#The jewel of Wool's orphanage

[hpdabbles]

Hey! Is there a chance to continue " jewel of wool's orphanage"?

Would the blacks find out about regulus and take him?

What would happen when he gets to Hogwarts?

When will reg find out that tom is actually Voldemort??

Life at Wool's Orphanage was better than Regulus thought. Yes, they had very little in earthly possessions, and the roof over their heads didn't keep the elements out as well as it should, but all in all, Regulus found that the dynamics were close to the Slytherin Common room.

Meaning he was excellent at handling his surroundings.

The first hurdle he conquered was the caregivers, specifically Ms. Cole, who held no sympathy for the children. He quickly realized that she chose to work in this institution because muggle women didn't have many options in the workforce, unlike the magical one, and she liked to be praised.

She glowed whenever someone mentioned how "brave" and "strong" she was for taking on the heavy burden of dealing with the worthless brats of society.

In the muggle world, orphans were seen in the same scorn light as Squibs were. They were to blame for their misfortune and would likely amount to nothing because of it too.

So the way to make her look better and gain her approval was to play up his physical age and publicly thank her for everything she did for him. He was careful to not come off as a boot licker, but before long, Regulus would join her in errands, sweetly telling the muggles who watched them how amazing it was to be saved by Ms. Cole.

His perfect mannerism was a product of Ms. Cole.

His perfect speech was a side effect of Ms. Cole.

Ms.Cole was the reason little Regulus was like a doll. And oh, how she adored the way muggles congratulated her for everything that made him.

If only he wasn't a pennyless orphan, Regulus would be the perfect young boy. The muggles whispered to each other as he held the door for others, smile sweetly, and followed Ms. Cole like a little duckling.

She adores that he did what she said and when she said it. Never noticing how strangely intelligent, he was for being able to keep up at the tender age of three. The rest of the caregivers quickly picked up he was one of her favorites- a majority were orphans who, upon aging out, returned after not making it out in the world and bitterly took jobs in the hell hole. They acted slowly but surely, treating him better to not earn the headmistress' wrath.

They all remembered what happened when the Headmistress of Wool's lost her temper and had the scars to prove it. It was better to treat Regulus like a naive little prince- likely thinking him too stupid to be of any actual harm.

Regulus knew this would cause the rest of the orphans at Wools to become bitter at the favoritism, just as the other Slytherins had been when he first joined the Quidditch team. In Slytherin, he had the House of Black to fall onto and keep himself safe from their jealous sneers but in Wool's, he had to make do with what he had.

That came in the form of carefully placed kindness.

The other children didn't have to steal from Regulus. No, the boy gave his things away but never without a price. He watched the children and saw what each could offer for trade and what they needed before the child realized it themselves.

For example, Billy, who clutched his pet rabbit as his only emotional support, did not notice his rabbit was growing too big and would need a new pen. He had given one of the older girls a stylish scarf, gifted to him by one of the nuns Ms. Cole likes to flaunt him in front of, in exchange for her large shoe box. He then filled it with newspaper, stuffed it with hay from the stable, and approached Billy, offering the "bunny bed" to the boy's delight.

They had never spoken before that, but it meant that his bunny bed seemed much more genuine. Billy happily placed his rabbit in the box and named facts about the animal while Regulus smiled and listened.

Not once did he tell Billy to shut up, roll his eyes, or make the boy feel stupid for his love of rabbits, and that endured him like no other to the muggle child.

Later when Regulus mentions how fantastic the ribbons that decorated his room are, Billy thinks nothing of giving some to him. He seemed unaware of the uneven trade because it wasn't in the other boy's mind.

The ribbons were Regulus' gift for being so thoughtful.

A gift he then used to make Sally's hair look spectacular for her school dance, his tiny fingers still able to do the hairdos of the aristocrats. When he convinced her to let him do her make-up, he had turned a dull girl into a beauty. She returned with a bright smile, a filled dance card, and a little surprise teddy bear as a thank you.

That toy found its way to a nine-month baby in the nursery, who had been struggling to fall asleep, keeping everyone up with her constant wailing. One well-placed teddy to hold and a sweet lullaby had her slumbering and, more importantly, making the nurse in charge of the room internally grateful.

Soon Regulus developed a reputation for being thoughtful. He listened to everyone, was kind to everyone, helped anyone, and he become a well-respected boy at the orphanage.

It also became an unwritten rule that Regulus was a neutral party. No one bothered him because he was on friendly terms with every clique and power. Of course, he wasn't a leader of anything, but the other kids would stand up for him if anyone tried to bully him.

After all, how could they be mean to Regulus? The boy is so kind.

He was always willing to help when needed, crafting the image of a harmless little pushover without anyone the wiser that he was carefully manipulating them to his advantage. Three years since his arrival, no one had noticed.

Well, nearly no one.

"Nuse Jane thought a box of chocolate would mean you come back to change diapers for her, didn't she?" Tom asked, placing Regulus in his lap and peering at the small box the head nursery nurse had passed him that morning with a wink. "No wonder she can't get anyone to marry her. She's stupid."

"She has her usages. Manipulation is not one of them." Regulus sighed, allowing the strange muggle-born to bury his nose in his hair and smile against his skull.

Since meeting that fateful night in the nursery, the two had been roommates and nearly inseparable.

Oh, others tried to pry them apart but accidents tended to happen to them not long after. It was no secret that Tom was the cause of them even if there was never any proof.

The fact that Regulus was the only one who could curve his violent outburst only further made him more liked to the rest of Wools.

He needed to figure out what to make of Tom.

The boy was gifted when it came to magic, ridiculously so, already having control over it far better than most adults.

The three wandless spells Regulus taught him were so easily mastered that Tom took it upon himself to learn different kinds independently. The scary part was that he succeeded, having uncovered Lumos and a color-changing charm on his own, after spending weeks concentrating enough.

What could he accomplish with proper training? With a wand? Obviously, Tom wouldn't go on to make much of a name for himself since Regulus could not recall a single Tom Riddle, but he was useful now.

If he was honest with himself, Regulus also liked having another wizard about, even if it was a muggle-born.

Tom seemed to adore showing Regulus his progress, but the time traveler noticed that the muggle-born treated him much like a toy. In Tom's eyes, Regulus was a shiny plaything, and he wasn't sure if that was healthy.

Tom's crush on him may be less so. But Regulus grew up in the House of Black- healthy relationships weren't common there, and he didn't mind the boy's feelings so much.

It was nice to be someone's obsession.

"Regulus!" Billy yells, breaking the peace by throwing open the door without knocking. At once, he felt Tom's magic swirl in displeasure, so he quickly leaned back into the boy and clamped a hand on the arms around his middle.

Tom settles again, but likely glaring at the intruder, who looks pale.

"What is it, Billy?" He asks carefully, making his voice soft but sharing his articulation. It usually makes the other orphans listen to him faster.

"You won't believe it," Billy says after a moment, his eyes wide. "A pair of men arrived claiming to be looking for you!"

"For me?" Regulus tilts his head. "Why?"

"They think they're your family! A mister Marius Black with his father, Cygnus Black, saw your picture in the Christmas choir and came as soon as they could. They're speaking to Ms. Cole now." Whatever fear of Tom quickly disappeared as Billy hastily threw open their closet, taking out Regulus' church clothes- the best he owned. "Quickly, you have to change! They may take you home with them if you can impress them enough."

For Merlin's sake, they found him? After putting so much effort into securing his place in Wool's Orphanage, the house of Black was trying to exploit him again?

"They're wrong," Tom hisses, his voice dipping into the perfect imitation of a snake. "Regulus is mine. He's not going anywhere."

"I'm comfortable with that," Regulus tells him, snuggling closer. Tom's silly crush is perfect in times like these. He blinks big eyes at the boy, whose cold expression slowly melts into a blush. "Will you hide me, Tom? I don't want to go away."

As predicted, Tom folds faster than wet paper. "We can hide you in the backyard shed. Hurry."

"But Regulus! Mr. Black could be your father. you could leave!" Billy protests, but the two are already running down the hall. Regulus' tiny six-year-old legs are no match for Tom's fast stride, and sadly that is his undoing.

"Regulus is Wool's jewel. The boy could do no wrong, I assure you, sirs- oh, here he is now!" Ms. Cole says when she rounds the corner with two men behind her. Tom skits to a stop before colliding with them, but Regulus is not as lucky, crashing into the legs of once great-grandfather Cygnus Black.

The worst part was that he landed on a magic stone the man was wearing as a ring. A stone meant to glow when near family magic. Likely a test to see if Marius has produced a magical child after all.

One he just unwillingly passed.

"Marius, my son, you have found my grandson." The aged man says, hiding the glowing ring before Ms. Cole or Tom sees it. The Squib's face lights up, kneeling to stare at Regulus like he is his salvation.

And Regulus is his salvation because being called son after being disowned meant the disownment was officially over. Marius has just earned his way back into the Ancient and Noble House of Black.

"Hello there, son. I've been looking for you everywhere." Marius says in a fatherly tone, and it's so different from how he had first sounded when his whore mother dropped him off on his doorsteps three years ago. It's upsetting.

He knows deep down that his body is still young, and he can not control all of his emotional outbursts because of it. The anger he feels for this squib trying to take advantage of him so their so-called family can give a flying crap about them is enough to have his magic's careful control slip.

He feels a tingle around his scalp and the three adults mouth's drop.

Ms. Cole gasps in horror. "What in the world?! "

A strand of hair falls into his eyes, and Regulus is about to push it out of the way when he notices an alarming change.

His hair is an angry red, not the raven black he has had all his life. Both of his lives.

"A metamorphmagus." Cygnus breaths, hand over his chest and smiling widely. "Marius, you sired a metamorphmagus."

For fuck's sake, Regulus did not want to deal with any of this.

#Hpdabbles #The Jewel of Wool's Orphanage #Part 3 #Harry Potter #Time travel #Regulus being a Slytherin #None of the kids are aware #Tom sees right through his Hufflepuff mask #The Black are back! #Regulus re-incarnated but not in his own body #Metamorphmagus Regulus

[wri0thesley]

May I request some La Squadra childhood headcanons (upbringing/family/habits/demeanor) :)) Maybe Mista and Abbacchio too if it’s not too much trouble since we already saw a bit of baby Bruno and it made me so curious about the other two! I always imagined Abbacchio to be a bit of a teacher’s pet as a kid lol. Your writing brings me life tysm!!!!

warnings for abusive family, human experimentation, misogyny, illness, hospitals, death, etc! 

Risotto’s family did not care much about him. He’s the middle child of five - they grew up in a rural part of Sicily, in a house that used to be a farmhouse but was merely a house by the time Risotto came along (aside from a flock of chickens constantly in the gardens). He had a traditional Italian family full of people - various aunts, uncles and cousins - but his cousin was his favourite, seeing in Risotto’s quiet nature something similar to his own. Risotto was uncomfortable with there being too many people around and found his home life cramped and uncomfortable and loud. At the local village school he was often hunted out for games of sport (his height and muscle growing in at an early age), but he shied away from making friends, not sure how to handle himself around people who shouted and laughed, envying his siblings for everything seeming so natural. He often stayed with the cousin, and it’s through them he discovered metal music and his now signature look. His parents didn’t have time for him, but his cousin always did, becoming a makeshift father figure where Risotto’s failed. He grew very attached, and as we know, his cousins death hit him hard. 

Formaggio grew up with a single father; his mother simply disappeared in the middle of the night and he never heard from her again. He was always loud, brash and cocky - his father was much the same way. They moved around from place to place, his father taking odd jobs to sustain them and never really getting the hang of them. His father was fairly young and a perpetual teenager, and Formaggio was much the same way. Despite living in occasional poverty, he always had a smile and he and his father were close to one another. He did not really make friends - other children were aware of his unwashed clothes, the fact his lunch was not made as neatly as theirs, the fact that his address was a one-bedroom apartment on the bad side of town - so he turned to acting out and violence, gaining a reputation as a Badly Behaved Child. His father fell into Passione in the need to support his son, and like father like son, Formaggio followed in his footsteps at fourteen (finding a camaraderie and sense of responsibility he never had at school and subsequently just stopping going there). 

Illuso got into Passione for the money and the power. He was an only child and he had a nice upbringing, honestly - he just found himself not special at anything, and he desperately wanted to be. He flitted from hobby to hobby and interest to interest; he was clever and he noticed things, and neither of his parents really knew how to deal with their sharp-tongued child. He was a bit of a bully at school, but not the kind that is ever found out - Illuso’s bullying was quieter than that, whispered words and rumours that never seemed to find their way back to him. He was well-acquainted with blackmail before he turned sixteen. He knew how to sniff out weaknesses in other people - he was always surrounded by people, but it was a lottery as to whether they liked Illuso or whether they just didn’t want to be on his wrong side. Always willing to volunteer for things, too confident for his own good - eventually, he stopped caring about being ‘special’ at something, and just worked on being the ‘best around him’. 

Melone’s backstory can be found here. Both of his parents were academics and lecturers in genetic science, and he’s the eldest child by eight years. His family moved around rather a lot. He has two younger sets of twins as siblings; one set of boys, and one set of girls. Growing up, his parents considered him less interesting and a little slow - he turned to science and genetics as a way to get their attention and praise; despite the fact he showed a natural affinity for it, by this time, they were far more interested in experimenting on their younger children and Melone was ignored. His nature is curious and insistent - he learnt to insist or to be ignored. He had to look after his younger siblings a lot growing up; they were home-schooled where he was not, and the strange separation of them and him and all of the children at school (Melone not quite fitting into either group) meant that he always seemed just a little off. 

Prosciutto is a mafia man through and through. His family are entrenched in old bloodlines and uninvestigated deaths - unfortunately, though, they are a family that had somewhat fallen from grace by Prosciutto’s birth. The definition of faded glamour and keeping up appearances; rooms in a big, drafty old house that have an old bed and a falling apart dressing table. His father always talked to him about how it was his and his brothers’ job to keep the bloodline going - a traditional chauvinist of a man. His mother was very quiet and pretty; she encouraged him to small interests like old music and fashion, but was always silent around her husband. He grew up knowing his life was expendable. Youngest son of two; his elder brother died within months of finally being given his assignment within Passione and honestly, Prosciutto knows his father would rather he have died. A quiet little boy who did not make friends (he had a tutor) and had too much of the weight of the world on his shoulders in the knowledge of how many of his mother’s jewels were pasteboard, where the guns were kept, and just how many people he saw regularly were murderers. At his assignment at sixteen, Prosciutto had to learn exactly how to blend in, because many of the mafiosos he was suddenly surrounded by did not appreciate what they saw as his superiority. 

Pesci was an only child of a single mother; his father passed away when he was young. He was rather sickly growing up, and it made his mother indulgent - despite growing up fairly middle class, he never wanted for anything, and they lived well beyond their means. His mother fussed over him, always afraid that he was going to have a relapse into his childhood illness - very much a child wrapped in cotton wool. It gave him his own complex about taking risks; he didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t want to be rejected by other children. He was slow at his schoolwork but devoted to his mother, and other children saw him as a prime target to bully. He was kicked around a lot at school and it eventually made him too easy to subdue when he suddenly filled out and shot up and became a threat; found himself, too often, a henchman to more articulate, meaner children. Grateful to be accepted, he went along with the flow, despite feeling in the very core of his gut that he was disgusted by them. He ended up in Passione because his mother needed medical treatment and in trying to sort it out realised just how much debt they were in.

Ghiaccio just had a normal run-of-the-mill described as ‘average’ by everyone upbringing - both of his parents, an only child, a mother with a professional job, middle-class. His father was partially deaf - in my experience, people with deaf parents either speak very loudly or very quietly, and Ghiaccio has gone for the former. He learnt LIS at a very early age, and it’s part of the reason he can be so anal about pronunciation and language as a whole - he’s utterly fascinated by it, and that fascination started in early childhood. His parents were also indulgent of him, but having a younger brother meant that he didn’t get the full brunt of that indulgence - his brother was a little more of a ‘rough and tumble’ boy. He liked football and weights, and when he took up a sport Ghiaccio’s parents decided Ghiaccio should learn to do something too and asked him what he thought - they were surprised when he said ice skating, but figured he would go into ice hockey or something. He didn’t. For a while, he was fairly well-known in the competitive figure skating under eighteens circuit. It gave him two things; one, a competitive need to win and be good at things (and a propensity to tantrum when he lost) and two, a taste for flashy, expensive things (have you seen this man’s car). His parents eventually didn’t know how to deal with his arrogance, and he fell into Passione based on a ‘sponsor’ he ended up embroiled with at nineteen when his parents didn’t want to fund his ‘hobby’ anymore (they kept pouring resources into his younger brother, of course - Ghiaccio always felt a bit like they didn’t take him seriously). He left ice skating competitively behind, but he couldn’t leave behind the nice things or the anger issues he accrued. 

I’ve written about Sorbet and Gelato’s childhood/backstory here! But a brief, shorter version:

Gelato had a loving family and a privileged upbringing. Always enough money, always enough to eat - an only child, who perhaps was a little rowdy at school but whomst his parents were very proud of. Both of them were traditional types; thinks a man should be strong, should be the real driving force of all relationships - they were extremely proud of him going into the army. Cleverer than people tend to give him credit for, sharp-eyed, a constant humming need to be doing something with his hands. 

Sorbet was orphaned at a young age in a house fire and taken in by a church orphanage. He’s quiet but equally clever; his cleverness tends to be a little less in your face. He was a comforting presence to other people and took care of the younger boys (even now, he feels a sense of duty to some of La Squadra) - being low-voiced, soothing and commanding. He spent a lot of time reading. The church orphanage was poor; Sorbet has learnt to appreciate luxury where Gelato takes it for granted and it’s part of the reason he’s so concerned with finances even in his forties. 

Abbacchio grew up in a houseful of women. His father left when he was still young; he was . . . not a nice man, and Abbacchio has vague memories of his mother carefully applying concealer over black eyes. It’s part of the reason Abbacchio became a police officer - knowing that he was still out there, not paying for what he’d done . . . Abbacchio wanted to ensure other people did not go through it. He had a little sister (by six years) who adored him, and his grandmother (who had once been an opera singer and still had a touch of that old-time glamour). He was fairly well off; at least, after he and his mother went to live with her mother again. His grandmother was EXTREMELY indulgent of her serious pretty-eyed grandson (his affinity for opera comes from her) who wanted so hard to be a Good Man. He was made fun of as a child for being a teacher’s pet and a nerd, you’re right - he adopted being a goth and dressing like that fairly early in his life. Nobody was going to threaten to punch him in leather and black lipstick, he thought - and nobody, too, needed to know that his CD player was blasting Monteverdi and not heavy metal. 

Mista was the only child of an unreliable mother and a father who left when he was four (he kept very vaguely in touch; Mista has three little sisters who he sees occasionally but keeps quiet about his employ to. After the events of VA, he’s established a fund for each of them, but he wasn’t really permitted to see them much growing up). Even after his parents leaving and his neighbour’s loss of an eye (and the subsequent setting in of his fear of the number four), he was an easy-going child who made friends easily and smiled at all and sundry; he was never particularly book-clever, but he was good-natured and had many friends. His mother’s lack of reliability meant that he became very fond of simple things other people took for granted - when she died, he was sad, but his life did not change much. He’d already learnt to fend for himself when it came to food and the like; often coming home to an empty house and simply making do. (The lack of food in the house is part of the reason he gained such an affinity for things he saw as luxuries like wines and cheeses). He learnt to use his dark eyes and charming smile and warm nature to win sleepovers with schoolfriends and evening meals with their parents. Always a little bit behind his peers in having cool gadgets or interesting stories, Mista was content just to have a simple life and good health. 

#jjba #jojo headcanons #risotto nero #formaggio #illuso #prosciutto #pesci #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet #gelato #leone abbacchio #guido mista #Anonymous

[captainkurosolaire]

Comprehend Don’t Glimpse (3/3)

They made their way towards the bridge outside the town tension was at overflowing high. Confrontation and a battle would happen no-doubt, one Brass stayed in-front while the other was back, sandwiching him to prevent escape. Each prepped for a quick unsheathed of their blades. They still weren’t sure about this though superiority led them relaxed they held the power and control believably. The pirate held little protectiveness against the sandstorm that flurried throughout. Though an assurant thing was they couldn’t supervise over the orphanage this far from their station. But the problematization is clear. He’d have to commit his first-act of being the label and sinner. To maintain freedom and survive, he’d have to murder. Up to this point he never did so it was his compassion and wishing to solve a different-means. Though in this world, the era they were in, cards dealt presently, this wasn’t arguable or could be reshuffled. To this Pirate, this was his keepsake. He required in being above, to shape possible woven strings and preserve openings of change. To have the gall to destroy history’s webbed line of repetiveness. Instead, of remaining idly silent and pacified to unchanged wrongs.

[Previous]

He manipulated and made a schematic of events that played out. As they approached the bridge, he paused tightening the laces on his studded boots that were often loosen an extra excuse using them as a fighting style to use them as projectiles, “Hurry up.” He was hastened by the Brass as they held little patience in their voice even though the sand didn’t affect them with their headgear. As he quickly came back up his hands touched the soils of the desert taking a lump of piled sand and stuffed it into his pockets. Then shoved encouragingly to continue walking. -- “Ah! There ye see the silhouette!?” Solaire rung out a brief but it was only a shadow’s setting sun of the bridge locked behind the gusting dust devil, there wasn’t any breakage or road as he mentioned, but he knew they wore eye folds that had minuscule slits that obscured them in this sands. The one in-front didn’t bite he wasn’t removing the veil. The one behind however would attempt to see. “There’s not-” In every action fast-paced battle drew to siren belled ring. He quickly spun around using the gathered sand and letting it slide into the eyes of the behind Brass causing him to stagger. He closed his eyes to tiny slants leaving little room affected back from particles, though unlike them, his Miqo’te senses proved heightened to steer him. The leading would turn and draw quickly slashing back, “YOU’RE DEAD!” He rung out, he’d quickly skid beneath the ankles in a slide of mobility and his tail propelling with agility getting behind the man trying to shake off his eyes blocked. Before the connection hit, the Seeker of the Sun latched and grabbed the other Brass by the wrists forcefully and unsheathing his blade blocking the blow and then drop-kicking him to his spine and landing on his hands, this propelled the man. As the unhurled Brass leaped from colliding to the other. By doing this he tripped and landed directly on his own blade in a slant heaving an instant folly by evading his partner. It was an incidental fatality. Kuro didn’t intend to take a life that way, he expected the other to be in the thoughts of another to aid but he remembered this Brass was remorselessly out for himself. Inexperience and staggering with emotions Kuro slept up allowing the man remaining enraged. He charged against as Kuro linked and hooked up grabbing the other man’s arms to prevent the strike holding in a struggle of power. As he tried keeping his head away from the blade that was skin-close to him. He went for a dirty-package kick but the pirate would only hit chain-mail. A blow-kick came forward that he’d block with his own knee. But the headgear Brass headbutted the Plunderer causing him to fall back landing with a thud. Now prone and exposed, the Brass attempted to slay the downed pirate with a puncturing directionally downward strike with all his force! The Miqo’te held little room to dodge he had to block creatively. The two-sides of his long legs and soled-boots came meeting between the sides of the blade locking it into place. Steel caressed and ripped through his coat and lightly grazed his skin. He couldn’t maintain. He used his palms and lifted in a back-roll which lunged and jerked the blade to disarm the Brass of the weaponry. Thrown off from both’s reach. Kuro stood back up from the agile roll. However, as he spun to retrieve the blade first. The Brass unlatched from his back a buckler and darted forward bashing the Seeker in the back of the skull, causing crimson to pour. He used the buckler as a blunt object and took his knee and placed it against his tailbone and began wailing on the downed pirate. Causing him to shout in horizontal hits against his back crackling his bones in breakage and bruised affairs. “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaa” He flailed not fully secured in a pin, he’d elbow a shot to the loose spot between the nape of the armor that was compiled stacked worn-wool, a fortune hit. Causing the Brass to fall back but it didn’t do much, only allow the Miqo’te to ilm forward in a slithering slide. His fingertips almost were out near the hilt of the Brasses Blade. “You dare attempt to deceive and kill one of us?!! Your life is meaningless, you’re screwed! We decide the fates of everyone that steps in. You just brought a lifetime of pain to that bastard infant, I’ll see it grow empty, I’ll see it grovel and wither away. IT WON’T ESCAPE ME.” The dust storm picking up at elevated times which caused everything to slide backward. Anger and blood from his back scalp draped down from his forehead between his eyelids in war paint his brows blistering angrily the words and adrenaline made his heart-rate skyrocket as rage fumigated. As the Brass approached to end since the black blizzard pushed everything back that included the weapon to land between his grip as the weight of the object was easier to manipulate. The freebooter spun fully around the Brass however trained blocked through the tiny buckler and laughed sadistically, “You’ll NEVER break-through! I’ll see you in chains, I’ll see you hung and the blood drained slowly, never shown a sign of light ever again!” He was one-legged stood as the pirate slowly inclined his other. As they struggled between. Both having to switch to putting pressure of two-hands behind the weight of what they believed, it was lives fighting against one another. Scales of being the weight of who’d be victorious. An erupting guttural and explosive battle cry broke throughout the buccaneer that gathered his aether and willpower into one effort. His back turned against an incoming huge-wave of a brown wall that was coming forward thunder crackling in the background. The visibility-zero. Only their stances remained affirmative through touched connection. It was as if divine favor chose the pirate who would be Captain or unshaken luck put a feather on the free. As he was catapulted forward as the storm broke against his back, stones and pebbles hitting him from the gust but the recoil was worth it as he pushed beyond his own force, breaking through the buckler. “NO!!” As impossible etched throughout as the Brasses lungs quaked, impenetrable scales broken out, measured and decided. The Captain propelling forward through a clean slice unseeable through the man’s chest directly in puncturing the wicked heart. Ending the voice of his first-of-many oppressors. Kuro’s face buried into the corpsed tunic chain-mail covered up from inhaling the dangers of the dust devil that could destroy the respiratory system. The collision caused him to black-out shortly as the brown wave pushed through. Visibility started to return and the Sun began reuniting over. In this situation, the pirate had taken the jewel and demonstrated the flame while breaking a scale that he should hold no place on. The future jewels were now aligned to shimmer brightly without the wrong-shapers to measure value. While what was dim and immature honed to become a brilliantly dazzling flame to thrive for another fight, day, moment. 

#Origins Redefined #Tales of the Goldbrand #Past Stories #Seeker of the Sun #Before Captain #Final Fantasy XIV #Original Writes #FFXIV #Miqo'te #tw: violence #Screenshots are just scenery #If anything they're the present Captain reflecting on his past #So can convey the story

[astereaes]

The moonlight thief chapter seven!

You aren’t ready for this. No. shhh. I am ready to rip out your heart without mercy. Thanks to @kanarael for beta reading and all the pasta who pushed me to finish this. Please support the work on Ao3! Link here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9237890/chapters/20950319 Kudos and likes are good. Reblogs and comments/bookmarks are better! (Read: please feed my self esteem it’s like a baby bird)

Chapter seven: Hypothermia.

Victor was too tired to really think. Yuuri was out, but he was safe. He would come back. Still, it was too cold to sleep. He curled up under Yuuri’s wool and fur coat. Didn’t Yuuri need it? No, he had taken Victor’s. “Victor.” Said a deep, familiar voice. “Yakov, go away, I’m tired.” He said, and rolled over. After a second, his eyes popped open. Yakov? He sat up, pulling the coat tighter around his shoulders. “I’m not going back.” “And why not? You’re soaking wet, you barely have a fire, and your knight in shining armor isn’t even here. You could come back and we could forget any of this ever happened. The hearth is still burning, you have dry clothes, your bed-” “I don’t want to go back.” Victor said indignantly. “I like Yuuri, and I think he likes me.” “Oh.” Yakov scoffed. “So now Vitya knows best. Vitya’s so mature now. He doesn’t like you. He doesn’t care. All he wants is this-” Yakov thrust a leather satchel into the light of the simmering coals. “He doesn’t want you-” “No!” Victor shouted. “He likes me for me, I’m sure of it.” “Oh, okay. Then give it to him. Watch him run and leave you for dead. He wants money, not romance-” “You’re wrong!” Victor snarled. “I’ll give it to him, just watch. He won’t leave me. And I am never. going. back. to you.” “Here, then, Vitya.” Yakov said and tossed the crown to him. “Don’t come crying back to me when he abandons you.” “Don’t forget it. You’ll regret it. Yakov knows best.” And then the man was gone into the night, the only trace of his presence the golden crown which Victor held delicately in his hands. For a second, he twisted it, watching the jewels catch the low light. Then Yuuri walked in, his blueblack hair covered in half-melted snow. He poked the coals until they flared up a bit, and he added the wood. It steamed, because there would be no way of finding dry firewood in this weather. “What’s that in your hand, Victor?” Yuuri asked. “It looks gold.” “Nothing.” Victor tucked the crown behind him. “Probably just a trick of the light.” “Oh, ok.” He added more wood to the fire. “There were footprints outside the cave. Did you go out for some reason?” “Yeah. I uh, had to use the bathroom. Did you find that horse somewhere while you were out?” “What hor- ohhhh, shit.” Yuuri said. Behind him was the guardhorse in all of its glory, looking disdainfully at the setup they were calling camp. “That thing hates me. We need to get it out of here.” “Oh, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” Victor said, standing. “Come here boy, what’s your name?” Victor read the horse’s bridle. “Oh don’t, that’ll just humanize it.” “Hey, guess what, his name’s Yuri.” “Oooh no. His name can’t be that.” “We’ll give him a nickname. How does Yurio sound?” The horse snorted unhappily. “He hates it. That’s the one, it’s gonna stick.” Yuuri said vehemently. “What’s your beef with the horse?” Victor ruffled its mane. “He’s sweet.” Yurio snapped at Victor’s hand. “See?” Yuuri asked. “He just wants to get me arrested.” “Oooh, Yurio, please don’t. Just give me a day, and then he’s all yours.” “Excuse me?” Yuuri asked. “He’s not going to-” However, Yurio lay down next to Victor. “The fire’s back up again. I’m cold so I’m going to try and sleep and forget it.” “Do you want your coat back?” Victor asked. “No, it’s fine, yours is still wet.” “Oh, okay.” Victor said. He walked over to Yuuri and sat down gently. “Sleep well.”

“Ka- I mean Yuuri?” Victor asked. It was still taking him time to switch the names around in his head. “Yuuri, wake up.” It had been an hour, maybe two. “Yuuri, your lips are blue, is that bad?” He was cold, and his fingers were bright red under Victor’s white ones. “Yuuri, why did you give me your coat, you need it.” His breathing was light and shallow. “Yuuri!” He slapped him. “Yuuri what’s wrong… Yuuri.” He put his arms over Yuuri’s shoulders. “Come on.” “F-flower gleam and glow, Let your powers shine, Make the clock reverse, Bring back what once was mine. What once was mine.” His head hurt incredibly. He’d never sung more than twice in one day, and even that was pushing it. But Yuuri’s lashes slowly fluttered open. “Am I dreaming? Were you singing just now?” “Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, squeezing him. “I’m so glad!” “Why?” “If you ever pull self sacrificing shit like that again, I’m leaving you.” “Who said we were together? And where did you learn that word?” “What word?” “Shit.” “Hm? What happened?” “You’re impossible.” Yuuri said, but Victor felt his hands tighten around his waist. “Thanks for saving me though.” Yurio huffed in the corner, the sentiment probably being would you lovebirds knock it off? Victor draped the coat over the both of them, and Yuuri leaned his head on his shoulder. They watched the fire calmly. “That was scary though.” Victor said, and slipped his hand into Yuuri’s. The motion was thoughtless, he had done it so much. “Don’t do that again.” He felt Yuuri’s cheek move in his shoulder as he smiled. “I’m not planning on it.”

@ostranenien, @yaoi-on-skates, @tea-and-a-gay-detective All asked to be tagged. If you wish to be tagged, message me, drop me an ask or write it in the comments! Anything works!

And the angst isn’t over yet, guys, beware.

#yoi #yuri on ice au #yuri on ice fic #yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #the tangled au #the moonlight thief #angst #hurt/comfort #yurio #boiiiii

[hpdabbles]

Omg!!!! I loved it! " jewel of wool's orphanage" is such an amazing idea, and I love that you made regulus a metamorphmagus! I know for a fact that he will abuse the hell out of that perk, just imagine him getting pissed at someone then turning into them and doing something bad to get them in trouble

Omg this is amazing!!

I don't wanna be too demanding but please

Part4! Part4! Part4! part4! part4! part4! part4!

They took his Doll away.

Tom is trying to remember what happened after Regulus' hair turned red but his recollection of the event is spotty.

He knows there was lots of screaming- done mainly by Mrs. Cole- and a bright flash that left him disorientated for a few hours. He recalled a strange word "Obliviate" before the flash, and he suspects it had something to do with his faulty memory.

Tom knows something happened, even if no one else in the orphanage can claim the same. None of them seem aware that they have all collectively lost their memories or that one of their own was taken by two men.

Men whose faces he can not describe or explain why they were looking for his Doll. If he thinks hard enough, he can make out some details, like one of them was in an expensive green and silver suit while the other wore one with a bunch of sewed patches.

A rich and poor man. What could such men want with Regulus? Why had they taken him?

He could even make out the shape of the chins and the noses, but any further than that gave him a splitting headache. He tried to ignore it, tried so hard to remember what the two men looked like, but the pain knocked him unconscious before he found any more clues.

Tom knows he launched himself at Regulus, clinging to the toddler while the kneeling man tried to lift the little boy in his arms. One of the men had thrown him on the ground, but not before Tom could scratch his arm until the man's arm bleed.

Tom had managed to snatch Regulus' arm and tried to free him. He can recall tiny feet kicking against the chest that had the six-year-old trap, but then an invisible force had thrown him to the wall at the far end of the hall.

There are holes, but he remembers watching Regulus' beautiful face break down in distress, a little hand reaching out to Tom as his hair turns a sorrowful blue.

Regulus' scream echoed the sound of Tom's head heading the bricks.

Mrs. Cole had already been lying on the ground by then- he's not sure when she stopped screaming or why she had been unconscious, but he didn't care. She never mattered to him.

What did matter was the little boy screaming for him, but Tom had been busy fighting the dark spots appearing in his sight to really do anything to help. He had tried to stand with his little strength; it just wasn't enough.

Regulus was crying, Tom thinks, tears of anger or sadness he couldn't really tell, as he stared at Tom in horror seconds before the man raised a stick, and the flash happened.

When Tom came to, his Doll was gone, and so were hours of his memory.

He's missing hours, about five.

Tom recalls having Regulus in his lap around ten that morning, then waking up in the hallway at three forty-seven with no idea how he got there and no idea why Mrs. Cole was napping a few feet away.

The two had been looking at something- a book? A toy?- someone had come into their room to warn them- what about? Who was the warning for?- And then the men in the hallway watching black strands turn ruby red.

Flashes of time with Regulus that fateful day but more is needed for Tom to find what is his and bring him home. It tormented Tom and kept him locked away in his room the following days as he tried to find Regulus.

He even tried asking around town to the places where Regulus was famous for making Mrs. Cole look good, but no one could remember him well. Those that did, started to forget detail rapidly as if they hadn't seen Regulus in years rather than the weeks he went missing.

By the two-month mark, Regulus had been completely forgotten by everyone but Tom. Fearing that the memory loss would affect him too. He had started to pin little notes along his wall, for any details of his Doll, just in case

Soon his room was covered in notes, memories, and drawings of Regulus. Every open spot had something to do with his Doll and his disappearance, leaving no room for decoration. He bought yarn to mark connections between his notes, zig-zagging all that. Tom had to duck and turn his head a certain way just to leave his room.

He only left it for food and his chores.

The worst part of this was that no one else was worried like Tom is.

None of the orphans or the staff seem to realize that Regulus was ever a part of the Wools.

Regulus was the jewel of the orphanage. The only good thing about this horrible place for three whole years.

Why were they all acting like he never existed? Billy still had the bunny bed Regulus made him, Sally still wore the ribbons in the same braids Regulus did for her, Nurse Jane still sang the same strange lullabies Regulus had made, and none of them could remember Regulus.

They all looked at him like he was insane for mentioning his missing roommate. There were harsh whispers about his room and the contents on the walls dedicated to a boy who didn't exist.

They thought him mad.

Tom didn't know what to do.

Maybe he was insane.

Billy had gently told him sometimes lonely people make up imaginary friends but that he wouldn't have to do that anymore. Billy, for some reason, wasn't scared of him anymore, even when Tom was mean to him on purpose.

The other orphan now looked at him with something far worse than fear- he looked at him with empathy.

Tom tried to reinstall fear into him in between breaks of looking for any clues on Regulus, but it never worked.

He would only hug Tom until the boy couldn't hold it in and broke into tears. He doesn't know why he cried so much. He just knows that every day that passed without Regulus felt like his chest was slowly caving in.

Billy told him it was grief, the kind he had felt the day his parents and sister burned in a mysterious fire, but Tom didn't want to accept this feeling as mourning.

Because if he was mourning, it meant he would never see Regulus again, which was unacceptable. Billy didn't mind, nodding and listening to Tom restating everything there was to know about Regulus for the twelfth time.

He sometimes spent the night in Tom's room, helping him pin up new color strings once Tom gained a new theory.

He would almost claim to like the rabbit pet owner if he didn't think Regulus was Tom's imaginary friend. Just a little.

A year later, when Tom finally lost hope of ever seeing his Doll again when he started to feel his memories slipping through his fingers like falling sand, a strange man came to the orphanage.

Albus Dumbledore looked at Tom's room, all strings leading to the word Men in strange suits and Obliviate cards in the middle before his eyes filled with sadness. "I'm sorry for your loss, my boy. It's never easy to lose love this way."

So it was true. Regulus was kidnapped by those men and likely killed. At least that is what the professor claimed as many magical children in the muggle world were being targetted by a man named Grindelwald in recent years

Apparently, he was a Dark Lord searching for something called  Obscurial, and he had taken children to try to force one of them into it. When they failed to become this being of power, Grindelwald had them killed.

The kidnapping that Tom described fit his preferred methods to a t.

Tom burst into tears and did not stop even when told he was a wizard. What was the point of him being magic when he still lost Regulus?

What point did life have any more? Professor Dumbledore promised that Tom would find the answer at Hogwarts, and even offered to ask his brother to take him in, until they were sure Wool's was safe from Grindelwald but Tom refused.

Wool's was all he had left of Regulus now.

Billy helped him make a grave for Regulus a day before he boarded the Hogwarts Express, and he swore to write to him. He was the only one to walk Tom to the train, so he allowed the other boy to hug him goodbye.

Tom was never one for faith, but he prayed Regulus would watch over Billy while he was away.

He also prayed Regulys would watch him put Grindelwald into the ground. Because he would be coming for that rat's head, and no one was going to get in his way.

His Doll would be avenged.

#hpdabbles #The jewel of Wool's orphanage #Part 3 #Memory charms #The charm may have done something to Tom's head #hp fanfcition #time travel #Tom and Billy friendship #Dumbledore may have made things worst #or better? #Tom's pov

[hpdabbles]

'The Jewel of Wool’s Orphanage', how old is Tom in this? How's he going to react to another like him?

Tom's seveth birthday was the turning point of his life. He had never gotten a present or had his birthday celebrated but he knew he was born that day because the caregivers would always remind him.

The reminder was merely meant to be a count down to his eighteen birthday when they would no longer have to care for him. Tom didn't mind. He was counting down to that day too.

Yet that year, Tom received a present and it changed his whole world.

Maybe the universe thought Tom deserved something special because he was special and sent him Regulus.

Regulus arrived the morning of his seveth birthday, with the few other orphans that were picked off the street by the collection unit. He was the quitest of the children, the smallest too and Tom had watched them unload from his room, mentally marking which ones would be the easist targets.

Regulus had been one of the first he marked because the boy was holding the hand of a sobbing girl, trying his best to comfort her. His emotions were a weakness along with his age, a toddler with soft wavey hair and chubby cheeks.

He was much more taken care of than the too-thin sobbing girl and Tom scoffed.

He knew Sofia was going to get caught, as despite her many attempts at running the girl was much too stupid to escape and each time her punishment would be worse. The scars on her arm should have taught her it was hopeless for someone normal like her.

Tom also knew she would disappear soon, so he should try to run by her room and steal her blanket when he got the chance. Troublemakers like her often got taken care of and he would have been one of them if it wasn't for bad things happening to people who tried.

The fact he had his own room, cramped and dark as it was, is because Tom can do very strange things. Wonderful things. And Sofia couldn't, so she be another child that would be lost in the system and body found in some unmarked grave.

Regulus was special too but at the time Tom didn't know that. He only knew that the new boy brought in was wearing proper clothes, was properly fed, and didn't seem overly emotional like the other young kids.

They announced their names at lunch, Mrs. Cole forcing them to stand before the eyes of the other orphans who were sizing up the new competition for survival. Regulus' name was the most elegant and the boy's demeanor was a bit posh but otherwise perfect.

Regulus was the only new arrival that didn't seem distressed.

He thought it was because Regulus had just lost his parents and didn't understand they would never be coming back. Tom planned on tricking Regulus into giving away his belongings by using this information since he was probably convinced mommy or daddy were going to save him soon.

Since Regulus was so young, Mrs. Cole placed him in the nursery with the other infants and toddlers. Winter had not yet passed, and since the nursery was understaffed, overfilled, and unprotected against the elements overall, winter would be extra harsh there. Tom had heard they lost three babes that month alone to the bitter cold but when he snuck in to see the newest arrival he found Regulus sitting comfortably in a corner looking to be unaffected by the freezing temperature.

Regulus' blanket had been wrapped around a five-month-year-old boy who Tom heard wasn't going to survive either if he didn't get warm enough.

The nurses would never take a blanket from one of them even if it meant the survival of another. If a child died it was only because they were weak. This meant Regulus had been the one to keep- whatever the baby's name is alive.

It meant that the toddler had willingly given up his source of warmth.

Tom had given Regulus a confused frown but choose to ignore the toddler in favor of stealing the blanket while the nurse was out. Regulus' chubby fingers clamped around his wrist before he could.

"What do you think you're doing?" Regulus demanded. Tom was momentarily thrown by how lovely his voice is. He didn't sound like a worthless street rat. He sounded important.

"Let go." He hissed willing the hand on his arm to burn. Regulus let out a whimper as he let go, the slight red of his palm the result of Tom's special power.

"Magic...." Regulus whispered then much to Tom's shock, instead of being frightened like so many other weak children were the toddler's whole face lit up in joy. "You're magic!"

Tom had never seen someone look so happy when speaking to him. It made his heart leap. "I'm what?"

"Magic!" Regulus' little hand wrapped around Tom's squeezing his fingers between his own. It was at this moment that Tom realized something.

Regulus was warm. Not the normal kind of warm like when one got a fever, or when someone was alive but the kind of warm he felt when near a fire. He was so warm and pretty that when he smiled up at him, Tom forgot all about his plan. "You're like me!"

Those three words made Tom realize he wanted to keep Regulus forever so like all the shiny toys he wanted, he stole the boy and hid him in his room. Regulus followed him easily which is good because all his toys should do as he says.

Later Regulus proved he was special too when he placed his little hands on Tom's chest as they were getting ready for bed and a rush of warmth spread all over his body. It was the first time in his life that he didn't feel a lick of cold.

"A heating charm" Regulus whispered "It's one of the wandless spells I know."

Yes, Tom made a good choice stealing Regulus. Because the little boy with the pretty silver eyes looked like a doll, and he likes dolls. No one would ever be taking him away ever.

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #The jewel of Wool's orphanage #Part 2 #Tom is a bit insane #Tom fell in love #Regulus is just happy there are wizards about #Even if it is a muggle born #Regulus is three and Tom is seven when they met

[hpdabbles]

The Jewel of Wool's Orphanage.

Regulus hadn't given the afterlife much thought.

Sirius advocated that when you died you get a personal piece of paradise where all the ones you love would be there waiting for you. (He often said Uncle Alphard was there.)

Father, claimed that one became the magic guarding the family house, and every year, the magic would pull your spirit back to watch over the family on Remembrance day. (They light candles, set out presents, and welcomed their ancestors with a feast)

The mother said that only those who had people tell their stories in life could have an existence in death. Otherwise, the wizard or witch would simply be thrown out of the reincarnation cycle and come back a muggle or an animal. (Being burned off the family tapestry guarantees a new life as an animal. That's why the Blacks preserved their own so fiercely.)

None of what they believed spoke to Regulus. He had always worked under the impression that once someone died, that was it. There was no existence beyond life. No one waiting, no punishment, no return, no awareness.

Regulus believed that there was nothing beyond death.

He is not happy to be proven wrong. What's more, he hated the fact that out of all of them it was Mother that was the closest. Reincarnation.

He had died in the lake, drowning after a terrible battle against the undead, and woken to find himself an infant child. It took him months for his new brain to grasp and understand the knowledge that floated around his memories as Regulus.

His new mother, he concluded, had not planned his existence for she worked as a lady of the night, and conceived him during a job. She refrained from naming him as she did not want to grow attached in any way to him. Yet, she took care of him, with a gentleness and attention he almost believed she would change her mind.

Alas when he turned three, she finally deemed him old enough to not require her any longer. She placed him in a basket and walked two towns over to find his wayward father.

Regulus was a little sadden to know she would leave him, but he had not been overly attached to her. In the three years he spent with her, she had taken the position of a healer to him caring for him when his body was too weak to do it himself. Maybe if she had chosen to keep him then Regulus would eventually have loved her.

In the end, after she finished yelling and arguing with her old client about keeping the child he accidentally sire, he did not shed a single tear seeing her go. He merely stood at the doorway, watching her dress swing in the wind as she marched away.

She never looked back and Regulus never called out. Eventually, she disappeared among the crowd, and Regulus knew that he would never hear from her again. He closed the door, turning to the fuming man he was left with.

It was jarring to know the man's identity without him having to say it. After all, Regulus grew up looking at the burn mark where his name used to be in the tapestry room.

Marius Black, the only known Squib of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, had fathered him. He had died, and been reborn in the past, not the future like he always believed he would be.

Of course, he knows he is not that far away from his own timeline, but depending on his new father's age, then Regulus could very much be the same age as his other father- Orion- and if that wasn't mind-numbing he didn't know what is.

"I refuse to keep you" Marius hisses suddenly surprising Regulus. The man ran a hand down his face with clear frustration then he reaches out to yank on Regulus' arm. The force in which he did so cause a small cry to escape his throat before he could help it.

Marius didn't seem to care, dragging the toddler out of the house with a sneer. "I can barely keep myself fed much less a little bastard like you-"

Regulus claws at the hand clapped around his arms until he gets fed up and used a levitation spell on the man to remove him. The squib didn't seem to be expecting that for he is lifted off his feet for seconds and promptly dumped on the ground.

"Magic?" The man breaths but Regulus doesn't give him a second more. He's seen all he needed of his new father. At least his whore of a mother never mistreated him.

He throws on a quick disillusionment charm with a wave of his chubby hand and has the sick pleasure of watching the man look dumbstruck before he dashes away.

"Wait! Son! Wait!" Marius yells climbing to his feet. He gives chase as the charm did not make him invisible merely camouflaged him and he is slightly visible as he darts between the legs of muggles. Regulus is not the best at wandless magic, able to only perform three different spells, but once he put enough distance between them that was all he needed.

Using a stronger version of the levitation spell he threw at Marius Regulus was able to clear a wooden fence, effectively leaving the Squib behind. He hid inside a trash bin, listening to the disown Black's desperate calls but did not head them.

He knew why Marius suddenly seemed to care. If a Squib could produce a magic child- very unheard of- they were often time welcomed back into the family for the child would always be reported with far more magical power than the average wizard. It was rumored the Dark Lord Grindelwald was a child of a squib as well.

Regulus had already lived a life where his parents exploited him, he was not about to let Marius Black of all people do the same.

Eventually, the man moved on, and Regulus emerged from his hiding place. He considered his options as he darted once more through the crowd. Neither of his new parents was suitable to raise him until he could provide for himself, as well as the idea of approaching the Ancient and Noble House of Black for the same issue would appear.

There was also the fact Regulus could damage the timeline, as bad things happened to wizards that messed with time. Though that brought up the question if it would apply to him as time and death were the ones to place him here.

Regulus wasn't sure but he believed he was in the nineteen twenties or close, as he observed the muggles. Of course, he knew nothing of muggle society so his surroundings didn't give him much to go on, he did know Marius Black appeared to be a man of seventeen which meant he had been disowned only six years or so ago when his Hogwarts letter failed to arrive.

Usually, squibs were removed far earlier than that, either by the family accidentally killing them when trying to force magic out of them or by disownment. Still, Cygnus Black prevented this and kept Marius around for so long. He firmly believed his son would be a wizard and loved his boy until the day he could not deny it any longer.  

Cygnus and Walburga were very alike, Regulus thought. Both were supposedly heartbroken to burn a loved one off the family tapestry (a son and a brother), but they did it nonetheless.

"Another one" A man's voice is all the warning Regulus gets before a muggle man clamps a hand on his shoulder. He raised his eyes to see a sneering man in a grey street uniform, who wrinkled his nose at him and yank him off his feet. "Saw this one climb out of the rubbish"

The man spoke to two other men wearing a similar outfits. They stood before a metal cart with distressed young voices yelling from it. On the side, the words "Wool's Orphanage Collection Unit" were printed.

Regulus thrashed around, yelling at the top of his lungs, cursing himself for spending all the magic he could control to get away from a squib when this was far worst. He heard horror stories of orphanages all his life but everyone knew they were much worst before the sixties.

The crowd of walking people spared them a few glances but none moved to help him. Regulus was once again reminded that he really did have no one in the world now.

"Unhand me! Unhand me!" He screamed but his toddler body was no match for the man and with a quick yank of the outer chain the door of the cart was flung open. At once three children attempted to rush out but they were pushed back by the other two workers as Regulus was flung inside without a car.

The cart door slammed with a bang and the children sobbed. Regulus pushed himself into a sitting position and took a deep breath. He would be fine, a few hours of rest, and his magic would be strong enough to escape.

He just had to endure this for a while.

"I can't go back. They'll kill me, please. Let me go!" A little girl sobs. She looked about seven, her arms are thin and covered in scars.

"Shut up!" A man yells hitting the cart. "If it were up to me you vermin would have already been drowned instead of being a burden to the people!"

Regulus' stomach turns.

Correction, he just had to survive this for a while. But he would be fine. After all, he's survived being the heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, he survived his brother's pranks, and he survived a war with the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Surely nothing at Wool's orphanage could be as dangerous as the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The cart starts to move, taking them away as Regulus steeled his nerves. He figured a quick nap wouldn't hurt his magic reserves, so ignoring the other children who look more and more fearful, he lays down to rest in a corner.

The cart passes by a dark hair teenager who is frantically calling out for his son, begging bystanders for information. Regulus ignores him too.

#Hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Regulus Black #Time travel #Reincarnation #Part 1 #Marius Black #The Jewel of Wool's Orphanage #Hints of child abuse #child neglect