{Potter Manor, Godric's Hollow}

{26th August 1989}

~~~~~~~

To the Potters,

Thank you for the warm welcome. House Brooke has been isolated for centuries, and while that has worked for us so far... I only want what is best for my boy. The existence of a school for magic, one just outside of the public eye... it seems like the perfect place for my boy to grow into a man fit for House Brooke.

Unfortunately, coming out of the woodworks is quite the daunting task. As Lady Brooke, as well as the head of my House, I only have so much time in one day... so whilst I am swamped with maintaining my public image, I'll be meeting with the Greengrasses. I'm sure we'll meet eventually, with it only being a few years before the Boy-Who-Lived starts attending Hogwarts along with my Matteo.

I look forwards to being acquainted at such a date.

Best Regards, Lady Brooke

~~~~~~~

Lily and James Potter, the current Lady and Lord Potter, looked down at the letter they'd received, both of them already having read it. They weren't sure what to expect, given how aloof House Brooke was, but they certainly hadn't expected this.

"She seems... nice?" Lily asked, thoughtful.

"But she didn't want to meet with us," James said, frowning. "Even if she put it nicely, that doesn't change the fact that Lady Brooke isn't giving us the time of day."

"From the sounds of it, she isn't giving anyone the time of day," Lily retorted.

"Including her own son."

Lily scowled. "You should know by now not to trust what that harlot writes. What could Skeeter know about the Brookes, when less than a month ago, no one even knew that they existed?"

"I... I guess that's fair," James sighed. "But to outright tell us that she's meeting with the Greengrasses instead of us... it's like she's looking down on us."

"It's crude," Lily complied, turning towards her husband, "but I think that's less her looking down on us, and more due to... inexperience. With House Brooke being isolated for so long, she would be just as knowledgeable as a muggle-born– no, even less so. The political scene would be an entirely new field for her."

James let out another sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Fine, you win..."

Not letting her annoyance show, more than used to her husband turning anything and everything between them into a competition, Lily dawned a practiced smile.

"We could always just ask the Greengrasses."

***

{Malfoy Manor}

{26th August 1989}

"Thank you for the warm welcome... I only want what is best for my boy... I only have so much time in one day... I'll be meeting with the Greengrasses..." Lord Malfoy muttered, his brow furrowing as he read the contents of Lady Brooke's letter.

"It's so... safe."

Meeting with the Neutral party, sending a pacifying letter to the leader of the Dark, and presumably doing the same with the Light. Not to mention that House Brooke, besides their supposed manor, had nothing to their name.

No products, no alliances, nothing.

They brought quite literally nothing to the table.

Building an alliance with House Brooke could prove useful... but unless Heir Brooke was the next Dumbledore, there wasn't really anything to be gained from it.

'I'll just wait to see how this plays out.'

***

{Greengrass Manor}

{26th August 1989}

Lord Greengrass looked down at his desk, dark circles under his eyes.

He was staring at nearly a dozen unfinished letters– letters that he had started writing, before immediately stopping. Not know how to phrase what he wanted to say, and knowing that he would never be able to do the spectacle he had witnessed justice.

"...Cygnus. Cygnus!"

Cygnus startled as he felt his wife's touch grace his hand.

"You should get some sleep, dear."

"I know, I know..." Cygnus sighed, "but... I need to say something."

"And you also need to sleep," Azalea chastised her husband.

She understood quite well what her husband was going through. As the leader of the Neutral party, they were a bit of a joke– well, that wasn't right. It was more so that they were destined to always be in the shadows of the Light and Dark, since all of the big players... Dumbledore and Grindelwald, You-Know-Who and The-Boy-Who-Lived... they always seemed to hail from Light and Dark families.

Well, Azalea wasn't too sure about You-Know-Who's alignment, but her point still stood.

"He used Fiendfyre! He casted a non-verbal Fiendfyre, and not only that, but it was fully under the boy's control–!"

"Cygnus!" Azalea commanded.

At his wife's tone, he slumped back into his seat.

"I'm sorry, dear..."

"There's no need," she said softly. "I understand why you're like this. House Brooke is a diamond in the rough, and they decided to waltz right onto your doorstep. No one knows their true value, but as soon as Heir Brooke attends Hogwarts, that is subject to change. Getting someone who is potentially the next Dumbledore to front the Neutral party..." Azalea trailed off, the idea of such a shake-up forcing her to take a breath.

Then she thought back to the duel between Lady and Heir Brooke, about how Heir Brooke was already better than most Aurors. About how he hadn't even attended Hogwarts yet.

It was an impossible thought, but she couldn't help but voice it.

"...No, getting someone stronger than Albus Dumbledore to front the Neutral party... it would be fabulous, wouldn't it?"

They just needed to stay in House Brooke's good graces.

***

{Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts}

{26th August 1989}

Albus Dumbledore liked to keep track of things.

Whether it was the Potters– specifically the Boy-Who-Lived– or what was left of Voldemort, Albus had a habit of keeping track anything that would shoot ripples through Wizarding Britain. It was all to keep society at large in times of peace, of course– as far as Albus was concerned, two wizarding wars was two too many for an old man like him, yes indeed.

He very much hoped that he wouldn't get dragged into a third.

But no, despite his numerous preparations, and even having to deal with a 'True Prophecy' of all things, he had been blindsided by the resurgence of a new magical family. Quite literally appearing out of thin air, the Ancient and Noble House of Brooke had unintentionally taken the Wizarding World by storm.

Or rather, less of a storm, and more of a heavy rain– give it a few years, and Albus was sure that the Brookes would fade into obscurity. That was what he thought when he first heard of McGonagall's account of events, as well as when he had read the infamous Rita Skeeter article concerning them.

But that Rita Skeeter article is exactly what has him worried about the Brookes.

No, not the one about Heir Brooke's supposed emotional abuse– Albus already knew that that one was most likely a loose interpretation, or even just outright false. No, the source of Albus's worries was the article that was set to release tomorrow.

'Meeting the Brookes' by Rita Skeeter

It was subtle, but the follow-up article went through and corrected any and all of Rita's previous slander. There had been a couple of times when Rita's hand had been forced, whether it be with money or political influence... but House Brooke didn't have that.

Well, they had money, but they hadn't used money to persuade the witch.

With the knowledge that Rita Skeeter went unseen by anyone and everyone for three whole days, only to show up at her work looking much worse for wear... and then for her to immediately write an article about how she met with the Brookes, all while rescinding the things that she had said just prior...

None of that information painted Albus the best picture.

No, it was almost as if House Brooke was sending a message to anyone that was smart enough to read between the lines.

'Hopefully they don't become a problem...'

***

{Brooke Manor, Greater Manchester}

{26th August 1989}

Looking down at the unconscious man residing in his spare bedroom, Matteo was wearing quite the complicated facial expression.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Matteo still didn't know how to go about the man, not really. Despite being Regulus's son, he didn't feel any sort of connection to his supposed father. Matteo didn't want Regulus to try to make himself a part of his life, either.

That was why he still hadn't gotten in touch with the Malfoys, the Tonks, or even the Blacks themselves. He would, eventually, but not quite yet.

But... he couldn't just leave his father comatose forever.

'Wake.'

Matteo stood to the side, along with Camilla, as they watched Regulus groan, the wizard letting out a guttural yawn as he waked from his decade long slumber. As soon as the man realized that he was awake, though, Regulus shot straight up and leapt backwards, reaching for a wand that wasn't there.

"You're a bit jumpy for an old man, old man," Matteo chuckled.

"What– who? Old man?" he asked, getting more and more confused as time went on.

"You've been unconscious for more than 10 years, Regulus," Matteo answered. "I went looking for you, curious as to how my blood-father perished... but it seems that you are alive."

"F-Father? You..."

Matteo rolled his eyes. His father was getting teary-eyed, and the idea that his father was remorseful for not being there for him... it annoyed him. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but the feeling was unpleasant.

But Matteo also couldn't just... stop his father from being sad for him. He was already regretting not just leaving the healed Regulus on a random street corner.

"Son... son..." Regulus mumbled, before turning to Camilla. "You, you must be... Anna– no, Abby...? No, Amber!" his father exclaimed, approaching his 'mother.' Matteo could already see where this was going, and he didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"Amber, I can't stress how sorry I am for not being there for our boy... but, but if you–"

Camilla held out a hand, pushing Regulus's face away.

"Mr. Black, my name is Camilla Brooke. Matteo is my adopted son."

Holding back tears of stifled laughter, Matteo watched as the gears slowly turned in Regulus's head... and the man immediately backpedaled, hands raised. "Sorry, sorry!"

"So my mother's name was Amber?" asked Matteo, an eyebrow raised.

Then Regulus turned to Matteo, to Matteo Brooke né Black, finally taking in the fact that he now had a son for the first time. Not just a son, but a son of 11 years.

"I... yes," Regulus said, unsure of how to act. The man didn't know how to talk in front of children in the first place, let alone his own child. Not to mention that Matteo was... unusually mature. "She... she had blonde hair, and," he looked back at Camilla, "and I guess her eyes were brown, not green."

"Was she cute?" Matteo asked.

"Wha... uh, yeah?" Regulus asked in return.

"Tis a shame she died then," Matteo said, sighing.

"She's dead?!"

"What did you expect?" Matteo asked, genuinely confused. "A single, muggle-born witch getting pregnant at the height of Voldemort's reign," he scoffed. "In all honesty, I should be lucky that I'm even alive."

"DON'T SAY IT!" Regulus hollered, frantically turning around. "It's taboo! He knows where he are, we need to–"

"Voldemort's dead, father."

Regulus stopped in his tracks, turning back to his son.

"He's dead?" Regulus asked, his voice extraordinarily quiet.

"Yes."

Regulus slumped to his knees. "I see... then, then that mean I succeeded..."

"How so?"

"The Dark Lord–" Regulus gulped. "V-Voldemort was good at persuading people, and I was too far in by the time I realized that... that he didn't care. He didn't care for a better society, no, he didn't even care for the people who served him. But I alone wasn't smart nor strong enough to stop him, so... so after discovering his secret, I vowed to end his immortality..."

"By destroying his Horcruxes, you mean?"

"Yes, his Horcrux–" Regulus froze, eyes wide. "Horcruxes?"

"Why would he ever stop at one?" Matteo berated his fool of a father. "No, Voldemort made half a dozen of the blasted things. He probably would've made more, but he died."

"Did– did they not work?"

"No, it worked," Matteo said, amused. "Voldemort cut his soul into a bunch of tiny parts, and then he prevented himself from moving on when he was hit by his own Killing Curse... but, even if his soul was protected, his body wasn't. No, he's currently something akin to a ghost, in constant pain and agony, unable to live, unable to die..." Matteo shook his head. "What a total dumbass, mutilating his own soul."

"...Wait, then did I... did I sacrifice myself for nothing?"

"No, not for nothing," Matteo said, his voice soft, assuring. "After I found you in that cave, and realized what this 'Voldemort' had done, I went on a bit of a hunt," Matteo remarked, and with a wave of his hand, he revealed three different artifacts.

The Gaunt ring, Regulus's own locket, and the Hufflepuff Cup.

Regulus stumbled back, eyes wide. "He made three?!"

"No, he made six... well, seven, technically," Matteo answered. There was still the diary, Ravenclaw's diadem, the 'real' locket, and Heather Potter... which would normally be six, but Heather was technically a two in one package.

Whether or not that meant she'd survive two Killing Curses, Matteo didn't know.

"But now, we have to decide what to do with you."

"With me?" Regulus asked, confused.

"Yes, with you," Matteo repeated. "Your brother, Sirius, is Lord Black–" Regulus gasped– "and the entire Wizarding World thinks you died for Voldemort, a filthy little Death Eater all the way up until your miserable end. I'm sure Sirius would welcome you back with open arms, and would immediately introduce you to your three nieces–" he gasped again– "but the thing is, even if I'm your son, I'm not a Black, but a Brooke."

Regulus stopped for a moment, digesting Matteo's words.

"...You don't want anyone to know you're my son."

"No, I don't care about that. Something as mundane as having a Death Eater as a father wouldn't be enough to slander me, half of Slytherin is the same in that regard. No, this is about not wanting to be known as a Black," Matteo explained. "You wouldn't know, being dead to the world for a decade and all, but House Brooke has been isolated from the public for centuries, reappearing just last month– so if it came out right now that I was a Black..."

"...nothing you did would be associated with House Brooke," Regulus finished.

"Huh, you're kinda smart," Matteo said, impressed.

"Huh?" Regulus spluttered, taken aback by his son's sass.

"You're welcome to stay here for a bit," Matteo continued, "but... I have a feeling that you would rather live with your brother."

Matteo raised a hand to stop Regulus's protests. "Don't you dare pity me. I might've started life an orphan, but ever since I've been taken in by the Brookes, I've been given everything that I ever could've wanted and more. At this point, the only thing I don't have is a country of my own..." Matteo trailed off, before shaking his head. "But that's besides the point. I don't want you trying to be my father, especially not out of a sense of obligation. I don't want or need that. We can stay in touch, but it's far too late for you to 'raise' me."

With his son putting his foot down, Regulus sighed, defeated... but smiling all the same.

"Arcturus would love you," Regulus said, sounding rather reminiscent.

"I bet he would," Matteo replied, thinking about his great-grandfather. If this were the canon timeline, the man was set to die in a few years... but with House Black prevailing, that was subject to change. A lack of stress could do wonderous things for the body, especially so for a wizard's.

"So," Camilla interrupted, but only because that was what her deity desired, "have you come to a decision, Mr. Black?"

"Yes, I..." Regulus took a deep breath. "I think I have."

***

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***

The next chapter, To Hogwarts, releases April 22nd, 10:00AM (MDT)

Patreon is up to Chapter 23!