Passing Time

My birth was miraculously boring. I floated around for a bit, was pushed out at some point, and spanked to kingdom come because apparently a well behaved baby isn't allowed here.

My first few months of existence in this world were quite boring. Suck on this. Suck on that. Lay here, lay there. Though I suppose this is much better than my time in the dunes it still isn't optimal.

Hearing a creak at the doorway of my room, I could see one of our house elves, Kreacher, shuffling in. "Greetings to the young master. Mistress has ordered Kreacher to take young master outside for some fresh air."

My small body began floating, swathed in my black baby blanket. My body was slowly maneuvered till I was floating behind Kreacher. "Kreacher will guide young master now."

We moved out of my room, I hadn't seen anything outside of my room before. I had been birthed here and had resided here these long months, never being exposed to anything but Kreacher and occasionally my parents, Walburga and Orion Black. Now I don't know much about YA novels or pop culture, I had been in my fifties when I died, but I wasn't completely clueless. I knew that I had been born into the Harry Potter universe. Walking before me was a house-elf, I was born into the Black family, and magic was constantly performed before my very eyes. I'd have to be a complete dunce to not suspect that I was in such a place.

"We are here young master." The thin voice of Kreacher rasped out.

Looking beyond the wrinkled head of my guide, I could see fields of verdant green in every direction.

My eyes widened. Wow…

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene. The outside air filled my lungs, cool and refreshing. The shade of early morning sheltered my eyes and a gentle breeze caressed my face. I unconsciously smiled, watching the flowers of our garden sway in the wind. Then the sun began to rise.

Violet, blue, red, and then deep orange. The sun bathed the entire world in bright light so brilliant it would undoubtedly outshine any achievement of humanity.

A tear streaked down my face.

Huh? Why am I crying? Whatever, I'll just enjoy the view for now.

…

1966, September

Ebullient:

Filled with life and enthusiasm.

Synonyms: boisterous, bubbly, exuberant, high-spirited

"Hmm, how utterly… inept." Illyrian sighed as he flipped though the 1966 edition of the Oxford English Dictionary. Sitting in a plush leather seat, surrounded by a cavalcade of books and towering mahogany shelves, he couldn't help but find himself extremely… bored.

By the age of one and a half Illyrian had been reading complex manuals on potion construction, memorizing pure-blood family lines, and reciting the doctrines of Nietzsche. Of course Illyrian had to convince his mother Walburga, her being the primary power of his particular family unit, that these philosophers and thesauri were written by forgotten pure-blood families and the like, but in the end it was worth the hassle to sate his boredom.

Currently, at the age of four, despite his obvious intelligence, Illyrian was still treated as a child. While not exactly unexpected it still put a strain on the patience of the altogether, 154 year old man. Despite what one would think, the Black family did not employ private tutors for their children before Hogwarts. They would be taught basic Pure-blood manners, family lines, hatred towards muggles, etc… but anything even remotely useful for a magical education was deemed irrelevant. This had left the young Illyrian extremely agitated.

"I'm cooped up in this God-forsaken house with the idiot Sirius and ass-kisser Regulus with nothing to do, anywhere to go, or anything to see. I've already just about exhausted my supply of books. He sighed again, looking down at the never-ending list of English vocabulary; it seemed as the the ink mixed together into a darkening swamp, sucking his soul from his body, of course this was entirely impossible. He had already sold his to the Devil.

CRASH

Illyrian sighed again, he could feel the coming storm downstairs. The air grew statical as if before a thunderstorm. "Here comes the thunder."

"Sirius! How. How Dare You! How utterly!"

It seemed Sirius was really in trouble this time. Mother seems to have developed a speech impediment in her anger.

CRASH, CRACK

"That'll bruse."

"How dare you embarrass me in front of the other ladies! This will teach you some pure-blood manners!"

SHATTER

Well, it seems he'll have an early bedtime as well. I wonder which vase she's shattered this time. Besides, it's not entirely his fault that he was born cognitively deficient.

Deciding that perhaps reading the Oxford Dictionary would be more interesting despite its swamp-like appearance than listening to his brother turn a new shade, Illyrian went back to memorizing the synonyms of Ebullient.

…

1971, September

I am currently eight years old. I will be turning nine in December. My brother Sirius is eleven and so at this very moment, with the rest of my family, we are watching him board the train on the illustrious platform of 9 3/4 to Hogwarts. Of course with our being a pure-blood family and my mother's severe dislike for my brother Sirius, we watched him go in silence.

Farewell idiot Sirius, I do hope you can pass your classes, or even one, and for the love of Merlin, don't get sorted into Gryffindor, I know you did in canon, but I really don't want mother to break any more vases, I quite enjoy their aesthetic.

"Mother."

Mother turned towards me, plain and cold as usual but with a small smile gracing her marble-like lips. Only for me. I'm her favorite.

"When we get back home, could I have a few more books. I'm almost eleven and would like to start studying some of the first-year material for Hogwarts."

Walburga's eyes wrinkled slightly. "Why of course dear. A Black should be at the top of their class, we are pure-bloods after all."

"Yes, mother."

Regulus was standing slightly behind Walburga, with something resembling a frown. I would be frowning too if all I wanted was my mother's attention and approval. Alas, we all knew that I was the only hope for the Black's younger generation.

That night I hadn't been able to find a few of my favorite books, slimy twat.

Throughout the years, as I grew older, my intelligence had a more profound impact on my place in the family. Maybe there is a direct correlation between baby fat and respect? Grimmauld Place was a dark and somewhat cramped place, despite this, I was allocated the largest room on the second floor for my bed and study.

Unlike my other brothers, I was allowed some form of freedom in what I did. My mother wasn't so concerned with me staining the Black reputation and so she gave in to many of my requests. I treated the house-elves with a modicum of respect and so they always performed any of my tasks to perfection and the manservants had quickly learned not to underestimate my cruelty despite my young appearance. This was another detail left out by the Harry Potter universe. The blacks held a handful of Half-blood servants.

Elves could perform every function these servants could but it was a given that wealthy families owned house-elves. Essentially owning other wizards though, this implied an entirely different meaning and showed off the house's wealth, more so than a few teleporting pillowcases.

…

1972, November

Regulus was gone. Perfect. We hadn't really seen eye to eye anyways, he was both taller than me and more willing to lick boots; I did find his ability somewhat inspiring though, he could make any shoe shine brighter than a mirror in the sun.

For the past year I had been reviewing the first and second-year Hogwarts material, of course, I couldn't actually practice any of the magic but I could go over theory, which would immensely help in completing homework and, when it was time, performing said magic. You can learn to drive a car and be just fine, but if you could work on it too, well, you could fit a larger engine under the hood and go two-hundred with ease, so why not help myself in the long run?

Pop

"Misses Walburga wishes for the young master to come down for supper."

Illyrian looked up from his desk. "Hmm, yes alright."

Pop

Getting up from his desk, Illyrian straightened out his clothes. Now the Blacks did hate Muggles quite a bit, but they weren't stupid. When attending official functions the black family wore their robes, but outside of these, when moving through the muggle world or attending to casual business, they would often wear suits. Luckily a pure-blood tailor, being more knowledgeable of muggle fashion, satan bless their soul, would make these suits and dresses so that noble families could keep their reputations intact.

Illyrian was wearing one such suit, he always liked to appear neat and tidy. Doing so helped one command respect and appear more confident and capable. It also helped satisfy Illyrian's vanity. After living as an old fat man for over a century, appearing desirable was especially important to him. His black hair always appeared manicured, glossy, and neat. His face always sat in a neutral if not slightly frowning expression. His eyes were a steel grey and his skin was pale but unblemished.

He moved downstairs.

"Good evening young master."

"Evening young master"

Every time Illyrian passed one of the Black servants, they would slightly bow and back away.

"Mother."

Sitting in the dining room were Illyrian's parents. The dining room was quite large. The ceiling sat at a comfortable height of about ten feet where a chandelier dangled precariously with a hundred diamond shards. The floor was made of a rich mahogany, overlapped in a rich Slytherin-green rug, above which was the dining table, a long squat thing. If Illyrian had to guess it could house at least twenty guests in all.

His mother and father were each sitting at either end of the table, his father, Orion was reading a newspaper. Illyrian sat to his mother's right.

"Illyrian darling, how are your studies coming along."

"Well mother, I've already memorized most of the first and second year potions recipes and half of the second year charms theory."

"Excelent, I would expect nothing less from a member of the Black family."

Poor Sirius.

"Speaking of, where is the food." Walburga clapped her hands loudly. "Bring it out you half-blood nitwits!"

Three manservants scurried out from another door and deposited dishes filled with roast ham, vegetables, among other things, before quickly escaping Walburga's clutches.

"Orion."

"Hmm, yes."

"Dinner."

Orion looked up from his newspaper, glasses sitting at the end of his nose. "Ah yes, sorry dear."

Setting the newspaper down, he began to eat.

And I wondered where Regulus got his personality from.

"Are you sure you don't wish to go to Durmstrang? I heard the Malfoys were thinking of switching their son from Hogwarts."

"Yes mother. Slytherins don't go to Durmstrang."

Walburga smirked. "No son, only Slytherins go to Durmstrang. They know the importance of weeding out the lesser magicals."

Illyrian nodded. "Yes I suppose you're right, but who's going to make Hogwarts another Durmstrang. Wars aren't won by sitting back in allied territory."

Walburga sighed. "If only you weren't born third."

"Alas, here we are, Sirius failing his classes, and the Regulus pup lapping at every important heel he can find."

"It's fine, While I can't make a third son heir to the Black family, I can push it onto Regulus, besides, he will be easy to control."

Illyrian took a bite of his sliced ham, savoring it. "I wouldn't be so sure mother."

"Swallow before speaking."

Illyrian swallowed. "Yes; sorry mother."

"Better."

"As I was saying, Regulus may be seeking affection now, but people who rely on other's opinions can become the most dangerous. If he isn't properly maintained he could seek affection elsewhere, or even decide to finally grow some balls and rebel."

Walburga frowned. "I see your reasoning, but you are only eight. So remember your place son. I am only so lenient because of your potential, not your snark."

"Yes mother, I apologize."

Walburga smirked. "Oh and do remember that we will be attending one of the Greengrass functions soon. They man be neutral but they are important business assets, besides, the younger generation can always be influenced to see the light, or should I say dark."

"Aptly put mother, I will make sure to prepare accordingly."

"As you should." Walburga looked across the table to Orion. "Dear, that's enough food for now, go prepare for bed."

Orion's eyes widened as if he had just woken from a dream. "Ah, yes of course dear. I'll go get ready for bed."

Walburga looked down her nose towards Illyrian and smirked.

"I see your point."

"Of course you do, you don't take after your father."