Changing One's Stars - Chapter Two, For The Greater Good

[strayaesthetic]

“Hullo, Sirius. I’ve decided to quit the Death Eaters.”

For a long moment, Sirius did not speak. When he did, his voice was tense, and he did not lower his wand.

“Prove it.”

Regulus’ breath caught in his throat. How could he prove that? Would his brother hex him if he didn’t respond? His eyes darted from Sirius’ eyes to the wand tip.

“Prove that you’re Regulus. Tell me something only you would know.”

Regulus breathed again, and searched his memory.

“The last time I saw you was at Father’s funeral.” His words came out in a rush and a rasp, scratching his throat as if he had been screaming, which, Regulus supposed, he might have been. “You hid with an invisibility cloak, and you told me-“

Before he could finish, Sirius was pulling him into a hug. He let go quickly “I can’t tell you how glad-you look like you’re about to fall-come in, come in.” Sirius gestured him in, scarcely noticing as Kreacher toddled in after him. He locked the door and said some incantation around the frame before running a hand through his hair and turning to stare at Regulus.

“What happened to you? Wait, you should sit down, you really do look like you’re going to fall. Are you hurt?”

“I… think I’m okay,” He felt the rasp in his throat again as he spoke. “Sorry, but, do you have any water?”

“Of course, of course.”

Sirius came back from his kitchen to find Regulus sitting on his couch, looking rather out of place in would-be impeccable black. Kreacher stood near Regulus’ feet and shot a quick look of contempt at Sirius as he handed Regulus a glass.

Regulus drank gratefully, holding the glass with both hands in an attempt to hide their trembling. “What happened to you?” Sirius asked again.

“I… had a change of heart.”

“I knew you were thinking about it…” Sirius did not sit. The jazzed, too-much-adrenaline feeling that came with waking suddenly from a deep sleep was still with him, and the presence of his long-estranged brother did nothing to help. “I was always afraid that after some raid, when we pulled off the masks, one of them would be you.”

Regulus had nothing to say to that, so he stared at the glass in his hands. He noted dimly that it had a cartoon skunk printed on it. It failed to amuse him.

“I shouldn’t stay here long. This won’t be the first place they look for me, but they will look here.”

“What did you do that you expect Death Eaters to come down on you any second?” Sirius said with a hint of awe.

Regulus was silent. For a moment he was back in the cave with the Inferi, and for another he was back in the Bones’ house, their daughter beating at his legs and their little son crying silently and helplessly. He squeezed his eyes tight. “I…” He swallowed, looked into Sirius’ face, and then looked away. “I ran. I knew I would die for running, so I decided­-“

“Master Regulus told Kreacher not to speak to anyone of the family of what happened tonight,” Kreacher muttered to Sirius’ carpet. “Kreacher wonders why Master Regulus would say such a thing when he is about to bare all to-“

Sirius barked a laugh. “So now I’m family?”

“Master Regulus made Kreacher swear not to tell-“

Regulus fought down a swell of irritation at the both of them. “Kreacher, be quiet.” the little elf snapped his mouth shut. “Kreacher saved my life tonight,” Regulus reproached Sirius then looked down to the little elf. “But he needs to go home before anyone misses him,” he said gently. Kreacher sunk dejectedly to the floor. “I’ll take the locket back, Kreacher. It’s best if I take care of it now.” Kreacher unwrapped the chain from his wrist and handed the locket up to Regulus, not looking at him. Regulus clasped it to his chest. “I probably won’t see you again for a long time, but I’ll be okay. Remember what I said. Don’t mention anything that happened tonight to anyone. Can I trust you with that?”

Kreacher nodded emphatically and said, through sniffles, “Kreacher lives to serve the house of Black.”

“Thank you, Kreacher. For everything.” Kreacher looked up at Regulus for a moment, eyes swimming at the sincerity in his master’s voice. He made a jerky but sincere bow and disappeared with a pop.

“Are you sure his loyalty to you will win over his loyalty to mother?” Sirius asked.

“Reasonably. In any case, I don’t think he knows the significance of what we did.”

“Which is?”

Regulus held up the locket and smiled wickedly enough to do any Marauder proud. “This holds half of the Dark Lord’s soul.”

Albus Dumbledore strode across the lawn of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, dew creeping into his thick, woolen socks. He had already been awake, the news of the Bones’ murders fresh and heavy on his mind, when a silvery wolf leapt through his office window. He recalled the animal as Sirius Black’s patronus as it opened its mouth to speak with his voice.

“My brother has fled the Death Eaters. He’s willing to trade information for sanctuary, and he has an object that I’m sure will be of interest to you. We’re already on our way. Sorry to wake you, sir, but I didn’t think it could wait until morning.”

The lights of the castle were dark, and the moon had set. He could see only the pale faces of the two young men beyond the gate until he had nearly reached them.

“Regulus, Sirius,” he greeted them as he opened the gate. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, both of you. If you would follow me? I would prefer we speak in my office. We’ll be in some comfort and less likely to be overheard. One cannot be too careful, with school in session.” He finished these last words with a small smile directed at Sirius. Sirius nodded, but did not smile in return. He glanced at his brother, whose mouth was set in a determined line.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take that rather fine motorbike of yours here, Sirius,” Dumbledore commented as they walked.

“Apparition is harder to trace, and I didn’t think Reg here would appreciate it.”

“So that’s true, then?” Regulus asked. “You’ve enchanted a motorbike to fly? Isn’t that misuse of muggle artifacts?”

“No, actually!” Sirius answered gleefully. “There’s a bit of a loophole regarding objects used for transportation. It’s there so brooms can’t be illegal. As long as no muggle sees me flying it, I can’t be held liable.”

“Something you would do well to remember,” Dumbledore commented. “Before the DMLE is forced to obliviate any more police men.”

“I was riding on the ground before the Death Eaters caught up with us. We were well within ‘reasonable danger.’”

“But not within the muggle speed limit, I’m afraid.”

The conversation washed over Regulus. Before Dumbledore had arrived at the gate he had tried to plan what he would say to him, how he would justify himself. Hopefully the horcrux would be enough of a victory for the Order, because he had very little information to give. His life now lay on Dumbledore’s mercy. Reluctant as he was to join the Order’s cause, if Dumbledore requested it in exchange for sanctuary, he would have little choice. He watched the headmaster’s long, silver hair sway in front of him. He’d had little contact with the professor while in school. Dumbledore had been occasionally forbidding, usually whimsical, always powerful. He and his friends had been so eager to join the Dark Lord, so proud of themselves for their little plans and their little tricks, all performed under the crooked nose of the Dark Lord’s most powerful enemy. They had been so stupid.

Regulus was never caught, never in trouble, but he once caught the professor’s gaze from across the Great Hall, and knew without doubt that Dumbledore knew. He knew who was performing dark magic in his school, and he knew who bore the skull and serpent, branded and still bloody, on their skin. Regulus had little doubt that Dumbledore would connect him to the Bones’ murders. If he didn’t tonight, if he hadn’t yet heard the news, he would soon, and he would know. He felt some fear and shame at that, but not nearly as much as it seemed he should. He had meant to die. When he didn’t he went to Sirius, and Sirius brought him to Dumbledore. There was simply nothing else he could do.

The three walked in a tense silence that was not broken until they reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster’s office.

“Salt-water taffy,” the headmaster said. As the gargoyle moved to allow them entrance, Dumbledore turned to the elder of the brothers. “Sirius, would you be so kind as to wait here? I would like to speak to Regulus in private.”

Sirius looked from the headmaster to Regulus, who swallowed, but nodded. “Of course.”

“Excellent,” the headmaster smiled, but with none of his trademark twinkle. “I will come back to fetch you when we are finished.”

In all his time in school, Regulus had never been to the headmaster’s office. He was impressed despite his uneasiness as he followed Dumbledore up the slowly revolving staircase and into the beautifully, if eccentrically, appointed room.

“Please, have a seat,” Dumbledore said smoothly as he sat behind his monolithic desk. Regulus did so. The headmaster studied him for a long moment. Regulus met his gaze, and sat straight in his chair. He was not sure what Dumbledore might do to him or for him, but he had already lost his home, and maybe his freedom, all he had left was his pride.

“Why have you come here tonight, Regulus?”

Regulus was silent for a moment as he pretended to weigh answers. He had planned the basics of what he would say, but the headmaster made him feel nervous, like a chastised student.

“For sanctuary,” he said simply.

“And why should I, why should the Order, give it?”

Regulus was surprised at Dumbledore’s directness, but he had an answer prepared for this question, also. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket. “I have stolen this from the Dark Lord.” He placed it on the desk between them. “Unless I am very mistaken, it is his horcrux. I took it tonight, expecting to die in the process, but my house-elf had other ideas. Destroy this and the Dark Lord is mortal.” Regulus quirked an eyebrow at Dumbledore, who stood, staring, at the ancient piece of jewelry. “Does that earn me my life?”

Dumbledore did not answer. “Remarkable,” he was whispering to himself. “I had long suspected something of… but this may confirm…”

Regulus felt a stir of pleasure within himself; Dumbledore was not a man often surprised. Dumbledore seemed to forget about him for a moment as he strode to one of the many fragile-looking tables that were scattered across the room. He removed one of the instruments resting on it and brought it to his desk before the locket. Regulus watched as he tapped his wand once on the device, which immediately began emitting puffs of gold smoke. The smoke transfigured itself into a hissing golden serpent, which shifted subtly into the snake-like and savagely grinning face of the Dark Lord. Regulus shivered involuntarily.

“Indeed, indeed,” Dumbledore spoke to himself as he sat once more behind his desk as the golden smoke disappeared. “You have my thanks. This will deal Voldemort a great blow.” Regulus frowned deeply at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, but made no other response. “I should be very interested to learn how you came by it. I doubt even the knowledge of its existence was gained cheaply.”

Regulus launched into his tale. He told how the Dark Lord had requested a house-elf, how he had volunteered Kreacher for the job, and how Kreacher had returned against the Dark Lord’s expectations. When he came to the events of tonight, he hesitated.

“I presume you were at the Bones’ tonight?”

Regulus stiffened, and didn’t answer for a long moment. When he did he spoke very carefully.

“I refuse to answer that question without legal counsel.”

He regretted his answer the second he had uttered it. Dumbledore laughed. “My dear boy, you are not the first to regret their service to Lord Voldemort, and I can only hope that you will not be the last. I do not represent the Ministry and will not turn you over to them while I believe your conversion to be genuine, which I do. It was the only event likely to cause a turning point tonight, and I won’t ask of your exact involvement. Now, please, tell me how you hoodwinked Lord Voldemort.”

Regulus took a deep breath before he continued. Dumbledore wasn’t going to have him arrested, and he wasn’t going to blackmail him. His tension left him, if not his shame, leaving him more tired than ever.

“I was resolved to die rather than re-enter the Dark Lord’s service…” He told of the promises Kreacher made, the cave, the blood, the boat, the inferi. He told of the potion.

“It caused me to relive… tonight’s events, first how they actually happened, then… twisted. I don’t remember being dragged into the water, but I remember Kreacher pulling me out.”

Dumbledore seemed to mull over his story for a moment. “Guilt, of course, an emotion Voldemort is uniquely unsusceptible to. It’s also fascinating that a house-elf should be the undoing of his defenses. We are very lucky that Kreacher disobeyed your orders. We owe him your life, of course, and I don’t think he would have been able to destroy the horcrux on his own.”

“I… hadn’t thought of that.”

“Understandable, you were operating under a great deal of tension, but the spells that can hold a piece of a soul in an object also give it considerable protection from without. I’m very afraid you would have died in vain.”

Died in vain. Regulus wasn’t dead, but he could so easily wish he was. He had fled his past, his future was in the hands of a man he had always feared, and had taught himself to hate. In the present, he was only tired, deadly tired, but it was more than fatigue, surely, that made his heart jump in his throat every few minutes, that wrapped a fist around his intestines every time he dared to remember?

“What will you do now, Regulus?” Dumbledore asked gently.

It was the gentleness that broke him. His throat tightened. He buried his face in his hands, trying hopelessly to hold in his tears.

“I don’t know. Hide? However Sirius thinks you can hide me. I can give you information, names and locations, but only for,” Regulus laughed, the sound hysterical. “Only for three. You can’t use me, they’re going to kill me,” he sobbed, and his next words were nearly incomprehensible, even to himself. “And I don’t want to kill anyone else.”

“You knew exactly what the Death Eaters did, yet you were still eager to join them.”

Regulus shook his head. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Worth torture and fear? Worth the death of innocents?”

“Yes!” Regulus answered fiercely.

“Then you have no regrets?”

“We were outnumbered, for a political target, for-we had to hit where it hurt! We had to get people’s attention. To end the Statute of Secrecy, to put wizards in a place of power, to end the dilution of the old lines-“

“For the greater good?” Dumbledore interrupted quietly, silver eyebrows raised.

“Yes, exactly. But the Dark Lord only wants power. He was using us. He didn’t gather the people who most desired change, he gathered those who would follow without question, those who desired blood, even if that blood was pure.”

“Are you here because you regret murdering children, or because you regret murdering pureblood children?” The disgust in Dumbledore’s voice was palpable.

“I… yes. Both. But what I regret more is, it wasn’t worth anything. It wasn’t even worth my life. I should have died eight months ago when I found out about the horcrux. I should have acted then. I shouldn’t have been a coward.”

Dumbledore passed him a square of indigo cloth. Regulus took a moment to realize it was a handkerchief, the kind action at odds with his merciless words.

“You’ve said enough for now. Dry your eyes. I know what you did, and I know what it cost you, and I’ve some idea of what to do with you now. We’ll discuss it in the morning, after you’ve had a chance to rest. Bobbin?”

A house-elf materialized on Dumbledore’s desk with a pop.

“Yes, sir!” it squeaked with an energetic bow.

“See that this young man is made comfortable in a private room, and bring him a good breakfast there in the morning-a late breakfast, I think. Do not speak of him to anyone else.”

“My lips are sealed, headmaster, sir! Follow me, please.”

Sirius pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on as Regulus and Dumbledore emerged from the office, a house-elf toddling at their heels.

“So, what now?” Sirius caught Regulus bloodshot eyes. “Are you alright?”

Regulus waved him off. “Fine, just tired.”

“Thank you for waiting, Sirius,” Dumbledore said smoothly. “And Bobbin, fetch Regulus a dreamless sleep potion from Madame Pomfrey­.” He directed his gaze to Regulus. “If he would like, that is?”

“Yes, I would appreciate it.” The house-elf tugged at Regulus’ robe to direct him to his bed, but Regulus hung back a moment. “Thank you, Sirius.” There was the slightest pause before he said, “And thank you too, professor.”

Dumbledore nodded graciously. The young man and the house-elf disappeared around a corner. Sirius turned to Dumbledore.

“So what did he tell you?”

“The details of what he did tonight. He also shared a few of his opinions. I think it best both stay between us. Regulus can tell you himself in the future.” Dumbledore began to walk toward the grounds, Sirius beside him.

“Are you going to keep him here?”

“Only for a night or two.”

“And then?”

“That’s up to Regulus, though I will encourage him to flee the country.”

“Will that be enough?”

“Alone, no, though I intend to employ other defenses.”

“What spells?”

“No spells.” Dumbledore chuckled at Sirius sideways glance. “I see you remain unversed in the art of deception. I don’t insult you! It’s comforting to know someone with whom what you see is what you get.”

“I’m still not sure I shouldn’t be insulted.”

“You have a mind like a sword, Sirius, though sometimes a scalpel would be better suited.” He held the front door open for his former student as he spoke. “I’m sure you can foresee my plan.”

The pair walked four steps before Sirius responded. “Fake his death?”

Dumbledore didn’t respond.

“He won’t like that.”

“He’ll have little choice.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t having him work for the Order.”

Dumbledore sighed. “There’s little he could do. He’s badly placed as a spy, and he still approves of Voldemort’s espoused principles, if not Voldemort himself.”

Sirius took his turn to sigh. “I can’t say I’m surprised, though I hoped he’d… see reason.”

Dumbledore smiled, and his spectacles caught the starlight. “There is still hope for that. He’s struck a great blow for us, whether he likes it or not, and he fully intended to die for it.”

Sirius snorted. “How very Gryffindor of him.”

“Are you on-duty tomorrow, Sirius?”

“No, I’ve got the day off.”

“Good, that will give you a chance to rest up. Good night, Sirius; or rather, good morning.”

“You too, professor.” He turned toward the gates, then turned back. “Will you let me know where he decides to hide?”

“As soon as I can.”

Sirius turned again to apparate, but Dumbledore called out, “Wait a moment!”

Sirius turned back to find Albus Dumbledore’s wand pointed between his eyes. He barely had time to widen them before the headmaster spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Sirius. Obliviate.”

A/N: Thanks again to Coshie, and to all you readers. Until next time. ;)