now and then, he would glance up, checking if Harry was resting peacefully, listening for his steady breathing.

Then a sound… A muffled, broken whisper:

“No... please... don’t...”

Regulus immediately stood up. Harry's face was contorted, his lips moving rapidly. As if speaking to a ghost, his eyes were still tightly shut.

“Let me go… Sirius… no...”

Suddenly, Harry jerked upright in bed, breathing erratically, his forehead sweating. His hand shot to his throat, as though he couldn't breathe.

Regulus quickly knelt by the bed, touching Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey... I’m here. It’s just a nightmare. It’s over, okay?”

When Harry opened his eyes, he was disoriented for a moment. But when his gaze met Regulus’s, reality returned. His hands were trembling. Without thinking, Regulus wrapped him in a tight embrace. Harry froze for a moment, then, after a pause, he wrapped his arms around Regulus's neck.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured. “I must have made a noise.”

“Don’t apologize,” Regulus replied softly. “You’re not alone anymore. Whatever you see, whatever you feel... you don’t have to face it alone.”

Harry rested his head on Regulus’s chest. He could hear the steady beat of his heart—slow, calm, and reassuring.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then, Regulus leaned down slightly and whispered:

“Do you want to keep sleeping? Or should we stay up together?”

Harry shook his head. “Let’s stay. Hearing your voice... it helps.”

Regulus lay down on the other side of the bed. They both lay side by side under the blanket, their faces turned toward each other. The space between them gradually disappeared. Harry found Regulus's hand and held it.

“Regulus,” Harry said after a while, his voice soft, almost childlike. “Why do you think we understand each other so quickly?”

Regulus stared at the ceiling. “Maybe... we both learned too late that we didn’t want to just survive, but truly live.”

A silence hung between them. Then, a smile.

“Sometimes,” Harry said, “when I talk to you... I feel like you’re a brother to me. But sometimes... this feeling is different. I don’t even know how to define it.”

Regulus turned to face him. “I know. I’m going through the same confusion. It’s more than brotherhood, but not quite love either. It’s something else. Maybe we call it ‘bond,’ because there’s no other word for it.”

Harry got lost in Regulus’s eyes for a moment. “James... my father,” he said quietly. “I never felt anything for him. No longing, no love, no sense of belonging... nothing. But when I saw you... it felt like something awakened inside me.”

Regulus squeezed his hand. “James was a good man. But he didn’t understand you. You never belonged to him, and he never belonged to you.”

Harry lowered his gaze. “Draco too... I always thought there was something about him. But I guess we were just trying to be companions in loneliness. I misread his interest. Maybe he misread mine.”

“Draco wanted you,” Regulus said plainly. A brief flicker of discomfort, maybe jealousy? crossed his mind. “But you couldn’t be yourself with him. That wasn’t what you were looking for.”

Harry lifted his head, locking eyes with Regulus. He noticed the brief unease in his gaze. It was there for just a moment.

“So... what about with you?” Harry whispered. “When I’m with you, I feel like myself. What does that mean, do you think?”

Regulus’s eyes softened. His fingertips brushed against Harry’s cheek.

“I don’t know, Hadrian. But if you’ll allow me... I’d like to explore that with you.”

Harry held his breath, then nodded. Then... He closed the small distance between them.

First, hesitation... then a gentle kiss. Warm, tender... a kiss carrying not the fears of the past, but the possibilities of the future.

Then they both lay their heads back on the pillow. Hand in hand, eyes locked.

The night was silent now. But this time, it was a peaceful silence. A silence born in the darkness, merged with light.

Morning came, filtering through the heavy curtains of the castle, bringing with it pale sunlight. The air was still cool, the stone walls still cold, but there was a different warmth in the room.

When Harry slowly opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was... he was still lying under Regulus's arm. His other hand was held in Regulus’s, and strangely, it didn’t feel awkward or wrong. On the contrary... it felt right. It felt like he was getting used to this feeling and his presence.

Regulus was still asleep, his face illuminated by the soft tranquility of sleep. Sometimes, Harry thought that having him here, alive, felt like an impossible miracle. And now this miracle was sharing the same pillow with him...

Just as Harry was about to close his eyes again, the door creaked open without a sound.

Aquella entered, gliding in almost effortlessly despite the heavy stone floor beneath her.

She placed a tea tray on the table, but her eyes were already focused on the two of them, curled up in the bed.

A slight smile crossed her face. Not angry, nor judgmental... just that all-knowing, ancient look. Then, she spoke softly:

“Oh my... Regulus Black finally brought someone close to him. I must be old enough to see this actually happen.”

Harry jerked upright, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and sleepiness. Regulus let out a sigh and slowly opened his eyes.

“…Aunt?”

“That’s me, darling,” Aquella replied smoothly, not missing a beat. “And please relax. I’ve seen far bigger scandals than you two waking up in each other's arms in this family’s history.”

Harry tried to hide his hands under the blanket, but Regulus, instead of retreating, moved closer to him, leaning over without getting out of bed.

“Aquella... we’re just—”

Aquella raised a hand. “Regulus. Love, affection, or whatever it is... you don’t have to explain something that makes you feel this good. Especially when you look this peaceful for the first time in years.”

Then she turned to Harry. “And you, Hadrian... I hope you know who you’re with, how rare and fragile the bond you’re touching is.”

Harry didn’t look away this time. “I know,” he said. “I’ve lived enough to understand what it means to lose him.”

Aquella’s smile widened. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it. But come to the kitchen later. You’ll need breakfast. You two... definitely had a long night.”

And as she exited, she turned back one last time to wink at them. “Fix your pillows, children. The castle gossip spreads fast.”

As soon as the door closed, Harry buried his face in the pillow and groaned. “Let them bury me alive…”

Regulus laughed. “I think we handled it pretty well. Aquella once caught Sirius in a sheer nightgown in his room. That was chaos. We’re being much more gentlemanly.”

Harry bit his lip to stifle a laugh. Then their eyes met.

And this time, laughter echoed off the stone walls of the castle. Not with shame, but with the lightness of a shared secret, a step forward taken together.
The great dining hall of the castle was illuminated not by the morning sun but by the warm light of magical chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. The table was as usual, decorated with heavy silverware, finely crafted porcelain plates, and a black velvet tablecloth. There were steaming teapots, fresh breads, jams, and classic Black family recipes.

When Harry and Regulus entered the room side by side, Aquella was already seated, stirring her tea. Upon seeing them, she raised an eyebrow with a sly smile.

“Ah, finally you’ve arrived. A sparkle on your faces, a secret in your eyes… it seems the night was long.”

Regulus grinned, but Harry only wrinkled his nose in an embarrassed manner.

At that moment, another pair of footsteps was heard from the door. Narcissa Malfoy entered, followed by her son Draco, who appeared with a graceful poise. Narcissa, as usual, approached the table with noble elegance, but when her eyes momentarily flicked to Harry, a look of curiosity mixed with caution appeared on her face.

Draco, on the other hand... Draco’s eyes locked onto Harry’s. For a moment, he paused. Then, as if nothing had happened, he sat down, but there was a subtle shift in his gaze.

“Aquella,” Narcissa said, slightly bowing her head, “Thank you for inviting us.”

“I didn’t invite you, dear,” Aquella replied with a slight smile. “The castle invited you. That’s how family magic works.”

Draco’s brow twitched. Harry remained silent, but glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye. Their gazes met briefly. Draco quickly looked away, but Regulus, like a raven, caught the exchange and chose to remain silent.

Aquella sipped her tea, then dropped her spoon onto the plate, making a loud clink. “I don’t want any tension at the table. Everyone here has a past. But it’s time to build something else now.”

Narcissa nodded. “Harry,” she said, her voice unusually soft, “Being with Regulus... it’s strange, yes. But... not wrong.”

Regulus turned his head and looked at his cousin. “Is that your approval, Cissy?”

Narcissa parted her lips, then stirred her tea. “I just... realized that the bond of blood may be more than we thought. Perhaps some things... are bound not just by blood, but by pain.”

Draco poked at the bread on his plate with his fork. “It’s been a heavy breakfast,” he muttered. “Relationships, approvals, deep philosophies... all that’s missing is an engagement ring.”

Harry turned to him. “Did that bother you, Draco?”

Draco lifted his eyes. His gaze met Harry’s directly this time. There was something broken in his eyes. A disappointment... maybe a feeling he hadn’t noticed before, rising to the surface.

“No,” he said. “But I didn’t realize... Maybe I never really knew you.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Because I never really showed it. Not even to myself.”

Draco lowered his head, looking vulnerable for the first time. Narcissa took her son’s hand under the table. Regulus also gently touched Harry’s knee but didn’t take his eyes off Draco.

Aquella intervened, her expression cold but refined. “Now, children, we have all day to share your inner worlds, but right now, the real tragedy would be the jam-filled pastries getting cold. Please, share your hearts with your stomachs first.”

With those words, a laugh spread through the room. Narcissa smiled delicately and bowed her head. Regulus handed the tea to Harry. For the first time, Harry sent a grateful glance toward Draco; because even if there was hurt, that look was real. And Harry was now determined never to underestimate anything real.

As the conversation at the table lightened, the atmosphere softened. But everyone knew something had changed. This was no longer just Harry’s fight. It was the story of a family... trying to be reborn from the ashes of the past.

Hours passed, and the time for the Family meeting was approaching. By the time Narcissa and Draco had returned to their home, Malfoy Manor, Aquella had invited Harry to her study. They spoke of family politics, dark secrets of the past, and uncertainties about the future. Harry was realizing many things, particularly how complex the marriage contracts had become. But if they ever found themselves in a deadlock, these contracts could become tools he could use. These thoughts led Harry to make dark plans for the future, but for now, he had to be careful to keep everything on track.

When the clock struck six, family members began to Apparate into the castle one by one. Each one entered the room, reflecting their inner tension as they slowly filled the room.

First, Mirielle, Andromeda, and her daughter Nymphadora entered, followed by Narcissa and Draco, Cassius and his grandson Castor, Bellatrix, Dorea, and Aquella’s younger sister Cassiopeia. Everyone took their places, but the awaited ones—the true heads of the house, Lord and Lady Black—had not yet arrived.

Soon, the great onyx doors creaked open. At that moment, the room seemed to tremble; it was as if the very air changed. The following footsteps slowly took over the room. At that moment, everything felt heavier, as if time itself was thickening. Harry and Aquella, dressed similarly, advanced into the room. Their robes, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like stardust on navy fabric, seemed to symbolize their power. They were Blacks, owners of the same blood, the same power, walking together into the hall.

As the family members took their places, their eyes turned toward Harry. He looked calm, yet inside, a great storm was raging. In that moment, he needed someone to believe in him, and the two people standing by his side would offer him that unconditionally.

Aquella took a deep breath and began to speak slowly:

“Welcome, all of you. Today, we will not only discuss the responsibilities of the past but how we will shape the future. As a family, we will reconsider our loyalty, our commitment, and our power. This is a journey, and we are only strong together.”

Aquella’s words had a profound effect on everyone in the room. This was not just a meeting, but the first step in rebuilding family bonds.

"The reason we are here today is known to all of us. It’s do or die. Now, from each of you, I expect your loyalty... and your respect..."

The first vow came unexpectedly: from Mirielle Black.

“I, Mirielle Druella Black, Head of the French Clan of the Black Family, as a child of this family, swear that I will always defend and protect the honor and legacy of this family. With my blood and soul, I will remain loyal to the power of the family, and I will not step back in the face of any challenge. To honor the past, to protect the future, and to defend this family at all costs, I will give everything. I will protect and defend Lord Black, and so it shall be.”

The second vow came from Draco:

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, accept my loyalty and commitment to the Black family and Lord Black with all my heart. I swear to honor the history and power of our family and protect this legacy. I will remain loyal to this family, which guides and strengthens me, no matter the challenges. Past mistakes and wrong decisions may exist, but from now on, I will do everything to elevate this family. In every step, in every decision, I will work to defend the honor and power of the Black family.”

As Draco finished his vow and bowed his head, his eyes turned to Regulus. His family approved of his words, proud of his determined and noble declaration.

Then, each member took their turn to swear their loyalty. Every oath felt like a renewal, a rekindling of a power they hadn’t felt before. They were blessed by the family magic and Hadrian’s enchantment, feeling a power they had never known before.

“Narcissa and Bellatrix, after speaking privately with you, I would like you to take your oaths,” Aquella said.

Finally, when it was Cassius’s turn, instead of stepping forward, he stood resolutely in the middle of the room.

“I, Cassius Black, do not swear loyalty to this family.”

A tense silence filled the room. Aquella’s eyes narrowed as she studied Cassius. Whispers began between Narcissa and the other family members. Regulus’s jaw clenched, his eyes cold and determined.

“I swear my loyalty only to power and my personal interests. I will not bow to this decaying, corrupt family. This is a moment when no oath is necessary. My family’s interests go beyond Black blood. No one can bind me here as a slave.”

Aquella took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, but Regulus quickly intervened.

“I cannot allow this, Cassius. This family is everything, and without it, you are nothing.”

As Regulus’s voice echoed in the room, he locked eyes with Cassius. Cassius took a step forward with a mocking smile.

“What will you do? Threaten me, Regulus? You come from the same rotten family. Or are you relying on that dark bond? Hiding behind your little lover, little Reggie? I swear to you and the darkness, I will tear the mask of this nobility, this wretched family.”

The tension between Regulus and Cassius grew, but Harry’s eyes, glowing with cold resolve, caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“Swear loyalty? I’m not loyal to this family. First and foremost, a person must defend their own power and interests. My path is different, and those who do not accept that have no meaning to me.”

Cassius smirked, surveying the room with disdain.

Harry’s gaze sharpened as if a storm had gathered around him. The room fell silent, and Harry’s cold voice echoed.

“Enough, Cassius. Above all, your disrespect toward the Black family is unacceptable. If you don’t feel like you belong to this family, then you have no place here.”

Cassius smirked defiantly at Harry’s hard stare.

“I don’t have to listen to you any longer. I have no faith in your twisted, filthy relationships. My path is different. I see myself in another world. No one tells me…”

Harry’s eyes flashed briefly. In that instant, the air in the room changed. A force awakened silently, and Harry moved with such speed that Cassius fell before he could react. Harry, dark and deliberate, approached Cassius.

“I didn’t want to force this on you, but there is no place for you here. You’re now disowned from the Black family, Cassius. You don’t deserve to be one of us.”

Cassius’s face drained of color. The castle, attuned to Harry’s thoughts, responded. Magic surrounded Cassius, and with the power of the enchantment, Cassius stumbled again.

Harry: “Let me tell you something. Someone who doesn’t stay loyal to their family, someone who disrespects it, is doomed to lose their magic.”

Once the spell was complete, Cassius slowly stood, feeling a strange emptiness in his body. His magic was gone. A panic-stricken look spread across his face.

“What did you do... my magic?”

Harry looked at him with a piercing gaze.

“You’re no longer part of this family, Cassius. You’re nothing to us.”

With a flash of black magic, Harry sent Cassius out of the room. Silence spread through the hall.
Harry looks on determinedly. The whole room is silent, everyone is watching what is happening. The panic on Cassius' face increases.

"Yes, Cassius. A person who disdains the family, who is not loyal to the Black blood, loses his magic. Someone like you cannot stay here. You have chosen this by your own decision."

Cassius looks around in panic, feeling the magic power disappear from his body.

"No... You cannot do this! You have taken away my magic, my power!"

"Your place is no longer here. We cannot accept someone who disowns the family. You have lost your magic because you are not worthy of it."

Aquella watched the events in the room carefully. She saw that the boy was born with the cruelty of the Blacks rather than a Potter. She had seen such a scene once before, years ago. His father, Altair Black, had punished his nephew who had betrayed his family in exactly this way, and the way the boy spoke reminded her of Walburga. Even though the boy did not recognize her, it seemed as if he had picked up something from his Grandmother Walburga.

Harry takes one last look at Cassius before turning to him and continuing quietly.

"You can go now, Cassius. Your family doesn't want you here. And they never have."

Cassius shakes his head angrily, pulling at his hair with his hands, and leaves the room. A deep silence falls over the room. Harry's eyes reflect the determination and strength he feels for him.

Harry: "Our family means everything to us. We will never forgive, we will never accept contempt."

Harry looks at each member of the room one by one, and finally directs his gaze to Regulus. He sees something else in his eyes, other than pure pride and respect. Love...