𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒔 ~ 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 (𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤)

~ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ~

𓅓

That night, Beatrice fell into some sort of a restless sleep, life-like visions visiting her. They came and went; things like Hermione yelling and then her face turning into a swarm of bee's, or Draco's laugh ricocheting off the walls of a dank small black room, but there was a specific scene that stood out in her mind.

Something about the colors of the room or the cracks running along the wall or maybe the low voices sounding from a separate area of the house. But Beatrice felt a tingling sense of familiarity threaded throughout the entire dream.

She approached the door that was open by just an inch, and she peered into the room.

The room was grand in it's design, but it wasn't really all that big. The walls were a shade of grey-blue, and there was an extended wooden table stretching across the room.

Beatrice knew exactly where they were.

They were in her childhood home; Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Her father stood at the foot of the table, palms facedown and leaning his weight onto the sturdy counter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his lean forearm, and his hip was jutted out in a comfortable standing position.

He was obviously the leader of the group, and Beatrice was too busy taking in the sight of her father that the others in the room almost went unnoticed. There were several people that looked ready to kill, and there were others that donned a look of foreboding upon their faces.

"He should be here soon, so we need to devise a plan," Regulus spoke intelligently.

"What kind of plan? A plan to betray our Lord?" a new adult looking women with seemingly unending curly black hair slowly approached Bea's father.

"Regulus, we're suspicious of you, you know," a quieter blonde women spoke out in a tone that somehow subdued some of Beatrice's rising concern.

"I didn't?" he responded, but Beatrice had known her father well enough to know that his sudden defense was his way of misleading others.

"Yes we know that you've seen one too many things and have started to allow your cowardice to control you," another young blonde man practically spat at Regulus.

"I was not aware this was a place where rumors spread about," Regulus straightened his papers, as unbothered as ever. "Now if you can stop putting words into my mouth, I'd like to create a plan in preparation for the Dark Lord's return."

There were mumbles of agreement that sounded along the table as all of the witches and wizards started shuffling their papers.

A baby's cry from the other room made Regulus jump. "I have to..." he gestured out of the door.

"You have to get a sitter for that thing, you know. We got one for our boy," the stark blonde man gestured to the other blonde woman.

That kid must have unfortunate hair, she thought.

"Don't compare your Draco to my Bea," Regulus defended honorably, causing Beatrice to almost burst out laughing.

Regulus rushed out of the room to sooth a crying one year old. The modern-day Beatrice tailed him, not knowing if she could be seen in this dream.

He shuffled through the door, into the kitchen, turned left into a hallway, and then turned right into a large room where a baby lay. A mobile hung from above the old white crib, and there were some toys strewn about, hardly enough to fill a room as great as this. It was easy to say that the room was almost pathetic, Regulus was no interior designer, but he and Beatrice were determined to make the room home, so instead of filling the room with expensive and elegant furniture and ornaments, they filled it with love and laughter. (1*)