Hardwin's eyes landed on Regulus Black's right hand—or more specifically, the glinting golden ring that sat on his middle finger, bearing a black stone that more than likely was embossed with the crest of his family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, one of seven families to hold such prestige in magical Great Britain.
"Lord Black," Hardwin greeted in reply, bowing, as was expected of him. Professor Quirrell had insisted Hardwin learn the customs for Noble families. Even though Hardwin had self-expelled himself from the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, he was still a member of the magical community, and as such, it was expected of him to act accordingly if he wanted to gain standing with the prominent families that still followed their aged traditions.
Hardwin didn't particularly care, and it was such a simple thing to do that he didn't question it.
The traditions, however, only really applied outside the halls of Hogwarts. The members of staff were given certain leeway with their students since they were the ones with authority here, but many of the students, mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws, followed the traditions anyway as practice for when they left school and had to survive in the real world. It wouldn't do for them to fall out of habit and make a mockery of their families because they were unprepared.
"Call me Regulus," Lord Black told him. "If you are to be spending this summer at my home, the least we can do is build an informal relationship."
Hardwin nodded.
Professor Snape looked satisfied, but then he grimaced. "I hate to cut this short, but the headmaster was hoping to speak with Hardwin before the train departs in one hour. From what I can tell, it is not something that any of us will be pleased with—Dumbledore certainly didn't seem happy—so you may use my Floo to leave the castle. I will make an excuse for you."
"Thank you, Severus," Regulus said. "We will see you soon?"
"I plan on a visit next weekend," Professor Snape promised.
Regulus smiled. "Excellent. Now, if you will excuse us, Hardwin and I will take our leave."
Professor Snape gestured to his fireplace and Regulus swept past him, picking up a flowerpot full of glittering powder.
Hardwin's confusion must have been obvious, because Regulus explained, "Floo powder. Toss it in the fire and you enter the network. It's a method of near-instantaneous travel, depending on the distance between where you are and where you're going."
To prove that he wasn't as mad as he sounded, Regulus took a pinch of powder, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames, which roared and turned an emerald green, rising higher than either man stood.
Hardwin gaped at the sight. He had seen several marvellous feats of magic over the last ten months, but this was the most beautiful to watch, in his opinion. It made him excited to see more.
"I'll go first," Regulus said. "The first trip can be rough, so it will help to have someone on the other side, ready to catch you if you need it."
That brought Hardwin from his wonder. "What?"
Regulus smirked and stepped into the flames. He shouted, "Grimmauld Place!" and vanished.
"Do speak clearly," Professor Snape drawled. "I have no desire to spend my day chasing you down, should you wind up coming out of a grate somewhere you shouldn't have."
Hardwin swallowed thickly, feeling apprehensive.
"Relax," Professor Snape instructed. "So long as you keep your elbows tucked in and your eyes closed, you will be fine. The Floo network's magic will guide you to your destination."
Trying hard not to imagine his body burning to ashes because the magic failed to work for him, Hardwin took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped up to the fire. He took a deep breath to settle his nerves, utilizing what basic training in Occlumency he possessed, and scattered the powder into the flames before stepping inside them.
The fire was, thankfully, not setting him ablaze. If anything, it only felt like a warm breeze.
"Grimmauld Place!" Hardwin shouted, as Regulus had.
Hardwin's stomach plummeted as if he had fallen off a steep cliff, accompanied by a deafening roar as the flames consumed him. He was spinning at dizzying speeds and felt as if he would throw up if this didn't end soon. As tempted as Hardwin was to see what it looked like, he kept his eyes shut tight and his arms folded into his body, just as he had been instructed.
And then he was sent tumbling, face-first, out of the grate and into a pair of waiting arms.
"Easy there," Regulus said in a soothing voice, holding him steady. He made no further movements to comfort Hardwin through the sickening feeling, but it was better than nothing.
Once Hardwin was confident he wouldn't throw up all over the man who was welcoming him into his home for the summer, he opened his eyes and looked around.
They were in a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire behind them Heavy iron pots and pans hung from the dark ceiling, and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room. On the opposite end was a doorway to a narrow hallway with stairs going up.
"Welcome to the House of Black," Regulus said, smiling fondly around the room. He looked down at Hardwin. "Come —let us find my family for introductions."
They searched through the dark and gloomy home until they reached the library. As they walked, Hardwin couldn't help but notice that every single light fixture—chandeliers, candelabras, and even single candles—were all shaped like or decorated with silver serpents.
A beautiful woman who could only be Regulus's wife was reading a book aloud to a girl whose head was bowed over a parchment, scribbling away with a quill. The woman's golden blonde hair was set in elaborate curls—something that seemed like a hairstyle a member of the royal family would wear—and her icy, blue-white eyes locked onto the newcomers the moment they entered.
"Welcome home, my lord," she said, rising to her feet and sweeping towards them. Her gaze fell on Hardwin, who stood a couple steps behind Regulus. "Who is your companion?"
Regulus gestured for Hardwin to step forward. "This is Hardwin Potter. He has just finished his first year at Hogwarts. Due to some… unpleasant circumstances, he will be staying with us this summer."
The woman elegantly raised a single eyebrow at Regulus; a silent query for further explanation.
Regulus shook his head, however, and turned back to Hardwin. With a gesture at the woman, he introduced, "This is my wife, Lady Hera Black, and our daughter, Altair."
Hardwin bowed. "My lady. I thank you for accepting me into your home."
While she may not have personally done so, her husband's authority as Lord of the House exceeded hers greatly, which meant that his decisions were hers and her actions reflected on him. If Hardwin continued to behave properly, then it would make the House of Black look poorly—if only to those who were in the know of the current situation— and that was something that no self-respecting witch or wizard would ever condone.
Sure enough, the sneer that had appeared on Lady Black's face upon learning his name diminished minutely. While she may hate him for being a Potter, if only by name and blood, his respect and acknowledgement of tradition had unmistakably earned him at least some favour with her.
She said nothing, though; merely nodded her acceptance and gracefully swept back to her daughter's side to continue with whatever task they had been working on before Hardwin and Regulus arrived.
Altair gave Hardwin a brief smile before returning to her parchment. She had her mother's eyes, yet looked more like her father. Unlike her father's black hair or her mother's blonde, Altair possessed wavy strands of silky dark brown.
"I'll have Kreacher prepare lunch," Regulus said over his shoulder, escorting Hardwin from the room.
Instead of heading back down to the kitchen, Regulus guided Hardwin further upstairs.
They stopped at the top landing, where there were two rooms. One had a nameplate that read Sirius, which Regulus glanced at sadly before turning to the second. There were deep scratch marks in the door beneath a small, somewhat pompous sign that was neatly lettered by hand.
Do Not Enter
Without the Express Permission of
Regulus Arcturus Black
Hardwin glanced at Regulus, who looked more than a little sheepish.
"My family was a bit invasive, growing up," he said by way of explanation. "I also charmed the door to stay shut unless I specifically opened it, but my grandfather, the Lord Black of the time, always used his authority as Head of House to negate whatever I did." Regulus sighed wistfully. "At least he wasn't as paranoid as my father, though. Orion Black was a right bastard, at times."
He looked at Hardwin. "You'll be staying in here, for now. It's private enough that we shouldn't bother you during the day, but still where we can keep an eye on you."
Hardwin nodded his acceptance. He had expected less, if he was honest with himself; the fact he was being given a real bedroom in the first place already made life ten times better than with the Dursleys.
Regulus's childhood bedroom was at least three times bigger than the smallest room at Privet Drive, where Hardwin had slept for the last month of his summer prior to starting at Hogwarts. It was decorated in the Slytherin colours of emerald and silver—draping the bed, the walls, and even the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with the family motto: Toujours Pur. The large bed had a carved wooden headboard that faced a tall window with long velvet curtains, and a chandelier, themed with serpents like all the others, hung overhead. On one side of the window was a tall wardrobe, and beneath the window was a desk.
"Kreacher," Regulus called.
A sharp crack sounded, and an old house-elf with baggy skin dressed only in a loincloth appeared. The only hair he had was tufts of white fluff in his large bat-like ears. The elf glanced at Hardwin with large, beady eyes before facing Regulus and bowing. "Master Regulus called for Kreacher?"
"Start preparing lunch," Regulus ordered. "I expect we will all be famished before long."
"Yes, master." The house-elf gave Hardwin a strange look before disappearing with another crack.
Regulus smiled down at Hardwin. "Feel free to call Kreacher whenever you need something. He may not treat you too kindly since you aren't a pureblood, but I'll instruct him not to say anything."
"Thank you, sir," Hardwin said sincerely. Regulus had done more for him in the last thirty minutes than the Dursleys had in his entire life.
"I'd offer you the use of the library, if Altair wasn't doing her lessons right now. She should be done before dinner, though, so you can use it then." Regulus looked around the room one last time. "I'll be down in my study, if you need me. Kreacher can take you. Welcome to the House of Black, Hardwin."
Without another word, Regulus swept from the room.
Hardwin's things arrived via house-elf moments later—Professor Snape had probably instructed one to take them from the school for him since he hadn't taken the Hogwarts Express. Hardwin unpacked and began filling the empty wardrobe with his… clothing. He was embarrassed that all he had, aside from his secondhand school robes, were Dudley's hand-me-downs, which were several sizes too large for someone as small as Hardwin, even if he had grown quite a bit over the school year.
Once he was finished unpacking, Hardwin pulled out a book and began to read.
It was half an hour later when Kreacher popped in to inform him that lunch was ready.
Hardwin set his book aside and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Seated at the far end of the table was Regulus, who smiled at Hardwin and gestured to the chair on his immediate right. At the opposite end of the table, closest to the door, was Lady Black. To her immediate right was Altair, who gave Hardwin a small wave when she spotted him.
"Let's eat," Regulus said once Hardwin had taken his seat.
Kreacher came into the room, levitating several plates of different foods over his head. Hardwin started off nervously, unsure how much he was allowed to take, but Regulus assured him that he could eat his fill. Hardwin noticed Regulus share a significant look with his wife, but both stayed quiet.
"What's Hogwarts like?" Altair blurted after a few minutes of silent feasting.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that later—after dinner, perhaps," Lady Black told her. Altair nodded, blushing. "For now, let us get to know each other." She looked at the only person at the table who wasn't a member of the family. "What interests do you have, Hardwin? Any favourite classes?"
Hardwin paused for a moment. He had never really been able to do what he wanted until he got to Hogwarts, and all he really did there was what Professor Quirrell had recommended.
"I enjoy duelling and reading," he decided. "I think Charms is my favourite class, though—either that, or Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"You would get along well with my cousin," Regulus muttered.
"Perhaps Altair can show you the library tonight while you discuss Hogwarts," Lady Black suggested.
Altair agreed without hesitation, looking excited.
"Thank you," Hardwin said. "That sounds great."
Regulus cut in, speaking in a would-be casual voice, but Hardwin could tell he was searching for a specific reaction. "I heard from Severus—Professor Snape, to you—that you managed to score fourth highest in your year on final exams, only beaten by two Ravenclaws and a know-it-all Gryffindor who essentially lives in the school's library."
Hardwin felt his face heat up.
"Really?" Lady Black looked more interested than before. "That's quite the accomplishment, Hardwin; you should be proud of it."
It took all of Hardwin's training in Occlumency to avoid embarrassing himself. This was the first time anyone had truly praised him, and it was coming from complete strangers. He had never once been told that he had done a good job — Professor Quirrell was always distant, more focused on Hardwin's failures than his successes, and Professor Snape merely scored him well and moved on without saying anything. The other teachers recognized his talent and intelligence, but they never went out of their way to show support, although Professor Flitwick gave Hardwin and encouraging smile whenever he was successful with their newest spell, which was better than nothing.
"At least Altair will have someone to help her, if she needs it," Regulus teased, ignoring the indignant "Hey!" from his daughter. "But that is beside the point: you scored very well on your final exams. If you keep that up, you'll be almost guaranteed prefect by your fifth year."
Hardwin kept his focus on his meal, unsure he could maintain his composure if he made eye contact.
The rest of the meal passed in relative silence. There was an occasional attempt at small talk that didn't go far, but for the most part, none of them spoke.
Hardwin wasn't comfortable talking about himself, and he was thankful that no one really pushed him to do so. Instead, he listened as Regulus and Lady Black discussed their respective jobs: Regulus worked as an Unspeakable, but was sworn to secrecy about everything else, and Lady Black had been an accomplished Healer at the magical hospital St. Mungos before taking time off to raise her daughter. Hardwin found it strange that a blood-supremacist like Lady Black would work as a Healer until she mentioned that her services were so expensive that only higher tier Noble Houses were wealthy enough to afford it, which meant she never had to deal with muggleborns.
Hardwin spent his afternoon in Regulus's old bedroom, reading a book about the history of the family.
According to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black: Toujours Pur, the Black family was originally from France during the Middle Ages—the late seventh century, specifically, which was more than fifty generations prior. Most members of the family took their motto very seriously, and Hardwin was more than a little disturbed to learn that Regulus's parents were second cousins.
The Blacks were, historically, proud members of Slytherin House at Hogwarts because of its respected and notable traits: cunning, resourcefulness, ambition, leadership, and lineage. Not all members went there, though, such as Regulus's disowned elder brother, Sirius, who had been cast from the family when he was sixteen years old.
Hardwin read about how the Blacks had used Slytherin traits to find success in magical Great Britain. They were famous and influential mostly because of their wealth and status as an ancient pureblood family, but also because of their tendency to hold esteemed positions in the Ministry of Magic, and even a headmaster of Hogwarts in Phineas Nigellus, the great-great-grandfather of Regulus.
He was the least popular Headmaster in Hogwarts' history, but that was irrelevant to the point.
After dinner that night, Hardwin answered most of the questions Altair had pertaining to what life was like at Hogwarts, but he had been forbidden by Lady Black to tell the excitable girl how students were sorted into their individual Houses. It was, apparently, some sort of tradition not to know, although Hardwin thought it was kind of stupid.
He wasn't nearly so foolish to say anything, however. Not when Lady Black was starting to see him for more than his blood and name.
The next day when Regulus returned from work, Hardwin was surprised, but not displeased, to see Professor Snape had accompanied him.
"Severus." Lady Black looked just as nonplussed. "What are you doing here?"
"I have something of great importance to discuss," Professor Snape said darkly. "I thought it prudent to share what I know at the earliest opportunity, and Regulus was more than accommodating with his schedule."
"Why don't we discuss over dinner?" Regulus suggested, giving his wife a pointed look.
Hardwin followed Professor Snape and the three Blacks into the kitchen. Kreacher hastily served their meal, and they all dove right in, the Blacks eating with much less elegance than usual. Conversation was light while they ate; Regulus was curious to learn what Hardwin had spent the day doing, and seemed pleased that he had been learning about pureblood families.
Once the meal was over, Regulus said, "Altair, Hardwin, would you give us a moment?"
"Actually," Professor Snape interjected before they could stand up, "I was hoping that Hardwin could join us, as this information involves him, at least somewhat."
"I'll find something for us to do," Lady Black said. She began steering Altair out of the room by her shoulders. "Reggie can get me caught up later."
After the door closed behind the two, Professor Snape flicked his wand at it.
"Privacy charms?" Regulus questioned, looking surprised.
"It is necessary," Professor Snape said firmly. "What I am about to share deserves the greatest secrecy that can be provided. Were the wrong ears to hear of it…" he trailed off pointedly.
Regulus looked worried at that, but Hardwin was frowning, trying to figure out what could possibly be that important while also involving him.
Professor Snape looked intently at Hardwin. "What I am about to tell you does not leave this room, understood?"
"Yes, sir," Hardwin vowed.
"What did you learn under Professor Quirrell's tutelage?" Professor Snape asked. "Tell me everything he taught you, and take care not to lie, for I will know if you do."
So Professor Snape was a Legilimens; that was useful to know. Hardwin wasn't yet accomplished enough with Occlumency to lie to someone that actively practiced Legilimency, having only been able to keep Professor Quirrell's brief, weak attacks out, but considering he shouldn't be capable of even that much, Hardwin was hopeful to find someone else who could teach him more.
The question was whether he trusted Professor Snape that much or not.
"Duelling and Occlumency," Hardwin said, seeing no harm in sharing what Professor Snape already knew—from what he was aware of, anyway.
Regulus looked surprised, but Professor Snape only nodded.
"You know Occlumency?" Regulus asked.
Hardwin shrugged. "Not very well, but enough to control myself. I can't keep out anyone who knows what they're doing, but Professor Quirrell said that was better than expected."
"It is," Professor Snape agreed. He was giving Hardwin a look that made him uncomfortable. "At your age, emotions are more rampant than those of an adult, making it far more difficult to control the mind." He paused for a moment. "The fact that you have as much control over your thoughts as you do will make the next few years interesting…"
Hardwin shrugged again, unsure how to respond.
Professor Snape sighed, suddenly looking like a tired old man rather than a teacher in his mid-thirties. His eyes held a weariness that seemed out of place on his normally-stoic face.
"This will be difficult to hear," he said, "but I feel that you, Hardwin, have more right than anyone else to know what I learnt from Dumbledore last night." He took a deep, slow breath. "The Dark Lord still lives."
A deafening silence filled the room.
Regulus didn't look surprised, but his eyes full of pure, unfiltered fear and his jaw was clenched.
Hardwin wasn't so sure how well he looked himself, yet he found it strange how he felt about the knowledge he had been given. A part of him felt like he should feel fear, yet he didn't. He was by no means excited about what Professor Snape had just shared, but he couldn't say that he was terrified, either.
It bothered him, just a little bit, how indifferent he felt about it…
"How do you know?" Regulus asked stiffly, looking as if he were hoping for a specific answer.
Professor Snape's expression was grim. "He was discovered at Hogwarts this year."
Silence once again reigned as that information settled in.
Hardwin frowned. He didn't see how the Dark Lord could have snuck into the castle with so many people around. He was sure that someone would have recognized the most powerful Dark wizard to have ever lived.
Then he recalled the rumours that Evan Potter had faced off against him less than a week ago.
"How is that possible?" Hardwin asked Professor Snape.
"He was, for lack of a better word, possessing Professor Quirrell."
Hardwin's heart plummeted into his stomach. He had been taking private lessons from the Dark Lord for eight months? The Dark Lord had had access to his thoughts and memories during their Occlumency lessons? No one had noticed a possessed teacher for ten months?
Hardwin felt like he was going to throw up.
He had trusted Professor Quirrell, the only person he had trusted at Hogwarts until that quiet, lonely Christmas Day when Professor Snape had given him a present in the form of a Sleeping Draught to help him rest.
Then he remembered…
"Professor?" Hardwin asked, almost fearfully. "Didn't you say that Professor Quirrell is the one who told you about what it was like at the Dursleys?"
Professor Snape gave Hardwin a look that he had always hated: sympathy. He chose to ignore it in favour of focusing on the problems presented tonight.
"Why would the Dark Lord help me?" Hardwin wondered. "What's so special about me that he would single me out like that?"
"No one knows the convoluted thought process of the Dark Lord," Professor Snape said slowly, yet there was a hint of hesitation, as if he knew someone who did—or at least had an idea. "It would not do to dwell on his reasons, but rather, appreciate that he did. The Dark Lord is far from merciful, yet he saw something in you that made him decide to help."
A chill ran down Hardwin's spine. "He wants something."
"It would appear so…"
The three wizards fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts and trying to think of what the Dark Lord could have seen in Hardwin that brought out a semblance of humanity from a monster. The Dark Lord had taken students in the past, Hardwin knew that much, but he had never heard about any being as young as he was.
"What do we do?" Regulus asked after several minutes. "We cannot let him return to power. Too many of us have turned our backs on him to avoid punishment if he does."
Hardwin gave Regulus a questioning look, but the older man was focused on Professor Snape. It was obvious that Regulus was a former Death Eater, but Hardwin couldn't help wondering what had changed to make him switch sides.
"We continue Hardwin's training," Professor Snape decided. "If the Dark Lord does indeed return to power, he would appreciate our efforts to continue what he has started. He will doubtlessly be… displeased… with our abandonment of him, but he may be more forgiving if we were to ensure that Hardwin is prepared for whatever task the Dark Lord has in mind."
Hardwin's gaze turned to the old wooden table. "What if I don't want to?"
"It does not matter what you want," Regulus nearly whispered. "Not if the Dark Lord is involved."
"He will do anything—anything—to achieve his goals," Professor Snape added darkly.
Hardwin thought deeply about everything, trying to think of something that would make sense, but he came up with nothing. Seeing no alternatives, he declared, "Then we do it."
"Are you sure?" Regulus asked. "You may not have a choice if you stay here, but we can find a way to get you out of the country if you truly don't want to play a part in this."
"Then he'll just punish you and track me down," Hardwin argued. "At least this way we have some control over what happens."
Both older wizards looked impressed.
"Are you sure you're eleven?" Regulus grinned.
Hardwin shifted in his seat. Considering he hadn't ever had a birthday party in his life and was making an educated guess solely on what he knew from Hogwarts, it was actually very likely that his age wasn't actually eleven and could possibly be twelve. Eleven was the starting age for first years at Hogwarts, but his birthday could have happened since then or not until August, for all he knew.
Assuming he and Evan Potter actually were twins, however, as the evidence implied—such as Lord and Lady Potter implying he was their child—then his birthday would be the same as the Boy-Who-Lived's, except Hardwin didn't exactly know when that was.
He really, really just utterly loathed the Dursleys.
"It is decided, then" Professor Snape said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen at Regulus's teasing comment. "I happen to be an accomplished Legilimens, so I can assist you in furthering your Occlumency."
"He can also kick ass in a duel," Regulus chimed in. "He can teach you at Hogwarts."
Professor Snape gave Hardwin a calculating stare. "Possibly…"
"In the meantime," Regulus grinned again, "I know someone who can help you with duelling while you're still on vacation. She'll love to meet you—you've got a lot in common, from what I've seen."
"Surely you don't mean—"
"It could be fun," Regulus dismissed, waving him off. "Besides, Hera will be there to monitor anything that goes wrong. She was a Healer before Altair was born, remember? She'll need the practice for when she picks it up again this autumn."
"I refuse to be in this house when she is," Professor Snape said firmly. The disdain in his voice when he said 'she' made Hardwin curious who they were talking about and what history they had.
"That's fine," Regulus agreed. "I rather enjoy having a home and not a pile of rubble, so it works out for everyone involved. Is there anything else to discuss?"
"No, I will be taking my leave." Professor Snape stood up and looked down at Hardwin. "I will come twice each week for your Occlumency lessons. I trust that you will keep up your exercises so I am not wasting my time?"
"Yes, sir," Hardwin promised without hesitation.
"Good. I shall see you on Thursday evening."
Professor Snape left the room, dispersing the privacy charms with a flick of his wand.
Regulus looked at Hardwin with a strange glint in his eyes. It was calculating and curious, and it made Hardwin very nervous; he couldn't stop himself from shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze turning to the table again to avoid eye contact.
"There's something unique about you," Regulus said after a couple minutes of silence. "It would be one thing for Severus to take an interest in you, but for the Dark Lord…?"
Hardwin shrugged meekly.
"I have some letters to send," Regulus announced, rising from his seat. "Just a word of warning: We have a meal with the rest of the Black family every Sunday. If you are uncomfortable joining us, you do not have to, but I think you will enjoy yourself if you do."
Regulus swept from the room before Hardwin could reply.
As Hardwin sat there, alone and staring at the old table, he had one thought on his mind: What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Over the next few days, Hardwin got to know Altair and Lady Black better while Regulus was at work, when he wasn't reading in the library. He found that he and Altair got along rather well, even if she was a bit over-excited at times—in his opinion, at least—but her enthusiasm for learning whatever she could from him was contagious, and Hardwin found himself enjoying the time they spent together.
When Sunday finally arrived, Regulus called Hardwin and Altair down to the kitchen.
Altair sprinted from the room excitedly, but Hardwin walked as normal as ever. When he got to the kitchen, he was surprised to see three women he had never seen before talking with Lady Black and Altair, who was hugging one of the women.
"Hardwin," Regulus smiled, "meet my cousins: Lady Bellatrix Lestrange and Lady Narcissa Malfoy. And this is my mother, Walburga."
The woman who was hugging Altair was obviously Regulus's mother. They had the same features and black hair, but her eyes were dark instead of grey.
Lady Lestrange was tall with pale skin and long, thick dark hair. She had a strong jaw and thin lips with heavily-lidded eyes that locked onto Hardwin with unnerving intensity. Whatever Regulus had told her about him, Hardwin was apprehensive to learn what the woman thought.
Lady Malfoy bore little resemblance to the other Blacks. She was tall and slim with very pale skin and blue eyes. Her long blonde hair stood out in the sea of dark hair the rest of the Blacks had, and she was giving Hardwin a calculating look, as if she didn't know what to make of him yet.
"So you're the one Regulus won't shut up about," Lady Lestrange said evenly.
Hardwin bowed. "I am Hardwin… Potter, Lady Lestrange."
She smirked at his distaste for his surname and her eyes gleamed. "I hear you like duelling."
"Not now, Bella," Regulus chided. "There will be plenty of time for that talk later."
Lady Lestrange's lips twisted with impatience.
"I believe you have met my son," said Lady Malfoy. "Draco."
Hardwin couldn't think of anything remotely nice to say about his classmate. "We've met."
Lady Lestrange muttered a few curses under her breath that, had the Dursleys been around and in charge, for some irrational reason, would have earned her a bar of soap for her next meal. When she realized Hardwin had heard her, though, she just grinned and winked.
"I still don't understand what you see in him, Cissy," Lady Lestrange grumbled.
"And I doubt you ever will," Lady Malfoy returned icily.
"That's enough," Ms. Walburga Black scolded. "We are here for a pleasant dinner. Your childish arguing can wait until you are not in the present of a guest." She gave Hardwin a cold look, as if he shouldn't even exist.
Hardwin knew with that single look that it would take a lot for him to like this woman.
Regulus clapped his hands. "Let's eat."
They all took their seats around the table. Regulus sat at the head, as usual, with Hardwin on his right; Lady Lestrange took the seat beside Hardwin, much to Altair's disappointment and Lady Lestrange's amusement; next was an empty seat, then Lady Black on the end across from Regulus, Altair next to her; Lady Malfoy sat across from her sister, and Ms. Black took the final seat on Regulus's left, directly across from Hardwin, fixing him with another cold stare.
"Draco tells me that you scored fourth in your year in the final exams," Lady Malfoy mentioned idly while they ate the meal Kreacher had prepared, not looking at Hardwin. The context was enough for everyone to know whom the words were aimed at.
Ms. Black looked a little more interested now, if still disdainful, but Hardwin said nothing.
"You must be proud of yourself, coming from a Muggle background," Lady Malfoy continued, and even a deaf man would have heard the condescending disgust when she said the word 'Muggle'—as if it were the foulest insult she could think of.
"I simply worked my hardest," Hardwin answered modestly, ignoring the barb.
"And yet you did not do best," Ms. Black spat, wrinkling her nose.
"The top three places were taken by two Ravenclaws and a know-it-all Gryffindor whose only talent is her unnatural ability to vomit the textbooks verbatim," Hardwin said calmly, despite the words used. "She wouldn't know how to genuinely apply that knowledge if someone used the Imperius on her."
Regulus and Lady Lestrange snorted, earning a scornful glare from Ms. Black; Lady Black's lips twitched; Altair had to stifle her laughter in her elbow; and Lady Malfoy smirked behind her drink.
"Aren't you a little young to know about the Unforgivables?" Ms. Black asked.
It was a loaded question.
"My tutor explained them to me," Hardwin answered honestly. Professor Quirrell had spent quite a bit of time explaining the theory behind the three spells that guaranteed life in Azkaban. Hardwin had been curious about them, and his teacher had been all too eager to explain.
At least now Hardwin knew why.
Ms. Black was giving him more of her attention than ever before.
"And who was your tutor?" she asked, but without the usual disgust in her tone. At least he seemed to be making progress at redeeming himself in her eyes. If he was going to spend his summer around these people, he would rather not be stared at like an enemy the entire time.
"We'll talk more about that later," Regulus interrupted before Hardwin could answer. At the questioning looks from his mother and cousins, his eyes flicked to Altair. They nodded their understanding. "How did Draco do on his exams, Cissy?"
Lady Malfoy's eyes flashed and she sneered, "Don't call me that, Reggie. And he scored adequately."
Lady Lestrange looked as if she were fighting a smirk. "Just adequately?"
Lady Malfoy glared at her. "He scored fourteenth in his year," she said evenly. "Supposedly, only three Slytherins beat his scores, the rest were Ravenclaws and the mudblood Gryffindor."
Hardwin hid a smirk behind his goblet, but Lady Lestrange's eyes flashed in amusement when she discreetly glanced at him. Hardwin was pleased that the arrogant prat hadn't done better than himself, Theodore Nott, and Daphne Greengrass—who scored fourth, eighth, and twelfth, respectively. Draco Malfoy had spent most of the year rambling about his superiority, only to be beaten in the final exam scores. It had been amusing to see his embarrassment at losing a top ten spot to a Hufflepuff—which Hardwin had a feeling Draco had neglected to mention to his parents.
He spotted Lady Black whispering something like a warning in Altair's ear.
When dinner was finishing up, Lady Lestrange turned to Hardwin with a glint in her eyes that made him feel like a cornered rabbit facing a tiger. "Duel?"
Regulus groaned while his wife smirked. Altair laughed aloud, looking eager.
"If you wish, Lady Lestrange," Hardwin replied neutrally.
"Excellent!" She stood from the table and clamped a hand on Hardwin's shoulder, as if ensuring he had no chance of escape from her clutches now that he had agreed. "There isn't a room for that here, so we'll have to take the Floo to Black Manor."
The fact that she had neglected to ask if that was okay didn't help Hardwin relax.
They walked around Regulus to the fireplace, and Lady Lestrange took a pinch of Floo powder. She tossed it into the flames, then stepped inside and shouted, "Black Manor!" She disappeared with a whirl of emerald fire.
Ms. Black scowled. "Well thank you for asking permission."
Hardwin stopped where he was and gave Ms. Black a cautious look.
"Don't worry about it, Hardwin," Regulus reassured. "My mother's been staying at Black Manor since my wife and I got married thirteen years ago. Usually it's where Lord Black stays, but I'm rather fond of my childhood home."
Lady Malfoy scoffed, "Fond is a bit of an understatement."
Regulus grinned.
"If you'll excuse me," Ms. Black said, rising from her seat. "I have an errant niece to keep an eye on."
She swept to the fireplace and mimicked Lady Lestrange's actions from moments earlier.
"Go on," Regulus prodded, gesturing to Hardwin. He smirked conspiratorially. "Enjoy yourself. Bellatrix can be quite… heavy-handed during duels. It's why she's one of the world's best, I suppose."
Hardwin stepped up to the flames and took a pinch of Floo powder for the second time in his life. He tossed it into the fire, shouted "Black Manor!" and was whisked away.
As he climbed into bed that night, Hardwin cursed Regulus for mentioning his interest in duelling to the absolutely insane and sadistic Lady Lestrange. He had managed to hold his own against her for just over thirty seconds before she stopped holding back and flattened him into the ground. It was particularly painful when she used the Cruciatus Curse to 'build pain tolerance'—something that made Hardwin's entire body ache and tremble even two hours later.
He knew that the spell was illegal, but it was his word against the Blacks', and he already knew which way that particular trial would go, considering he was essentially a muggleborn wizard with no money.
Besides, a part of him was actually okay with Lady Lestrange cursing him. It would help him to be prepared for what was really out there, instead of just the simple hexes and jinxes they had been taught about in school. This was real practice, not studying or hallway pranks, and Hardwin had a foreboding feeling that he would need to have this first-hand experience some day.
However, Lady Lestrange did agree to become his tutor, of sorts. She had already been writing out a list of hexes and curses she wanted to teach him when he left, and Hardwin was left wondering if he would survive the summer.
But as he lay in his bed, looking up at the ceiling above, he couldn't help but be grateful to the Dark Lord for getting him away from the Dursleys by speaking to Professor Snape.