Chapter 1

There was nothing more confusing and surreal than feeling the bone-grinding agony of a car slamming into your hip and then you were flying—weightless and airborne, painless and breathless.

And being in air was fun until you were falling.

She fell and the impending crash, the promise of pain, tore a frightened scream out of her mouth. Yet, it was an infant's wailing cry that greeted her ears, that reverberated from her throat.

Confusion didn't begin to settle until she felt her limbs shrinking and her body curled into itself until she was but a mangled thing forced into a small vessel.

She didn't stop screaming; from her throat, the baby's voice kept screaming through the tears.

…

..

.

"No, please!"

The woman's broken scream tugged on his heartstrings even though he knew he should've been paying more attention to the flashing jets of green light and the well-being of his friends. But Sirius Black was nothing if not chivalrous—the Sorting Hat saw the chivalry in him and the chivalry in him was rearing its head now.

He pivoted on his heels, wand cutting the air, to the source of the scream. Blood from an astray Sectumsempra—that git Snivellus was going to pay—trickled from his forehead into his right eye. But his gaze sought out the injured witch easily enough.

She had fallen and her attacker loomed over her, yet she had no eyes for anything but the blot of black that'd been flung in air—a squirming bundle with thin, small flailing limbs—

His gut lurched. This was sick, those Death Eaters were sick—that asshole had flung a baby into air.

Sirius threw himself in that direction; the baby was falling too fast for a spell to reach. Red light seared past his shoulder; James shouted as he cast a panicked Protego; Sirius crashed onto the ground, arms flung out, and weight crashed into them.

The baby's cry was lost amidst the roars of spells and blasts of curses.

"Oh thank Godric," Sirius wheezed. His relief was a short-lived memory; the Blasting Curse that nearly set the baby aflame was a wake-up call. Sirius swore violently, tucking the infant close to his chest, and rolling for all they were worth. He came up into a crouch and sprang to his feet, wand aimed at every masked bastard he could see.

His sight was unencumbered even though it was one of the darkest, cruelest nights he'd been through—and that was saying something, considering the amount of nights he'd spent in 12 Grimmauld Place. The villa the witch being hunted by the Death Eaters was on fire, illuminating the battlefield, bathing the unmoving bodies splayed around in amber light, and elongating the shadows of the dozens of duelists.

Neighboring Muggles had noticed and had immediately ringed the special hotline that contacted the Ministry of Magic instead of the Muggle law-enforcers as the Muggles were led to believe. Fury rose in Sirius' chest at the thought of innocent people dragged into it for trying to help.

The infant wept into his chest, soaking the fabric of his robes. "Reducto!" he screamed, and the Death Eater cornering James was flung away, arm a mangled, bloody mess. Sirius' curse was among the last before the Death Eaters retreated, seeming to realize their numbers had been cut down in the battle.

"Cowards! Chicken!" Sirius' eardrums throbbed from Mad-Eye Moody's roars as the famed Auror limped after where the Death Eaters had Disapparated with loud, inelegant cracks. "McKinnon—where's that useless Healer? Get her over here! The woman's dying!"

"Daughzer…" Blood spilled from her mouth as the dying witch struggled to articulate her last words. Sirius staggered over—his ankle ached—and while he couldn't make out words over the gurgles of blood, and Marlene McKinnon's attempts to soothe the woman was interfering with his hearing, the shift in his arms told him what the woman was searching for.

Marlene looked up, face pasty, hands trembling. Her wand slipped from her grasp and rolled onto the grassy plains stinking of smoke and stained with ash. "Lacerating Curse right to the chest and throat … I can't … there's no healing curses as Dark as those …" Dark lashes caught on tears. "I can't … do anything—" She broke off miserably, choking on a sob.

A hand touched Sirius' wrist. A faint graze of human skin; Sirius looked down. The witch didn't seem terrified of impending death, if she even noticed the agony of bleeding out; to Sirius, it was clear her golden gaze was only reserved for the trembling bundle in Sirius' hold.

The rest of the Order shuffled away, intent on giving the mother and daughter privacy. Sirius could not move, the baby clung to him, sniffling.

"Reg," the witch sighed, golden eyes flicking up to Sirius' grey ones and something like relief shone in them before she turned back to the baby. "Viv'e – aim' – rire – Reg'lss." She choked, her eyes finally watering as the reality of what'd happen in three – two – one: death – finally hit.

Her face slackened into a mockery of peace at last as he placed the infant in its dead mother's arms.

.

It was a long time before Sirius removed the baby, whose cries had petered out into slumber, from its dead mother. It was surreal; it was the first time he held an orphan even though he knew this war had orphaned so many people.

Sirius glanced down at the peaceful, pale face of a motherless and fatherless baby.

For an unfathomable reason, he imagined grey eyes would be staring up at him if the baby opened its eyes now.

.

"Sirius, you can't be serious…"

Sirius inspected the document on his desk, giving it a last cursory glance to ensure he'd filled out the right information. James poked his ribs; he swatted his best friend's hand away. "I am Sirius," he said impatiently, "Literally and physically in the flesh Sirius."

"Okay, then," said James, still staring bug-eyed at his best mate through his round glasses, "If not your mind then maybe it's your eyes that is the problem. Padfoot, you're looking at a birth certificate."

"I know."

"Moony, tell that dummy over there that he's looking at a birth certificate."

"Sirius," began his werewolf friend lightly, "Perhaps you should reread the third slot. This clearly asks you to name the baby's father—who, unless I'm mistaken, is not you." Remus squinted at the first slot, face slackening momentarily in surprise. "And you named the baby … Regulus?"

Sirius signed his name to finalize it and handed the document to the wizard scowling impatiently at him behind the desk. He spun around to face his best friends, taking a moment to marvel at the fact the four Marauders were finally together in the same place without being simultaneously a spell away from death.

"That sounds like what the woman was trying to say. I'm going to respect her wishes. Where's the baby?"

"With Marlene," answered Wormtail. He wetted his lips. "You're going to adopt the baby? Why…?" He sounded mystified. "How would you have the time to raise it—I mean, we're at war! We have enough trouble as it is!"

Sirius white-knuckled the edge of the counter he was leaning against. "She named the baby Regulus, and I so happened to be there. It can't be a coincidence! I've never taken Divination seriously and this'll sound stupid but—it's the working of Fates!" He wished they'd understand, but for the first time, his friends came up short.

James, Remus and even Peter, exchanged dubious looks. Ultimately, as usual, Remus tried to make him see sense: "Padfoot," his voice was genteel, like Sirius was glass that might crack from being spoken to loudly; great, his best friends thought the strain of war had cracked his sanity. "I know you're feeling excessive guilt from his death. We get it … you were estranged but at the end of the day, Regulus was still your brother and—alright, frankly, reincarnation is farfetched."

Sirius was already shaking his head. He wanted to shake his friend's words away but the reminder of Regulus' death was like wasp's sting on his heart—his stupid, foolish, weak brother, dead because he didn't know what he'd gotten into, a waste of his young life, another one of Sirius' failures. He'd make no progress with them today; he'd try another day, when he was feeling less tired, and less impulsively reckless.

Once he'd gotten a good night's rest, he might also be coming round to the idea that adopting the baby was the stupidest, most reckless thing he'd ever done.

But Sirius didn't care now.

"I'm trying to do the right thing, the noble thing—the kid's got no family left. We can't dump a witch's baby in an orphanage."

"What if family steps up to claim it?" asked James, arching a brow.

"Then I'd give the baby back, okay? Can we go now?"

Remus frowned at Sirius' back as his friend staggered away. He glanced at James. "…Does he even know the baby's a girl?"

James smirked. "If having Padfoot as her father isn't bad enough already, she's got that unfortunate Slytherin of a name. We should cut the baby some slack."

"How long will it take for Padfoot to realize the baby is female?" asked Peter tentatively, tweedling his thumbs.

"One," said James cheerfully.

"Two," continued Remus, mouth twitching in amusement.

Peter hadn't started on "Three" before Sirius' scream echoed down the hallway and the man sped past them once more, slamming into the wooden counter that was the sole barrier between the illegal Animagus and an irate wizard:

"Wait! I've got it wrong! Correction, correction; Smiths, I've to change the baby's middle name!"

Darker Than Black

If being mowed down by a van was the key to being reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter as Sirius Black's adopted kid was a proven, scientific fact, I think a lot of teenagers back home would've been throwing themselves at moving vehicles already.

Fortunately for mankind on non-magical Earth, this was an unproven fact.

Unfortunately for the poor soul residing in the reincarnated baby's body, this meant she was completely unprepared for the reality check.

There was very little she could do to disapprove of her theory nor could she think she was hallucinating for fear of admitting she was insane. She was sane, verysane.

"Regulus Chara Black" assured herself of this fact as she wrenched, hard, on the messy curls that sprouted from her godfather James Potter's scalp. "Ouch, let go of me, leggo!" screamed the infamous Marauder, trying to gently pry her off him. "Padfoot, get her off me!"

"I will if you'll get your own brat to let go of my finger; I'm not a chew toy, contrary to popular belief. I'm the one doing the chewing," snapped the voice of her adopted father from the couch.

The reincarnated baby's senses weren't off. She could smell James' shampoo, she could feel his hair that was slowly being detached in her chubby fists, and she could definitely ride out the jostle of his attempts to shake her off.

James wrenched carelessly and roughly just as she decided to let go.

She dropped. In the span of three seconds, she opened her mouth and wailed. The fizzle of hot, foreign energy in her seemingly exploded from her mouth as she cried out in fear, recalling all too well the sensation of being hit by a car and being forced into an infant's body.

She bounced on an invisible cushion mid-fall. She dropped onto her behind before James could even react, sniffles abating as surprise and curiosity took over. Was that … accidental magic? She looked up expectantly for confirmation but James was too distracted to notice.

"You … you moron!" Sirius screeched, leaping to his feet, and practically repeating James' mistake: having forgotten Harry was in his lap, he'd sprung to his feet. The baby was lucky he had the mattress underneath him at that time.

It was a wonder Lily even let these two imbeciles take care of two hapless infants.

"You idiot!" James retorted, plucking 'Regulus' off the ground and shoving her at Sirius. Her adoptive father snatched her back and James immediately went down on one knee to check on his son, though the giggling baby definitely had not been hurt. "You nearly killed my son!"

'Regulus' looked down.

Harry Potter's blue eyes—yet to darken into his mother's shade of green—blinked up at her.

And no matter how many times she blinked, there was no dispelling the image: this was her reality now.

Which meant … oh, great, she'd might get to meet the Dark Lord in person.

Even though knowing that she'd have Harry Potter bearing the brunt of the Killing Curse should she be unfortunate enough to be in the same place and time, it didn't stop her from shuddering in fear of what was to come.

Was this a blessing or …?

Darker Than Black

Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling

Chara - Riseha's writing
Regulus - GaleSynch's writing