𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘

𝟎𝟎𝟒 ; 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

"Let me help you clean your robes."

"No, thank you. But I am perfectly capable of cleaning myself-"

Evelyn waved her wand nevertheless and all the dirt and slime from their wet clothes disappeared leaving behind clean and dry clothes with a pristine shine.

Wait. The lake.
What was she doing here?

Nobody should know where he was,
unless they were close, very close to the Dark Lord, which was not a very good thing in his case.

Because, Regulus Black was now a traitor.
Who has betrayed the Dark Lord.
~ and the traitor dies in the end,
the traitor always dies.

And he knew Kreacher would not have said a word about his location. His parents were already told that he was spending a few days with his friends and his brother didn't care. Nobody knew where he was.

The cave was empty when he first came here. How did she come here?

His hands immediately, instinctively reached for his wand, and he pulled himself up, the genetic Black paranoia and instincts taking over.

He held his wand in a tight and steady grip to the girl's graceful neck and managed to croak out, "Who are you?" His voice sounded scarily similar to nails scratching the chalkboard.

He, in this precise moment resembled his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, which he would have been very proud of if he had been the same boy he was when he wasn't branded as a servant to a petty half-blood with some daddy issues.

"You are Regulus. Regulus Black." The girl tossed him a weary smile. "You look incredibly much like your older brother. The resemblance is uncanny though I would say your eyes are much more pretty than his."

His grip tightened on his wand even more so (despite the heavy blush on his face), as his free hand grabbed the girl's wrist in a death grip. His nails pierced through her unmarred skin and red blood bled through slightly. The girl didn't flinch and kept his gaze steadily.

"Who are you?" he repeated. This time more forceful, more regal, more threatening.

"You know, the betrothed of the Dark Lord." She said with a sarcastic smile on her face.

Regulus stared blankly and increased his hold on her wrist and practically thundered,

"Don't play with me little girl, who are you?"

"I am not little and you wouldn't believe me if I told you." The girl replied with a nervous smile, trying to free her wrist from his strong grip which had started bleeding lightly.

"Try me, little one." Regulus answered, easing his hold on her but not letting go completely, wand still at ready pointed at her neck.

"I am Evelyn. Evelyn Potter."

"Don't lie to me, everyone knows there are only three living Potter's and you are not one of them." He stated, increasing his fold a little which earned him a flinch from the little girl. "Don't test my patience little one, it won't end well for you I can promise you that."

"I am not lying. I am Evelyn Potter born in 1980, as the seventh month dies. The daughter of Lord James Charlus Potter and Lady Lily Potter neè Even." The girl said in a small voice with her eyes shining with tears and pain, though she looked resolute not to let a drop escape her eyes.

Regulus was shocked, though he didn't let it show. His face blank of any emotions. He knew that though time travelling was uncommon especially so far behind, it was not impossible. And he trusted her, though he didn't know if it was a good thing, or a bad one.

Regulus didn't move, he kept his eyes focused on the little girl. "I am not like him, you know."

Evelyn looked confused. "I-"

"Sirius. I am not like him. We may look the same but we are nothing alike. Everyone loves him while everyone-" He stopped and abruptly moved away from her and turned his back to her looking in the distance, his stormy grey eyes troubled and clouded with emotions.

"You know Sirius was my Godfather."

Regulus didn't move. The only thing that told her he was listening was the little tilt of his neck in her direction.

"He was as brave as they came but he was a little reckless and that cost him his life."

Regulus turned to her slowly. "Tell me what happened to my family and, Everything."

He formulates it as an order.

It was a order.

◂ ❚ break ❚ ▸

When she finished, Regulus was grieving, his pure blood mask no more present.

Grieving for his family who suffered, for his brave father who died in pain, for his sweet mother who lived in agony, for his lion brother who was killed a murderer, for his diligent elf who died fighting in his name. But no will suffer this time, he will make sure of it. Voldemort will die. He has to.