In Shadows Part 4 (Orion, Regulus)
Title: In Shadows
Author: Alley_Skywalker
Characters/Parings: Orion,
Regulus, Filch, Severus, Evan, Avery , Draco, Antonin, Borgin, Horace
Slughorn, Cassiopeia Black, Lucius, Andre Rosier, Theodore Mulciber
Rating: PG
Parts: 5
Summary: The shadows hide some of the most significant (though they may not always
be identified as such in that instant) moments in our lives.
Notes: This is a cycle. That is, these are ficlets/drabbles that are unrelated
to each other aside from having a common theme, in this case, dark
potions and/or places. These ficlets were originally written as entries
for darkarts_ldws. This is a cumulative header, each part will be posted with its own title, word count, rating and warnings.
Title: Preparing for Purgatory
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Disownment rituals are much like funerals - somber, official affairs. They simply happen to be more private and a little more ritualized. There tends to be more anger than grief involved in the prior, but Orion thinks that that’s a variable.
Grimmauld Place is shadowy and strict on the brightest summer day. Now, with the ritual mourning in place, most of the curtains drawn, the portraits in utter hysterics, the Black family nest is dark and gloomy, imposing in a way that is meant to be discomforting. Walburga has gone down to meet the rest of the family. Only a few years ago they had done this for Andromeda and Walburga had sworn that she would never let Sirius bring such shame to the family.
They have both failed at that.
Orion smoothes out the velvet skirts of his tailcoat and reaches for his robes. In the large mirror, stands an aging man with sharp, aristocratic features, graying hair and richly embroidered clothes. A man who is about to burry his son alive.
The candlelight that lights the dressing room glints gold off the silver embroidery of the robes. They are of French tailoring, the heavy fabric still flowing and fluid. The broach holding the robes closed is the same hue of silver and black, displaying the Black family crest. Orion closes the clasp with a reverence, then reaches for the ring. The gemstone sparkles up at him for a moment, then fades into a steady black glow. It is framed in silver, the engravings of the sun on the frame - a symbol of the eldest son and family heir. Sirius disliked wearing his for formal occasions.
Sirius had always hated formalities.
It has always been strange to Orion because he had never minded them as a boy and Regulus partakes in family occasions with a sober expression of duty that Sirius could never assume even under threats of punishment.
Orion picks up his wand and slides his hand down the smooth length of the wooden rod. It thrums in an accepting familiarity of his touch. The ritual incantation flutters like a melody through his head and the candles around him flicker, as though sensing the ominous ritual to come.
The clock strikes quarter to midnight when Orion opens the door to the dressing room, emerging slowly into the dark hallway. At the landing, he stops and looks down. The house is dark, as per mourning custom, and only light from the tapestry room spills in long, yellow needles across the hardwood floor. Women’s voices carry quietly through the dusty silence. No sign of Kreacher anywhere, but he may be comforting Regulus.
Regulus.
Orion takes long strides down the hall to Regulus’ room. He knocks sharply, thrice, before pushing the door open. Orion’s youngest - soon to be only - son stands in the middle of the room, in full ritual robes, his long, black hair swept behind his ears and tied in a slender ponytail with a black, satin ribbon. Regulus is weaving his wand through the air in some complicated figure, muttering under his breath. He leads at his wand’s tip a purple string of magical light which dies the moment he notices he is not alone and lowers his wand. Orion wonders if this is something they are learning at the Academy with Dolohov, but now is not the time to ask.
Regulus sheaves his wand and looks over at his father. Orion notices, not without pride, that the boy has restrained his emotions. He will make a better heir than Sirius, Orion tells himself.
“Come, Regulus. It is time.”
Author: Alley_Skywalker
Characters/Parings: Orion,
Regulus, Filch, Severus, Evan, Avery , Draco, Antonin, Borgin, Horace
Slughorn, Cassiopeia Black, Lucius, Andre Rosier, Theodore Mulciber
Rating: PG
Parts: 5
Summary: The shadows hide some of the most significant (though they may not always
be identified as such in that instant) moments in our lives.
Notes: This is a cycle. That is, these are ficlets/drabbles that are unrelated
to each other aside from having a common theme, in this case, dark
potions and/or places. These ficlets were originally written as entries
for darkarts_ldws. This is a cumulative header, each part will be posted with its own title, word count, rating and warnings.
Title: Preparing for Purgatory
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Disownment rituals are much like funerals - somber, official affairs. They simply happen to be more private and a little more ritualized. There tends to be more anger than grief involved in the prior, but Orion thinks that that’s a variable.
Grimmauld Place is shadowy and strict on the brightest summer day. Now, with the ritual mourning in place, most of the curtains drawn, the portraits in utter hysterics, the Black family nest is dark and gloomy, imposing in a way that is meant to be discomforting. Walburga has gone down to meet the rest of the family. Only a few years ago they had done this for Andromeda and Walburga had sworn that she would never let Sirius bring such shame to the family.
They have both failed at that.
Orion smoothes out the velvet skirts of his tailcoat and reaches for his robes. In the large mirror, stands an aging man with sharp, aristocratic features, graying hair and richly embroidered clothes. A man who is about to burry his son alive.
The candlelight that lights the dressing room glints gold off the silver embroidery of the robes. They are of French tailoring, the heavy fabric still flowing and fluid. The broach holding the robes closed is the same hue of silver and black, displaying the Black family crest. Orion closes the clasp with a reverence, then reaches for the ring. The gemstone sparkles up at him for a moment, then fades into a steady black glow. It is framed in silver, the engravings of the sun on the frame - a symbol of the eldest son and family heir. Sirius disliked wearing his for formal occasions.
Sirius had always hated formalities.
It has always been strange to Orion because he had never minded them as a boy and Regulus partakes in family occasions with a sober expression of duty that Sirius could never assume even under threats of punishment.
Orion picks up his wand and slides his hand down the smooth length of the wooden rod. It thrums in an accepting familiarity of his touch. The ritual incantation flutters like a melody through his head and the candles around him flicker, as though sensing the ominous ritual to come.
The clock strikes quarter to midnight when Orion opens the door to the dressing room, emerging slowly into the dark hallway. At the landing, he stops and looks down. The house is dark, as per mourning custom, and only light from the tapestry room spills in long, yellow needles across the hardwood floor. Women’s voices carry quietly through the dusty silence. No sign of Kreacher anywhere, but he may be comforting Regulus.
Regulus.
Orion takes long strides down the hall to Regulus’ room. He knocks sharply, thrice, before pushing the door open. Orion’s youngest - soon to be only - son stands in the middle of the room, in full ritual robes, his long, black hair swept behind his ears and tied in a slender ponytail with a black, satin ribbon. Regulus is weaving his wand through the air in some complicated figure, muttering under his breath. He leads at his wand’s tip a purple string of magical light which dies the moment he notices he is not alone and lowers his wand. Orion wonders if this is something they are learning at the Academy with Dolohov, but now is not the time to ask.
Regulus sheaves his wand and looks over at his father. Orion notices, not without pride, that the boy has restrained his emotions. He will make a better heir than Sirius, Orion tells himself.
“Come, Regulus. It is time.”