17

--Caddell Manor—18th, September 1938—

His slow steps sounded around the room as he calmly looked around in thought, his hands in his pockets. He rarely ever paid attention to the content of the room whenever he was there.

Yet here he was doing just that. He wished he had noticed it all before. His brother was so much more than the mask he put on. His hand hesitantly grabbed the dark wooden frame. He hadn't known his brother had this. He watched the image covered by the glass move.

Two young boys. He chuckled at the obviously forced smiles on their faces, of both himself and his brother, Atticus. The forced smiles lasted only a second before Atticus hit him on the back of the head. That was when both their figures disappeared from the frame as Baratheon chased after his older brother.

Their mother had forced them to take this picture. He and his brother weren't exactly the best of siblings in their childhood. They were more of 'competitors'. Baratheon had always been jealous of his older brother, not understanding why his father had paid him more attention.

While Baratheon was envious of Atticus, Atticus was envious of Baratheon.

Atticus had what Baratheon had always wanted since he was old enough to notice the difference in how their father treated them. He wanted the attention of his father. He strove to be the best, to attain the man's attention, just one look- but whenever his father and himself were in a room together, the man barely spared a glance. Then comes Atticus, the 'perfect' dutiful heir that was their father's favourite. With Atticus around, it was as though Cyrus Kester Caddell had forgotten the existence of Baratheon Alcon Caddell.

From a young age, Baratheon had always watched his brother. No matter how simple the things he did were, he continued to watch, to copy him. He thought- hoped maybe if he behaved and spoke just as his brother did, then his father would pay more attention to him, instead of seeing him as a 'spare', the child he didn't want. It was a child's dream for such a thing to happen, as it did not.

As time went on, he grew up- alone. His mother past away when he was seven, so all the love he had gotten from her was nothing but a vague memory that simply faded away with each passing year.

He was glad that they were able to bond when they did. He was glad his brother had noticed his loneliness. It may have taken a while, but he eventually did and made that first step to truly being his brother.

"Baratheon."

He turned his gaze to the door of his brother's office. There stood at the open doorway was the newly widowed Ophelia Malfoy. He sighed in frustration at seeing her standing there. His brother had always had a thing for alcohol, and he was glad for that.

He grabbed one of the full bottles that were on his desk, ready to drink it, "Will you not answer me?" he heard speak again. "My brother is dead, and all you seem to care about is-" he hadn't finished, Ophelia had cut him off, "-What 'I' want is for this family to not fall apart. Therefore, I believe it necessary that I am-" just as she had cut him off he too cut her off.

"I don't understand why you're so set on this! I am REGENT." He walked slowly around his brother's desk and sat down in the chair. It was nice, comfy. No wonder he usually spent his time in here, that and not having to deal with this woman.

"I'm Regent," he said again, letting it sink in the silence of the room as the tension rose.

"I will be head of this house until Emrys reaches majority. Once he reaches the age of 17, he will be Lord Caddell. You needn't worry that I will steal his birthright," he spat out.

He really couldn't understand her lack of faith in him to be Regent… he had been born and raised a Caddell. Baratheon had been raised as a replacement in case anything ever happened to his older brother, the heir.

It was laughable, her a woman, thinking she could do a better job than him. She was raised to marry a Lord, not to be one. He didn't allow himself to say it out loud. If he did, he didn't' want to imagine how much longer her bickering would continue.

It was simply idiotic of her to think herself entitled merely because she gave birth to the boy.

"I was no way accusing you of thinking of doing such a thing," Ophelia snapped, her arms crossed as her legs strode into the room, standing before the desk as Baratheon drank from the bottle, "Would you stop that!" she spoke again, snacking the bottle from hand.

He lost his son, now his brother.

He chuckled, his head thrown back, resting on the head of the chair, "How else will I grieve? I feel strangely empty," his heading dropping back, green clashing with grey. Her brows furrowed as she listened to him speak.

"My mother died when I was seven. I barely remember her. I just know my father refused me the privilege of 'grieving' as I was supposed to be strong and show no weakness, so I suppressed it all, hating every memory I had of her because it made me sad. Therefore, I was 'weak'. Imagine… a boy of seven hating himself because he wanted the warmth of his mother- Cyrus Caddell, oh how I hated- hate that man. Even after death, it feels as though he's still haunting me. Do you not miss your husband? Was your marriage as bad as mine with Regina Crabbe?"

Ophelia sighed, passing the bottle back to Baratheon as he reached for it. "Regina Caddell." Ophelia corrected. Baratheon snorted as he tried not to choke on the burning liquid, "Right, yes. Regina 'Caddell', I never wished to marry her, you know…."

"I think everyone knew when you decided to stay seated with that sorting hat on your head for five minutes arguing with it to get into Gryffindor. It was quite an amusing sight. Such a silly act of rebellion. What did you think it would do? Did you really think your father would break the contract because your uniform had red?"

He didn't respond as he looked away, only tapping his fingers on the side of the bottle.

"You never answered my question." He finally spoke. "What question?" she responded their gazes meeting once again. "Do you miss him?"

She scoffed, "What is it you wish for me to say? Would you have me cry? Would you rather me stay locked up in my chambers? Or maybe do as you have been doing these past few days, drink? How I grieve is not any of your business, but it would seem I am doing a better job at it than you, 'Lord Caddell', which is why I believe I would be more suited as Lady Regent of the House of Caddell for my OWN SON!"

"And give the Malfoys more power?" Baratheon drawled, his interest in the conversation slipping. The chair twisted as his legs dragged across the floor.

He stared out of the window behind, "I think not. Even so, you would never be regent Ophelia, not with me alive, or even my son, Kester, alive. You would only be able to become Regent legally if there wasn't a Caddell of age to take Regency. There really isn't any point in you continuing this pointless argument, even though my brother left it in his will. Even with the will stating this, legally, I still would be named Regent."

He heard her loud steps echoing as she left, and he sighed. Using his free hand, his hand slipped into his pocket, bringing out a crumbled piece of parchment. Now with him as Regent, he needed to fix his mother's shitty mess. Could he be any more stupid than he was to have had a bastard?

He felt slightly betrayed that he was not aware of such a thing, only to find out from the stupid letter his brother left for him to open and read. He was sure their father knew and probably could care less. If it had been him to have a bastard, his father would have made a bigger deal.

Ridiculous, there's always a favourite, and when there's a favourite, they reap the benefits…

At least he didn't need to deal with Grindelwald, his curiosity about the Karios gone, with his brother somehow convincing him it was fake by giving the man some fake diary written by their ancestor.

Atticus must have been very convincing. Such a man wouldn't- shouldn't fall for such tricks. There's no doubt his brother had let the man probe through his mind. Not many people were able to alter memories, but with years of practice, it was something that could be done.

He will need to mention this to the head of Aurors. They needed to be made aware of his interest in the Karios story, one that could become just as the Peverell story was to him.

Sooner or later, that man was going to come back. All his brother did was slow his process down enough for him to continue working somewhere else.

Right now, Baratheon had to deal with Adaline Sartre Storms- who would have thought the little brat… his eldest niece, was trying to kill her own family. She must have gotten such madness from their grandmother, Merel, who had once been a Gaunt. Mad is what those lots are, and mad is what Astrid Lenora Masters is. He was going to deal with her himself, perhaps kill her just as his brother had killed their father.

Now, what was to be his first move? It made sense to make the family aware of it all. He couldn't be with them all to protect them. He wasn't even sure who her targets were. First was Zion, then there was that attempted murder of Atticus when he had gone to one of his offices in London. A failed attempt on her part…

Emrys was safe at Hogwarts. He would be made aware of this all soon, rather soon, actually. It was about time he visited Hogwarts to have the news delivered to him, family to family. He'll have to add some extra things to his Heirship schedule. His brother had mentioned how the boy was interested in duelling. It would do good for him to start with a professional once his back for the holidays.

It was the perfect time to start with him having his wand and being at Hogwarts for a while. It would be a smooth transition, with his bright mind that seemed to just absorb information.

Then there was the issue of relocation… they were many manors that weren't known to the wizarding community. Which would be fine, all of them having heavy wards surrounding them.

--Caddell Manor, Gloucestershire, England--23th August 1903—

His arms were folded behind him as he leaned back against the wall as time went on. He had been on the way outside to attend to the garden he had started. It was only small, nothing special. When bored, it was easy to find a hobby to part take in. It was only just a month ago he had started the garden. That's what loneliness does to someone.

Here's the thing, the art of surviving in the best possible shape possible is simple. He had found that if he could be conscious of his choices and emotions, he could start to ask himself to make healthier choices for himself- better than staying in his room all day. He chose to move and dance to music rather than sit, exercise rather than sleep… instead of trying to gain his father's attention, he decided to 'garden'. Once his father had found out, he thought it ridiculous but did not care enough to speak more on the matter, only scoffing before leaving him alone as usual.

Just yesterday, he began planting Redioua's, a rare and expensive plant that was native to Australia. They were shaped similar to blueberries, but in this case, they were larger.

They were a deep purple, with faded bludges of a maroon colour. They grew from a black stem, having at least five batches appearing from the stems that grew from the root.

They weren't exactly what you would call 'safe', seeing as eating or just tasting it could cause one to swell up quickly. Before you know it, you'll be dead of the swelling that would have happened in the throat, but other than that, it was safe enough to touch. He just had to make sure his hands were clean afterwards.

One second he's walking towards the parlour to where he had started the garden, then the next, he sees his father walking towards him, likely to his office, which was indeed where he was going. The man looked annoyed, nothing unusual. Then there was Atticus, his brother trailing after him with no urgency. He looked rather bored. Their father had snapped at him to keep up his pace.

He expected the man to just walk past him without a word, but instead, he called his name… well, he wouldn't call it 'name' seeing as he called him like some dog. 'Boy, don't think I don't forget you embarrassing me. I will be talking to you after I deal with Atticus. Wait outside my office,' and of course, he responded with, 'yes, father' quite reluctantly might he add.

He was hoping his father had forgotten the incident that happened at the Crabbe Manor. He shouldn't have allowed his emotions to run wild like that, but he was just so annoyed.

Finally, his father's office door opened, with Atticus appearing out of it. Only as he took one step, the door slammed against his back, having him tumble slightly forwards. Baratheon gulped nervously… his father was in a bad mood and now would take it out on him.

He looked towards the door and to the now composed Atticus, who was straightening his robes. He reached for the hand of the door- "I wouldn't; do that if I were you", his brother said.

He frowned at Atticus, "Why wouldn't I? father requested to see me, finally deciding upon my punishment."

"Right, well, after disagreeing and trying to accept my decision. He rather expressed his… reluctancy of laying eyes on another face… another son, if you will. Apparently, we're both 'disgraces' now," his brother Atticus told him, an amused glint in his green eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Baratheon nodded slowly, whipping his sweaty palms against his side, "Right."

"Come, walk with me," his brother said, his brows furrowed even further, but sure enough, he let his legs move, following behind his brother, catching up to his slow pace, "Are you not busy?" He asked Atticus.

"I could never be busy for you, Baratheon", his brother said gently, which only resulted in Bartaheon scoffing before he spoke himself.

"I can hardly tell you one time I've ever heard such words spoken from you, 'Walk with me', such foreign words to me."

His brother didn't respond, silence filling the air as they continued on their slow pace. He felt nervous then annoyed at himself. His brother actually wanted to spend time with him! And there he was, pushing him away. It was just strange. Atticus would never do something like that, was he-

"What did you do to have angered father as such?" he questioned, looking towards his brother. "Ah, that? Father wishes for me to work in the Ministry once I finish my final year of Hogwarts, which I will be doing, but not what he had in mind, I suppose."

After his final year? Atticus will be going into his seventh year this coming September, while Baratheon will be attending his first year at Hogwarts. "What do you mean by that?" he asked his brother, Atticus.

Atticus spared him a glance, "He wishes for me to work under him in the British Ministry, but I've decided to do an apprenticeship in the French Ministry after Hogwarts."

He didn't know what to say to that. His brother was leaving? But… he wanted to, couldn't he just go to the British Ministry? What difference would there even be, other than speaking another language?!

"You ca- um, what about Ophelia Malfoy? You're supposed to get married to her right after Hogwarts, so you can't leave."

"I'm not going to get married to her straight away. We'll be getting married at the beginning of 1905, months after our graduation, which gives me some months to spend in France… You know what do you say to a spontaneous adventure?" Atticus spoke.

"…Sponanoeous adventure?"

"Yea, well, more so an act of rebellion." Atticus spoke again, "Are you mad? Are you trying to have father use that blood thrones on me again?" Baratheon blurted out. "Why are you even rebellion? So what if your father wants you to work in the British Ministry with you! At least you get his attention…."

"Trust me, Baratheon, you don't want his 'attention'. It's hardly anything to sniffle over. Quit being such a baby. You're 10, turning 11, and you're going into Hogwarts this year. You need to grow up and stop trying to attain his attention."

Baratheon didn't even answer. He was too annoyed, too, a 'baby'? is that what Atticus saw him as? Is that why he was always too busy to even acknowledge him?

Atticus simply couldn't understand why his brother wished for that man's attention even after all those harsh punishments he handed to him. The man is only their father in name.

It was a shame Baratheon was too blinded by wanting the man's love that he didn't see the real him. He knew Baratheon would have a change of mind if he knew the reason their mother was dead was that their father murdered her.

The man had said the Baratheon was growing too soft-hearted and decided to dispose of her. Atticus felt guilty for not trying to stop him, but what was he to do to stop him at thirteen? He felt even more guilter for not feeling any shame or simply for her death. She was dead, and he didn't care… and what worried him the most was that he hadn't felt any differently about his father after killing her.

Maybe it was because deep within, he hated her for handing him over to their father by being in his life. Then Baratheon was born, only because his father had not wanted his mother in his life.

He didn't want his heir being too attached to something. It was ridiculous, and he hated his mother for not fighting his wishes. Instead, she asked for another child that would only be hers.

When she laid eyes on him, she saw their father, Cyrus, and she hated it, therefore hated him, even if she hadn't told him.

Baratheon had their mother, while Attiusc was left with his father. Baratheon was showered with love. Atticus couldn't exactly say his father did the same to him.

--Hogwarts—19th September 1938—

They were sat in the great hall having their dinner, having their little discussion at the Ravenclaw table.

"Emrys, I could care less about where the word 'fun' came from-" Aries started only to be interrupted, "I think it was interesting, from the early 1700s? how'd you come by that?" a boy, Henry asked. He was a muggle-born Ravenclaw that Emrys would find himself talking to at times.

Emrys found himself interested in his friendship with him mostly because he would tell him things of the muggle world, which was great, seeing as it was nothing like the muggle world he came from. He was from a world with advanced technology, electric cars, etc. He was living in history right now. The second world war has yet to even start!

Even when talking to Tom, he would ask questions that seemed ridiculous to Tom. Emrys found himself even asking Tom to give him a tour of muggle London, maybe during the Holidays. The look Tom had given him was obvious that Tom was baffled as to why he would want to leave the wizarding world to enter a 'slump' like the muggle world.

He wanted to experience history first hand, well, at least just see what things were like, instead of seeing of pictures. At some point of the conversation, Tom had spoken parseltongue, 'Stop that or I'll drown you in the lake!' it was hushed, but he still heard it.

He didn't react, only raising a brow, giving a confused, 'Huh?' which Tom just shook his head, saying he was just talking to himself about something. Did tom have Nagini already? He felt it unlikely. He must have a different snake at this time, one that was lurking in his robes.

There was no way he would let Tom know he could speak the language as well. It could be used against him.

"Thank y-" Emrys started, "He reads all the time. There's no surprise there. We share a dorm room, and he usually gives some random facts at random moments. One second he'd not there, then the next he's climbing out of that trunk of his… Ronnel, who do you even share a dorm with?" Aries asked.

"Out of his trunk? Oh, um, I share with Aiden Granselon, Alexander McKinnon and-"

"Caddell?" a voice sounded behind them. He turned to see Walburga Black standing there, "Yes, Miss Black?" he responded, "I bumped into Professor Vassy, your head of house. She asked if I could call for you. You're needed in the Headmaster's office." She told him, her voice levelled and neutral. "Oh… did she say why?" Emrys pried.

The third-year girl shook her head, "Sorry, no."

"She scares me", Henry whispered, "Of course she does. You're a mudblood," Aries blatantly said.

"Oi, isn't that a bad word?!" Henry snapped. "Right, you're a 'muggle-born' oh great species," Aries said as he rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll get used to saying muggle-born eventually. I'm just used to it." Aries said again, giving an unconvincing nod towards Henry, who just went back to eating his food.

He wasn't really sure what he was expecting when he headed to the Headmasters office. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he?

Why was his uncle there?