Apparition

Who the Fuck is Leo Black?

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a drilling company, and Mrs. Dursley stayed at home, taking care of the house and garden and spying on the neighbors. The two had a child, a 12-year-old boy named Dudley, who was set to attend Smeltings in the fall. In their opinion, there was no finer boy.

Yes, no finer boy, because in this story, there was no 11-year-old in the cupboard under the stairs to compare him to.

However, there was a 5-year-old once.

Back in those days, the Dursleys were terrified of someone finding out about his parentage. You see, Mrs. Dursley and Mrs. Potter had not gotten along, not in years. When Mrs. Potter had died, they were contacted by an old, wizened man who had them take the boy in. They abused him for 4 years, not giving him toys, vacations, sweets, anything that would suggest a normal childhood.

But we know all that. We want to know why it was only 4 years, instead of the usual 16.

You see, when this boy was 5, the Dursleys wanted to go down to the beach. They tried to pawn him off to the neighbors, Marge, anyone who would take him. In another universe, they simply left him at home. In this one, though, they were forced to take him with them.

On that shorefront, they did the usual: when they got heaping scoops of ice cream, he got none. When sandwiches and lemonade were passed around, he got a boiled egg and a scolding. When Dudley stepped on a jellyfish, he was screamed at, causing him to run down the beach and near a jutting spire of rock.

Sobbing and sniffling, as abused 5-year-olds tend to do, the boy wandered around, rubbing his bright green eyes. Eventually, he spotted a cave in the cliffside. He couldn't reach it, but he wished really hard that he could. Suddenly, he stood in said cave.

The boy smiled and skipped along. However, since he was 5, he tripped and fell, skinning his palms and knees. He stood once more, holding on to the wall for support. The wall disappeared under his fingertips.

Confronted with a new area to explore, he skipped into this new room and took in his surroundings. There was a large lake, murky and black as pitch, with a lone basin-decked island glowing green in the middle. He was just about to touch the water when a figure emerged.

The figure was a nightmare to behold. What had once been a handsome young man was a mauled ghost. Gouges covered him, one on his face running from the bridge of the nose to the corner of the jaw, another tore through what might've been a tattoo on his forearm, organs could be seen through a slice in his abdomen. His shredded clothes dripped murky from both the water and the blood seeping from the wounds.

The boy leaped back in fright. His green eyes met the figure's silver ones, which widened in surprise. It knew those eyes, knew those features. It knew the parents of the child in front of it.

But how had that child gotten here? His parents would never bring their child to an old cave. His godfather would have a conniption at his state, all bone-thin and drowning in shabby hand-me-downs.

"You shouldn't be here." said the ghost of Regulus Black.

The boy flinched at the sound, gravelly from drowning. "Aunt Petunia doesn't care."

Aunt Petunia... not Mommy or Daddy, Padfoot or Moony. Aunt Petunia. The ghost knew right away he had to follow this child.

"Let's get you away from here." He drifted toward the child, who shot up and bolted for the opening of the cave. With a crack, he was back on the shoreline and sprinting away.

Well, that went well. Regulus willed himself invisible and followed the tiny footprints in the sand. He found the boy being berated by his aunt. She smacked him across the face, quieting him down instantly, much to the horror of the horror floating nearby.

Let it be known that Regulus was not fond of his brother, who left him with yet another mess to deal with, nor his obnoxious friends, who enabled to no end. But he could not watch this boy be abused by this woman. He was pretty sure she was a muggle, so Cruciatus was off the table. But staring at the boy, the 5-year-old boy who forced down his tears so quickly he was surprised he didn't choke, Regulus knew he would not be returning to the cave anytime soon.

He followed the "family" home after the beach day, vaguely repulsed by "Duddikins" demanding a banana split and lording it over the starved boy.

He holed up in the cupboard with the squashed boy, passing a hand through messy locks whenever he shook from the cold he emanated. He watched and waited for a whole week before showing himself to the boy.

Predictably, the boy shrieked and hid. The Dursleys were out, as planned, so he wasn't punished. He shook in his cupboard while Regulus waited outside, patient.

"My name is Regulus Black," he said to the door. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

The door opened a crack. "Rejoolus?"

A wince. "Just Reggie is fine."

The door opened wider. "Reggie?"

"Yes." Reggie smiled slightly. "Let's get you out of here."

It took saddeningly little time to convince the boy to leave the only place he had ever known. One month later and the two were sneaking onto a bus to London, 80 pounds in his pocket and a patched backpack full of a change of clothes and snuck food on his back. The boy took a nap while Reggie kept an eye on the adults around them.

In London, the two lasted all of two hours before an officer stopped them and asked for a name.

"They'll take you back if you say your name. Give them this."

The boy gathered himself up. "My name is Leo Black."