Yes, it’s official: I have no life. I’m starting up new fanfiction instead of working on my others (insert: M-chan’s a lazy arse XP ). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little ficcy that bloomed in my head late last month.

Mokusatsu-kun

---

Disclaimer/Warning: I do not own any of this except Eva/(insert any and all pseudonyms here). The rest belongs to Rowling, the Romans or the Greeks. Wait, not the Romans; they stole—er, borrowed their stuff from the Greeks. Meh. Also, the rating may go up for future scenes. Not sure yet.

“Talking”

‘Thinking’

Spells

Flashbacks

Mindspeak

---

Chapter 1

A young woman walked—well, more like stalked—through the streets of London, a mixture of annoyance and anger swirling around her. Following her was a family of 3—her family—ordering her to slow down. From the way her father spoke, you’d think her to be no more than a child, and it was grating on her already frayed nerves. Which was probably why she was trying to get away from the trio as quickly as she could. In one hand she held the black king piece of a chess set.

“Kings to you, Eva.”

The girl, Eva, caught the tossed item in one hand and looked down at it. “A black king? Honestly, David. Besides, aren’t we a little too old to be copying books?”

David grinned. “Come on, you expected white? Black suits you better, you know. And besides, why should we stop? I’ll be expecting that back when you return.”

“Evangeline!”

The woman—Evangeline—dropped her arm, lips pressing into a thin line as the memory was banished from her mind. She spun around to snarl at the group. She had officially had it with these people who called themselves her family. All they did was tell her what to do, how to act—basically controlling her every action, ever word. This time, this one time, she had hoped that they could let go of that. But things never did go her way. Black hair fell into equally black eyes as she opened her mouth to snap, snarl and be generally rebellious.

And then her world exploded.

---

“Did it work Professor?”

“Only time will tell Harry. We will know soon enough.”

“But the spell looked—”

“Like it backfired? Don’t worry Harry. These spells don’t work like you expect them to. They’re different from regular spells. So just wait.”

“If you say so Professor.”

---

August, 1967

Regulus Black, a very young Regulus, was looking for his big brother in 12 Grimmauld Place. So far he’d managed to annoy the rest of the Blacks that resided in the building with his continual demands as to his brother’s whereabouts. The child pouted as he made his way to the back door in small, quick steps. He didn’t like searching for his brother this long—it made Regulus irritable. The back garden was the only place left he had to look.

There, lying in the grass with eyes closed, was a boy. At first Regulus was sure it was Sirius. After all, no one else should be able to enter 12 Grimmauld without Father’s permission. As he approached the boy, however, he noticed things that were not present in his brother. The skin was not as tan as it usually was, instead fair (almost pale). Although the hair was black, they were longer than usual, by a good 3 or 4 inches. What made Regulus decide that this sleeping boy was definitely not his brother was when Sirius grabbed him from behind. The young Black squealed and Sirius laughed loudly before his blue eyes fell on the boy.

“Reg, who’s that?”

The child shrugged as he plopped down beside the sleeping boy. “I dunno. I found him out here.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. “You found him? Here?”

“Yep.” Regulus grinned before a frown came over his face. “Do you think we should tell Father?”

“He’s busy. Mother would be better. You stay here. I’ll get her.”

With that, Sirius left his little brother once again. Regulus pouted slightly as he sat down beside the strange boy to wait. As usual. After what he considered a long while of waiting (though his brother had just disappeared inside the house), Regulus turned his attention on the boy. There wasn’t anything that strange about him, really. The other child could pass as his older brother’s twin. Except for Sirius’s eyes. No one had eyes like Sirius did; their mother even said so. Regulus sighed loudly and turned away.

After what felt to the child like hours later (truly it was only half a second), however, Regulus found his attention being drawn back to the sleeping boy. The boy was clutching something in his hand. Regulus couldn’t see it quite that well, but it was black. He turned his head back to the house, to check if anyone was there, before he slowly reached out to see what the boy held.

“Regulus Black!”

Regulus’s hand pulled back immediately and his head twisted quickly to see his mother marching across the lawn towards him, Sirius following after her. She stared down at her son, frowning slightly when she saw the unconscious child. “Regulus, could you go inside with your brother?”

“But...”

“Regulus, please, go inside.”

Regulus stared up at his mother before waddling over to Sirius, who took his hand and led him back to the manor. He looked back in time to see his mother stare down at the unconscious boy once again, a frown on her face.

---

Sirius stood by his mother’s side as his parents stared at the child asleep in bed. The boy had done nothing for the past week except stir momentarily in time for food and his father’s questions. The eerie resemblance the boy bore to Sirius was not lost on his parents, it seemed. They were thinking up ridiculous stories of why the child looked so much like Sirius. His mother went so far as to accuse his father of having an affair—whatever that was.

There was one thing that had made his parents decide not to send the child to St Mungo’s were the child’s eyes. Something about the rarity of amethyst eyes, the magical power those individuals had, and how they didn’t want to hand over a possible something to the Ministry. Sirius wasn’t sure what was that something this child was and nor did he know what the amethyst eyes meant, but the possibility that he might be getting a twin brother looked quite appealing.

There was a soft groan and the boy opened his eyes again. It wasn’t like the other times; when the boy mechanically ate and stared blankly at his father. Those times the boy didn’t seem to know what was going on and stared at his reflection as though there was something wrong with it. This time the boy might be actually conscious enough to answer the questions his father asked.

“Sirius, go check on Regulus.”

Sirius pouted slightly and looked up at his mother beseechingly. He wanted to stay and see what happened with the boy. All he got in return was a steadfast refusal. He sighed and left the room, followed by his mother’s sharp eyes. When the door was closed, she turned those sharp eyes on the young boy, who was now sitting up.

“You didn’t have to send him out of the room, did you?”

The woman looked affronted at having her authority questioned. “It was my decision.”

The boy merely smiled at her, eyes dancing with amusement. “Of course it was. But you still didn’t have to send him away. Unless you have something to hide, that is. Something you don’t want your son to know.”

Mrs Black stared at the boy, her lips thinning into a small line. “You’re quite perceptive. For a child.”

“I suppose. Looking like this has its advantages.”

Mrs Black smiled triumphantly at these words. “So this is not your true appearance.”

“Mm.” The boy nodded as he glanced around the room. “It would be fairly easy to deduce since I was in shock when I first saw myself. Is your husband not here? How unfortunate. That conversation would have proven interesting...”

The woman stiffened, narrowing her eyes at the child. “He will be arriving shortly. Eat your food for now.”

The child smiled, amused at her anger it seemed. “Excellent.”

He didn’t bother with the food, however. The child settled back into the pillows, folding his hands in his lap, and waited for Mr Black to arrive. It didn’t take long before the man swept into the room and towered at the foot of the bed, staring darkly at the child. The display was meant to frighten, but the child’s lips merely twitched and he clapped appreciatively.

“Amazing. I don’t think anyone could be more convincing. Save my father but, from what I gathered, he has yet to be a father, or even a husband.”

“Your father?”

“Ah, and sharp too. Not unlike your wife.” Mrs Black shot daggers at the child, who simply sat serenely in that bed. “Yes, my father. He...he will be an angry man. At this moment, however, I believe he’s just completing his Bachelor Degree. This is approximately 1966, correct?”

“1967.”

“Close enough.” The child shrugged. “Some time in the 60s. Now, was there anything you wanted to know? Other than how I ended up in your back...garden, I believe you called it, where my parents are or anything like that.”

“You’re from the future.”

“A future. Not necessarily yours.”

Mr Black nodded gravely. “You have yet to be born and you are alone here. You require shelter and food, among other things.”

“Oh, I knew talking to you would be fun. Yes, I’ve yet to be born. No, I don’t have anyone to rely on. I suppose I could make my own way in the world. Go to a children’s aid service and beg them for help. Play at amnesia. Or are you suggesting that I stay with you?”

Mrs Black glanced at her husband. She didn’t particularly like the child that had found his way into their back garden. The boy was too...wild. He spoke in a strange manner and acted as though he was an equal with her and her husband. She didn’t think he would make their family any better. If anything, this child would lead them into ruin. The Blacks would become the laughing-stock of the magical society.

Her husband, however, merely smiled at the child. “Yes, that I what I am suggesting.”