Fic: Dazzle
Another story about Regulus Black--a very young Regulus.
Title: Dazzle
Summary: Fear, a storm, a story, a kiss. And a memory young Regulus doesn't quite recall.
Rating: G.
Characters: Regulus Black, Mr and Mrs Black, Sirius Black,OC; No ships.
Warning: None.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Oh, and Electra Black isn't mine, either--she was created by Thistlerose for the story She Will Have Music, which takes place in the Midnight Conversations-verse.
Thanks to thistlerose for the beta, and for her patience.
DAZZLE
2 August 1966
Thunder rumbled, shaking the house as Regulus huddled in his bed, fighting not to cry or scream.
Regulus hated thunder. His parents had told him repeatedly that thunder was simply a met-e-or-o-log-i-cal phen-om-en-on--whatever that was--which was caused by two bits of air running into each other. Regulus didn't see how air or clouds could make noise. Even for grownups, that didn't make sense. He was certain that thunder was a test Mother had magicked up to see how brave he was, because she got so unspeakably angry when he screamed or wept with fear.
If Sirius had been less impatient with what he saw as Reg's babyish fears and "softness," Regulus would have confided in the older brother he fiercely loved. He would have admitted that he was afraid of the thunder, the light, and the horrible hungry writhing shadows that leaped into his room along with the dazzling blaze of lightning.
The problem was that Sirius was never frightened--never even seemed to know the meaning of fear--so how could Regulus speak of his own terrors?
Their parents had punished Regulus before for being fearful, cowardly, un-Black. And the spankings hurt, as they were meant to. The harsh lectures afterward always left him in tears, and thoroughly disgusted with himself.
But seeing disappointment, contempt or hatred in Sirius' eyes because of Reg's cowardice would be much, much worse.
So, this past spring, Regulus had braced himself for the worst and tried to explain to Mother and Father that he didn't like the thunderstorm tests. He was afraid of the way the house shook during a thunderstorm as if it were being struck by angry fists. He told Mother about how the thunder got into the walls and made the windows and his bed tremble, and how the thunder was the footsteps of a troll, an ogre or a dragon. He even nerved himself to speak about the evil white light that came with the thunder, filling his whole room with a glare that stripped the colour from the world as it dazzled and blinded him. The storms and the fear got more horrible every time, and he knew he wasn't being a brave Black, and he was so so sorry, but could they please, please, /please/ stop it?
He said nothing to Kreacher. But his mother did.
He knew this, because shortly after he tried to tell her these things, his mother had summoned another thunderstorm.
And Kreacher had come to his room, had opened all the drapes and had taken all the candles and matches that Regulus had kept hidden.
And had left him alone.
With the thunder.
In the dark.
He'd sobbed hysterically, and then screamed until his throat was raw.
And the next day, Mother had been furious.
She'd ordered Father to punish him. Father had. He'd dealt with Regulus privately in the study. With a belt. He hadn't stopped using it until Regulus stopped crying.
"You will not scream or cry about things that don't matter," Father had said in a cold voice when it was over. "We do not scream at thunder, run from lightning or cry because we are alone in the dark. We are /Blacks. / Such behaviour is unworthy of our family, our blood and our name. I will not have it. Nor will your mother. And if you cannot learn that lesson, we will make arrangements for someone else to care for you. We will not have a coward for a son. You are two-and-a-half years old. Nearly three. That is more than old enough to put away childish fears. Do you understand?"
No, Regulus hadn't understood, but that wasn't important. What mattered was that Mother and Father were angry because he was a coward and a disgrace to the family. What mattered was that he was such a coward that they had stopped loving him, and were willing to give him away to strangers.
He'd never see them again.
He'd never see Sirius again.
And his brother, who was never frightened of anything, would hate him.
So he could not cry, and could not scream. Maybe if he acted brave, Mother and Father would think he really was, and would love him again...just a little.
He'd been trying to do so for nearly four months. He thought, sometimes, that Mother and Father had noticed him trying to be a proper Black.
But on thunderstorm nights, oh, it was hard to be brave.
Regulus rubbed his eyes with his fists, glanced toward the window, shivered, then resolutely closed his eyes. Another rumble of thunder was coming, along with that blinding, burning light. He could feel the echo of the thunder in his bones.
Lightning flashed so brightly that Regulus (whose eyes had peeked open just a crack) almost cried out in pain.
/Can't cry. Mustn't scream. /
Instead, he turned his back to the window and stared into a shadowed corner, trying to force his eyes to adjust to darkness, attempting to make the red and blue dots floating before his eyes vanish.
"Are you all right?" a voice inquired.
"Guh!" And Regulus jumped, nearly losing his balance and falling onto the floor. He righted himself just in time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
Regulus gazed up at the figure standing next to his bed. It was a girl. A /big/ girl, Regulus realised, probably a couple of years older than his brother. Clearly a Black--she had thick, wavy dark hair and pale blue eyes, just like his father and Sirius--but he'd never seen her before. She was dressed in a long-sleeved, white cotton nightgown that looked like a dress in an old portrait.
"Are you a ghost?" Regulus said, staring up at the strange girl.
The girl giggled. Not an eerie laugh, but a full-blown bubbly giggle. Instantly, Regulus relaxed. No dead person (or evil person) could laugh like that.
Instead of answering, she sat down on the bed, which sank a trifle under her weight. Not as much as it would have under Sirius', but some. "There. Still think I'm a ghost?"
Regulus shook his head, not so much in denial but in appeasement. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her left hand.
Which was colder than ice.
"Poor circulation," she said matter-of-factly as Regulus flinched away. "That means that the blood in my body doesn't go every place it should, as fast as it should. I'm not dead, truly. Feel." She gripped his wrist with her cold fingers, raising his hand to her soft, warm face.
"Better?"
Regulus smiled and nodded, much more sincerely this time. Then a strange thought occurred to him. "Why are you here?"
"I knew there was going to be a storm tonight. And I heard Kreacher talking about you and how you're afraid of thunderstorms and the dark." The way in which she pronounced the House Elf's name said plainly that she considered Kreacher to be the lowest form of life in the universe.
"I'm not afraid," said Regulus indignantly. "I'm not. I'm a /Black. / Blacks aren't afraid of /anything. /"
The girl shrugged. "I'm a Black, and I get scared sometimes."
This was quite a new idea to Regulus, who had never met anyone, adult or child, who admitted to fearing anything. "You do? What scares you?"
The girl pulled him close and began rhythmically moving back and forth as if they were both sitting in a rocking chair. "Oh, lots of things. Like bugs. I can't stand bugs. They have too many legs to suit me. People whispering, because I never know what they're saying and I always imagine the worst. Getting sick. People I love being hurt or scared. Kreacher."
Regulus gaped at her. "You're afraid of Kreacher too?"
The girl nodded. "MmmHMM."
"Er--why are /you/ scared of him?"
The girl bent her head and whispered in Regulus' ear, inadvertently tickling him. "Because he's /awful. /"
The house shook violently as a deafening thunderclap exploded.
Regulus clapped his hands over his ears and whimpered. "Make it stop!"
The girl rocked him back and forth harder. "There you go," she crooned. "It's all right. Nothing to fear. Not from thunder. Not a thing."
"I /hate/ thunder," Regulus muttered. "It's like a big mean monster that wants to get in the house and eat me up."
The girl hugged him a bit tighter, then gazed down at him speculatively. "But you could beat the monster, couldn't you? You /are/ a wizard."
"I guess so," Regulus said doubtfully. "I haven't done anything magical yet."
"That's all right, " said the girl cheerfully. "I was a lot older than you when I first did something magical."
"How old?"
"Six, I think." She sighed. "I was sick almost all that year. It was awful. And then one day Kreacher came to take away a few things I'd found that no one else wanted."
"Like what?"
"Oh...an old doll and a couple of children's books from boxes in the attic. A rubber ball I found in the yard the year before. Just silly things. But then Kreacher came, saying that the books and toys had belonged to Blacks long dead, and that the mistress hadn't given me leave to look at them, let alone touch them and damage them. Then he said that the mistress was most displeased that I was turning out to be weak and worthless morally as well, and that he'd been ordered to take away the things I'd stolen."
"You're not weak and worthless!" Regulus whispered furiously, hugging the girl fiercely. "You're NOT. And you didn't steal--it's finders keepers."
"Well, Kreacher didn't agree," said the girl. "And he picked up all my things and he headed toward the door to my room. Only I wanted my books and toys back. And I wanted them so much that they flew right to me." She chuckled. "Kreacher spent the rest of the afternoon trying to grab my books and toys and having them fly away from him. He never did get hold of them again."
Regulus laughed, picturing the cruel, ill-tempered House Elf being bested by a child. He decided he quite liked the image.
More thunder, so loud that it seemed to be in the same room.
Regulus nestled closer to the girl, a terrified whine escaping from his throat.
"I know a story about a boy just like you who defeated one of the most evil creatures in the world," said the girl as she ran her fingers through his thick hair. "He even had the same name as you--Regulus Deneb Black. He was one of your ancestors. Do you want to hear it?"
Regulus nodded.
The girl spun a fantastic tale of the other Regulus, the proud and stubborn prince Cu Reul and the orphaned witch-girl Dilean who were his companions, and the evil monster that Regulus had sworn to defeat. What it was, no grown wizard or witch seemed to know, but as time passed, the three children learned that the thing was huge, with a rumbling voice, a single fiery eye and footsteps that made the earth tremble. At rest it seemed but to be a piece of midnight darkness, but it was rarely at rest, for it was old and clever, and it knew how to hide so that none could ever find it. It was adept at transforming into whatever its hunters considered familiar or beloved, and had beguiled and deceived many far wiser and more powerful than the three children.
As the three drew near its cavern, the monster reshaped itself into common, everyday things--a dog, a book, even Regulus' own mother. Yet the three were not deceived, for the dog was too gentle, and the book held nothing of dark magic, and Regulus' mother was too loving. So the children recognised the lies and banishing them by magic, made their way into the monster's sunless lair.
They battled for a long time, unable to tell if their magic was working against the beast (for no spells of light or fire would kindle in the cave). So loud was the beast's blaring voice, so bright was the glaring eye, that the three could not see or hear each other, and each one felt abandoned and alone. Then, as they, heartsick and losing hope, began to falter, the monster disguised itself yet again, transforming itself by turns into a timid, treacherous Regulus, an enraged and hate-filled Cu Reul, and a weak and dying Dilean.
The last was the transformation that undid the creature. As the false Dilean fell to the stone floor of the cavern, Cu Real bid Regulus, in a choked voice, to cover the girl's face. But as Regulus bent low over Dilean's body, he saw the fiery, blinding light shining beneath her closed eyelids, and he sprang up, shouting that his eyes had been dazzled by the monster, that they had all been tricked. And then the true Dilean's voice whispered in his ear, telling him to close his eyes and step forward. And so he did, whispering to Cu Reul to do the same.
Now the monster was helpless, for the three could not see its disguised forms, and their eyes were firmly shut against the light of its fiery eye. And the more it howled and stamped its feet, the more certain the three were of its location and size. And they smote it with sword and spear and spell until it died.
"Every once in a while, the ghost of the old monster comes back, all noise and flashing lights," concluded the girl. "But it doesn't have any power, not any more. And just think"--she tapped him on the nose--"it was one of /your/ ancestors that conquered it."
Regulus smiled sleepily and cuddled close.
She glanced toward the window. "The storm's almost over. I should go. If Kreacher catches me here--"
"Stay," Regulus pleaded, tugging on the sleeve of her nightgown. "Please stay."
"Well...all right. But only till you fall asleep."
Regulus immediately resolved not to go to sleep, no matter what.
The girl, who had ceased rocking during the storytelling, now began doing so again. Regulus was never sure at what point she started singing a sweet sad song in a minor key:
"Hush, little laddie, don't say a word,
Sister's going to buy you a mockingbird.
If that mockingbird don't sing,
Sister's going to buy you a diamond ring.
If that diamond turns brass,
Sister's going to buy you a looking glass.
If that looking glass turns grey,
Sister's going to buy you another day..."
Reg curled up on one side, snuggled down and smiled. As he closed his eyes, he felt something warm brush against his cheek and the soft words, "Good night, Regulus."
***
Regulus never saw her again. His sole memory of the nameless girl faded in a short time, and all but vanished. Even after Phineas Nigellus' portrait informed him that he had once had a sister whom his parents had erased from the family tapestry, even after Sirius told him a bit about Electra Black, he recalled nothing.
Then, during his fourth year at Hogwarts, he knocked a book off of a library shelf while searching for something else. Nothing impressive at first glance--just a book of plays by a wizard named Webster. Nevertheless, he started flipping through it, if only because reading the plays seemed marginally more interesting than searching for books that compared and contrasted the causes of the Eleventh, Twelfth and Thirteenth Goblin Rebellions.
He was flipping through the plays idly when three lines snagged his immediate attention. Feeling a long-faded memory of a song, a story and a storm half-stirring in his mind, he stared at nine short words:
"Cover her face;
Mine eyes dazzle;
She died young."
***
Author's Notes: Cu Reul and Dilean, obviously, were stand-ins for Sirius and Electra. The names are in fractured Gaelic. "Cu" means "dog" or "hound," and was a sobriquet often given to Irish chieftains. "Reul" means "star." "Dilean" is "electricity," which is the closest Electra could get to her own name.
The quote at the end is from the play The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster (c. 1580-c. 1625), and is spoken by a man upon the death of his sister.
Electra changed a few words in the song. It's supposed to be "hush, little baby" not "hush, little laddie" (my guess is that she felt that a two or three-year-old would be insulted by being called a baby) and she substitutes the word "sister" for "Mama" throughout, using the song to tell him who she is.
Title: Dazzle
Summary: Fear, a storm, a story, a kiss. And a memory young Regulus doesn't quite recall.
Rating: G.
Characters: Regulus Black, Mr and Mrs Black, Sirius Black,OC; No ships.
Warning: None.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Oh, and Electra Black isn't mine, either--she was created by Thistlerose for the story She Will Have Music, which takes place in the Midnight Conversations-verse.
Thanks to thistlerose for the beta, and for her patience.
DAZZLE
2 August 1966
Thunder rumbled, shaking the house as Regulus huddled in his bed, fighting not to cry or scream.
Regulus hated thunder. His parents had told him repeatedly that thunder was simply a met-e-or-o-log-i-cal phen-om-en-on--whatever that was--which was caused by two bits of air running into each other. Regulus didn't see how air or clouds could make noise. Even for grownups, that didn't make sense. He was certain that thunder was a test Mother had magicked up to see how brave he was, because she got so unspeakably angry when he screamed or wept with fear.
If Sirius had been less impatient with what he saw as Reg's babyish fears and "softness," Regulus would have confided in the older brother he fiercely loved. He would have admitted that he was afraid of the thunder, the light, and the horrible hungry writhing shadows that leaped into his room along with the dazzling blaze of lightning.
The problem was that Sirius was never frightened--never even seemed to know the meaning of fear--so how could Regulus speak of his own terrors?
Their parents had punished Regulus before for being fearful, cowardly, un-Black. And the spankings hurt, as they were meant to. The harsh lectures afterward always left him in tears, and thoroughly disgusted with himself.
But seeing disappointment, contempt or hatred in Sirius' eyes because of Reg's cowardice would be much, much worse.
So, this past spring, Regulus had braced himself for the worst and tried to explain to Mother and Father that he didn't like the thunderstorm tests. He was afraid of the way the house shook during a thunderstorm as if it were being struck by angry fists. He told Mother about how the thunder got into the walls and made the windows and his bed tremble, and how the thunder was the footsteps of a troll, an ogre or a dragon. He even nerved himself to speak about the evil white light that came with the thunder, filling his whole room with a glare that stripped the colour from the world as it dazzled and blinded him. The storms and the fear got more horrible every time, and he knew he wasn't being a brave Black, and he was so so sorry, but could they please, please, /please/ stop it?
He said nothing to Kreacher. But his mother did.
He knew this, because shortly after he tried to tell her these things, his mother had summoned another thunderstorm.
And Kreacher had come to his room, had opened all the drapes and had taken all the candles and matches that Regulus had kept hidden.
And had left him alone.
With the thunder.
In the dark.
He'd sobbed hysterically, and then screamed until his throat was raw.
And the next day, Mother had been furious.
She'd ordered Father to punish him. Father had. He'd dealt with Regulus privately in the study. With a belt. He hadn't stopped using it until Regulus stopped crying.
"You will not scream or cry about things that don't matter," Father had said in a cold voice when it was over. "We do not scream at thunder, run from lightning or cry because we are alone in the dark. We are /Blacks. / Such behaviour is unworthy of our family, our blood and our name. I will not have it. Nor will your mother. And if you cannot learn that lesson, we will make arrangements for someone else to care for you. We will not have a coward for a son. You are two-and-a-half years old. Nearly three. That is more than old enough to put away childish fears. Do you understand?"
No, Regulus hadn't understood, but that wasn't important. What mattered was that Mother and Father were angry because he was a coward and a disgrace to the family. What mattered was that he was such a coward that they had stopped loving him, and were willing to give him away to strangers.
He'd never see them again.
He'd never see Sirius again.
And his brother, who was never frightened of anything, would hate him.
So he could not cry, and could not scream. Maybe if he acted brave, Mother and Father would think he really was, and would love him again...just a little.
He'd been trying to do so for nearly four months. He thought, sometimes, that Mother and Father had noticed him trying to be a proper Black.
But on thunderstorm nights, oh, it was hard to be brave.
Regulus rubbed his eyes with his fists, glanced toward the window, shivered, then resolutely closed his eyes. Another rumble of thunder was coming, along with that blinding, burning light. He could feel the echo of the thunder in his bones.
Lightning flashed so brightly that Regulus (whose eyes had peeked open just a crack) almost cried out in pain.
/Can't cry. Mustn't scream. /
Instead, he turned his back to the window and stared into a shadowed corner, trying to force his eyes to adjust to darkness, attempting to make the red and blue dots floating before his eyes vanish.
"Are you all right?" a voice inquired.
"Guh!" And Regulus jumped, nearly losing his balance and falling onto the floor. He righted himself just in time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
Regulus gazed up at the figure standing next to his bed. It was a girl. A /big/ girl, Regulus realised, probably a couple of years older than his brother. Clearly a Black--she had thick, wavy dark hair and pale blue eyes, just like his father and Sirius--but he'd never seen her before. She was dressed in a long-sleeved, white cotton nightgown that looked like a dress in an old portrait.
"Are you a ghost?" Regulus said, staring up at the strange girl.
The girl giggled. Not an eerie laugh, but a full-blown bubbly giggle. Instantly, Regulus relaxed. No dead person (or evil person) could laugh like that.
Instead of answering, she sat down on the bed, which sank a trifle under her weight. Not as much as it would have under Sirius', but some. "There. Still think I'm a ghost?"
Regulus shook his head, not so much in denial but in appeasement. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her left hand.
Which was colder than ice.
"Poor circulation," she said matter-of-factly as Regulus flinched away. "That means that the blood in my body doesn't go every place it should, as fast as it should. I'm not dead, truly. Feel." She gripped his wrist with her cold fingers, raising his hand to her soft, warm face.
"Better?"
Regulus smiled and nodded, much more sincerely this time. Then a strange thought occurred to him. "Why are you here?"
"I knew there was going to be a storm tonight. And I heard Kreacher talking about you and how you're afraid of thunderstorms and the dark." The way in which she pronounced the House Elf's name said plainly that she considered Kreacher to be the lowest form of life in the universe.
"I'm not afraid," said Regulus indignantly. "I'm not. I'm a /Black. / Blacks aren't afraid of /anything. /"
The girl shrugged. "I'm a Black, and I get scared sometimes."
This was quite a new idea to Regulus, who had never met anyone, adult or child, who admitted to fearing anything. "You do? What scares you?"
The girl pulled him close and began rhythmically moving back and forth as if they were both sitting in a rocking chair. "Oh, lots of things. Like bugs. I can't stand bugs. They have too many legs to suit me. People whispering, because I never know what they're saying and I always imagine the worst. Getting sick. People I love being hurt or scared. Kreacher."
Regulus gaped at her. "You're afraid of Kreacher too?"
The girl nodded. "MmmHMM."
"Er--why are /you/ scared of him?"
The girl bent her head and whispered in Regulus' ear, inadvertently tickling him. "Because he's /awful. /"
The house shook violently as a deafening thunderclap exploded.
Regulus clapped his hands over his ears and whimpered. "Make it stop!"
The girl rocked him back and forth harder. "There you go," she crooned. "It's all right. Nothing to fear. Not from thunder. Not a thing."
"I /hate/ thunder," Regulus muttered. "It's like a big mean monster that wants to get in the house and eat me up."
The girl hugged him a bit tighter, then gazed down at him speculatively. "But you could beat the monster, couldn't you? You /are/ a wizard."
"I guess so," Regulus said doubtfully. "I haven't done anything magical yet."
"That's all right, " said the girl cheerfully. "I was a lot older than you when I first did something magical."
"How old?"
"Six, I think." She sighed. "I was sick almost all that year. It was awful. And then one day Kreacher came to take away a few things I'd found that no one else wanted."
"Like what?"
"Oh...an old doll and a couple of children's books from boxes in the attic. A rubber ball I found in the yard the year before. Just silly things. But then Kreacher came, saying that the books and toys had belonged to Blacks long dead, and that the mistress hadn't given me leave to look at them, let alone touch them and damage them. Then he said that the mistress was most displeased that I was turning out to be weak and worthless morally as well, and that he'd been ordered to take away the things I'd stolen."
"You're not weak and worthless!" Regulus whispered furiously, hugging the girl fiercely. "You're NOT. And you didn't steal--it's finders keepers."
"Well, Kreacher didn't agree," said the girl. "And he picked up all my things and he headed toward the door to my room. Only I wanted my books and toys back. And I wanted them so much that they flew right to me." She chuckled. "Kreacher spent the rest of the afternoon trying to grab my books and toys and having them fly away from him. He never did get hold of them again."
Regulus laughed, picturing the cruel, ill-tempered House Elf being bested by a child. He decided he quite liked the image.
More thunder, so loud that it seemed to be in the same room.
Regulus nestled closer to the girl, a terrified whine escaping from his throat.
"I know a story about a boy just like you who defeated one of the most evil creatures in the world," said the girl as she ran her fingers through his thick hair. "He even had the same name as you--Regulus Deneb Black. He was one of your ancestors. Do you want to hear it?"
Regulus nodded.
The girl spun a fantastic tale of the other Regulus, the proud and stubborn prince Cu Reul and the orphaned witch-girl Dilean who were his companions, and the evil monster that Regulus had sworn to defeat. What it was, no grown wizard or witch seemed to know, but as time passed, the three children learned that the thing was huge, with a rumbling voice, a single fiery eye and footsteps that made the earth tremble. At rest it seemed but to be a piece of midnight darkness, but it was rarely at rest, for it was old and clever, and it knew how to hide so that none could ever find it. It was adept at transforming into whatever its hunters considered familiar or beloved, and had beguiled and deceived many far wiser and more powerful than the three children.
As the three drew near its cavern, the monster reshaped itself into common, everyday things--a dog, a book, even Regulus' own mother. Yet the three were not deceived, for the dog was too gentle, and the book held nothing of dark magic, and Regulus' mother was too loving. So the children recognised the lies and banishing them by magic, made their way into the monster's sunless lair.
They battled for a long time, unable to tell if their magic was working against the beast (for no spells of light or fire would kindle in the cave). So loud was the beast's blaring voice, so bright was the glaring eye, that the three could not see or hear each other, and each one felt abandoned and alone. Then, as they, heartsick and losing hope, began to falter, the monster disguised itself yet again, transforming itself by turns into a timid, treacherous Regulus, an enraged and hate-filled Cu Reul, and a weak and dying Dilean.
The last was the transformation that undid the creature. As the false Dilean fell to the stone floor of the cavern, Cu Real bid Regulus, in a choked voice, to cover the girl's face. But as Regulus bent low over Dilean's body, he saw the fiery, blinding light shining beneath her closed eyelids, and he sprang up, shouting that his eyes had been dazzled by the monster, that they had all been tricked. And then the true Dilean's voice whispered in his ear, telling him to close his eyes and step forward. And so he did, whispering to Cu Reul to do the same.
Now the monster was helpless, for the three could not see its disguised forms, and their eyes were firmly shut against the light of its fiery eye. And the more it howled and stamped its feet, the more certain the three were of its location and size. And they smote it with sword and spear and spell until it died.
"Every once in a while, the ghost of the old monster comes back, all noise and flashing lights," concluded the girl. "But it doesn't have any power, not any more. And just think"--she tapped him on the nose--"it was one of /your/ ancestors that conquered it."
Regulus smiled sleepily and cuddled close.
She glanced toward the window. "The storm's almost over. I should go. If Kreacher catches me here--"
"Stay," Regulus pleaded, tugging on the sleeve of her nightgown. "Please stay."
"Well...all right. But only till you fall asleep."
Regulus immediately resolved not to go to sleep, no matter what.
The girl, who had ceased rocking during the storytelling, now began doing so again. Regulus was never sure at what point she started singing a sweet sad song in a minor key:
"Hush, little laddie, don't say a word,
Sister's going to buy you a mockingbird.
If that mockingbird don't sing,
Sister's going to buy you a diamond ring.
If that diamond turns brass,
Sister's going to buy you a looking glass.
If that looking glass turns grey,
Sister's going to buy you another day..."
Reg curled up on one side, snuggled down and smiled. As he closed his eyes, he felt something warm brush against his cheek and the soft words, "Good night, Regulus."
***
Regulus never saw her again. His sole memory of the nameless girl faded in a short time, and all but vanished. Even after Phineas Nigellus' portrait informed him that he had once had a sister whom his parents had erased from the family tapestry, even after Sirius told him a bit about Electra Black, he recalled nothing.
Then, during his fourth year at Hogwarts, he knocked a book off of a library shelf while searching for something else. Nothing impressive at first glance--just a book of plays by a wizard named Webster. Nevertheless, he started flipping through it, if only because reading the plays seemed marginally more interesting than searching for books that compared and contrasted the causes of the Eleventh, Twelfth and Thirteenth Goblin Rebellions.
He was flipping through the plays idly when three lines snagged his immediate attention. Feeling a long-faded memory of a song, a story and a storm half-stirring in his mind, he stared at nine short words:
"Cover her face;
Mine eyes dazzle;
She died young."
***
Author's Notes: Cu Reul and Dilean, obviously, were stand-ins for Sirius and Electra. The names are in fractured Gaelic. "Cu" means "dog" or "hound," and was a sobriquet often given to Irish chieftains. "Reul" means "star." "Dilean" is "electricity," which is the closest Electra could get to her own name.
The quote at the end is from the play The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster (c. 1580-c. 1625), and is spoken by a man upon the death of his sister.
Electra changed a few words in the song. It's supposed to be "hush, little baby" not "hush, little laddie" (my guess is that she felt that a two or three-year-old would be insulted by being called a baby) and she substitutes the word "sister" for "Mama" throughout, using the song to tell him who she is.