Twin Stars of the Black Family

November 3, 1959.

The delivery room at 12 Grimmauld Place was filled with tension and gravity.

Walburga Black lay on the four-poster bed, her long hair soaked with sweat.

Three witches skilled in healing Magic stood around the bed, their robes embroidered with the Black family crest: Twin Stars and Sirius.

Deep indigo family Ritual flames burned in the Fireplace.

"Push, Madam," Chief witch Elma said softly, her Yew Wand tracing a gentle arc through the air.

When the midnight clock struck its eleventh chime, a baby's cry tore through the silence.

Orion Black stood beside the bed, his expression solemn.

He wore a dark green robe, with the family brooch pinned at his collar: Sirius set in black Diamond. At thirty, he was already the thirteenth Patriarch of the family.

Walburga smiled weakly. "Let me hold him."

The baby was placed in her arms. She lowered her head to gaze at the wrinkled little face, her Fingers gently brushing the lock of black baby hair on his forehead, destined to become defiant curls.

"His name?" Orion asked.

Walburga answered without hesitation. "Sirius. The brightest star in the night sky, a navigator who never loses his way. He will lead the Black family to new glory."

The Portraits on the walls all nodded. A female Ancestor wearing a Victorian era high collar said softly, "A fine name. But remember, even the brightest star can be obscured by storms."

"Welcome to the Black family, Sirius," Orion whispered as he bent down. "May you prove worthy of that name."

The Nursery at 12 Grimmauld Place was located in the east wing of the third floor. Dark green carpet covered the room, and moving Magic Tapestries hung on the walls, depicting the great deeds of Black Ancestors.

One Ancestor had tamed a Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon, while another had defended Gringotts during the Goblin Rebellion.

There was another, too. In the picture, he looked down arrogantly upon the room. He had once served as Minister for Magic, though he had been forced to resign after only four months in office.

One afternoon, when Sirius was ten months old, Walburga was entertaining her sister Druella Black in the next room. Kreacher stood beside the cradle, using his long Fingers to straighten the silk bedding.

Sirius held onto the railing and wobbled to his feet. His little legs could not support him for long, but he remained standing, his gray eyes fixed on a Silver Bell toy lying on the carpet three feet away.

He reached out, and the Silver Bell rolled half an inch toward him.

Kreacher gasped, then immediately began banging his head against the nearest table leg. "Bad Kreacher! Kreacher did not notice little Master's Magic Power awakening! Bad! Bad!"

When Walburga rushed into the room, her face was filled with wild joy. "He stood up! At only ten months! Orion, did you see?"

Orion stood in the doorway, a complicated expression flashing across his face. "Too early. His Magic Power awakened too early as well."

"It's talent!" Walburga scooped up her son and showered his cheeks with kisses. "My little Sirius, you were born to do great things."

From that day onward, his pure-blood education began.

Every afternoon, Walburga would hold Sirius before the family Tapestry. It covered an entire wall, its golden and silver threads depicting a thousand years of Black family lineage.

Some branches had been scorched away. They were the traces of those disowned, like ugly scars.

"Look here," Walburga said, pointing to the top of the Tapestry. "This is our first-generation Ancestor, Linfred Black, a healer from the twelfth century. He laid the foundation of the family."

By the time Sirius was one, he could already speak in complete sentences. One afternoon, he pointed at a burned name on the Tapestry and asked, "What happened there?"

Walburga's face darkened. "That was your great-aunt Cedrella. She made an unforgivable mistake and married a Muggle. So her name was burned away, erased from the family. Never make such a mistake, Sirius."

January 15, 1961.

The winter of 1961 was especially cold. London's streets were blanketed in snow, and thin ice had formed along the edges of the River Thames. But at 12 Grimmauld Place, protective Magic kept the indoors warm as spring.

Walburga's second delivery was more difficult than her first.

Her labor pains had begun at midnight on January 14 and lasted a full sixteen hours.

At three in the morning on January 15, Walburga's screams reached their peak.

Then came a baby's cry, softer and briefer than Sirius's had been.

Orion hurried forward and asked Walburga, "His name?"

Walburga looked at the unusually quiet child in her arms. His eyes were the distinctive gray of the Black family, calmly taking in everything around him.

"Regulus," she said softly. "The heart of Leo, the second-brightest star in the sky. Unassuming, yet indispensable. Steadfast, loyal, eternal."

Orion gave him a middle name. "Regulus Arcturus Black."

Walburga placed Regulus in the cradle and almost immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

Orion stood between the two cradles. On the left, two-year-old Sirius slept soundly in his own cradle, one hand reaching through the railing as he clutched his favorite Silver Bell toy.

On the right, the newborn Regulus lay quietly, though his eyes were open. He was watching Sirius in the cradle opposite him.

And as though he sensed something in his sleep, Sirius turned over, facing the direction of his younger brother as well.

Regulus moved his eyes. There lay a two-year-old boy—Sirius, the man from the original story who would betray his family for his beliefs and ultimately die beyond the Veil. His older brother.

Deep within his soul, the adult soul from another world sighed soundlessly.

Then, with a baby's still-undeveloped brain, he struggled to form his first clear thought:

I will not repeat Regulus's tragedy. I will take a different path.

Outside the window, London's night sky was unusually clear.

The winter constellations stood out sharply. Orion hung high in the south, Taurus shone in the east, and between them was the brightest star in the night sky: Sirius.

Not far from it, the Regulus star of Leo flickered quietly, dimmer, but steadfast.

On Sirius's second birthday, Walburga held a small celebration in the garden.

Although only close relatives of the Black family had been invited, the occasion was still grand. House-elves used Magic to make roses bloom in winter, silver Tableware flew into formation on its own, and even the garden fountain had been temporarily enchanted to spray lemon juice, simply because Sirius liked sour flavors.

At the banquet, Regulus sat on Walburga's lap.

He wore an exquisite Dark green velvet infant's outfit, with a tiny silver brooch pinned at his collar. He looked at no one, merely staring into the distance.

"What is he looking at?" Walburga followed her son's gaze. It led to the garden wall, covered in old vines. There was nothing remarkable about it.

"Perhaps he's watching the light glinting on the vines," Druella guessed. "The sunlight catches the dew. It sparkles beautifully."

But where Regulus was looking, there was actually a nest of Bowtruckles. The tiny creatures hid deep within the vines, invisible to ordinary people—and even to wizards.

Yet whenever the Bowtruckles moved, they caused the faintest disturbance in the surrounding Magic Power.

Regulus could sense it. From the conversation between Druella and Walburga, however, he guessed that neither of them could.

After hesitating for a long time, Walburga finally asked Orion one afternoon, somewhat uncertainly, "Is Regulus... a little slow to react?"

At the time, Regulus was one year and three months old. Sirius, at the same age, had already been running all over the house and speaking in complete sentences.

But Regulus was always unusually quiet. He rarely made a sound and responded slowly to outside stimuli.

Orion set down the Daily Prophet in his hands and went to the Nursery, with Walburga following behind him.

Regulus was sitting on the carpet, with a Magic Picture Book spread open before him. It was Fantastic Beasts That Move, meant for children over three. The Hippogriffs in the book flapped their Wings, while Snidgets suddenly vanished and reappeared.

Orion observed him for ten minutes.

Then he walked over, crouched down to meet his son at eye level, and said to Walburga, "Look at his eyes, Walburga."

Walburga crouched down as well and looked into Regulus's eyes, but she could see nothing unusual.

Orion continued, "He isn't slow to react. He is listening, watching, learning, and observing at the same time. He is simply quiet."

As though to confirm his words, Regulus lifted his head and looked directly at his father for the first time.

Gray eyes met gray eyes.

Walburga did not understand why, but she quietly breathed a sigh of relief. She trusted her husband's judgment. Her son was not slow to react.