The Corners of the Evening

Unreal City,

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,

A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,

I had not thought death had undone so many.

-The Wasteland, T.S. Eliot

19 September, 1978- Kitezh, USSR

"...The portkey will transport you to the way station in Kitezh. My secretary Barnes will be there to meet you and accompany you to the home of the minister.

Pleasant travels,

Rupert Mongreave, British Ambassador to the USSR"

Regulus Black looked from the piece of parchment he held in one hand to the rusted tea kettle in the other. That worked well enough. He looked around the vast stone corridor, letting his eyes skim over the bustle of people, wondering if any of them was Barnes. Looking again at the tea kettle he felt the first bloom of awkwardness. Things had happened so quickly up to this point that he still wasn't sure exactly what he was doing here, in this inhospitable land, holding a dingy kitchen object. Hardly a week had passed since Lucius Malfoy had not so subtly suggested that one could best serve the Dark Lord by going to the USSR, and, quite conveniently, the ambassador was looking for someone to serve as an attaché. Three days since he had received the letter from Rupert Mongreave he now held in his hand, welcoming him to his staff, and requesting his presence at Kitezh, the wizarding capital of the USSR. And then this morning, as he prepared to leave 12 Grimmauld Place, there had been the surprise visit from Lucius, who had given him a piece of parchment, folded small and for the ambassador's eyes only. The parchment now resided in the spine of one of dozens of books in the depths of his traveling trunk.

Still unsure of how to proceed, Regulus moved to one of the windows towering sternly up the wall. Looking out, he saw nothing but still, grey water. He stepped closer, and angled his head downward, only to see that whatever building he was in would have been right on the water, if not for a sheer drop of thirty feet or so.

"What is this place?" he breathed.

"Kitezh, of course. That is the Lake Svetloyar. And I am Caractacus Barnes." The words were spoken by a cracked voice somewhere behind Regulus. He turned, and saw an old man as dry as his voice suggested. "You," Barnes continued, "are Regulus Black. Don't look so shocked. The tea kettle gave you away."

Regulus decided against explaining that whatever look of surprise was on his face arose not from being recognized, but from the awe that this man had yet to shrivel up and blow away like an autumn leaf.

"Follow me. These gentlemen will take care of your luggage."

Regulus looked down to see two creatures, very small and hairy, lifting his trunk onto their shoulders.

"Domovoi. Rather like our house-elves. But far less chatty. Come along, we haven't all day."

Barnes hurried walked hurriedly down the corridor, taking for granted that Regulus was keeping up.

"The Minister's home is just beyond the limits of Kitezh. The ministry here has, unfortunately, outlawed magical transportation, so we'll be traveling by automobile. This way station is the only approved point for apparation and portkeys."

"The minister's home?" Regulus asked, struggling to keep up despite his long legs. "Why are we going there?"

"Because that is where we foreign dignitaries live, my boy. We, and anyone involved in the wizarding government here."

"Why?"

"Has no one told you anything?" Barnes paused just long enough to pull open the heavy door leading outside.

"Apparently not." They stepped out into the bleak sunshine. The streets, though crowded, were silent, single voices rising intermittently. Everything around was built from what was once white stone, but had weathered the ages to take on a dull patina of grey. In the distance a cross peeked over a sea of slate grey roofs. Barnes saw that it had caught Regulus' attention.

"Kitezh is a purely a wizarding city, yes, but it has a long history. That is an old muggle cathedral, similarly storied and so it remains untouched. But in response to your question, the short answer is that the minister, like those before him, is extremely paranoid."

They stopped in front of an ancient vehicle and the domovoi heaved Regulus' trunk into the trunk, before themselves following it. Regulus raised an eyebrow, and got in beside Barnes, who started up the very hesitant car. Barnes was silent for a moment as he began driving, then started up his explanation as the car wound through the city.

"Not without good reason, of course. It all dates back to when those muggles decided to embrace communism. Fearing a similar uprising in the wizarding community, the government started with a program of supreme isolationism, zero tolerance for contact with the muggles. The tsars had always had a relationship with the wizarding community. Look at Rasputin. Anyway, it was decided by the then current minister, a man named Kraljevic, not to extend a similar courtesy to the new government. And so it has been since then." They reached the edge of the city, and Barnes eased off the smooth stone onto a barely discernible track of dirt.

"Since then, things have only gotten worse. As the muggle world fell farther into disarray, more stringent laws were passed, limiting the time and place certain magic could be performed, if it was to be performed at all. People left in droves of biblical proportion, getting out, they felt, while they still could. Things have been going downhill for a long time. There is news everyday of a new rebel faction, of a new plot to overthrow the ministry. The minister keeps members of the government close, hoping it will discourage plotting, hoping that we dangerous foreigners won't go spreading dangerous ideas."

"And has it worked?"

"They've held on this far," Barnes said with a shrug of his shoulders. They had passed into a forest, and all around the automobile the trees were growing taller, more dense.

"We're truly in the backwoods of the wizarding civilization. It's a dying population here. The most learned of the wizards are gone, as are those who could have been true leaders. It is so bad, they have had to shut down the school. An entire generation deprived of proper education, learning only what their parents can teach them. The rich ones are sent to foreign schools, of course. But it is only a matter of time until it all falls apart."

The woods suddenly opened onto a vast lawn. Barnes stopped the car.

"Welcome to Leskov Palace."

Regulus stepped down from the car, mouth agape. Before him was the largest monument to ostentatious grandeur he had ever seen. It made Malfoy Manor look like a tasteful summer cottage. Minarets, towers, columns, balconies with ornate parapets, buttresses-flying and otherwise-all in blinding white stone spread out before them.

"Right," Regulus said. He glanced back at the trunk of the car. "The domovoi.."

"Will make it out on their own, however they do. I should warn you not to speak to them. And certainly don't touch them. Highly offensive to them. They may be base creatures, but they have their pride."

"I'll keep that in mind."

A girl, tall and slender, emerged from the palace, ivory robes flowing behind her. She payed no attention to Barnes or Regulus or the heap of metal passing as an automobile as she strode away from the building, every step redolent of a barely restrained fury. Stopping in the middle of the yard, she threw back her head, and let out a cry of absolute frustration.

"Miss Evelyn Leskov," Barnes explained over the plangent sound. "The minister's daughter. Her mother is British. The Minister Leskov was sent to Hogwarts for his schooling, and they met there. She has just finished at Beauxbatons."

The shout died away just as a head peeked out of an upper-story window.

"Evelyn! That is no way to carry on! Come inside this instant!" The woman at the window had spotted Barnes and Regulus. She leaned out further, and waved brightly.

"Hullo, Barnes! Is this McAvoy's replacement?" Barnes nodded in the affirmative.

"Well, then, Evelyn, don't just stand there. Show them in, and take the boy to his room." The woman disappeared back into the palace.

"Mrs. Cressida Leskov," Barnes explained.

Evelyn had turned her head for the first time towards Barnes and Regulus. With heavy steps she approached them.

"Good afternoon, Miss Evelyn," Barnes called cheerily. "This young man is Regulus Black, just arrived in Kitezh." He produced a pipe from the pocket of his waistcoat. "If you don't mind, I'll stay out for awhile and have a smoke. I know how your mother abhors it."

"Of course," Evelyn said, a spurious softness and charm to her voice. "Welcome to our humble home, Mr. Black." She turned sharply on her heel, marching back across the lawn. For the second time, Regulus found himself struggling to keep up.

"Thank you, Miss Leskov. I am...intrigued to see the inside." Evelyn arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. They continued in silence, Regulus somehow always a step behind. Regulus noted that her feet were bare, and pondered the event that had caused her to run outside without at least slipping on shoes. They entered the palace, Regulus taking as much of a look as Evelyn's pace allowed. The entryway was of the same white stone as outside, though the effect was toned down by several fraying tapestries. Up a curving marble staircase they went, and then a smaller one of polished, grey stone. Down a well-lit corridor to stop in front of an oak door with some sort of intricate pattern carved into it. Evelyn pushed the door open, ignoring its whine of protest. She stepped in, then to the side to let Regulus enter. He looked in amusement at the room swathed in gold and ivory brocade, and saw that his trunk, and presumably the domovoi, had indeed made it out of the trunk after all.

"It's...erm, very nice, he said after a moment. Evelyn stood with her back slumped against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying him.

"Why Russia?" she said finally.

"What?"

"I asked you, Mr. Black, why you would choose to come to Russia."

"Please, call me Regulus."

Evelyn straightened her back and looked him square in the eye.

"Fine, but that doesn't answer my question. Why, Regulus, would you choose to come to this rathole of a country, to live in this disgustingly pretentious abode. You are young, and appear to be at least half-way intelligent. Barnes is a hopeless drunk, there was no other choice for him. McAvoy couldn't add two and two. The countless others, all of them either washed up or completely worthless. Why would someone like yourself choose to come here?"

"I, well, you see..."

Evelyn narrowed her dark grey eyes.

"Let me help you. Intelligent as you are, you have no ambition, and simply took the first job you were offered to appease your father?"

"Yes," said Regulus, a beat too quickly. "That's pretty much exactly it."

"Pretty much? I see. Enjoy your stay." She turned to go.

"I hope to, Miss Leskov."

She looked back with a small smile.

"It's Evelyn."

Regulus nodded, and she closed the door behind her. He had just bent down to unpack his trunk when a sharp knock sounded through the room.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal a man in aubergine tweed robes, his body filling the entire doorway.

"Good afternoon, Mr Mongreave," Regulus said, standing quickly.

" Good afternoon, Mr Black. I trust you're finding everything to your satisfaction?" His voice was small and startlingly airy.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You come highly recommended. I am sure you'll not be one to disappoint me. It's fairly quiet here; you'll find that the USSR is too concerned with itself to care much for its relation with England or any other country. I am sure Barnes has brought you up to speed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. My office is down on the first floor, in the green corridor. I'll expect you there at nine tomorrow." He made to leave, but Regulus held up his hand.

"Please, just one moment, sir." Mongreave waited in the doorway, with a distinctly impatient air as Regulus rifled through his trunk. He stood back up, holding a slim book from the spine of which he drew Lucius' parchment. He held it out to Mongreave.

"Lucius Malfoy asked that this get to you, and you alone."

"Clever, hiding it in the spine. You'll get along well here, I think. Thank you, and have a good evening."

Mongreave shut the door behind him, leaving Regulus alone again.

*****

A light tapping at the door drew Regulus from his dreams. He sat up slowly, his back perfectly stiff from falling asleep at the writing desk. From where it was stuck on his forehead, a piece of parchment fell, drifting slowly to the floor. He picked it up, and glanced at the single word written on it. Sirius. On letter of dozens, begun in vain only to be abandoned when he realized he would never be able to adequately describe, even to himself, the strange turns his life had taken, how he had ended up where and what he was today. He knew reconciliation would be an impossibility; he had made it such the day he became a Death Eater. Still, maybe an explanation. If only Sirius could understand, understand what it had been like to grow up in that house. A house where Sirius had been adored, could do no wrong. And why not? It had always been easy for Sirius. Everything was so easy, so effortless. He had broken his mother's heart when he went to live with the Potter's. She could never truly find it in her heart to hate him, no matter how hard he tried. And Regulus? Something in him had inspired disgust from the first day. He had grown up awkward, withdrawn. He had thought that maybe joining Voldemort, taking a stand for pure-bloods everywhere would earn her respect. And she had wanted to be proud of him, he could see that. But, in spite of herself, it was the wayward son who got her love.

The knock again. Regulus got up from the chair, running a hand through his messy hair. He unlocked and opened the door to reveal Evelyn, holding a tray with a covered plate and a mug of something golden.

"So you are alive," she said as she stepped into his room.

"Alive?"

"You didn't show up for dinner last night, and you just missed breakfast. Did Barnes neglect to tell you that we do feed you here?" She carefully set the tray at the writing desk and sat down on the unused bed. She settled back against the ridiculously plush pillows, her chestnut hair spilling over the rich brocade.

"No...yes. I mean, he didn't tell me, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because I fell asleep shortly after you left. And just woke up when you knocked."

"Well, it is almost nine, and Mongreave's obsessed with punctuality."

"Thank you, then." He lifted the cover from the plate.

"It's eggs and sausage and bacon and some toast. And some sbiten"

"Sbiten?"

"A hot drink. Honey, spices...it's very good, I assure you."

Regulus picked up the steaming mug and took a cautious sip. Warmth flowed through his body.

"You're right." He quickly ate a piece of bacon. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. Evelyn watched him with an amused smile as he devoured the toast before moving on to the eggs.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," she said with a small laugh, and Regulus looked up sheepishly. He swallowed a huge mouthful with some difficultly.

"I'm sorry. I forgot you were still here."

"Oh, how flattering. I thought I would take you to Mongreave's office, as I'm sure Barnes neglected to tell you where that is, as well."

"Actually, Mongreave told me last night. Green corridor."

"And where is the green corridor?"

"Erm...the first floor."

"Yes, but where precisely on the first floor?"

"I don't know."

"Well, then, it is a good thing I'm here. Now finish eating."

Regulus did just that, continuing with as much relish as he had begun. Evelyn stood up, walking slowly around the room.

"I am sorry they put you in here. It's one of the more obnoxious rooms," she said, peering at a gilded swan in disgust. At its feet lay the half-started letter. She deftly swept it off the floor before Regulus could protest.

"Sirius...your lover?"

"My brother," Regulus said blushing furiously.

"I see." She set the parchment back on the writing desk. Regulus finished the last of his sbiten, and set down the empty mug. He glanced down at his wrinkled robes.

"Right...do you mind stepping out into the hall for a moment?"

Evelyn raised an eyebrow.

"It's just that...I haven't changed my clothes since about the same time I had my last meal. That is to say...I'd rather not go to work in wrinkled robes."

"I didn't take you for such a prude," Evelyn laughed. "But since you asked so nicely..."

Before he could respond, Evelyn had crossed the room and stepped into the hallway. Regulus joined her a few minutes later.

"Very smart. Right this way."

She was walking more slowly this morning, and Regulus kept up easily.

"So, what can you tell me about Mongreave?"

"Rather a lot, if you're interested in the superficial stuff. Beyond that, the man pretty well keeps to himself. He's another one that I am not quite sure why he's here. You never hear of any scandal attached to his name, and that whiff of alcohol so many of them carry is missing. Anyway, I stopped trying to figure him out awhile ago. Barnes is much more amusing. Although I don't really know what his purpose is. Never seems to be working. Always out on the lawn, smoking that pipe of his. He's something of an institution around here. Came over three British ambassadors ago, and hasn't left since. He's been here since before I was born. When my father had just been appointed Minister."

Evelyn had led them back down the staircases, and they were now headed through a labyrinth toward the center of the house.

"You'll get used to all the hallways," she said, watching the concentration on Regulus' face as he tried to memorize every turn. "And until then I'd be more than happy to play guide."

"Are you sure? There's not something more important you could be doing with your time?"

"Important? I suppose. There are more important things all of us could be doing with our time. But, the point is that I don't mind. This house is among other things, horribly boring. You're new. You shouldn't be boring for another couple of days at the most. At which point, you'll probably have found your way. Or have come to your senses and fled."

Regulus laughed, and they stepped through a tall green door into a similarly green corridor.

"Let me guess; we have reached the green corridor?"

"You are observant. Mongreave's office is at the end. The nameplate on the door should give it away."

"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow morning, then."

"I'm sure I'll see you before then. This place looks big, but you can't help but run into absolutely everybody."

"Well, until we meet again, then."

"Until we meet again. Good luck!" She rested her hand briefly on his shoulder, and opened her mouth as if to say something more. But she just smiled, and left the way they had come. Regulus stood still, watching her leave, his shoulder tingling where she had laid her fingers. Then the green door finished its slow arc shut, and he turned away to finish his search for Mongreave's office.