Sic itur ad Astra

Chapter One

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.

II

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

It was a cool autumn morning, a perfect day for the likes of young children to forage in the forests, feasting on wildberries and ripening apples, and picking up fallen acorns left scattered amongst the brambles under old oak trees.

And this was what three small children were doing exactly that dawn. The ripening sun fell on their faces, infusing their skin with a warm golden glow, while the richly scented air was thick with the fragrance of varied blossoms. The grass was slippery, for it glistened with silver dewdrops which had crystallised through the night, and the lilting trill of songbirds played on comfortingly in the background, occasionally punctuated by the ringing laughter of seven-year-old Sirius Black.

Such a blissfully idyllic atmosphere, however, could not be sustained for long, especially since little Regulus Black lacked the innate capacity for revelling in the fascinating treasure trove that was the forest, which whispered its little-known secrets unfettered by time to Bellatrix Black, who was in the process of exchanging pleasantries with a tiny butterfly perched on her wrist when she felt an insistent tugging on her sleeve.

"Let's play hide-and-seek," Regulus entreated, his aristocratic features twisted into an expression that was both sulky and pleading at the same time.

Bellatrix scowled at him as the startled butterfly spread its wings and fluttered off, but Regulus appeared oblivious, for his anxious gaze was not directed at her, but at Sirius, who was at that moment nonchalantly kicking a pebble around and pretending he hadn't heard anything.

And Bellatrix understood. Regulus hadn't really wanted her opinion; discernment, however, had cautioned him against directly making any requests to Sirius, who was likely to snub him out of a sense of childish malice which stemmed from his desire to assert himself. For even if Bellatrix was oldest, it was Sirius who was the born leader, the final decision-maker in all the trivial entertainments the three indulged in, and while Regulus would unconsciously, if grudgingly, acknowledge this fact, Bellatrix chose to be indifferent to it. She did not yet understand the dynamics of power, but she knew that she would rebel if her rights were someday threatened. For now, however, there was nothing she cared enough about.

* * *

Sirius felt more than a little irritated as he pondered the meaninglessness of his life with an uncharacteristic maturity, absently kicking around a piece of rock as he did so.

He had been doing a fair bit of reading lately, as if seized by a sudden thirst for knowledge born of an unquenchable curiosity, and had found out in the process that there could actually be more to life than spending day after day engaged in trivial amusements with annoying relatives.

In the dusty bookstores along the tarred Muggle streets which he had regularly visited ever since finding out he was forbidden to do so, Sirius had long wondered at the lives of Muggle children, so full of the thrilling adventures and exciting festivities that he so deeply yearned for, and had often questioned his parents' firm conviction that wizards were the superior strain of the human race.

Muggle children, he had learnt, went on periodic treasure hunts, explored abandoned mine shafts, and played detective in heart-stopping criminal cases. They built rafts, navigated through merciless rapids, hiked through thick jungles, and braved the harshest hailstorms in search of lost companions, canine or human.

And here he was, embarrassingly secure in an open forest a stone's throw from his backyard, having to endure the whims of his whiny brother and the mutinous silence of his cousin after they'd finally given up on competing with the birds and squirrels for fruit.

"No, Regulus," Sirius drawled, noting with some satisfaction the sharp glance Bellatrix threw at him as she turned swiftly towards him. "Let's run away from home."

* * *

Regulus half-wished he had stayed indoors to play teahouse with Narcissa and Andromeda Black. But they'd made it rather clear that he wouldn't be welcome. With Sirius and Bellatrix, at least, he would be tolerated, like an unobtrusive insect which minded its own business.

But Regulus wasn't about to bore himself to death while Bellatrix played with her butterfly and Sirius his stone. They might be enjoying themselves, but Regulus certainly wasn't. He hated the long wild grass, which had tickled and cut his knees relentlessly as he stumbled through it, bucket in hand, trying to keep up with his brother and cousin, both of whom, by striding effortlessly through the thick undergrowth, had together emptied whole patches of forest of anything remotely resembling food, so that when Regulus followed in their wake he had nothing left to pick but branches and leaves.

And as if that wasn't enough, his one polite suggestion, made magnanimously for the general good, was dismissed by Sirius, who had impulsively decided, instead, that they would camp out in this forbidding terrain for one night on the pretext of having a real adventure.

Regulus didn't dare to even imagine his mother's reaction when she found out. He fervently wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He also wished, not for the first time, that he were older than Sirius.

* * *

That evening, Bellatrix remembered, passed in a swirling breathless haze of excitement that was almost palpable, which mended any rift that might have lurked beneath the tumultuous waters of the friendship between herself and her cousins. By means of conspirational whispers, subtle hand gestures, and laboriously-composed notes written in childish scrawls, the three had managed to forge a perfect plan that would be ready for execution that very night. Supplies would not be a problem - they would be carefully concealed in picnic baskets magically enhanced to increase space.

Bellatrix had adamantly refused to let her sisters in on the secret. "They'll rat on us," she'd declared, and Regulus, being Regulus, hadn't argued, while Sirius had looked thoughtful, but said nothing. He'd seemed to be preoccupied with the task of discreetly borrowing their grandfather's wand.

* * *

Sirius rose sometime after moonrise, one of many distant suns illuminating the fading twilight, and a wakeful little boy caught a glimpse of his sparkling namesake as he pulled the curtains apart. Pale streaks of liquid silver flowed through the void created, bathing the room in a soft surreal light.

He glanced at his younger brother, who looked strangely vulnerable sound asleep, the pallor of his cherubic face emphasised by the flickering shadows cast upon it by the lightly billowing curtains.

Regulus was too placable, too naïve, Sirius thought bleakly, to be anything more than a tool for others' purposes. He shook off the odd sense of foreboding that chilled him to the bone as he studied his brother's guileless countenance.

"Reggie, wake up," He shook Regulus' shoulder urgently, his words unconsciously carrying a double meaning. "Wake up. We've got to go now."

Regulus' eyelids fluttered in response, giving rise to a bleary-eyed expression of faint annoyance.

Sirius was about to haul him to his feet when the doorknob turned, and ten-year-old Bellatrix stood silhouetted in the doorway, clad in a furry black overcoat and toting a rather oversized picnic basket.

What caught his eye, however, was the wisp of gold floating approximately ten inches above her clenched left fist. It originated from a dark mahogany wand which bore a disturbing resemblance to the one he had borrowed from Grandfather not two hours ago.

* * *

As if irresistibly drawn by a sinister pull, the three children slipped out into the darkness, where a thin sliver of moonlight which somehow emerged through the dense clouds was all that illuminated their path.

They linked hands, and walked in a reverent silence, subdued by the solemn serenity of the night which manifested itself in the low tones of frog serenades and the rhythmic chirp of lively crickets, creating an almost tangible sensation of tranquillity.

Regulus stole a sidelong glance at Bellatrix, who walked on his left, her ripening waist-long curls lightly brushing his arm as they danced in the breeze; she smiled suddenly, a glimmer so transient Regulus could have sworn he'd imagined it, but then her eyes met his and she gently released his hand, reaching instead into her basket to draw out two cookies.

"Here," she said, offering them to her cousins. "We've a long way to go, and you need energy."

Regulus accepted a cookie gratefully, but Sirius declined.

"You keep it first," he smiled indifferently, "I'm not hungry."

* * *

They strolled along for a little while longer, and then Bellatrix pointed to a grassy knoll in the shade of a towering yew tree. "It's getting cold," she stated matter-of-factly, "and we've covered enough distance. Let's call it a night. I'll light a fire here, and we can sit around it."

She didn't tell them the real reason for her wanting to stop.

Ten-year-old Bellatrix was afraid of the darkness, of all the mysteries the looming shadows encompassed.

The familiar comforting company of her cousins had been sufficient for her to suppress this fear for as long as she had some idea where the path was leading to, but now Bellatrix knew they were in the very heart of the forest, on the fringe of all the regions they had ever explored, and she would not cross that boundary and venture into the unknown.

"Yeah, and risk burning the forest along with it." Sirius countered dubiously, gesturing to the dry leaves and twigs scattered around the area, which crackled under his feet even as he continued walking forward.

But Bellatrix knew her cousin well enough to recognise that death by forest fire was the least of his fears. He might even relish that, seeing as he took delight in everything that entailed a certain degree of mortal peril. But to the child's imagination the danger of being devoured alive by some nameless fearsome beast in some remote tract of the woods was significantly greater and potentially more immediate and exciting than the danger of being consumed by fire in this all-too-familiar quarter, even though it did take on a more threatening façade by night.

Which was the only reason why he crossed her, other than the fact that he also happened to like arguing for argument's sake. Bellatrix glared mutinously at him. "Go on, then," she dared him, "go get yourself lost or eaten, I don't care which. But Regulus and I are staying put." She put an arm around Regulus' shoulders, protectively and possessively drawing him to herself.

Regulus felt he was about to faint through sheer fatigue, but despite himself he was grateful for the sudden shock of warmth that surged through his body. He rubbed his eyes, keeping them open with a concerted effort as he looked from his cousin to his brother, shivering involuntarily.

"Don't, then. I could do without the fire," he murmured drowsily, lying bravely. In his semi-lucid trance he was neither able to grasp the underlying tensions in the conversation nor track its progression contiguously. His entire capacity for logic and feeling had been eradicated, replaced by an overpowering longing for the consummation of his most immediate desire; only the shred of instinctive dignity he always tried to preserve in front of th two people whose opinions mattered most to him remained.

But Bellatrix saw through that, as she did everything; when some manifestation of weakness in another corresponded to a similar failing in herself she was hardly aware of, she would subconsciously sense the connection, and pass judgement on the other with a measured amount of satisfaction. And in Regulus' case, she knew, it was a fear of rejection and a wavering pride which underlaid his words.

And she, consciously attempting to have her will override Sirius', and unconsciously desiring to purge that fault displayed in the both of them, maliciously highlighted it.

"Reggie, you shouldn't imitate your brother and pretend you're not tired. He's only trying to act tough, to make up for the fact that he can't conjure up a fire to save his life."

Regulus knew he should argue, should try to salvage what was left of his self-respect, but what his mind consciously registered was Bellatrix's permission for him to drop the façade he tried too hard to maintain. His composure being stretched to the limit, he wriggled out of her grasp, staggered to the nearest tre root, sat down and promptly fell asleep.

Sirius, who had all along been interestedly observing the proceedings over his shoulder, now bent over, and for one wild moment Bellatrix was sure he too was about to fall to the ground in a daze of lethargy. But then he stood upright, and Bellatrix could see a twig in each hand.

Slowly, magnetically, he walked towards her, rhythmically rubbing the sticks together - the effect was almost hypnotic - and she stood arrested, watching as they hissed and crackled and finally yielded orange sparks of fire.

Sirius negligently threw the flaming branches onto a huge pile of dry leaves. "I'm not sure you could," he countered.

* * *

Bellatrix stood an arm's length from her cousin, and they watched as the teeming fire consumed its own.

Autumn leaves, gilded golden and just ripening into copper, were strewn in abundance about the forest floor; they rustled restlessly under the harsh caress of the dry wind, which drained them of their last vestige of moisture and then carelessly abandoned them, brittle and exposed, to the mercy of the other elements; it was at this moment that raging flames swept over them and with the lightest of touches set them ablaze, sending them into an unrestrained ecstasy of vengeful passion moments before they crumbled into ash.

And the deep red glow spread, in all its destructive glory, surging like the ebullient flaming tongues of Hades towards the spot where Regulus lay in slumber, exposed and vulnerable. Sirius stood unmoving, as if transfixed by the prospect of realising a restless cruel fantasy, but Bellatrix seethed with a sudden unbridled rage.

Brandishing her wand, she thrust herself into the heart of the flames, her face afire with a scorching luminescence.

"Cadere ignis."

An intense white streak shot out from the tip of her wand, blazing through the conflagration that engulfed her and mingling with its scarlet hues; as it spread thus the surrounding colours seemed to instinctively recoil from it, giving off an etiolated effulgence which made the fire appear tamer and more controlled. Gradually it shrunk, until it was merely a blue nucleus fringed with chalky flames no more than eight inches high, whose specks of orange-gold flickered passively with a muted energy while staining the surrounding air with thick unrelenting fumes.

And Bellatrix stepped out, triumphantly, from the rapidly cooling inferno; to Sirius' open-mouthed stare of amazed wonder she declared, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "Fight fire with fire, Sirius, and all you get is smoke."

* * *

The night had taken on a sinister looming mien, accentuated by the rising of the moon high into the Cimmerian skies. Even the restless chatter of the nocturnal beasts had largely abated, creating an eerie vacuum of silence.

Yet Sirius loved it - this feeling of surreal stillness, hidden in the all-encompassing shadow of the forest; he was suffused with joy, a heightened sense of euphoria that stemmed from the discovery of this newfound treasure, this freedom, to think and feel as he wished while suspended in this third dimension where time ceased to exist.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, stared resolutely into the depths of the waning flame, seeing nothing. Yet she too felt overwhelmed; like the fire, she knew she was just an insignificant entity, forgotten once consumed by the darkness.

But then again, she mused, wasn't light supposed to overcome darkness, and not the other way around? She recalled the first time she successfully cast a Lumos spell, the very evening when, at Ollivander's, her wand had chosen her.

The cramped shabby shop, doused in the black liquid shadows of night, was filled instantly with unremitting piercing rays of light which forever banished all traces of gloom from its surface; it was as if the very sunshine was contained within its four walls, reflecting its soft beams onto Bellatrix's cheeks, which were flushed with exertion after her having tried out wand after wand to no avail.

Her mother hugged her, almost unthinkingly, and she felt pride and joy and satisfaction bubbling out from within her. With this thin stick I can work wonders, she realised in dazed amazement. I can unleash the power I never knew I possessed. I could even change the world if I wanted to, for all nature is under the control of unfathomable forces which I can now command.

Ollivander watched the embracing pair not without emotion; Bellatrix could have sworn his eyes were about to tear and a sentimental goofy grin was threatening to spread across his lips. She smiled at him somewhat patronisingly.

"So what's in the wand?" The magical substance it carried at its heart would no doubt be of great significance, Bellatrix knew.

Ollivander knit his brows, and looked at her with a silent air of speculative contemplation.

"It's a single thread," he revealed, " from the maiden web of a black widow spider."

Bellatrix reached again for her wand, running her fingers over the cool, hard rosewood, and it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps there was no such thing as darkness - only the absence of light.

As if on cue, a single cloud passed over the moon, temporarily obscuring it; the looming shadows of towering oaks darkened as if bearing down on her, and her heart caught in her throat.

She was about to cast Lumos again, to restore the surrounding forest to its less menacing state, but then she glimpsed through a gap in the trees the quietly winking celestial lights. And she put her wand down and sidled up to Sirius, for she understood finally that the night, however deep, would never be devoid of the shining radiance of the stars.

* * *

(A/N: Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit - Perhaps someday we will look back upon these things with joy)