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Fic - Futures Past - 1/1
Title: Futures Past
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: T
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Regulus/Harry
Warnings: Master of Death!Harry, time travel, headcanon, religious elements
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: A chance meeting in a graveyard while saying goodbye gives Regulus Black a chance at a future.
Author's Notes: This was written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
leontinabowie as part of the 2013/14 Rare Pair Winter Fic Exchange at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rarepair_shorts.
The church at Godric’s Hollow is lit up, casting stained-glass highlights on the snow-covered tombs that surround it. The sound of hymns drifts out into the night air and Regulus Black stands and listens. He ignores the gently drifting snow that catches in his hair and the folds of his cloak and the chill that sinks deep into his bones in favour of pricking his ears and trying to determine which – if any – of the baritone voices he can hear belongs to his brother.
He doesn’t think Sirius has converted from the Old Ways – some things are harder to cast away than family – but he knows that he is in there, sheltering in the warmth of the Potter family as he hides his true nature in Gryffindor red and gold.
The church at Godric’s Hollow is the oldest Wizarding church in England. One of the tombs in this graveyard belongs to Ignotus Peverell – the first pureblood to ever pledge himself to the Muggle faith. Regulus only knows this because one of his disgruntled fourteenth century relatives wrote of the disgrace at length. That relative had been a Sirius too, and Regulus imagines him grumbling in the Summerlands at the sight of his many-great-grandsons standing peacefully on Christian ground. (It’s the kind of mental image that – no doubt – his brother would get a kick out of.)
Muggle and magical voices soar in praise, united in love for a witch-killing god, and the hairs on the back of Regulus’ neck stand on end even as his chest aches in a strange desire for faith – for the ability to walk into that church and tell Sirius goodbye for the last time. He will be dead by the time the Muggle New Year arrives in a week. But he has no such faith and no such ability and his toes are numb in his dragon-hide boots so he stays still and listens and keeps his mourning (as ever) to himself.
It is by listening that he knows he is not alone. He hears the soft crunch of boots on snow and he turns to see a figure, cloaked like himself, walking slowly through the graves with his head bent and snow gathering in wild black hair.
For a moment, he thinks the stranger is Potter – the hair is that obnoxiously messy – before he remembers that Potter is inside the church, and before he sees that it’s a little too long and the stranger a little too short to be Sirius’ fake-brother. Still, there is a resemblance, and Regulus wonders if he’s related somehow. A bastard, maybe? A secret Squib?
The crunch of his footsteps is uneven, uncertain, and Regulus’ chest aches again – this time with sympathy. Someone else, it seems, is drawn here despite knowing that they don’t belong; that they’ll ever be left out in the cold. He lets the stranger approach, and when he draws near, takes the time to study him closer.
The resemblance to Potter is still startling, but the stranger’s face is pale as the snow and his profile is somehow gentler than Potter’s – etched with a sadness that Potter, in all his charmed life, has never known. The faint smile he sends Regulus in greeting is heartbreaking and beautiful all at once, and doesn’t come close to reaching his green eyes – luminous in the glowing church light. He looks as tired as Regulus feels, and it’s a thought that makes him smile back.
“I came here because I’m going to die,” Regulus says, his voice barely above a whisper. He isn’t sure if the stranger can hear him over the sudden blast of pipe organ and sopranos, but he needs to tell someone. He’s needed it for days – needed someone to know that he’s going to leave and not come back; needed someone to mourn him – and a stranger is better than no one. “I don’t believe in any of this,” he says, “but I wanted to say goodbye.”
He’s decided that he can’t hear Sirius. Or maybe he can. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything except death.
“I came here because I’m going to be born here,” the stranger replies. “And I’m going to die here. The first time, anyway.”
“Does it hurt?” Regulus asks, wondering if the man is a time-traveller or just mad.
The stranger shrugs. “It can,” he says, and then shushes him softly before turning his gaze back to the church. He raises a hand to brush the ends of his shaggy fringe out of his eyes and Regulus sees that he isn’t wearing gloves. There’s a ring on his finger set with a cracked black stone, and something about it is even colder than the snow.
They stand together in the snow in silence, letting the music wash over them and bathe them in unearthly sorrow until the doors open and the congregation flows out into the night. Each of them is bathed in the radiant glow of belonging, and Regulus catches sight of familiar faces free of the stresses of war. Potter and his mudblood wife go arm-in-arm, Lupin and Pettigrew follow – laughing as they talk – and Sirius follows. He looks more subdued than anything else, but calm, and Regulus is glad for him.
When the doors close, the light vanishes, and he and the stranger are left in darkness.
Regulus has always been left in darkness. At least this time, he thinks, he isn’t alone.
“Nothing is set in stone,” his stranger says. “And time can be changed.” His lips lift in a crooked smile that reminds Regulus eerily of his grandfather Pollux. “Wait,” he says. “Before you go to the cave.” Regulus’ heart stops. “The Dark Lord will be dead by the end of the week. There’s no need for you to die too.”
…
Regulus gives him a week. He paces in his room for days, worrying his fingernails down to the quick. He’s waiting for either the Dark Lord’s death or his own – he was foolish to have spoken and the Dark Lord does not deal well with traitors. And while the wards on Grimmauld Place would defend him from any attack, they cannot help him if his mother decides to sell him out as she may do. Her support or the Dark Lord is almost as fanatical as Bella’s.
Then, on the day the Muggles’ New Year begins, the Dark Mark burns and fades from his arm and the Daily Prophet proclaims the Dark Lord dead. There’s even a picture of the once fearsome Lord cut down, his body bleeding out onto the grey slush lining Diagon Alley. It had been a raid, and it had been his last.
His mother shrieks and wails, screaming vitriol about mudbloods and blood-traitors, and his father sighs and shuts himself in his study with a bottle of brandy. Regulus escapes, taking the paper and his cloak, to the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow where he knows his stranger will be waiting.
He doesn’t know how he knows that. All he knows is that he has a future now. He has a fate outside of an unknown grave, and it’s thanks to his stranger.
His stranger is sitting on the tomb of Ignotus Peverell. Regulus knows that because the snow has been brushed away by long, white fingers to reveal a name and the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. There’s a faint smile on his stranger’s lips, and it grows when he spots Regulus coming towards him. It reaches his eyes this time and he’s all the lovelier for it.
Regulus grips him by the shoulders and pulls him up into a kiss. It’s impulsive and ridiculous and his stranger kisses back, curling his cold hands into the collar of Regulus’ cloak. The ring brushes his skin for a split second and it’s cold enough to burn. Regulus shudders at the pain and pulls his stranger closer, deeper, before they break apart.
Their breath mists together in the winter air, and for that moment they’re both alive.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: T
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Regulus/Harry
Warnings: Master of Death!Harry, time travel, headcanon, religious elements
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no profit from this story.
Summary: A chance meeting in a graveyard while saying goodbye gives Regulus Black a chance at a future.
Author's Notes: This was written for
leontinabowie as part of the 2013/14 Rare Pair Winter Fic Exchange at rarepair_shorts.The church at Godric’s Hollow is lit up, casting stained-glass highlights on the snow-covered tombs that surround it. The sound of hymns drifts out into the night air and Regulus Black stands and listens. He ignores the gently drifting snow that catches in his hair and the folds of his cloak and the chill that sinks deep into his bones in favour of pricking his ears and trying to determine which – if any – of the baritone voices he can hear belongs to his brother.
He doesn’t think Sirius has converted from the Old Ways – some things are harder to cast away than family – but he knows that he is in there, sheltering in the warmth of the Potter family as he hides his true nature in Gryffindor red and gold.
The church at Godric’s Hollow is the oldest Wizarding church in England. One of the tombs in this graveyard belongs to Ignotus Peverell – the first pureblood to ever pledge himself to the Muggle faith. Regulus only knows this because one of his disgruntled fourteenth century relatives wrote of the disgrace at length. That relative had been a Sirius too, and Regulus imagines him grumbling in the Summerlands at the sight of his many-great-grandsons standing peacefully on Christian ground. (It’s the kind of mental image that – no doubt – his brother would get a kick out of.)
Muggle and magical voices soar in praise, united in love for a witch-killing god, and the hairs on the back of Regulus’ neck stand on end even as his chest aches in a strange desire for faith – for the ability to walk into that church and tell Sirius goodbye for the last time. He will be dead by the time the Muggle New Year arrives in a week. But he has no such faith and no such ability and his toes are numb in his dragon-hide boots so he stays still and listens and keeps his mourning (as ever) to himself.
It is by listening that he knows he is not alone. He hears the soft crunch of boots on snow and he turns to see a figure, cloaked like himself, walking slowly through the graves with his head bent and snow gathering in wild black hair.
For a moment, he thinks the stranger is Potter – the hair is that obnoxiously messy – before he remembers that Potter is inside the church, and before he sees that it’s a little too long and the stranger a little too short to be Sirius’ fake-brother. Still, there is a resemblance, and Regulus wonders if he’s related somehow. A bastard, maybe? A secret Squib?
The crunch of his footsteps is uneven, uncertain, and Regulus’ chest aches again – this time with sympathy. Someone else, it seems, is drawn here despite knowing that they don’t belong; that they’ll ever be left out in the cold. He lets the stranger approach, and when he draws near, takes the time to study him closer.
The resemblance to Potter is still startling, but the stranger’s face is pale as the snow and his profile is somehow gentler than Potter’s – etched with a sadness that Potter, in all his charmed life, has never known. The faint smile he sends Regulus in greeting is heartbreaking and beautiful all at once, and doesn’t come close to reaching his green eyes – luminous in the glowing church light. He looks as tired as Regulus feels, and it’s a thought that makes him smile back.
“I came here because I’m going to die,” Regulus says, his voice barely above a whisper. He isn’t sure if the stranger can hear him over the sudden blast of pipe organ and sopranos, but he needs to tell someone. He’s needed it for days – needed someone to know that he’s going to leave and not come back; needed someone to mourn him – and a stranger is better than no one. “I don’t believe in any of this,” he says, “but I wanted to say goodbye.”
He’s decided that he can’t hear Sirius. Or maybe he can. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything except death.
“I came here because I’m going to be born here,” the stranger replies. “And I’m going to die here. The first time, anyway.”
“Does it hurt?” Regulus asks, wondering if the man is a time-traveller or just mad.
The stranger shrugs. “It can,” he says, and then shushes him softly before turning his gaze back to the church. He raises a hand to brush the ends of his shaggy fringe out of his eyes and Regulus sees that he isn’t wearing gloves. There’s a ring on his finger set with a cracked black stone, and something about it is even colder than the snow.
They stand together in the snow in silence, letting the music wash over them and bathe them in unearthly sorrow until the doors open and the congregation flows out into the night. Each of them is bathed in the radiant glow of belonging, and Regulus catches sight of familiar faces free of the stresses of war. Potter and his mudblood wife go arm-in-arm, Lupin and Pettigrew follow – laughing as they talk – and Sirius follows. He looks more subdued than anything else, but calm, and Regulus is glad for him.
When the doors close, the light vanishes, and he and the stranger are left in darkness.
Regulus has always been left in darkness. At least this time, he thinks, he isn’t alone.
“Nothing is set in stone,” his stranger says. “And time can be changed.” His lips lift in a crooked smile that reminds Regulus eerily of his grandfather Pollux. “Wait,” he says. “Before you go to the cave.” Regulus’ heart stops. “The Dark Lord will be dead by the end of the week. There’s no need for you to die too.”
…
Regulus gives him a week. He paces in his room for days, worrying his fingernails down to the quick. He’s waiting for either the Dark Lord’s death or his own – he was foolish to have spoken and the Dark Lord does not deal well with traitors. And while the wards on Grimmauld Place would defend him from any attack, they cannot help him if his mother decides to sell him out as she may do. Her support or the Dark Lord is almost as fanatical as Bella’s.
Then, on the day the Muggles’ New Year begins, the Dark Mark burns and fades from his arm and the Daily Prophet proclaims the Dark Lord dead. There’s even a picture of the once fearsome Lord cut down, his body bleeding out onto the grey slush lining Diagon Alley. It had been a raid, and it had been his last.
His mother shrieks and wails, screaming vitriol about mudbloods and blood-traitors, and his father sighs and shuts himself in his study with a bottle of brandy. Regulus escapes, taking the paper and his cloak, to the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow where he knows his stranger will be waiting.
He doesn’t know how he knows that. All he knows is that he has a future now. He has a fate outside of an unknown grave, and it’s thanks to his stranger.
His stranger is sitting on the tomb of Ignotus Peverell. Regulus knows that because the snow has been brushed away by long, white fingers to reveal a name and the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. There’s a faint smile on his stranger’s lips, and it grows when he spots Regulus coming towards him. It reaches his eyes this time and he’s all the lovelier for it.
Regulus grips him by the shoulders and pulls him up into a kiss. It’s impulsive and ridiculous and his stranger kisses back, curling his cold hands into the collar of Regulus’ cloak. The ring brushes his skin for a split second and it’s cold enough to burn. Regulus shudders at the pain and pulls his stranger closer, deeper, before they break apart.
Their breath mists together in the winter air, and for that moment they’re both alive.
no subject
until the epilogue, which is nonsensical sunshine and daisies all over the place. And Harry is more mature. He's also been bullied and persecuted for things out of his control (Dursleys) that make doing the same thing to others - for whatever reason - repulsive to him. I like to think that, if he went back in time, he'd stand up to them but not retaliate.That's a shame you didn't write it. It sounded brilliant. Oh, well. Harry Potter was my first fandom, and I keep wanting to leave it because of the frustration it gives me, but I do keep reading fic and having ideas so it always calls me back. Even though I jump around fandoms like nobody's business. (I will, eventually, get back to Thor. One day.)
Ffff, yeah. Molly always seems to be the one in charge of everything to me, but if Mr Weasley honestly can't read printed numbers then that's definitely a good thing IMHO. I went to private education in the UK (albeit not boarding) and I know what that cost, and if Hogwarts' fees are anything similar then yeah. No wonder they're poor with five kids enrolled at once.
It's Regulus reincarnated with all of his memories as Harry thanks to a magical oath he made before he died (to kill the Dark Lord). Only as time passes, his soul in Harry's body turns him slowly back into Regulus, which makes the Order...not so great and 4th Year with Barty!Moody really awkward. It does work out with the timeline, as Regulus died in 1979 (at eighteen, poor baby) at an unspecified date, which means he could have died as Regulus and then been conceived as Harry pretty much instantly.
I refuse to accept the epilogue as part of canon. I loved the rest of Deathly Hallows despite how problematic it was regarding the rest of canon, but the epilogue? No. As such, Harry's unfortunately-named children don't exist to me. (Honestly, you'd think he hated them or something. Albus Severus? Really?no subject
But yes, this was something I loved as well. It became darker, more complicated and you could feel that not only the world, but the HP universe kind of grew up.
I think he would stand up, yes. By fifth year he's already turning into a leader and by seventh he had literally the fate of a nation on his shoulders. These things change people.
Your experience with the Harry Potter fandom sounds very much like mine. I might write it, but then I would need an English native speaker as a beta. ^^
Usually I'm slow with fandom jumping. Really slow. I just... stick round.
We know from book one that Harry's parents have paid the fees. But who paid for the poor kids like Tom Riddle? Or Severus Snape even? Maybe there is kind of a government support going on. After all, it's not as if they have a second school anywhere or it least it didn't get mentioned.
(but I do suppose that there are lots of magical persons do not go to Hogwarts.)
I would so read this. :D It works out pretty well, you're right and it would make things beyong awkward. Especially when he meets/ sees Sirius... and Snape. And everyone else.
The Epilogue was ... yeah. It felt so different, and the name's of the children had me stare in horror. I mean with a name like Albus Severus... Hey, you're named after the worst and the best headmaster of all time, one who forced the other to kill him through blackmail and which both grieved the consequences of a single choice their whole lives. Aren't these great names?
That kind of reminds me... what do you make out of this whole "Master of Death"?
no subject
It might be that they're scholarship or bursary students. Snape and Riddle would definitely have been able to qualify for scholarships (you generally have to be brilliant), and the Weasleys might have been able to apply for bursaries for their younger children. (I was on a bursary for my school, which was granted because a)we had a low family income, b) my grades were above average, and c) my older brother was also in private educaton. If Hogwarts has a similar set up, then the younger Weasley children should have been able to attend for a lower fee.)
There is also evidence that magical persons don't always go to Hogwarts - Lupin and Hagrid are both seen as exceptions, and there's whole lists of different beings out there who all deserve an education. There's also the Gaunts - pureblood (frighteningly inbred) witches and wizards who almost certainly (in Merope's case) didn't go, even though they were magical. Maybe some are home schooled, or sent to school abroad, or maybe there are other, smaller schools dotted around the country.
Actually, the location of Hogwarts makes no sense at all if you look at the history of the British Isles as a whole, but that's another rant entirely.Especially since I not-so-secretly ship Regulus/Barty...
Though actually including the pairing would be awkward as hell under the circumstances, so maybe just feels?I think it would get to the point where people would be giving Sirius the side-eye as well and wondering if 'Harry' was the result of an affair. *sniggers* So that's my big idea for Regulus-fic, if you think I should go for it.The epilogue felt very pasted on. It completely changed the tone of the end of the book and...guh. No. Just no.
I actually kind of like the idea of 'Master of Death', but I wish more had been done with it. As a potential horror or fantasy trope it's very promising, and it makes me wonder what the Peverell brother must have got up to. (I subscribe to the theory that The Tales of Beedle the Bard were very much watered down and that the truth was likely very different.) Still, not much was done, and the whole thing fell kind-of flat in the end. Like it served its purpose as a way to get Harry to live through fighting Voldemort and nothing beyond that. You?
no subject
I agree with the reduction of costs for siblings, that's very likely. But would they qualify for scholarships or bursary on basis of muggle grades? Maybe there is some kind of student loan which you just have to pay back later without interest? (that's the system here for universities)
I always thought that Lupin's situation was unique, because he was so young. Most children probably aren't assaulted (because they're not outside at nicht) and if they are, die.
Hagrid on the other hand, well, Madame Maxim also went to school. And wasn't Professor Flitwick part goblin as well? I don't think that Hagrid was very exceptional. There was a half-vampire singer somewhere, and the half-veelas as well. The wizarding world (Voldemort aside) very relaxed considering such children of mixed blood.
The Gaunts... well. They're like a horrible version of the worst side of the wizarding world.
Regulus/Barty? I haven't imagine them before. How would that work out, after all Barty is a bit fantatical while Regulus in the end worked against Voldemort. It's like they can't have a happy end.
Your idea sounds unique and like great fun. ^^
I can only agree with your thoughts on the 'Master of Death'. I would've loved to see the idea explored. I have thought a long time what the title actually meant. I don't think Harry would really be the boss of Death - but there are so many other possibilties. Maybe he "mastered" his own death and as a result is own life, which would mean immortality. Or maybe he can become a true necromancer. Who knows. But I would've loved to see more.
no subject
Our university system works like that too. Again, though, it depends on how similar the Wizarding government is to the Muggle one. Every scholarship or grant to attend a private school (which is what Hogwarts would be) is funded by the school itself rather than the government. They run state schools, which are free, so they're of the opinion that if you want to pay for your child's education then you can pay for it on your own. Hogwarts may not take Muggle grades into account, but the students may have to achieve a certain standard in each of their classes in order to keep their scholarship, which is definitely something I can see Snape and Riddle managing.
Doesn't it mention that Greyback preferred to attack children? Lupin's situation may be rare, but he's probably not unique. Hagrid and Flitwick are the only ones we know of who attended Hogwarts. The others were all educated in Europe, and they may have entirely different educational policies. When Rita Skeeter lambasts Harry over 'Dark tendencies in the fourth book, she mentions Hagrid like it's a huge scandal (and she outs Hagrid as a half-giant as well) and that, while not being representative of the whole population, does imply that 'half-breeds' are seen as undesirable by more people than just Umbridge.
The Gaunts are the worst. They do go somewhere to proving my point, though. If every magical child in Britain attended Hogwarts, then Merope would have gone there (and quite possibly, given what we know of her, used it as a chance to escape her family).
Regulus/Barty is an utterly doomed pairing, but they are around the same age and would have known each other in school and joined the Death Eaters together. They end up with different attitudes towards Voldemort, but there's definitely common ground.
I'll just have to have a go with it then ^.^
I like to think that the Peverells were necromancers who ended up being glorified in legend as the moral of a story (that defying death is futile). ^.^ It's something that's really, really interesting and that I love to see explored in fic (and that I like to explore myself) and yeah. One of those cases where a lack of details is both exciting and really disappointing.
no subject
Harry is also kind of different from Lily, I think. She was shown as being quite unforgiving, while I think Harry is more ... flexible? He has been shown that the bad can be good and vice versa.
Hogwarts is definitely run like a private school. But are their state schools as well?
They probably have a bit of like the Bafög programm (that's how it's called here). The state gives you the money so you can study at university. And if you leave with top grades you don't have to pay back. If you pay it back, you start 5 years after leaving universty and with no interest.
Through that every child would go to Hogwarts. Also, in Harry's case it was mentioned that his parents paid "at his birth". Why would they do that? Maybe there is a reduction in price the earlier you pay?
Though, Lupin was the only werewolf child in Hogwarts. Why would Dumbledore allow one but not the others?
True, there definitely was a scandal there, but let's be truthful it was also kind of obvious and no one had said anything before. So maybe it's something that doesn't exist as long as no one talks about it? Also, it seems that Dippet and Dumbledore both allowed 'half-breeds'.
I always thought that Merope was offered an Hogwarts spot, but that her father (brother/cousin/ ugh) turned it down in her steed.
It's a sweet pairing, with unavoidable tragedy. Barty/Regulus, the proof that love does not conquer all? <.<
Oh, now that's a nice thought. And makes those three artifacts even darker. You're giving me thoughts... I would love to see it myself.
Or even better - a time travel to the Peverell area. Harry would be shocked, to see them as kind of Dark Lords/ necromancers.
Wouldn't it be fun, if Harry would be the one to kill them all in the end instead of Death?