Chapter Nine- Year I- Impotency Indefinite

"Repeat that, Bella." The Dark Lord's voice was deceptively calm, and Regulus eyed his wand hand warily. One long, bony finger fingered the thin wand, as if longing to use it. If Regulus wasn't mistaken, his Lord would use it plenty that night.

The Dark Lord had invited both the initiated and those who were to be Marked. Included in those numbers was Regulus, as was Snape and a few other students around his age. Such a meeting was highly irregular, as Regulus understood it, and this was clearly a Very Big Deal.

His cousin did not cower, as perhaps anyone else would have done. "My Lord," she began again in a hoarse whisper. "Your gift is gone from my husband's vault. The Cup. The goblins are narrowing the robbery down to the hour, my Lord," she hurried to add as the Dark Lord's hand rose.

Regulus knew that wouldn't be enough. It was never enough, with him. "Crucio," the Dark Lord said.

Bellatrix fell to her knees, her body twitching but her forehead still pressed to the ground. "Forgive me, my Lord," she cried, her voice surprisingly strong and fervent for one under such torture. "I have failed you!"

"That you have, Bella," he said, ending the curse after several minutes. Those minutes were spent in absolute silence as the men and women in masks stared at Bella's prone form. Tremors went visibly through her body even after the agony was over, but she managed to reach her feet. Regulus knew why, even though he didn't doubt Bellatrix would have loved to lay on the ground until the end of the world. The Dark Lord hated weakness in his followers. Staying on the floor would have been weakness, and she would have been punished for it. Anyone else would be punished for far less, but Bella happened to be a favorite of the Dark Lord's.

She bowed her head, that fanatic gleam in her eyes never wavering. Regulus felt a shudder run through him at the sight. It was insanity, pure insanity, but he would never say that aloud. To love such a man as wholeheartedly as she did, even after he put her through the worst thing a wizard could do to another, was just crazy. The horrifying thing, however, was that Bella wasn't the only one, she was just the most powerful. Most of them shared her devotion in almost equal measure.

Most of them, except Regulus. He often felt like a traitor, despite doing nothing wrong. They would surely punish him for hating being there, and hating the things he was forced to do- and that while he was just an initiate, yet to be Marked. It would only get worse.

The Dark Lord sighed, running one hand through raven hair. The gesture was boyish, and shockingly human. That, more than anything, outlined the wrongness of the whole situation. He looked to be hardly older than them, and appeared human but for his violently red eyes. He couldn't be human. Not anymore, not possibly. A human couldn't cause such pain in so many people, and for so long, without feeling anything. While being bored.

"I imagine this will be in the Daily Prophet," the Dark Lord said, twisting his wand in his hands again. This time, it wasn't threatening. Regulus kept his eyes on it all the same.

No one answered. No one wanted to draw attention to themselves, not after what they'd just seen.

"Yes, of course it will be," he continued, as if someone had responded. "I am curious to see what they will write. Nothing we won't know, I'm sure." He had begun pacing, and it occurred to Regulus that he might be more agitated than he was letting on.

There was a knock at the door, and the assorted company started.

"Come in," the Dark Lord commanded, his voice dark and carrying.

The door creaked open, though Regulus hadn't noticed any noise from the hinges before. "Milord," a goblin began before it was halfway into the room. "I am Lugnott, and I was sent to give information on the theft from the Lestrange vault. It wasn't speaking to Bellatrix or Rodolphus, but the Dark Lord himself. It was probably briefed on the situation beforehand.

Regulus shuddered. He'd met more goblins in his short life than he'd cared to, and they always knew too much for their own good. This one had the same shifty, intelligent gleam in those beady black eyes. He almost smirked. No amount of craftiness would save the goblin if the Dark Lord decided he didn't like the news.

The Dark Lord didn't speak, only narrowed his eyes and gestured for the goblin to speak.

It seemed happy to oblige. "We at Gringott's have narrowed the theft down to the exact hour it was committed. We have compiled a list of all the witches and wizards in the vaults at the time, and we are currently in the process of examining the memories of the goblins escorting the suspects. Would you like to see the list, Milord?" It finished its smug little spiel and bowed over a piece of parchment extended in his hand.

Regulus wasn't surprised when his Lord took the list, severed hand and all.

He watched the Dark Lord read the list while the goblin screamed. After a few moments of scanning his eyes flashed and he murmured, "Dumbledore."

"Milord?" Bella queried.

"Not the old fool. His brother, Aberforth. He runs a pub in Hogsmeade, I do believe. It's a horrid place, they never clean anything there, but it's where the... unsavory folk go." The Dark Lord spoke with a slight wondering lilt, as if he were thinking aloud. "This is perhaps more serious than I had thought." He passed the list to Bella, whose eyes searched for and found Dumbledore's name.

"Milord, there was a girl with him. Hermione Granger," she pointed out. Regulus blinked in surprise. It appeared there was more to the girl than just his brother's fascination with her. "I don't recognize the name. She's likely a Mudblood." She hissed the epithet with more than the usual vehement contempt, perhaps because it irked her that a Mudblood could help break into her vault undetected. It was something that even a Pureblood had never done, so the idea that a Mudblood had succeeded first must be unacceptable to her.

A moment passed, and it was silent but for the whimpers of the goblin, who was cradling its hand to its chest with its back against the wall. The Dark Lord no longer appeared angry in the slightest, more contemplative. Somehow, that was much more frightening. "I can't say I recognize the name either, Bella. Does anyone else?" he asked. It was clear enough that his Lord had no interest in any of the other names, and was already convinced that Dumbledore and Granger were the culprits.

Regulus was torn, though his expression betrayed none of his unease. Of course he recognized her. He'd written a letter to his mother, after all. It wouldn't be hard for the Dark Lord to find out that he did know her, and Regulus wasn't sure he would survive that. If he admitted now, though, Granger wouldn't survive. The decision wasn't hard to make, though he did feel guilt wash over him. "I do, my Lord," he said, seeing Snape and the other students nod off to the side. Several appeared angry that Regulus had spoken up first, and would thus be rewarded.

"Oh?" said the Dark Lord.

"Yes. She's a transfer student at Hogwarts, just came this year." Regulus forced the guilt back and took a deep breath. What was done was done, and if he hadn't then someone else would have. At least this way he would get some benefit.

*|II8II|*

Regulus had come in only a minute or two late to breakfast. It was nearing the end of the school year, and he'd spent far too long the night before studying for his O.W.L.s. after coming back from the meeting. It was much harder than usual to get out of bed and force himself down to the Great Hall. When he did arrive, Snape caught his eye for a brief moment and glanced down at the newspaper in his hands. The room seemed to be buzzing with excited chatter. Regulus took the hint and sat beside him, peering at the front page of the Daily Prophet.

First Ever Break-In at Gringott's High Security Vault

Yesterday evening, after business hours at the only wizarding bank in the UK, a routine check discovered a single item missing from the Lestrange vault. The goblins have revealed that the missing item is the Hufflepuff Cup, a highly valuable artifact from one of the four esteemed founders of Hogwarts. The thief is as yet unknown, but an investigation is currently being launched. This historic event is unique because not only was the thief not caught, but the robbery went entirely unnoticed until they left the premises. It's not uncommon for a person to attempt to steal from Gringott's, but never have these people escaped the vast mazes beneath the bank. A thief's fate is usually to starve to death in a vault.

There was more, but Regulus didn't bother reading it. He already knew, and he'd personally doomed one of those thieves. Starving to death would likely be a kinder fate than what was in store for her.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, then, and Regulus raised his head. He hadn't expected to see Hermione Granger, stuffing a book into the bag at her side and looking for all the world as if her presence was nothing unusual. She had been conspicuously absent from all meals in the Great Hall for weeks. He and Snape raised their eyebrows at one another, acknowledging their mutual interest. A peek at the other Slytherins showed that they weren't the only ones who were intrigued.

If she felt the eyes of the House of Snakes on her back, she didn't show it. Instead, she swung her legs over the bench at the far end of the Gryffindor table and completely ignored the inhabitants.

Regulus glanced between her and his brother's friends. Sirius looked about ready to leap the distance separating them. He could see his muscles twitch even from across the room. Regulus spared a moment for contempt. How could he be so obvious? He would never understand the minds of Gryffindors.

Snape, however, was looking at Evans. Honestly, it was as if he lost all his vast reserves of subtlety whenever she was in the room. Regulus followed his gaze. Evans didn't even make a pretense of eating, instead gawking at Granger with a worried, forlorn expression. From her reaction, it couldn't have been more clear that something had happened between them.

Granger finished what little food she'd chosen and left the Great Hall. Curious eyes followed her, but she didn't acknowledge or even seem to notice the presence of anyone else.

Regulus didn't know how she'd managed to capture Sirius's attention in such a short amount of time. He didn't know why she'd to all appearances cut him off. No one had ever done that, and Sirius didn't know how to deal with it. Entertaining as it was to watch him, Regulus couldn't help but worry. They were dealing with a girl who'd broken into the most secure place in the world and stolen an ancient artifact, incurring the wrath of the Dark Lord. Beyond that, no one knew why she'd come to Hogwarts six years late. Regulus hadn't ever heard of that happening before. Everyone had a theory, and none of them were innocent. Exactly what sort of person was Hermione Granger? Would he want to allow his brother to be exposed to the dangers of associating with her?

Granger would crack. That's always the way it happened; only their mother could deny Sirius for long. She would crack because she still cared and was deeply conflicted by whatever decision she'd made. Their conversation days before proved it. When she did allow Sirius back into her life, it would put him at risk. Still, Regulus could do nothing but watch them burn.

*|II8II|*

Hermione tapped her finger against the milky surface of a coaster. Since when did they have coasters? She'd really missed a lot while wallowing in self pity.

It was almost three in the morning, and customers were beginning to make their ways home. Many had brooms, but even more chose to Disapparate. Hermione couldn't help but worry about them. Riding a broom with one's motor functions impaired was enough of a danger, but Disapparation was far worse. Many would find themselves Splinched.

Perhaps a Floo system should be set up, she thought. No, that might not work, since accurate deposition depended on clear articulation. Drunk witches and wizards likely wouldn't be capable of that.

"Aberforth?"

"Hm."

"Shouldn't there be some sort of system to help people get home safe? I mean, in the Muggle world there are taxis and things. Volunteer services. Designated drivers, on a group-to-group basis. Is there anything like that in place?"

The gruff old man shook his head. "No, not really. Have something in mind?"

"I might. Give me a while to think about it." It was late enough that any ideas she came up with would be useless. She yawned, bringing one hand up to curve around her mouth. "I should probably be getting back to the castle." She'd told him about the passage she had found so he wouldn't worry. As it was, he showed no indication of feeling that particular emotion.

"Don't forget your phoenix when you leave." Aberforth turned away, having clearly lost interest in the conversation.

It took a few minutes, especially with her sluggish movements, she'd soon finished cleaning. Echo was snoozing on a shelf under the counter, not stirring even when Hermione scooped her up.

It was cold outside. The darkness swallowed the familiar storefronts and made it seem as if everything were curving in toward her. The only light came from the moon, and that faint illumination only made the shadows deeper. Hermione shivered and plodded down the well-worn path to Zonko's. She would have been able to make it back to the castle blind, she reckoned. A chilly wind whipped her cloak behind her, and even after it died down it seemed to seep through her thick sweater to her bones. Hermione wrapped her arms tighter around the sleeping phoenix, clutching the warmth closer. Perhaps it was all in her head, but something seemed off about this night.

A flurry of movement behind her drove any thought of sleep from her head. She jerked around in a panic, taking several leaping steps to hide in the doorway of a nearby shop. There were four black-clad figures just outside of the Hog's Head. Hermione could just make out a pale hand rising to open the door.

Aberforth. They were there for Aberforth, she knew it. The thought was confirmed by a glimpse of the white masks covering the faces of each of the figures.

Her hand went to her wand, but then stopped. She couldn't do anything. Rushing in would do nothing but get her captured too, if not killed. Her magic was gone, and with it her ability to defend even herself, much less other people. All she could do was trust that Aberforth could take care of himself.

No, she could get help. She could get Albus. And so she gathered the loose material of her robes and cloak around herself and bolted.

*|II8II|*

Colors swam across the lightening sky, painting sunny swaths across the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione watched but did not really appreciate or even notice it. She had been awake for hours, waiting for some sort of message from Albus or even Aberforth himself that would indicate that he was safe.

It had been a long time since she'd seen Death Eaters, and she was more shaken by it than she would admit. There was no reason for her to be a target in this time, and yet the mere sight of them had left her in a panic. How pathetic, she thought. She could do nothing to help Aberforth. If they had been about to torture him, or even kill him, there was nothing she could have done. Maybe that was just an excuse to be able to flee. Perhaps she really was a coward at heart. Would she have really faced them, if it had been in her power? Would she have made her escape anyway?

As it was, Albus should have been able to help his brother far more than she could. All should have gone well, but how could she be sure? Just one Patronus! Just one Patronus, and she wouldn't have to sit awake worrying.

A rustling on the stairs startled her. "Hermione? What are...?" Remus's sleep-roughened voice was a welcome sound, for all that Hermione couldn't let him know that. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to cut him off and leave. The voice of a friend was exactly what she needed at that moment.

She would not look at him, but she heard him descend the stairs and come to stand in front of her. She'd forgotten what an early riser he was.

"I don't know what you're doing, or why you haven't been around for weeks, or why you decided to start ignoring us, but Sirius misses you. You owe him an explanation, at least."

Of course. It was silly of her not to immediately expect conflict. This whole friendship thing started to look petty when compared with her current dilemma, however, and that gave her the strength not to just get up and leave. Hermione looked up and prepared to say something righteously indignant, but when she opened her mouth what came out was, "I know." And she did. She really did owe Sirius, and Lily, a good reason. An apology. Something. Her conscience would not allow her to ignore that even if she was doing the right thing, she was wronging them.

Remus's mouth set in a thin line, a recent scar on his cheek popping out in sharp relief. "So why won't you give him one?"

She was doing wrong by Remus, too. She had blurted out that she knew his darkest secret and then just faded out. It was a wonder they were attempting to give her space, because it must be making him horribly anxious to know that she could tell someone at any moment and they would be unable to stop her. It didn't matter that she never would; how would he know? She was making a concerted effort to be as unfriendly as she could. It wasn't just Sirius who deserved an explanation. They all did.

"I just can't. I'm sorry. All that I can say right now is that it's really better that I'm not close to anyone. It's not safe." Oh, good, an answer that was sure to pique their interest rather than dispel it. Excellent job! Hermione shut her mouth, certain that anything else she could say would only make it worse.

"What do you mean, 'not safe'?" Remus sat on the floor in front of her, and she was glad. It was really straining her neck to look up so far. "Does it have anything with where you were before you came here?"

He was handing her a solution, a way out. Without hesitation, she seized on the lie. "Yes. I'm here at Hogwarts not so much for an education as for the protection that Headmaster Dumbledore can give me. There are still some people looking for me, and there are things I need to do outside of Hogwarts. It was a mistake to get close to anyone here in the first place, because it puts you all at risk. I've already had to cut off all contact with my parents. Before you argue, or rather, before Sirius argues, I have your best interests in mind. Especially you, Remus. None of you can afford having people digging into your personal lives."

Remus listened in silence, and continued to think after she stopped talking. "That sounds... reasonable, in a twisted sort of way. It makes sense now that you wouldn't just explain, because Sirius would never accept that. He'd probably want to get even more involved."

Hermione rubbed her hands over her eyes, her lips turning up in exhausted relief. "So you won't tell him, right?"

"...No. I won't." His face twisted into a grimace, probably at the prospect of withholding information and even lying to one of his best friends. Hermione had never been so grateful for another person's good sense. Thank Merlin for Remus Lupin!

"Thank you." She worried her lower lip between her teeth. "Would you tell him something to make him lose interest? You may use any story you deem necessary, it will not offend me. Please just use your best judgement."

"Of course."

Hermione didn't feel guilty for the lie, though she supposed she would have a few years ago. It was necessary, and possibly the kindest way to undo her blunder. This way, Sirius would leave her alone and hopefully stop caring about her. "I should go," she said, standing. Her robes were rumpled from her restless night, and she smoothed them down as best as she could. Echo had gone out for food not long before, and Hermione was confident that the phoenix would be able to find her. A visit to the Headmaster was in order.

"Hermione?"

She turned and looked back at the boy. He seemed uncharacteristically concerned. It reminded her of the Remus she used to know, the one who cared so deeply for all of those still alive, and she had to keep her voice from shaking. "Yes?"

"Be safe, all right? With whatever it is you're doing."

"Thanks, I will." Before she could look at his expression again she turned and left the Common Room.