𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆, regulus black

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐦

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

"So," whispered Evan as he and Rune pulled on their protective gloves in Herbology. "Did you tell the orphanage that you won't be returning for Christmas?"

In those days before Rune's first year, Albus Dumbledore had wisely suggested that she keep her blood curse and circus performer life a secret from her fellow pupils. He had already prepared a story for her to explain her origins.

As far as everyone knew, Rune was given to an orphanage as an infant, after both her parents passed away. Born to a witch mother and muggle father, making her a half-blood who had not known of her witch abilities until Albus Dumbledore visited her before her eleventh birthday.

There was one piece of information Honorius had for her about where she came from.

Ever the ambitious man, Honorius, at the start of his Ringmaster career, had searched all corners of the world for beasts and beauties to perform in the circus of his dreams.

He wasn't a wizard, but he was something in the magic world that gave him the ability to find and control even the most dangerous of beasts.

As if by some miracle, he once told Rune, he had stumbled across a bundled-up a baby left on a tree stump, deep in the west woods.

He guessed the baby was no more than a Muggle, but some instinct had him picking the child up and taking it along with him, with the intention of turning her into a trapeze artist that would blow the minds of even the noble witches and wizards.

From the time the child had learnt to crawl, she had been trained and perfected in dance and flexibility, and before her fourth birthday, she was already on the stage.

It seemed Honorius had yet another miracle to encounter because one morning, he had found a meter-long serpent in the cage where the little girl had fallen asleep in.

His terror was short-lived and quickly turned to awe when the serpent began to uncoil and melt down to reveal the girl.

The Ringmaster, striking and calculating, dug into his pocket and unlocked the cage at once. With slow, determined steps towards the girl, a smile like never before spread over his lips.

He looked down at the girl and said, in a gentle voice, "Rune."

A name for her. For the first time in her life, something that belonged to her.

Rune. For the mystery she was.

On her tenth birthday, Honorius had allowed her to pick her own surname. She picked Westwood so if she ever came across the people who had left her in the woods, it would be easier for them to recognise her. Rune Westwood.

The mystery found in the west woods.

"Rune," came Evan's voice, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Did you?"

She shook her head, and before he could get started with his speech, Professor Sprout announced loudly, "No more than three to a stump for harvesting the pods!"

Evan and Rune found the stump beside Regulus, Rabastan and Barty and waited for a third person to join them.

"You're not going to bail on me again, are you?" asked Evan, with a whining lilt in his voice. "Every Christmas, you say the next one."

"Christmas is still over two months away, Evan. Bug me when December comes around, please."

A lone Gryffindor walked towards them but Evan grimaced, "Find another stump."

Rune nudged him and said, "We need one more person. You can join us."

Just as Evan started to complain, Professor Sprout asked, "Who can tell me what the pods look like?"