Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
Warning: this chapter may contain some mature content
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December 24th, 1978
Christmas, they said—spend it with your loved ones.
Avery Greengrass was nothing if not loyal to tradition, even if she had to bend a few rules to honor it. And this year, she was determined to spend the Christmas holidays exactly as the saying advised.
After weeks of subtle persuasion, expertly placed concern, and a little emotional blackmail, she had somehow convinced Regulus to stay at her home over the holiday break. Ostensibly, they were to work together on uncovering more of Voldemort’s secrets—an effort that demanded time, privacy, and clever secrecy. She had even helped him craft the perfect excuse for his mother: vague whispers of demanding Death Eater business, something that required discretion and, most importantly, several days away from Grimmauld Place. Walburga Black hadn’t questioned it. If anything, she’d looked proud.
Avery knew it was dangerous to harbour him like this while he was working behind Voldemort's back pretending he was just a loyal little soldier. But the risk only made it feel better. She admitted to herself that it wasn’t just about the mission; she just wanted him here.
The snow outside hadn’t stopped falling for hours, blanketing the world in silence. Inside the Greengrasses’ manor, everything felt warmer and safer, from being tucked away from everything that haunted them outside those walls. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the grand sitting room. Dark velvet drapes were pulled tight against the chill, and the scent of cloves and orange peel lingered in the air from Melissa’s earlier tea. A stack of aged parchment and brittle files sat on the coffee table, guarded by Avery’s mother like they were sacred artifacts.
Regulus sat upright on the edge of an armchair, hands folded neatly in his lap. His usual elegance was intact, but Avery could see the faint crease between his brows. Melissa sipped from her teacup, eyes flitting between the two of them before she finally spoke.
“I hope you two realize what you’re asking of me,” she said evenly, placing her cup down with a deliberate clink. “Finding magical birth registries from the 1920s is one thing. But cross-referencing them with Muggle orphanage records?”
She raised a brow at her daughter. “That’s two worlds of bureaucracy and concealment. And I had to get very creative.”
Avery leaned forward, her expression earnest. “And you did it. You wouldn’t be sitting here if you hadn’t found something.”
Melissa slid the folder across the table. Regulus leaned forward instinctively, but stopped short—waiting for Avery to open it instead. She did, her fingers suddenly shaky.
“I found records from Wool’s Orphanage,” her mother began, crossing one leg over the other. “And a magical birth registry entry from December 31st, 1926, which… shouldn’t have existed. It was buried under old enchantments designed to make it invisible to anyone outside the Ministry. Someone wanted Tom Riddle hidden from both worlds.”
