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magicalwardrobe-mw · 5 years

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There Are Stars In Your Eyes: Newcomer

Summary: Walburga Black hadn't expected yet another pregnancy so late in life. Sirius and Regulus loved their sister to death anyway.

Rating: T (because I’m a bit paranoid).

You can also find it on AO3 or FF.

I hope you like it!

Newcomer.

It is a known fact that wizards live a lot longer than ordinary muggles. They age slower than them and it can be over eighty years before one starts looking really old.

But still, a pregnancy at almost forty-seven was a bit too much for Walburga Black.

Sure, it was a bit of a boost for her ego. She was still fertile, still young in the eyes of society.

And, since the rumours had spread all through the higher circles of the pureblood society before she even stepped one foot out of San Mungo’s with the news, she couldn’t get rid of the baby. It would cause a lot of talk. More than it was already happening.

So the baby was happening.

Walburga wasn’t the first woman to have a baby at such an “advanced” age (she had glared at the healer when he had dared to utter that dreadful word). Even there had been some cases with muggle women. And being a witch there should be a lot less risk during her pregnancy than the ones of those women.

But that didn’t mean she was happy about it. She had already had more than enough with her two other pregnancies (when she was on her thirties) to enjoy a repeat.

They told the boys once Sirius Orion, her eldest, got back from Hogwarts. Orion had calmly sprouted the news at dinner and Sirius Orion had almost chocked on his potato.

He had been understandingly repulsed by the thought. After all, at eleven, he already knew where babies came from and was very repulsed to learn that his parents were still doing it.

Regulus Arcturus had been happy for the first few seconds until confusion kicked in. He had turned ten only some weeks ago and had yet to be corrupted by the educative talks around the halls of Hogwarts.

(His brother was quick to explain him the concept that night in his room. Orion had been very amused at his youngest son’s expression of utter disgust at breakfast next morning).

Orion envied his sons, as they spent the worst months of their mother’s pregnancy hiding away in the big castle in the hills of Scotland.

Meanwhile he was suffering the pregnancy as if he was the one with the baby inside.

He was sure Walburga hadn’t been so unbearable on her earliest pregnancies. If he had known this would happen he would have stayed far away from her in bed.

On a late January night at last his new offspring was born. Walburga had refused to go to the hospital like ‘all those common women’ and so she had an army of midwives fluttering around in her room the moment the first contraction hit.

One of the youngest midwives, barely out of the program herself, carried the baby to her father’s arms.

“We almost lost them both,” she said. “But I managed to convince the others to use a muggle method that saved them,” her expression was sheepish. “I know how your wife is about these things but could you maybe keep it to yourself? I’m just telling you because I know Healer Burke will want to tell you later and I don’t want you to freak out.”

And then she deposited the baby (“it’s a girl, sir”) in his arms and Orion couldn’t be mad at her. The sigh of his daughter cute button nose melted his heart.

“Don’t worry,” he looked up at the young woman. “I won’t breathe a word.”

The girl grinned with relief. “Great! Now I have to help stitch up your wife before she wakes up!”

His eyebrows rose at the word ‘stitch’ and the woman merely shrugged with a soft blush on her cheeks. “It looks like I owe you a debt for saving both my wife’s and my daughter’s life,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Dahlia Blishwick,” her eyes were wide. “But you don’t owe me anything. I was just doing my job, sir.”

Orion nodded once but he mentally took note of the name: Dahlia Blishwick. He would remember that.

“It’s almost weird for you to get a letter from your family that is not a howler,” noted James Potter eyeing the piece of paper with curiosity.

“What does it say?” wondered Peter Pettigrew.

Remus Lupin shushed them both. “Maybe if you let him read it he’ll tell us.”

The letter wasn’t that long, only a few sentences, and Sirius was quick to read them. Slowly his lips curled into a small smile that had his friends looking worried.

“He must have gone crazy,” Peter muttered. After all they all knew Sirius’ relationships with his family were strained at best and didn’t understand how a letter would make him smile.

“Maybe his mother is dead?” James suggested gaining an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Remus.

After a few more seconds of silence, James prompted the other boy with a kick to the shin. Sirius glared at him.

“So?” Peter asked. “What does it say?”

Sirius grinned again. “I have a little sister,” he said. “Which is great because now I have won a bet with Reg,” at Remus deadpan expression he quickly added: “And I’m happy to have a sister, you know? Because sisters are nice and stuff.”

Remus sniggered. “«Because sisters and nice and stuff»” he repeated. “I am so going to write that on your grave.”

“Now you’re already killing me off?”

James grinned. “Well… there are some days…”

Sirius threw a spoonful of cereal soggy with milk at James’ glasses.

The first time Regulus saw his little sister she wasn’t so little anymore. At five months old she was a pudgy… thing with huge grey-blue eyes, a tuft of black hair and the happiest smile always on her face.

Little Cassiopeia, although Sirius had taken to calling her Cassia, was the happiest baby Regulus had ever seen. She was always laughing at the silly faces he made (a pretty contagious laugh) or, otherwise, smiling. She hardly cried, though Kreacher was there if it happened, and loved to be picked up.

As it seemed she was the un-Black-iest baby he had ever seen.

Maybe it was just because she was a baby, but from his mother’s frown he knew neither he nor Sirius had been such happy toddlers.

But Regulus loved little Cassia more than he loved anything in life. He loved how she gurgled at him with her arms wide open asking for him to pick her up. And how she smiled at the sight of him and laughed when he tickled her belly.

Regulus often wondered how something so small could change one’s life that much.

When Sirius got into Gryffindor he knew a huge rift in the family had been made. And his suspicions were confirmed when he came home with thousands of tales of James and Remus and Peter. He could see Sirius drifting away from him and it only deepened when he got sorted into Slytherin.

How dare he look disappointed? He was the one not to stick into tradition! Regulus should be the one to be disappointed.

But Sirius looked at him with disappointment and pity when he went to sit with his new house. Like he had done something wrong. As if Regulus had… deceived him.

But with Cassia… with Cassia he had a new chance. He would start over without making the same mistakes. He would love her unconditionally, no matter where she ended up.

He wouldn’t let Houses ruin that relationship, too.

Cassia cooed at him from her crib and Regulus smiled softly. “Hey, do you want to play?”

No, he wouldn’t mess it up this time.

Sirius was sick of his family. He was sick of the judgemental stares and his mother’s scoffs. He was sick of the pureblood propaganda and the way her mother looked down at him.

As if he was less for thinking of muggleborns as equals.

As if he was wrong.

The only thing that kept him tethered to that horrible house was his sister. His sweet, innocent and kind little sister with wide open eyes and a heart bigger than the world.

Everything went to hell the summer after his fifth year, over dinner one evening.

“Siri, Siri,” Cassia tugged on his sleeve. “Sit with me,” she begged.

“How can I refuse?” Sirius grinned at her and tried not to feel anything at Regulus betrayed expression. Cassia was his sister, too, and he loved her with all his soul.

Cassia looked up at him. “Read me a bedtime story?” she asked.

“After dinner, little star,” he conceded.

And she smiled at him, little dimples appearing on her cheeks and making his heart melt.

But then their mother had to intervene and bring the matter of blood purity to the table. She said she was worried about what Sirius might be teaching her and didn’t want him to lead her astray.

And that was when Sirius finally snapped: the previous weeks, hell, even the previous years, becoming far too much for him.

So Sirius screamed and his mother screeched back. Their father shouted at them both while Regulus tried to take Cassia to a safe place. Walburga got out her wand and started firing curses at her eldest son while exclaiming he was only «just like the rest of them».

And so Sirius stormed off the house with only his wand on his hand and a handful of coins on his back pocket. He hailed the Knight Bus and disappeared in the night to never look back.

A couple of weeks later an owl knocked on Regulus window in the middle of the night. It carried a small package for Cassia and a short note asking Regulus to give it to her.

Despite the bitterness he felt for his brother, Regulus conceded.

Dahlia Blishwick was twenty-six when Orion Black asked her to tutor his daughter, the one she had helped bring to the world over four years earlier.

“Mr. Talbot,” he said. “my sons tutor, died last year and Walburga says it would be best if Cassiopeia has a woman as a governess.”

“But,” Dahlia was at a loss on what to say. You do not say ‘no’ to the Lord of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. “I already have a job, sir,” she said politely. “And aren’t I too young? I think maybe you should be looking for someone older, more experienced in these things.”

But Orion Black just shook his head. “I think you can teach my daughter a lot more than those old ladies ever could. You’ve gotten far on your own, haven’t you?” he said. “I think my daughter will need that in the years to come.”

“But my job…”

Orion Black sighed. “Look, we’ll pay you the double if you want. You don’t even have to be all day with her, just some mornings or afternoons, whatever you choose. Teach her how to read, write, some maths and the way the world works as unbiasedly as possible.”

Dahlia stared at him open mouthed.

“I have a son on either side of the war,” he said with a tired smile. “I know only one of them will come out of this alive. I’d like my daughter to be able to make the best choice; not because of what her family says, but because it’s what she believes in. I want her to be able to make the right decision and stick with it,” he waved his hand in her direction. “Your family is still pure-blood, even if you’ve fallen a little since the old days, but it will be enough to content my wife. So,” he straightened in the chair of the hospital cafeteria. “What do you say?”

Dahlia had been given a choice. To help a little girl make the best of her life.

“I guess I’ll have to talk with my boss.”

And that was how she found herself as the new tutor of the youngest Black child.

When Cassia turned six she got lots of presents, like all her birthdays before, but only one she treasured greatly. It was a well-read copy of Miss Dahlia’s favourite book when she was a child: Her Handsome Hero.

Miss Dahlia had read most of it to her in their classes, or had made her read it. It told the tales of a brave hero named Gideon and in its pages was underlined the importance of compassion, kindness and forgiveness.

Cassia hadn’t known it at that time, but that book probably saved her life.

Miss Dahlia was a nice lady and Cassia liked her very much. Her lessons were fun and she learnt a lot. Miss Dahlia liked to tell stories about her job or books she had read. She told her about her girlfriend –a muggle teacher– and made her promise to keep the secret.

Mrs. Pyrites wasn’t such a nice lady. She taught her manners, politics, dancing, how to play the piano and French. She smelled old and would pinch her arm with her nails when she thought Cassia was doing something wrong.

And for Mrs. Pyrites Cassia even breathed wrong.

“You don’t want the whole room to know when you’re inhaling and exhaling. Keep it to yourself. Short breaths for ladies.”

No, Cassia didn’t like Mrs. Pyrites at all.

But the book wasn’t the only gift Cassia loved. Even if her brothers were at Hogwarts they both had sent owls with their gifts (Sirius’ sneaking in the middle of the night so her parents wouldn’t notice).

Regulus had bought her almost half a year’s supply of Sugar Quills, Cassia’s favourite food in the whole wide world, that had her running the house on a sugar high almost each night for the next months.

Sirius, on the other hand, had woken her up the second the clock had struck twelve, thanks to the magic mirror he had given her once he left home. He had another one that connected the pair and they could keep in contact, for Sirius refused to be cut out from his sister’s life and leave her to perish with his family. His three friends had joined him on his rendition of Happy Birthday to his sister that got the desired result: make her laugh.

Since he also knew she liked books about adventure he had also gifted her one copy of a muggle book «the Evans girl» had highly recommended; The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.

Cassia had loved it and she hid it under her mattress next to Her Handsome Hero. Although she was sure Kreacher, who was the only one allowed in her room, didn’t care much for books.

Which was a shame because Cassia knew how great books were.

Regulus was trying to teach his sister how to play chess when his whole world came to a halt. It was a hot July afternoon and they were on the playing room, with some cooling charms to make it bearable.

“And Father was so happy I could finally block him out we went out for dinner at The Siren’s Song just the two of us,” Cassia leaned in and whispered the next part. “He even let me eat the chop with my hands!”

Regulus widened his eyes in mock surprise. “He did?”

“Yes!” the seven-year-old was unaware of her brother’s teasing. “Kreek wasn’t very happy when he saw the dress he had to clean, though,” she added looking down at the chessboard with shame.

Regulus lips twitched. “I bet he wouldn’t. Did he start muttering to himself?”

She grinned. “He did! He got quiet and all red and everything when I told him I was sorry he had to work more because of me,” her eyes twinkled. “He always does,” she pressed her lips together deep in thought. “Where is he, by the way? He usually likes to sit with us when Mother and Father aren’t home.”

And Regulus didn’t blame him. They were, after all, the only ones who treated Kreacher like a living being. It made him feel angry.

“He’s doing some things for… a friend of mine,” Regulus stated carefully.

Regulus had joined the Death Eaters two years ago, feeling bold and proud of his choice. But his determination started to fade when he realized what kind of things his new friends were into. He started to feel trapped and the shame grew each time he was sent on a mission for those… people. And he didn’t want Cassia knowing any of that.

Cassia’s face fell. “Oh… And how long will he be gone?” her eyes light up again. “I don’t want to see Mother’s face if we make a mess in the kitchen trying to make dinner,” she paused. “Do you know how to cook?” she asked with curiosity.

But Regulus had stopped listening and instead looked at her with a worried frown on his face. “He probably should already have been back,” he said. “The Dark- My friend said it wouldn’t take long.”

Cassia felt a bubble of worry deep in her stomach. “Kreacher!” she called. “Kreacher come here!”

And the house elf appeared with a loud crack. He was wet and shivering. He laid curled into a ball on the floor, his hands pressed over his ears and muttering apologies and pleas to himself.

Regulus heart plummeted. “Cassia, go to your room!” he ordered.

“No!” the child fell to her knees and carefully touched Kreacher’s knee. “Kreek,” she said softly. “Kreek, you’re safe here, you can stop that.”

The elf stilled immediately and didn’t move. Cassia clearly panicked and she started shaking him. When Regulus caught her in his own arms to get her away from Kreacher she started trashing and screaming.

“Cassiopeia!” shouted Regulus. “Stop this! This isn’t helping anyone!”

“Let me go!” she screeched. “Can’t you see that he’s in pain?”

Regulus held her tighter. “Kreacher,” he said. “Please, breathe and tell us what happened.”

And the elf obeyed.

Kreacher was a good elf, yes he was. He obeyed the rules, didn't disrespect the Masters (except Master Sirius –oh, Mistress was so happy to see him go) and took care of the house and its inhabitants.

It was his job, what he was born to do.

But now... now Master Regulus wanted to take him back to the Horrible Cove and Kreacher was scared. He didn't like the Horrible Cove and the Dreadful Potion... Kreacher didn't want to drink it again.

Master Regulus had come to Kreacher’s cupboard in the middle of the night and ordered Kreacher to get ready to take him to that cove. Kreacher knew all Blacks liked their sleep and no one would catch them getting out of the house because the Masters were all sleeping deeply.

So Kreacher wasn't expecting little Mistress Cassiopeia to be waiting for him and Master Regulus at the bottom of the stairs.

"Cassia!" Master Regulus exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Mistress Cassiopeia puffed her cheeks. "I'm coming with you," she stated.

Both Masters started to argue while Kreacher stared silently. In the end they glared at each other for a few moments until Mistress Cassiopeia, at last, relented.

"But you have to take this," she said giving them one of Mistress Walburga biggest handbags.

Master Regulus peered inside the bag and his lips twitched with amusement. "We aren't going camping, you know?" He reached inside the bag. "And what is this?" On his hand was a glass bottle of dark brown liquid.

Mistress Cassiopeia flushed. "It's a muggle drink," she said. "Miss Dahlia gets it for me. Sometimes... I just thought maybe you wouldn't feel like water so I grabbed both," and she seemed very proud by her occurrence.

Mister Regulus decided to humour his little sister and put the muggle drink back in the bag. "But you're staying here," he said. "Go back to sleep," he suggested.

Mistress Cassiopeia stared at him like he was a madman and Master Regulus snorted.

"Alright," he crouched and kissed her forehead. "I'll see you later. Come on, Kreacher. Take me to the cave!"

And Kreacher did.

Kreacher was shivering and trembling the whole time Master Regulus passed through the protections. Kreacher clutched at the sides of the boat so hard his knuckles turned grey and when he saw the pillar where he knew the Dreadful Potion was he almost passed out.

Kreacher was readying himself for another dose of the Dreadful Potion when Master Regulus spoke.

"Kreacher, I want you to make me drink the potion. Make me drink it no matter what I tell you and then... then grab the Hor-the locket and put this one instead," he deposited a nearly identical locket in the elf's fragile hands. "Then fill it again with the same potion and go back home and destroy the locket. Alright?"

Kreacher didn't want to do that. "Master Regulus..."

"I said ‘alright?’! I'm ordering you, Kreacher!"

Kreacher would have never said he'd ever hate being such a good elf.

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