Children of Sin

Chapter 42

Silence overtook the room, at least for a few moments. It seemed that people didn't know what to say.

"So they were mine all along," Rabastan muttered to himself, "all along, the children have been mine."

"I should've known," Elladora cursed herself, "the older boy, well Damian, is a near carbon copy of Rabastan at that age. The blond hair, the eyes, the freckles, the glasses, all of that threw me off."

"I've known for a little over an hour," Regulus hesitantly spoke up, catching his parents' attention. "Victor has Rabastan's eyes. When he got serious, all I could see was Rabastan's glare."

"Clever," Orion praised his son, "you should have told me though."

"I didn't want to be wrong," Regulus admitted, "I was basing it all off of a glare."

He also hadn't wanted to be the one to tell Larissa Greengrass the truth. Over the last few hours, or however long they'd really been here for, he'd come to rethink a few things in his life. He'd come to realize that the Dark Lord was wrong. Everything he was doing made no sense. He was only making purebloods suffer, killing off talented people, and propagating useless violence. Few people celebrated the Dark Lord's reign; many celebrated his downfall.

Regulus had just watched the life of someone scorned by the Dark Lord's reign. He'd watched the pain that a so-called pureblood went through, all for an action that had never been her fault to begin with. It wasn't the triplets' fault that they were bastards; Regulus understood that near immediately in the visions. However, towards the middle, he'd realized the same applied to half-bloods and muggleborns. They didn't choose their birth; neither did purebloods. If that was true, then why were only purebloods rewarded for their birth? Regulus had been thinking, thinking harder than he ever did. He would have to speak with Ms. Leanne Greengrass as soon as this was all over. She was a Slytherin pureblood who threw away the ideology. Perhaps she had the answers he sought.

"I always knew that he was scum," Sirius scowled, glaring harshly in the direction of the revealed rapist. "He ought to burn in hell."

"Definitely," James agreed, a dark look in his eyes. He turned to look at his parents, and had to do a double take when he saw his mother brandishing her fan. "Mum, why does it look like you're about to go to war with that fan?"

"Oh no you don't, Effy," Fleamont grabbed onto his wife, cursing under his breath, "I am not having you invoke a goddess's wrath on our family over punching a despicable piece of worm in the face."

"She won't punish us," Euphemia retorted, anger flashing in her eyes, "hell, I'm certain she'd reward us for it. She's fond of the Greengrass girl; I'm certain she wishes to do it herself."

Fleamont sighed and returned to his useless battle. His wife was stubborn when she wanted to be; James got his tenacity from her.

"Are you alright?" Antiope put a gentle hand on her niece's shoulder.

"I'm fine," Larissa answered quietly, turning to the other Delancys who all clearly wanted to try and speak with her. All of them sported angry faces. "I'm not interested in talking right now, Auntie."

"Alright then," Antiope said, but still didn't remove her arm, "speak when you're ready. I'll be there to listen."

"We'll have to keep him under watch when we get back," Dumbeldore whispered to Moody, not wanting to cause a commotion, "inform the Order as well as the aurors."

"Monsters," Minerva cursed, "the entirety of that group. They deserve the hottest fires of hell."

Horace remained quiet. He couldn't say anything. It was his fault that this all happened. He had created the environment in which Voldemort rose. He was the head of house for most of the death eaters. Rabastan was his student. Rabastan, like many of his former pupils, had done something abominable. He had long grown accustomed to the pain he was feeling at the revelation. It was, unfortunately, second nature by then.