Hello all! This story is based on the tumblr post by proffessorsparklepants which says "Can we have a Harry Potter AU where Regulus Black is the Death Eater spy turned potions master instead of Snape?" post/174617137460/ravenclaw-in-snakeskin-boots-nyodrite
This story somehow went from a buddy cop comedy where Remus and Regulus team up to catch Sirius to a quiet meditation on Regulus's relationship with Kreacher and his reluctant appreciation of Harry (?). I'm not entirely sure how that happened, but I hope you all enjoy anyway!
A bit of language in this chapter- one or two f bombs.
Regulus hardly slept well at the best of times. Despite being 13 years removed from the influence of Lord Voldemort, he had never lost the attention to detail required when one is playing double agent against the greatest dark wizard of the time. So when a sharp knock rang through his house in the wee hours of the morning, he awoke instantly. He rose out of bed and shrugged into his robe with a swift elegance that had been burned into him, sometimes literally, by his pureblood family. He stepped rapidly down the stairs to the entryway, his stride automatically quiet to prevent awakening the portrait of his mother and inviting her long winded soliloquies.
There was only one person it could be; yet, his wand was held loosely in his hand, lightly threatening. He kept his stance relaxed, but there was a dangerous air about him nonetheless. As he opened the door to reveal Albus Dumbledore, he tried hard to ignore the knowing glance the headmaster gave him. Albus acknowledged the wand with a nod and provided Regulus the passcode they had worked out years ago.
"Come in, Headmaster," Regulus said, stepping back and allowing the older man to enter. "We can sit in the drawing room. I'll have Kreacher get us some tea. A lemon drop in yours, correct?"
"Right you are, Regulus," Dumbledore said. "I have a matter of importance to discuss with you."
"Of course," Regulus said, nodding with a smile at his loyal house elf. Kreacher eyed him knowingly before scurrying to get the tea. Regulus relaxed slightly, breathing out and dropping his shoulders. He knew the house elf would stay near once the conversation began, gathering information and and observations the way other house elves gathered trinkets.
"What's the problem, Headmaster?" Regulus asked, perching on the edge of his high backed chair. He folded his hands gracefully in his lap and leaned forward slightly, taking care to keep his back straight and purposeful. "I must admit, I was looking forward to taking a quiet summer after the rather, uh, excitable year we just completed."
"Unfortunately, Regulus, even the best plans can be derailed by unforeseen circumstances," Dumbledore told him gravely. "Thank you, Kreacher." He took the proffered tea.
"It seems your brother has escaped Azkaban."
Regulus couldn't stop the surprised breath that escaped from him.
"Excuse me," he said, setting down his own tea. "I'm very surprised, Albus."
"As am I," the Headmaster said. "You, of all people, can see why this is worrisome. The stone, the chamber, and now Sirius? I fear Voldemort grows stronger, Regulus, and his influence greater. Clearly the locket was not the only horcrux he created."
"You think Voldemort helped Sirius escape?" Regulus asked. "I have told you a million times, Albus. I never saw evidence of Sirius working with Voldemort. His betrayal of the Potters must have been his first and last attempt to make contact."
"And yet here we are," Albus said, opening his hands in a gesture meant to encompass the last several years and not merely the Black family's impeccably clean drawing room. "You have argued rather eloquently in the past that your brother could not have committed the crime he was accused of. I must ask, Regulus, if there mightn't be another way he could have escaped?"
"Of course I argued," Regulus said, his tone rather clipped. "Sirius rejected me, our family, his fortune, and his birthright to stand by James Potter. I was shocked by his defection, to say the least. I can only conclude that he must have been swayed by the hope of reuniting with me, much as I was swayed by the hope of reuniting with him. Oh, the irony."
"The gift of the magi," Albus replied. Regulus gazed at him and decided not to comment. Albus often said things Regulus understood to be spoken more for the air of mystery than to add anything meaningful to the conversation. The old man was brilliant, manipulative, cruel - but all for the greater good, of course. Old meddler.
The silence stretched.
"Of course I did nothing to help him," Regulus said with a frown. "You know that, don't you, Headmaster? I don't claim to understand Sirius's motivation, but other than my disbelief directly after the fact, I have never done anything that could be construed as supportive of his cause. I have not even visited him."
Dumbledore hummed in acquiescence and accepted a refill on his tea from Kreacher.
"And you know no one who might have? No stirrings from the old crowd?"
"You mean Malfoy, and the like?" Regulus confirmed. "None at all. Have you visited Lupin? If anyone would free him, it would be that lovesick fool."
"Remus suffered a great blow, to be sure," Dumbledore said softly. "But he is not permitted near Azkaban, as you know, due to his unfortunate affliction."
"I wouldn't put it past him to find a way, Albus," Regulus replied, his tone becoming more flat as he entered a familiar argument. "You've given him no support since the "blow", as you call it. He has fallen into poverty and despair without my brother to support him. He claims no knowledge of Sirius's betrayal, but they lived together, for Merlin's sake!"
"I visited him this morning, Regulus," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Please, sit back. Drink your tea."
Regulus, who relaxed in the presence of Kreacher and Kreacher only, merely glared.
"And was your visit...fruitful?" He inquired, raising his cup and taking a sip.
"I have offered him a job."
Regulus nearly sputtered, swallowing hard and burning his throat in an effort to maintain his composure.
"Albus. You needn't replace your Defense candidate each year with someone more incompetent than the last."
"Remus is a very accomplished wizard. Highly skilled in defense and knowledgeable about all sorts of dark creatures."
"Because he is one!" Regulus said, finally allowing his irritation to slip through. "How is this helpful? This is more likely to draw my brother towards the school than keep him away. He'll be itching to see his old paramour, I'm sure."
Dumbledore hummed again in a casual sort of way and Regulus felt his heart rate increase. He stood, setting his cup down firmly.
"That's what you want, isn't it? Why do you insist on using the school as a magnet for all things Voldemort?"
"Regulus, you fail to understand the subtleties of the situation. Voldemort will come for Harry, that is a given. He has come the last two years, disguised as a stuttering man and a harmless old book. You have never understood Remus the way I do. He is not a lovesick fool, but a scorned man. He would do anything to make up for what he perceives as his own failure to protect the Potter's from Sirius Black. I have no doubt that he will make a formidable protector for Hogwarts."
Regulus shook his head.
"I'm afraid I must show you out," he said finally. "I will need some time to consider this."
"Of course," Dumbledore said graciously, rising from his chair. The wizards swept towards the door, Dumbledore's ridiculous purple robes looking ghastly and flamboyant against the reserved green decor. Regulus opened the door and gestured Dumbledore out as respectfully as he could.
"Don't consider too long, old friend," Dumbledore said. "You need to start practicing the wolfsbane potion." Before Regulus could respond, Dumbledore had turned on the spot and vanished.
"Regulus, dear," his mother's portrait said from behind him. "You always have been the best about your manners. I know, appearances, appearances...but must you invite the riffraff in for tea? Mudblood loving fool."
When Regulus heard the news that Harry Potter had gone missing, Kreacher brought him a strong glass of elf-made wine from the cellar. The two of them sat glumly, staring at one another across the drawing room, watching the fireplace and willing an update to come. When it did, Regulus was surprised; Dumbledore's bearded, disembodied head cheerfully told him that the Knight Bus had picked Harry up.
"It couldn't be helped that he knows Sirius has escaped, of course," Albus said. "Harry has admirably put two-and-two together and now suspects your relation."
"How startling. The boy can recognize a share surname. What sharp wit."
Albus laughed heartily and winked as he exited the fireplace. Regulus sighed and looked at Kreacher.
"Should we pay a visit to the old fleabag?"
"It is Master Regulus's decision," Kreacher said. "Kreacher has the address on hand, as requested. However, Kreacher thinks there is nothing to be gained by visiting the werewolf. He did not blow up the Potter brat's aunt."
"Right as always, Kreacher," Regulus sighed. "You must come with me to Hogwarts this year. The Hogwarts house elves simply cannot meet your standards of service, especially in these trying times."
Kreacher looked delighted.
"Of course, Master Regulus. And Kreacher should perhaps keep an eye on the werewolf? No one will notice an elf out of place at Hogwarts."
"I knew you would understand," Regulus said. "In fact, what if we started that arrangement now? My belief is that the werewolf will take the train so that he'll have an opportunity to see Potter with fewer constraints. If he is working with Sirius…"
"Of course, Master Regulus. Kreacher will trail him and report back nightly. Naturally, Kreacher will still make sure Regulus is receiving proper meals in a timely manner."
"Thanks, Kreacher," Regulus said, sighing and sinking back into his arm chair. "Damn my brother, the great fool."
"He was always troublesome," Kreacher agreed knowingly. "Oh, how my Mistress used to beat him…"
"Don't sound so happy, Kreacher," Regulus admonished, but there was no passion in his tone. "Sirius got beat for playing Dumbledore's side. That's what we're doing now."
"We are playing the side that allows us to live," Kreacher muttered in disagreement. "Master Sirius did not know how to play; he was always all in. Mistress beat him for being so obvious."
Regulus couldn't disagree with that, and so he settled for sipping his wine instead.
On September 1st, Kreacher and Regulus moved his drawing room furnuture and robes into the dungeon living quarters Regulus called home during the school year. A loud pop echoed around the room as Regulus organized his books. He spun around to see Kreacher, his bony chest rising and falling as he breathed rapidly. It was too early for the train to be in; something must have happened.
"Kreacher!" Regulus said, kneeling by his oldest friend and servant. "What is it? Did Lupin attack Potter?"
"Dementors, Master!" Kreacher gasped. His wide eyes were bloodshot and darting.
"Here," Regulus said, quickly grabbing a calming drought from his stores and shoving it in his house elf's hand. "Take just a quarter of the dose- that's enough. There you go."
Kreacher's eyelids drooped slightly and his breathing slowed. Regulus shuttered, remembering the visions forced upon him in a dark cave he had infiltrated 14 years before. He and Kreacher shared these memories around dementors, forced to relive the pain and agony from their time in Voldemort's service.
"Dementors on the train, Master," Kreacher finally said. "Lupin was with the boy. He tried to cast a Patronus but was too weak. The boy fainted as I was leaving to come here."
"Did they see you?" Regulus asked, swinging a small blanket around Kreacher's shoulders without comment. The house elf pretended not to notice and Regulus pretended not to be doing it.
"No, Master, the children and the werewolf did not see Kreacher. Kreacher was invisible in the luggage compartment and left as the dementors entered."
Regulus checked his pocket watch.
"The train should be here soon," he said. "Stay here. Recover. Join me when you're able. Invisible, of course."
Kreacher gave a small bow. "Of course, Master."
Regulus strode out of his living quarters and into the cold dungeon air. Really, Dumbledore was a sadist. They were magical, for Merlin's sake. A simple environmental charm would keep the corridors at a livable temperature, but Dumbledore acted as though all Slytherins were actors in some great stage play and he was the set designer, trying to bring his vision to life.
Regulus considered the events of the train. When Kreacher had apparated in, Regulus had been sure it was to report that Lupin had attacked Potter in full view of everyone. What had conspired, however, seemed entirely the workings of Cornelius Fudge, cowardly fool that he was. But Lupin had been with Potter, Regulus reflected, so perhaps he had been waiting for the perfect moment and had been spoiled.
He spotted the children streaming through the entrance doors as he ascended the stairs from the dungeons. The other professors were joining the fray as well, their backs stiff and their faces disapproving as they assessed the frightened mass. Many of the older students were putting on an admirable show; the general air of the group was much more rambunctious and ostentatious than it usually was after the long train ride. Regulus saw Draco Malfoy doing a spirited impersonation of someone fainting and couldn't hide his frown. That child was much too excitable to be a good slytherin, always casting around for notice and approval. He spotted Poppy Pomfrey swooping down on a pale Potter, who was glaring at Malfoy and muttering furious arguments as she led him away.
Then, he spotted his quarry. Remus Lupin looked worse than ever. He was slightly taller than an average man and exceptionally thin. His dishwater hair was greying and new scars lined his face and hands. Regulus felt a sharp pang of contempt for the man, who had lived off Sirius's fortune and had obviously amounted to nothing since then. A wry part of his mind reminded Regulus that the law made it hard for the werewolf to find work, and that Dumbledore had done nothing to help since throwing Lupin to the literal werewolves in the previous war. He pushed his pitying thoughts down, squared his shoulders, and marched through the throng of children. They parted to let him pass without him speaking, one tripping over her robe and falling in her haste to avoid him.
"Lupin," he said.
"Regulus!" The werewolf said. His voice was raspy. Regulus had picked ripened ingredients under the full moon just two nights before. His sense of pity returned.
"I need to speak to you. Now."
He turned and walked back through the crowd without stopping to see if the man was following. Regulus heard Lupin's raspy voice trailing behind him- "excuse me. Oh, excuse me. Thank you so much. Excuse me."- and felt confident that the man was coming.
"This will due," Regulus said, gesturing for Lupin to walk first into an empty classroom. There was no scenario under which Regulus would put his back to the werewolf. Lupin raised one eyebrow and walked in mildly.
"I will be blunt. I don't trust you, Lupin, and I feel Dumbledore made a mistake in bringing you on. I suspect you of helping my brother escape Azkaban and fear you are leading him here to hurt Harry Potter. I will be watching you very closely this year, Lupin, and I won't hesitate to turn you over to the dementors if need be."
Lupin watched him throughout this speech impassively. Up close, he looked even more sickly. The dark circles under his eyes made the blue irises looked faded and dull. Regulus could see that there was a slight shake to his hands when he ran them through his greying hair.
"I understand," Lupin said finally. "My only wish is for Harry to be safe. We have dovetailing interests, Regulus, whatever our past."
"I don't believe you," Regulus reiterated. "My brother once used you in a murder plot to get rid of my closest friend. Why? To hurt me? I don't know. You loved him anyway. If you can love him after that, I find it easy to believe you could toss aside a thirteen year old boy."
Lupin raised his eyebrows again. Even they were showing signs of grey.
"Severus suspected what I am," he said. He cleared his throat gently. "Do you deny it?"
"That's irrelevant," Regulus said. "He assumed you would be chained, as any sane person would."
"And his goal, in finding me chained? To catch Sirius in wrongdoing and get him expelled? Perhaps it was not Sirius, but Severus, who's actions were meant to affect you."
Regulus was momentarily stunned. Lupin's mild expression had never changed, but there was a sense of finality in his tone.
"And what would have happened to you, if my brother's plot had succeeded?" Regulus hissed, finding his anger harder to control now. "You would have been put down. And still you let him fuck you. Excuse me for not finding your proclamation that you are here to protect particularly moving."
"Then I will just have to prove it to you," Lupin said, stepping back from Regulus, who found he was leaning into the man's space furiously. "Now, I have likely missed the song, but I would like to see the end of the sorting. Excuse me, Regulus."
Lupin moved towards the door and left. Regulus heard him pause and watched as the man stuck his head back in.
"Thank you for agreeing to make the wolfsbane potion. I truly appreciate it."
Regulus listened to Lupin's footsteps as he walked down the corridor at a quick pace. Exiting the room, Regulus walked to his own living quarters rather quickly. When he entered he scanned the room, his heart picking up as he noticed the neatly folded elf-size blanket and the absence of Kreacher.
"Kreacher!" he called. There was a pop.
"Master," Kreacher said. Regulus knelt by him.
"I was worried," he told the elf.
"Kreacher is okay. Kreacher was looking through the werewolf's trunk while Master spoke to him."
"Brilliant," Regulus said. "Did you find anything?"
"Nothing, Master," Kreacher said, scuffing one horned foot against the ground in agitation. "The werewolf has robes of the cheapest quality, more patches than fabric. He has one pair of boots, and an uncouth amount of books. There was some muggle artifact in there that Kreacher was suspicious of, but Kreacher could sense no curses or enchantments on it."
"We will keep looking," Regulus assured him.
"And Master Regulus? Were you successful?"
"He's either an occlumens or werewolves have a natural protection. I couldn't pull anything from his mind." Regulus sighed and sunk into his armchair, carefully transported to his Hogwarts quarters that morning. "But Dumbledore has asked me to protect Harry this year, and I'm determined to do so."
"Hmm," Kreacher muttered. "Kreacher is thinking the dotty old muggle lover is asking Master Regulus to do that every year."
Regulus laughed heartily and conjured a chalice.
"To protection," he said, raising it to Kreacher. The house elf smiled darkly as he filled the cup with Regulus's favorite elf-made wine.
Thursday was Regulus's first potion class with the Gryffindor and Slytherin third years. Regulus kept his face level as they entered, noting with wry humor that Harry Potter sat himself as far from Regulus as possible. Potter's body language was tense, his back rigid as he gazed past Regulus, his face purposefully blank. Regulus knew the boy was already attracting drama, from his collapse on the train to the "grimm" observed in his cup by the overgrown dragonfly Dumbledore called a teacher.
Potter wasn't sure what to do with Regulus, a fact that quietly amused him to no end. The spitting image of his dad, this Potter lacked the confidence and bravado that his father had gained from copious amounts of lavish attention. Potter had suspected Regulus two years ago of wrongdoing, based solely on the fact that Regulus refused to worship and fawn over the boy. It wasn't that the boy was affronted by Regulus's lack of attention; it was that, with every other teacher heaping praise upon him, Regulus's complete lack of response was off putting. Potter looked at Regulus as though Regulus had figured out his secret; that he really was perfectly ordinary, and all the other teachers had it backwards. Even Minerva, who was careful to never show favoritism in class, had sent the boy a top-of-the-line broomstick as a first year!
Regulus even saw potential in Potter, though he would never admit it. He reminded Regulus of Sirius, the signs of abuse and neglect palpable in the way he held his body. But he had a sense of reservation that Sirius had lacked. Regulus thought Potter could be honed, by the right person, into a shrewd and powerful figure…if only he'd get over his black-and-white understanding of morality.
That was only encouraged by Dumbledore, the old manipulator, and Regulus kept his hands out of it for that reason.
Midway through the class, Draco Malfoy sauntered in, heavily bandaged and with the theatrics turned all the way up. Regulus restrained himself from rolling his eyes. How a child of Narcissa could have turned out so blunt was a mystery to Regulus; he supposed his cousin must baby the child. Lucius and Narcissa were certainly much more subtle and nuanced in their approach to haughtiness; Draco was downright Gryffindor-ish in the way he sought attention.
"Mr. Malfoy, to me, please," Regulus called. Draco approached, looking slightly abashed. Regulus leaned down, speaking in a low voice and giving the impression that he was confiding in the child. He knew other teachers (and the ex-death eater school board members) expected a certain level of oiliness from Regulus; he tried, however, to steer the students in a direction that would actually be beneficial to them instead of playing the performative role of big bad head of Slytherin house. He didn't really want to drive them into the arms of a potentially revived Dark Lord, after all; he merely needed to teach them to navigate a world that expected it of them regardless.
"Reign yourself in, Draco, please," Regulus said. "I understand you have a certain...facade to uphold, supported by this petty rivalry you have with Potter. But unless you want everyone reflecting on how much you have to gain by exaggerating this injury, I would control your tone." He clapped Draco's shoulder and cast a glance around the room, catching the eyes on him and smiling knowingly. Draco mirrored his expression.
"Of course, sir," he said through his barred teeth.
"Biased git," One of the Weasley boys- Potter's pet- muttered. Regulus caught his eye and smiled. A job well done, then.
Draco settled at a table near the Parkinson girl, who was more than happy to cut his ingredients for him. Regulus watched him quietly. The boy might shape up, yet. For a minute he was powerfully reminded of another Slytherin, many years ago, trying desperately to perform the role he thought expected of him. Severus had come to Hogwarts a tiny and batlike eleven year old, armed with more knowledge of the dark arts than half the pureblood students combined, but with none of their refinement. It had taken years for Severus to finally be accepted as an inner circle Slytherin, and he had thrown it all away by going head-to-head with Voldemort over Lily Evans.
Regulus let out a quiet sigh. He sometimes wondered, had the murder of his dear friend not happened so near to the poisoning of his beloved house elf, if he would be a Voldemort supporter still. Perhaps there was something to be said for non-conforming Slytherins after all.
Later, Regulus was settling into the staff room, ready to enjoy a quiet afternoon pretending to read while secretly listening to the gossip of his fellow professors. His actions weren't shallow; rather, he used this time to passively absorb information from across the castle, quietly painting a picture of what was going on across all 500 students and teachers. There was a boggart rattling obnoxiously in a wardrobe near the corner and Regulus was finding it hard to concentrate on the book in front of him.
"Loony, loopy Lupin. Loony, loopy Lupin!"
Regulus raised his head and listened with interest as Lupin casually dealt with Peeves. He used a spell Regulus had never heard before, a prank-based hex that Regulus would have bet money Potter, Lupin, and Sirius had invented during their heyday as the school's front runners.
To Regulus's surprise, the staff room door opened and Lupin walked in, the third year Gryffindor's trailing after him. Regulus sat back, a slight smirk on his mouth as he watched them eye the shaking wardrobe nervously. Lupin smiled at them warmly and Regulus noticed with interest that he could see the children relax. There was something about the man that was soothing. Regulus found it suspicious.
Lupin asked them a few questions to establish their level of knowledge, the answering of which was dominated by Hermione Granger. Regulus watched as Lupin made an effort to seek the thoughts of other student. He felt his respect for the man reluctantly rise. When Lupin offered Neville Longbottom a chance to be the first to face the boggart, Regulus decide to voice his thoughts.
"Longbottom suffers from a lack of confidence, Lupin," he informed the werewolf. Twenty students jumped and turned to face him, having forgot about his presence as they became absorbed in the lesson. "Longbottom, don't let your thoughts get in the way of your actions. Lupin thinks you can do this. Don't prove him wrong."
Longbottom shook. Regulus was a bit miffed; he tried to push the boy to be his best, but something about Regulus seemed to bring out the worst in Longbottom. He knew the boy's grandmother was hard on him and he wondered if something about his own pureblood mannerisms reminded the boy of her.
"Have you thought about what shape your boggart might take, Neville?" Lupin asked him kindly. The boy flushed and muttered something under his breath.
"Didn't quite catch that, sorry," Lupin said. He leaned nearer. The entire class held its breath as the boy whispered.
"A cruel woman," Neville said.
Regulus felt a flash of dread. Lupin, removed as he had been since Sirius's arrest, surely wasn't so ignorant that he wouldn't realize Neville's meaning. But it seemed he had; his faded blue eyes met Regulus's and there was a slight undercurrent of panic in them.
"Really," Regulus scoffed, standing up. "Some nameless, faceless old witch? Did your grandmother read you muggle fairy tales, Longbottom? You're a wizard! Surely there's something else you can think of?"
He knew that his cruelty could potentially backfire, but he hoped by putting the boy's mind on something else, he could force the boggart to take a different shape than that of his cousin Bellatrix. Come to think of, Regulus's relation to the woman probably increased his fear of Regulus as well.
"Fears can be very personal, Professor Black," Lupin chastised lightly. "Neville, you think about it for a minute. Is there anyone else ready to go?"
Severals hands shot up; Lupin selected one of the Patil twins, who was confronted by a bloody mummy in unraveling strips. Regulus watched as Lupin got the class back under control, skillfully avoiding calling Potter or Longbottom to confront the boggart. He stepped up himself and was confronted with a full moon before Potter could reach the front of the line.
Then something happened very quickly, something that made Regulus happy he had stayed in the room. The silvery moon the boggart was inhabiting began to morph. It started to sprout eyes and a haughty nose, sharp cheekbones and dark hair. Lupin cast ridikulus quickly, blasting away Sirius's face before the children could notice. The boggart became a stumbling man that Regulus was shocked to realize was himself, tripping on overlarge robes and crashing spectacularly to the floor. The children burst into laughter, the boggart burst into smoky wisps, and Lupin cast him an apologetic glance.
"Thank you," the werewolf murmured as he passed by Regulus, herding his class out the door. "For saving me twice."
"Only once was intentional," Regulus hissed under his breath. "I would clearly never display such uncouth behavior."
"That's why it's funny," Lupin said, winking as he walked out and closing the door before Regulus could respond. He felt stunned; how could Lupin act so nonchalant when his boggart had taken the form of Sirius Black?
Regulus wasn't sure what it meant. Was Lupin frightened of the man who had tricked and betrayed him, or frightened of him being caught?
"Argh!" Regulus groaned in frustration on Halloween eve, nearly three weeks later. Despite Kreacher's constant, invisible surveillance, Regulus's barely concealed interrogations, and the dementor presence on the ground, he was no closer to finding any evidence that Lupin was helping Sirius.
"Mistress used to say that if the Evening Prophet didn't come out, it was good news," Kreacher told him sagely, patting Regulus on the shoulders and refilling his wine.
"But Sirius is out there, somewhere," Regulus mused. "And he must be heading here. Perhaps I need to change my focus, try to find him instead. Could you still track him?"
"Only if he called Kreacher," Kreacher said regretfully. "Kreacher's connection to the ungrateful Sirius was severed when Mistress disowned him. Rightfully so."
"And Lupin's done absolutely nothing of interest? He's sent no letters?"
Kreacher looked at Regulus with a rare expression of reproach.
"Of course not. Kreacher would not be forgetting to mention such a thing."
"You're right, of course, I'm sorry Kreacher." Regulus tipped his head back and emptied his wine into his mouth, letting the hot, round taste linger on his tongue. "Well, I have to bring him his potion tomorrow while the brats are in Hogsmeade. Perhaps something will come out of that."
He had little hope and knew Kreacher didn't either, but the elf kindly didn't say so.
The following day, Regulus carefully carried the pitcher of wolfsbane toward Lupin's office. The putrid smell, part earthy compost, part rotten meat, wafted behind him. Kreacher, invisible at his side, let out a muffled cough and gag.
"I know," Regulus muttered quietly. "But try to keep your noises to yourself. Lupin has good hearing."
Regulus was surprised to see Harry Potter sitting in Lupin's office, looking lost and a little lonely. His heart sped up slightly. Lupin was away from Kreacher for one day, and he already had Potter perched in his chair like a puffkin waiting to be trussed up for supper!
"I was just showing Harry my grindylow," Lupin said, smiling at Regulus. Regulus narrowed his eyes at the raggedy man, who seemed a little too smug for Regulus's liking.
"Yes, those really should have been covered last year for Potter's group," Regulus said, not taking his eyes off Lupin. He noted that Harry held a tea cup and felt the urge to pluck it out of his scratched up, nail-bitten hands. He considered for a moment and then did so, storing away Potter's incredulous expression to savor later.
Regulus took a strong sniff.
"Jasmine," he spat. "I'm surprised you have anything more cultured than bagged Earl Grey."
"It is a bag," Potter said defensively. "And it's mine." He plucked it back out of Regulus's hands.
"Suit yourself, Potter. You should drink that immediately," he addressed Lupin. "And don't forget your next dose tomorrow. There's an entire cauldron full."
"Thank you, Regulus," Lupin said.
Regulus backed out of the room, not bothering to hide his watchful observation. Kreacher, ever the intelligent helper, stayed behind.
Later that evening, as Regulus was preparing to head down to the Halloween feast, a gentle tapping began at his door.
He and Kreacher glanced at each other immediately. Regulus gave a sharp nod and Kreacher disappeared, using his elf magic to blend into the wall. Regulus opened his door and was surprised to see Lupin there, looking distinctly non-festive in his standard patched robes and tired eyes.
"What do you want, Lupin? The potion is right there in my office, you must have smelled it as you passed."
"Smelled it and drank it," Lupin said pleasantly. Regulus felt distinctly uncomfortable with the idea that Lupin had been lingering out there for some undetermined amount of time. He tried to remember if he had cast a silencing charm before talking to Kreacher and found he couldn't recall.
"Your elf can show himself," Lupin said casually.
Well, then. Apparently not.
"I've also been able to smell him, following me."
Damn. Regulus hadn't considered Lupin's supernaturally strong nose, and was cursing himself now for his obvious oversight.
"You've known this entire time?" Regulus asked incredulously. "Kreacher, come."
Kreacher materialized back into visibility, glaring up at the intruder with undisguised dislike.
"Of course," Lupin said. "But I thought I'd show you that I have nothing to hide." He opened his arms wide. The gesture reminded Regulus of Dumbledore, doing the same at the beginning of the summer and saying 'and yet, here we are'.
"I'm on your side, Regulus," Lupin said. "And you could have poisoned me today. You choose not to. Perhaps you're seeing that we can work together?"
"Dumbledore would never forgive me for murdering his experiment," Regulus said flippantly. "Besides, werewolves are different than humans. What if the dosage wasn't high enough, and instead of killing you, I just made the potion faulty? I'm not going to be responsible for setting a werewolf on the entire school."
"My office, of course, will be warded. By Dumbledore himself."
"Forgive me if I don't think Dumbledore is infallible," Regulus said.
"On that, we agree," Lupin said. Regulus looked at him sharply. "Oh, yes, Regulus. I'm not as blind a follower as you seem to think."
"Hmm," Regulus said. He let the moment settle, observations and facts whirling in his brain. He allowed them to form an impression, one he would be unable to put into words, but which he used to inform his next move. Among the images was a young Harry Potter, battling devil's snare and a killer chess set, a possessed man and a possessed diary, and even a fucking basilisk, for Merlin's sake.
"You think Dumbledore, perhaps, does not have Harry's best interests at heart?" He kept his tone light, hoping that he could play off the question as an interrogation about loyalty, should he have misconstrued Remus's intent.
"I think Dumbledore cares strongly…" Regulus's heart skipped a beat. "About the greater good. He's a true utilitarianist."
Regulus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Fine, then." He stuck out his hand to the werewolf. Remus looked at him and smiled a small, triumphant smile.
They shook hands.
The truce was short lived. The two walked to the feast together, ate side by side, and then departed to their separate chambers. Not fifteen minutes later, a claxon-like alarm was echoing through the corridors, and Regulus was leading his anxious Slytherins to the Great Hall. He ushered them in through the tall double doors, giving terse instructions to his prefects to ensure no one left.
"What happened, Albus?" Pomfrey asked. "Are all the children okay?"
"The children are fine, Poppy. But Sirius Black was in the castle tonight. He has shredded the Fat Lady's portrait in an attempt to enter Gryffindor House."
Minerva let out a muffled sob.
"Thank goodness the children were at the feast," Lupin said. His face seemed very white. Regulus stared at him sharply. Could anyone be that good of an actor? Control the blood draining from their face? The shake in their voice? He felt supremely uncertain, a state he hated.
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "We must search the castle at once."
The group split up. Regulus wasted no time catching Lupin's arm and pulling him aside.
"What is the meaning of this?" Regulus found himself snarling, and released Lupin suddenly, taking a deep breath.
"Regulus, I am as baffled as you," Lupin pointed out. "I've not been out of your sight since I visited your office. How could you think I had something to do with this, and after our discussion?"
Regulus glared but found the expression hard to maintain.
"I'm baffled, Lupin, frankly," he finally said. He brushed his hair behind his ears, an old gesture of vulnerability he thought he had eradicated. He yanked his hands down and grasped them tightly in front of himself. "I want to believe you. But no one knows Sirius better than you."
"Some might argue the same of you," Lupin said mildly.
"Me?" Regulus said. "Who has been saying that?"
"Some of the student...some of their parents. The staff, of course, supports you one hundred percent."
Regulus wondered at this. Suddenly, he saw himself, as though from a distance. Regulus Black, brother to mass murderer Sirius Black and heir to the infamously dark Black family, cousin to Bellatrix Lestrange. Here he stood with Remus Lupin, dirt poor werewolf, who had everything to lose if he were exposed to be aligned with the man everyone expected him to be.
"I'm withholding my judgement," he finally said. Lupin nodded at him.
"Best get searching. Have your elf check the Room of Requirement. Ask for a 'safe place'. Also, the passageway behind the mirror on the fourth floor."
Regulus wasn't sure what to think of this advice, this small glimpse into the childhood of his brother and his best friends. He was struck by a sudden, strong feeling of longing. He had an impression of himself, laughing with his brother over his mother's howlers, joining the marauders as they scampered around the castle at night, pranking and plotting. It was a long-passed fantasy that he had not recalled in many years; the desire was so strong it hurt.
"Thank you," he finally said, and the two parted ways.
Hours later, with the clock striking 3 a.m., Regulus reported back to Dumbledore. He wondered if he should tell the headmaster of Remus's small confession, the sacrifice of secret places and sacred memories the werewolf had made to ensure Sirius was nowhere in the castle.
"Headmaster? You remember the conversation we had at the beginning of summer?" The nosy Gryffindor prefect, another Weasley boy, watched openly and eagerly.
"I do, Regulus," Dumbledore replied, a slight warning in his tone.
"It seems almost impossible that Black could have got in without some sort of...advanced...knowledge. Beyond what the average student would gain while being here."
Dumbledore merely looked at him.
"Anyway, the person we discussed? They provided some interesting insight into alternate avenues into the school. We should ensure they are guarded going forward."
"Of course," Dumbledore said. There was a hint of happiness in his small smile and Regulus felt slightly defensive. Dumbledore would see this as a personal victory, but Regulus tried to keep the bigger picture in mind. "Thank you for your time tonight, Regulus. We should all retire to our beds now."
"The passageway is caved in, Master Regulus," Kreacher reminded him. "And the come-and-go room showed me a safe place- for elves! The werewolf must have lied."
Regulus sighed and nodded. They had already had this conversation, but they were as stuck as a broom with a broken flight charm.
"What else can Kreacher do for Master Regulus?" The elf asked. Regulus smiled at him kindly, noting that his ear hair was turning more white than grey. He felt a sense of nostalgia for his childhood, and forcefully pushed the thought away.
He was ashamed that his moment of childlike loneliness had caused him to let his guard down. Lupin must be playing a long strategy; that's what Regulus would have done in there werewolf's position. If there was one hidden passageway and a room of infinite possibilities, it wasn't much of a stretch to assume there were other secrets held in the castle, secrets Lupin hadn't shared.
"I'm not sure what else we can do right now, Kreacher," Regulus said, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears. His house elf smiled at him and patted his hands good naturedly.
"Master Regulus is a good boy and Master Regulus must stop fiddling with his hair. Mistress would not approve!"
There was a knock on his office doors. Regulus rose and exited his quarters, moving through his office and opening the door. It was Draco Malfoy, requesting a postponement of the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match. Regulus was agitated. Couldn't the little brat see that there were more important things going on than his little school yard rivalry? To say nothing of the few (hundred) galleons Regulus had bet on the outcome of the match. Any interference on his part now would look as if he thought they couldn't win!
"I'll write my father," Draco whined, and Regulus could barely constrain his eye roll.
"When I was in school, Lucius Malfoy would have been ashamed at such an obvious tactic," Regulus confided in the boy with a falsely casual air. "Besides, Potter excels on the field...do you really think putting him against Hufflepuff is going to cause him to throw the game?"
"Hufflepuff's new team is really good!" Draco whined. "And the weather's supposed to stay horrible and it makes my arm ache. Really."
Regulus surveyed him.
"Your father, does he have any inside connections that could get me an update on the Black case?"
"Oh, yes sir!" Draco gasped. "I'll have him write you, sir."
Regulus received an envelope from Lucius the Friday before the Quidditch match. He plucked it from the preening Eagle owl and shooed it off, faintly irritated that Lucius would be so brazen. The Malfoy family owl was very recognizable, and the letter had been delivered at lunch, of all places. Regulus thought wryly that perhaps he had misjudged the Lucius he had known only as a first year, and later, as a Death Eater; perhaps Draco came by his dramatics naturally after all. He had heard rumors of white peacocks, but was loath to believe them.
Regulus was covering Lupin's class that day, as the werewolf was currently claiming exhaustion following the full moon. Regulus had considered visiting him, but decided against it. He didn't want any more of the pity or confusion that seemed to well up in him whenever they were near one another. He did, however, take copies of Pomfrey's extensive notes on Lupin's condition before and after the transformation; the potion worked to help him keep his mind, but it was inelegant and crude. From a purely scientific perspective, Regulus was interested in making improvements. The inventor of the original recipe had won a prestigious potions award. Perhaps Regulus could gain some small fame from making it better.
In any case, he was striding towards the classroom after lunch, scanning Lucius's letter and trying to hold back his rising disgust. The update was essentially that there was no update at all. All the reported sightings had been false leads and no one seemed to know the next steps. Regulus felt vaguely tricked and resolved to stop taking Draco at his word.
It was perhaps all these factors - the collapsed passageway, the class coverage, the letter, the strong suspicious that Lupin was still being dishonest - that led him to behave the way he did in the class. Sure, he knew the children were not due to study werewolves, and yes, Lupin's grading marks were actually quite fair. But who could truly blame Regulus for setting homework intended to out the man? Even if he wasn't working for Sirius, he was a distraction, and Regulus needed to be unequivocally focused on protecting Potter.
Miss Granger would work out the puzzle. She was close to Potter. Perhaps she, at least, could convince the reckless boy to stay away from Lupin.
The next morning, Regulus watched in horror, a slow-spreading paralysis moving through his limbs, as Harry Potter plummeted from the sky, surrounded by dementors and rain. He suddenly remembered Dumbledore saying that Lupin had a way with dark creatures. Had the werewolf used his illness as cover, and somehow led them onto the field? Regulus realized that he needed more than hope that Granger would protect Harry; he resolved to find and kill Sirius, and any accomplices, whatever the cost.
His zeal was dampened somewhat by that fact that Sirius was nowhere to be found. As the weather changed from freezing rains to blinding snow, sightings of Sirius dropped off. Regulus spent his free time roaming the corridors and discovering new nooks and crannies, scratching a crude map across several pieces of parchment. He spoke delicately to his Slytherins, especially his older ones, encouraging any who might have knowledge of hidden places to speak to him. He hoped his tone was ambiguous; if Voldemort really was coming back, there was no telling what the students were hearing from their parents. He could only hope they assumed he was on whatever side they were, and would give him the leads he needed.
As the term drew to a close, Regulus packed his few belongings and returned to Grimmauld Place. Despite spending most of his time at Hogwarts, the old manor felt like home. He had gradually cleared the more maudlin decor as the years went on, organizing the artifacts and books, removing the various severed body parts (why had his parents thought elf heads and troll legs made good decorations?), and updating the color palette to be a little more...subtle. Regulus was proud of the shine on the dark wood furnishings, the different shades of green, silver, and tan that ran through the house. It was almost like living in an ancient forest.
Regulus had a strange sense that Sirius would visit him there as Christmas drew nearer, despite his rational mind knowing how much his brother detested the house. There was no reason for him to come, but Regulus found himself dreaming of Sirius bursting into his room with a bark of laughter, shaking back his wild dark hair and clasping Regulus too hard on the shoulder. He started to wonder if staying at Hogwarts would have been a better idea after all.
He awoke from one such dream with a gasp, and Kreacher was by his side in an instant with water and a cool washcloth.
"Did Master dream of Master's brother, again?"
"Yes," Regulus said. He realized he was shaking and took a few steadying breaths. "I can't picture him like he is on the posters."
"Disowned Master Sirius is no longer handsome," Kreacher agreed, which was the closest he would come to saying that Sirius had once be good looking, slightly more masculine and striking than Regulus himself had ever managed.
"Sometimes he looks like he did that day on the platform, when he left me behind," Regulus whispered, and then felt an immediate rush of shame. "Of course, he had to get an education. That's not what I meant."
Kreacher merely hummed. Sometimes Regulus wondered if the house elf had ever truly been as dedicated to the Black matriarch as he had acted, or if it was merely love for Regulus himself that had kept him loyal. Kreacher had always been Regulus's dedicated caretaker, after all. Sirius's house elf, Anamal, had been beheaded when her services were "no longer required", right after Sirius was blasted off the tapestry.
"But Master Regulus is not forgetting what Disowned Master Sirius has done," Kreacher reminded him. "Sirius is a bad boy. He betrayed his friends. And killed all those filthy muggles to boot."
"He always acted like he was better than us," Regulus sighed. "But he killed more muggles than me and mum combined."
"Master Orion was great at a spot of muggle hunting," Kreacher said conversationally. Regulus shuddered.
"Some can produce magical children. We should remember that before we go on an uninhabited killing spree."
"Yes, Master Regulus has always had such a soft heart," Kreacher said soothingly.
"Kreacher," Regulus said hesitantly. "If Sirius did want to speak to me…if he betrayed the Potters to get back in our good graces…."
"Kreacher could open the wards to those with Master Orion's blood," Kreacher said. "And what will Master Regulus do if he comes?"
"Kill him," Regulus said, his voice more firm than his thoughts. Kreacher only hummed again.
"Would Master like a Dreamless Sleep drought?"
Regulus said he would and mercifully fell into a deep sleep.
Kreacher opened the wards, but Christmas came and went without any word from Sirius. On Boxing Day, Regulus received three letters in a flurry, one each from Lupin, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. He opened the headmaster's first and examined the spiky handwriting.
Regulus,
Harry has received a Firebolt from an unknown source for Christmas. I need not enumerate my suspicions on who I believe sent it. Please consider returning to the school post-haste. As you travel, meditate on your understanding of Sirius as a person. Minerva believes the broom is jinxed, but I believe the truth is more nuanced. Could Sirius be attempting to befriend Harry? Act as a mentor and father-figure? Would he take to being a parent if he believed he could influence the boy to Tom's side?
Talk soon,
Albus
"Meditate on my understand of Sirius as a person," Regulus scoffed, tossing the letter aside. He reached for Minerva's next.
Regulus,
Sirius has sent Harry a jinxed broomstick. I'm confident it was him. We're stripping it down now. Please return as soon as you can and assist. Perhaps you have insight into what methods he might have used to alter the broom?
Regards,
Minerva
"You sent Harry an anonymous broom three years ago!" Regulus cast this letter aside as well. He reluctantly looked at Lupin's, then opened it.
Regulus,
I'm sure you've heard. Where would Sirius get the money? Can you check his vault? Goblins are telling Dumbledore they haven't heard from him, but we know they have their own code. Perhaps your relationship with them will provide more meaningful information.
Remus
"At least that's actionable," Regulus mumbled. "Kreacher, bring my overcoat. We're going to Gringotts."
Regulus strode into the bank with his head held high. Gone were the days when he would feel like an imposter entering his vault, a kid dressed up in his father's dress robes. Regulus had been at the helm of the Black family fortune for nearly fifteen years now.
Togrod, the goblin serving the Black family, immediately bowed him back into a private chamber. He glanced at Kreacher contemplatively. Kreacher had swapped out his typical garb for a pressed, emerald green shift, with the Black coat of arms embroidered along the hem. The elf stood at Regulus's elbow attentively.
Regulus knew most of the sacred families only brought their house elves out to parade their wealth; after all, house elves could be summoned and dismissed in an instant if one has too many packages. But Kreacher held a special role in Regulus's life, and he felt that it was useful to have the elf around.
"What brings you in today, Mr. Black?" Togrod asked.
"I'm told the Headmaster has already contacted you," Regulus said. "Let's cut through the niceties. Of course you did the expected thing by revealing nothing to Dumbledore."
"The headmaster did stop by," Togrod agreed. "As his name is not on any of the accounts, we ignored his request. That man believes he is entirely entitled to the inner workings of this bank. He's caused nothing but trouble."
"The stone, I know," Regulus commiserated. "In this instance, however, I must repeat his question. Has Sirius accessed his vault?"
"Mr. Sirius Black has not been in personally," Togrod said. "We received a fund transfer request from Mr. Sirius's vault into the vault of Quality Quidditch Supplies. It seems they received an order form with the vault information, but the name listed on the form was Harry Potter's."
"Excellent." Regulus said. He felt Kreacher shift at his elbow and cast him a brief, affirmative look. "So my brother is in the area, and we can confirm the broomstick is from him. Do you have the order form?"
"I do," Togrod said, pulling it from among a stack of papers. Regulus examined it, casually angling it so Kreacher could read it without straining.
"So he ordered it early this month. What are these markings on the edges?"
"Looks like an animal bite to us," Togrod said.
"Look at the dates, here," Regulus said, looking at Togrod but speaking to Kreacher. "He filled it out the 7th but it was received the 18th. Did it come owl order?"
"It did," Togrod confirmed. "The man at the shop said they were very pleased to receive an order from Harry Potter himself, but wished he would have given them more time to get it sent out."
"So he must have filled it out somewhere else and then owled the form. It must have been difficult finding an owl. It's not like he can just walk into the owl post office. I can't explain the teeth marks, though."
"Nor I," Togrod agreed.
"Thank you very much," Regulus said, standing. Kreacher pulled his chair back lightly so Regulus could sidestep out. "If any more orders come in from my brother, please let me know before issuing the money. If you can figure out where the order originated, I have a message for him."
"I would be happy to try to pass it along," Togrod said. Regulus cast an appraising glance over him.
"You cannot be compelled to perjure yourself or your clients by nature of the Goblin protection laws, correct?"
"Of course, sir," Togrod said. He smiled faintly, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light. "We do not recognize decrees cast down by wizarding bureaucrats."
"Then, if my brother contacts, please tell him 'Per Reg, come to Grimmauld Place.'"
"Of course," the goblin said, and bowed them out of the room.