Betrayal of the Black

forty-five

HER HEART STOPPED DEAD IN HER CHEST. "Regulus Black is dead."

Kreacher had just told her so, confirmed it in near graphic detail. The man before her, who was claiming to be Regulus, gulped, his Adam's apple grazing again her blade.

"I'm alive," he said in a hoarse voice before repeating again, "and I'm your uncle."

She couldn't handle hearing him say those words, emotion thick in his voice. It was clouding her judgement, and she couldn't handle it.

"Theo," she called.

He heard everything in her silent plea, and understood exactly what she was asking. In a flash, Theo swapped positions with her, holding his wand to the man's neck.

She took a couple steps back, and Draco moved to stand beside her. Her hand went up touch her necklace, seeing as it was all she technically had of her uncle.

"It would do you good to tell the truth," said Theo.

The mans eyes lingered on Celestia, who stood off to the side, before he finally looked at Theo. His eyes hardened.

"I am Regulus Arcturus Black. I don't know what more you want from me," he reiterated.

Theo was furious. He had just witnessed her nearly breakdown after finally having her uncles death confirmed, and now some man was following them around and proclaiming to be said uncle.

Moving her gaze from him, she finally gave the man insisting that he was an uncle a proper assessment. His hair was dark and cut short, but his most prominent feature was undeniably his cheekbones.

She tried to remember the Quidditch team photo that she had taken from his room last year, one of the only photographs she really had of him. She remembered his sharp jawline, his defined cheekbones, and the grey eyes so similar to hers.

She cupped a hand over her mouth as a singular sob escaped her. Because in front of her was that exact man, just older, and slightly more scruffy.

Three sets of eyes swung towards her, urgency flaring in every single one of them. It was as if they all had asked her if she was alright, yet none of them had spoken a word.

She removed her hand and spoke in a croak. "But you're dead."

Regulus—Regulus—opened his mouth to respond to her, looking wholly heartbroken. He decided against it though, and schooled his features as he turned back to look at Theo, whose wand was still digging into his throat

"Give me a chance to explain everything," he appealed. "My wand is in my front pocket. Take it. I'll be unarmed."

A wizard would more likely have their arm cut off than give away their wand, and yet Regulus had just given it up without a second thought. Theo didn't hesitate to disarm him, and only then did he finally release him.

Regulus took a step towards her, and instinctively, she moved backwards. She might believe there's a possibility that this is really her uncle, but that didn't mean she was going to trust him off the bat.

"There's a pub around the corner. Let's go there," she offered.

"You're seventeen," said maybe-Regulus, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Nobody said anything about drinking." Though, she really could go for a Firewhisky right about now, but she wouldn't find it in a Muggle pub.

Angling her body so that he could walk past, she gestured to the opening of the alleyway. "After you."

There was no way she'd let him walk behind them, or would she take him back to the inn they planned to stay at for however long. She had no clue what his intentions were.