Triumphant: logs, entries, media.

who: James Potter & Regulus Black
what: A brief meeting...
where: James' old house
when: A little while back, let's say.

( Why shouldn’t we join forces? )

For Merlin's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of manners.

How can I allow my son to attend Hogwarts when so many dangerous incidents have been allowed to occur on or near the school? What happened to Hogwarts being an impenetrable stronghold? What does the Headmaster have to say for himself?

As current and future parents of Hogwarts students, surely there can be someone to whom we can appeal for this entirely unacceptable situation.

who: Narcissa Malfoy & Regulus Black
what: A spot of archiving discussion, hmm
where: Malfoy Manor
when: The evening of May 26th
notes: PG13 themes

( It’s funny, the things you do when you don’t know why. )

who: THE BROTHERS BLACK
what: Never let Sirius do research solo
where: Grimmauld Place
when: The evening of May 31st
notes: PG13 for language & themes

( Destroying everything, utterly ruined, boot-scuff traitorous constellation with brains less than Kreacher’s, piles and piles and he was told the master’s notes must not be disturbed, Kreacher told him just as right but would he listen, no, never listened, not ever, killed the mistress and now he’ll kill -- )

One night, almost a week ago, I was disturbed from my sleep. The world had become...strange. Restless, and too quiet, like the calm before a storm. This home, this ancient, creaking manor, felt weighted down, as if at any moment it would sink into darkness. At first I thought it was a mother's intuition, that something was wrong with my child. I checked on Draco -- no, fine. Blissfully ignorant to the world and shielded from all its horrors for one more night.

Since that night, I've had the elves on a cleaning sprint, tops to tails. I've even gotten down on my knees to join the assault, though my contributions pale considerably in the face of their immaculate efficiency. The dust that seems to settle most on old things is nigh on inexplicable. I imagine it could probably be dated back three centuries, at least.

Cleaning out one's rooms feels a lot like exorcising the poltergeists of memories. When I first settled into my new life, it had been easier, too easy, to throw everything I owned into old school trunks, shrink them and lock them away in drawers. Mother had wanted me to get rid of them. Childish things, to be put away.

Did you know that it is written into the founding charter of Malfoy Manor that everything that comes to live within its walls for more than three moons becomes the property of the master? Tied to by blood and only relinquished by consent. How proprietary of the house. My childhood dolls, my tea set, to remain forever incomplete since the day Sirius dropped and smashed one of the cups. The hair pin I once borrowed from my sister before she was and never returned. I once made an entire scrapbook of dried and pressed flowers from my first garden, each page dutifully if clumsily labeled. Apparently I had intended to give it to someone: To Annalisa -- a childhood friend? I cannot recall who she was. I don't know what happened to her.

Such silly trifles, I've held onto. They were supposed to be too invaluable for me to have thrown out, and yet I've shut them all away and haven't thought about them. What are they worth to me now? They are only empty placeholders. Everything they once represented has been gone for a long time.

[DEATH EATERS]

Doubtless you felt the sting of the Dark Mark, and have either been waiting for further instruction or rolling your sleeves with reckless abandon. May I suggest the former, instead of the latter?

He would not like to know that his faithful are lost.So, the question begs itself. Are you lost? Or are you - indeed - brave enough to take back the mantle and forge ahead? He is not gone, and we are not defeated.

So, if you dare, I invite you to meet me at [coordinates] on Saturday, at 23:30. We will see who is worthy, and who shall soon be dead.

who: THE BROTHERS BLACK
what: Regulus has his cave moment
where: Grimmauld Place
when: Now
notes: PG13 for language & themes

( What passed in between was too heightened an experience to be real, too real an experience to be imagined. )

The Ministry cannot capture a werewolf literally within its own halls? I'm impressed.

[Regulus]

Come by some time. I'm sure your brother says differently. Ignore him as usual.

[ REGULUS ]

The godfuckingly terrible cousins are back.

You will not engage with them. If that pockmark on your arm starts to sing, you will ignore it. If Narcissa invites you to tea, you will refuse (politely or not, I don't care). If you are struck with the bizarre desire to do some accounting, you will do it in the downstairs study, and not slink off to Gringotts or the seaside or wherever the fuck else you like to crunch your numbers. In fact, I would prefer it if you informed me if you planned on any sort of outing, and if you come to me telling me you are wanting to go buy a pint of milk, I will laugh in your face, because that is Kreacher's sole point in our lives.







Has that    thing been burning?

Remember, fellow Blacks and former Blacks, when our Easters weren't about Easter egg hunts, but dipping young House Elves in paint and hunting them in the gardens? Another grand tradition of Aunty Araminta's.

WHO: Sirius & Regulus Black
WHERE: Grimmauld Place, Last Bastion of the London Blacks
WHEN: March 1991 (about a month before we begin)
WHAT: Regulus is off to the sea-side!

( “Tell her today’s not good for me.” )