[A/N: Fun update: I realized I made an egregious, obvious math error, and got Lily (and Narcissa) pregnant a year too early :)))) now that I gave up on a plot involving the prophecy Harry's existence has no purpose and also isn't compatible with canon, what a bummer. Hopefully I'll find something interesting to do with him! It sent me into a bit of a spiral about the fic in general, but I soldiered on, and here we are, hope you like it!

I stupidly put myself in quarantine even though I almost definitely don't have Corona and I'm fine, so, if nothing else, more time to write. I have no idea if I want Dumbledore to come out of this alive, or not, what do you think? Is there anything in particular you want to see more/less of before the story ends? Thank you for reading!]

The fabled Chamber of Secrets had been opened, a muggle-born died, the half-giant framed, and Hogwarts saved from closing. Tom made a point of letting it be known far and wide that he did not want - did not deserve - the trophy for special services to the school, and everyone was impressed with his modesty. "I only did what must be done," he said reluctantly. "Anyone would have done the same." Everyone openly admired him, insisting that he should be more proud of himself. Everyone, except Dumbledore. They both smiled and nodded, but when their eyes accidentally met, only Tom made sure to keep up the facade - Dumbledore made sure to drop the mask and to look at him very sternly. But he was never going to find anything - Tom had already learned what Occlumency was. He almost enjoyed taunting Dumbledore with the black void he had allowed him to see.

Special services to the school… The school was in dire need of his special services, the Heir of Slytherin thought to himself. He knew his ancestor had been opposed to letting Muggle-borns in and was banished for this by the others - but Tom knew the Muggles, and he knew Salazar Slytherin had the right idea. When they saw magic, they tried to lock him up, after all. As far as Tom was concerned, Muggle-borns would have to prove themselves to be allowed power in the new world - they would have to relinquish their filthy heritage, and prove their value.

The search for what had become of the Slytherin line led Tom to a dilapidated hovel on the outskirts of a small village. It was with great disgust that Tom entered the door. This? This is the house my mother came from? It was filthier than the orphanage, filthier than any place Tom had ever seen - these people abandoned him ? The toothless brute responded to his Parseltongue at once - they had to be related. Indeed, that was his last magic relative - he was not lying when he said Marvolo had died years ago, and stupid as he was, he did not put two and two together when he started talking about his sister and that Muggle. " That Muggle". That Muggle, who married and abandoned his pregnant wife… Tom was glad of an opportunity to prove that he was not one to shy away from what must be done. He walked over to the house, the whole while realizing he was never an orphan, he was merely abandoned… and while his rotting disgrace of an uncle sat idly, growing his hair and fingernails long, Tom continued Slytherin's work… he could not claim the credit for opening the chamber, but the ring had to be his. He had to claim what was his - nothing was handed to him in his life except a name, and now he found out he was named after filth and slime. He would not only claim his heritage, he would cleanse it, he would elevate it. He felt anger as he shut the door to the hovel and went on to destroy the Muggle, but he was never angry for long. He channeled all his anger into a plan, and it was remarkably similar to his last one - except even easier, since Dumbledore wasn't there, watching him.

He charmed the door open, as the three of them were eating. He was almost 17 - they must have believed he would never come look for them, if they ever thought about him at all. A quick glance into his father's mind revealed everything - how he hated the thought of having fathered a child, how nauseating the resemblance was, how he regretted the day he accepted a drink from that despicable wench… Tom killed him first, and then his grandparents. It took about a minute and a half, and he had already made Morfin believe he had done just that. He never bothered to find out whether the Riddles realized they were being killed by one of their own, before their souls were ripped from their bodies.

Tom wore Marvolo's ring briefly, but once he had turned it into a Horcrux, he did not want to wear it anymore. He told himself keeping the safeguard to immortality on his person was imprudent - what if the same thing destroyed both his body and the ring? But once he created the link between himself and the ring, the truth was that he felt there was something strange about it, something he did not understand. He decided to leave it where he found it, and to place a curse on it, so that whoever would learn of his connection to that hovel and to the Muggle family he had condemned to infamy in rags about unsolved murders would die a painful death.

It turned out that hunting down Horcruxes was much easier if your name was Dumbledore. Where Severus, Regulus and Lily had to debate who would poison whom until James came along, and impersonate one another, Dumbledore needed only to ask - and Regulus's memory told him exactly who to ask. Severus admitted to himself begrudgingly that he never would have thought to do that, that it was very clever.

"I began to suspect that Hufflepuff's cup was a Horcrux when I saw Regulus's memory," he explained to Severus, when Severus looked at the cup with a questioning look on his face. "Regulus helpfully pointed out that the Smith line is descended from the founder. I was able to arrange a meeting with the poor elf I mentioned, and I was able to withdraw her memory from her, and complete the paperwork to make sure she is released from Azkaban, though I must sadly confess to you that I don't believe this will help her if it indeed happens at all. Regulus's memory told me furthermore that Lord Voldemort considers his cousin Bellatrix his most devoted follower."

Severus nodded unnecessarily.

"She would have kept it at her house or at her Gringotts vault. Normally, the vault would be the less accessible one and not where I would have started," Dumbledore exhaled, "but I happen to be more aware than most of the way security at Gringotts operates, nevermind that the cup had originally been stolen from a house despite the powerful protections placed on it. One of my many skills is that I am fluent in Gobbledegook, and Goblins respond favorably - as all creatures do - to those who bother to learn their ways when they ask them for help, something people like the Blacks and the LeStranges don't typically do. Professor Slughorn is friendly with one Dirk Cresswell, who works at the Goblin Liaison Office. I could have sought a meeting with the Headgoblin myself, but I feel it more respectful to take the route everyone is expected to take," Dumbledore said, looking straight at Severus, as if to provoke him. "I could be confident that a request from me would come through in any case. At my meeting with the Headgoblin, I told him it has come to my attention that the goblins might have unwittingly been used to store stolen property. Goblins are an honourable folk and to them, there is nothing lower than a thief - this is why we wizards trust them so, despite our years of mutual enmity." He looked at Severus again, and continued. "I showed him a picture of the Cup, and I told him where it might be. The next obstacle was that the true owner is not I, but the Smith family. The Headgoblin - an unpleasant but straightforward goblin - assured me that Gringotts workers will be able to extract the cup from the vault without difficulty, but I would have to obtain the Smith family's consent if I wanted to lay my hands upon it, even if I am Albus Dumbledore, as he put it. Frustrating as that was, we must remember that this is precisely why we trust the Goblins to guard our vaults. I met with the Smiths and I told them that my research had led me, accidentally, to the discovery of an item that belongs to them, but that I require, and I promised to return it to them if they let me continue to study it, but I did not tell them I intend to destroy it, nor that I am in possession of another item that belongs to them by law. The cup is a Horcrux, as you must have understood already from the fact that it is still intact. I believe that sufficiently explains everything. The rest is up to speculation. We know Lord Voldemort once planned to make six Horcruxes, and we are now in possession of three. I believe he only made two more, since the cup and the locket both belong to Hogwarts founders, and all artefacts associated with Godric Gryffindor have been stowed safely in this very office since long before Tom Riddle first set foot here. I am pleased that despite my numerous attempts to get your defenses to shake, Severus, you never took the bait. Though I am sure you did not enjoy listening to me discuss Regulus, or my many gifts, or how to show goblins you respect them, I felt nothing when I looked at you. You have been practicing."

Severus nodded unnecessarily again.

"Ideally, there will be no need for it. He has no reason to suspect what you are after, and it would be wise to keep it that way. But he is certain to question you about Regulus. I do not know what might happen if he sees, in your mind, that you know where he is - if it would break the charm or not. We must hence practice. For all Lord Voldemort knows, one day he simply vanished, and since your master informed you that the relationship was over, you did not bother to check where he was, since you expected him not to turn up."

Severus did his homework, and he practiced, but showing a false memory or even a true one, out of context, was altogether different than showing nothing: The latter, he had read, required Severus only to feel what Voldemort could not feel; the former required him to assign emotion to his memories, that simply was not there. How would he feign an indifference to the distance, and lack of concern when the danger was so great, in front of the very man from whom Regulus was hiding? How would he endure kneeling before him again? His mental defenses cracked even as he asked himself that in Dumbledore's presence, for Dumbledore suddenly said: "It is in your favor that you need only to fake indifference, for now. All you need to do is show him a memory of yourself alone at your flat, from before all of this happened, when you truly were indifferent. It is when he will try to see what comes up in you when he looks for what scares you, and who you hate. You have somehow managed to lie to him before - can you tell me how?"

Severus burned with humiliation at the prospect of sharing exactly what he felt, and why, with Dumbledore of all people, but there was no other option, he had to be prepared for when his arm would burn, a moment that would surely come. "I was angry, for a second… and then when he looked at me, I was scared. Hopeless." Severus could not believe he was forced to tell this to anyone. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked sideways at the floor so that Dumbledore could see only his hair on his face. "I thought about my father. Voldemort looked just like him when he -"

Images flashed before Severus's eyes, as though he was being legilimensed, although he knew he wasn't. Regulus cowering, and Voldemort ordering him to forget about "his Severus." This is all your fault, he joined for you.

Severus never wanted to tell anyone, let alone Dumbledore, about the Muggle. Now wonder Potter and his mates made you into their toy, he told himself cruelly. How many times did you pray for a fit of accidental magic that never came, to kill him? And when it did happen, he punished you for that too. You're a pathetic excuse for a wizard, what kind of a wizard lets a Muggle treat him like that, or his mother? And you think you can stand up to Voldemort?

"If you cannot control yourself, I suggest that you do exactly as you did and focus the hatred and humiliation that will surely come on objects your master will find acceptable," Dumbledore suggested. "Your father will certainly do, as will I. But you were very sensible not to dwell on your hatred for Lord Voldemort himself - to let your fear of him steer you where you needed to go. I have rarely seen such a natural gift for Occlumency."

What? Does the fact that you were able to see that not prove that I'm failing? Severus wondered.

"I'm not using legilimency on you right now, Severus. There are other ways to tell what someone is thinking, rather more useful ones. Only fools rely only on magic, which can, after all, be countered. Lord Voldemort is ignorant of many things. I don't know exactly what is on your mind, but I can tell you are scared you will fail. You do not want to do what you must do, you do not want to kneel before him, you're scared you won't be able to, is that right?"

Severus turned his head to face Dumbledore. This could not be the same Dumbledore who silenced him, who thought asking him "why" once and then ordering him to stay at the hospital wing was adequate treatment of a student who tried to die. This could not be the same Dumbledore who had threatened to obliviate him if he did not stop trying to break the spell that had been ruining his life. No, the Dumbledore sitting across from him was positively gentle.

"The irony does not elude me, but you must see now that I was reading you when I asked you why. Before you wisely looked away, I managed to catch you planning your next attempt. I arranged for the portraits to watch you, and I ordered you to stay at the hospital wing where you would be protected. I am glad you obeyed. Surely you've figured out that you would have only hurt yourself if you had continued to try to break a spell cast by this wand - I never would have obliviated you, I was trying to dissuade you from ill-advised attempts to break free, not that it worked, but I am glad your Veritaserum experiment was the end of that. And you realized the content of the Black vault had nothing to do with my decision to silence you in the first place. I could never hope to recruit you into the Order, and Potter, Black, and Lupin were already potential recruits. I had a chance to seal the deal, and I took it. I had to accept that you would despise me. I never expected you to return to me, Severus," he said, and his eyes shined. "I regret that I lost someone so extraordinary to the dark."

Severus's heart rebelled against the sudden kindness, which was somehow more insulting than anything Dumbledore had ever said to him before. Lost, pushed directly toward, what's the difference.

"Whatever else I might appear to you, I am not Lord Voldermort. I will not punish you for hating me. You aren't the only one who does." Dumbledore seemed to look out the window for a fleeting moment. From his window at the top of a tower, you could see Hogsmeade.

"I do not deserve and I do not expect unconditional worship. I trust you, because you're here even though you despise me. You fear the humiliation will break you, but it won't. There is nothing humiliating in anything done for the sake of another."

If he insists on delivering sagely speeches, Severus told himself.

"How come he realized Regulus loves me, but not the other way around?" He asked Dumbledore.

"I can only assume he was looking for memories he could exploit, something shameful or frightening. He cannot intrude upon pure love, only on the things that often come with it." Even as Dumbledore said that, he sounded strangely distant.

Severus realized right away what that meant. Back when they were tested, Severus had not a single bad memory associated with Regulus. The worst moment of Regulus's life until then might have been watching Severus nearly die from Veritaserum, but for Severus, who had preferred to die rather be forced to cover up for Sirius for one more second, and lose Regulus because of it, nothing bad happened that day. He remembered the two weeks that followed, and how peaceful they were, more peaceful than anything that came before or after. Suddenly his mind was as empty as he needed it to be.

Back at the flat from the turbulent meeting with Dumbledore, he felt inside the mailbox and with a jolt, he found that Lily had sent him a letter. He opened it gingerly and laid it flat on the table.

"Dear Sev,

I know your idea to use the post is brilliant, but I can't believe I can't just use an owl. This has been the most exhausting day of my life. I'll try to tell you everything before I get confused. We are fine - Reg (I told him it's short for Reginald now) is fine, no one has tried to capture us. I'd transfigured his robes into Muggle clothes and then we had to buy real ones before the spell wore off. I bought a polaroid and I wanted to take pictures for you but Reg wouldn't let me. He is too embarrassed. Can't get used to jeans, not that he's made much of an effort!

Then we had to find a place to live and of course I have no idea how to do that even in the magical world because we never had to, James and I, and of course Regulus (that name she crossed out) Reginald and I are unemployed, and I guess we look like an unmarried couple and I think I'm starting to show so don't be mad, I know we said no magic, but I had to confund the landlord, I just had to! Then I had to teach him about pounds and pence and about the queen and everything and eventually I just lost patience, I admit. I told him, how do you think I felt, right, when I first went to Diagon Alley? Did anybody bother to explain things to me? Well, you did, but what did you know, we were both 11! Anyhow, I think he's still in shock from everything or otherwise he just doesn't want to learn - or both. I don't know how we'll avoid drawing attention to ourselves. Please, please try to end this as soon as you can. But be safe.

Lots of love,

Lily

P.S. Reg says he loves you but he doesn't want to use a pen to write. I told him if he wants to tell you something he can help himself, so for all he knows, I didn't tell you. Also, I lied, I took a picture when he wasn't looking."

In a folded sheet of paper, Lily had concealed a picture she took from behind while Regulus was staring at his own reflection in the mirror, confused and horrified. He could even see Lily's reflection holding the camera in the mirror, but Regulus didn't notice.

Severus wondered briefly who had invented magic cameras and how they knew about Muggle cameras in the first place, but he forgot about it as he allowed himself to indulge in the photograph and imagine it was all some sort of joke - Reg in Muggle clothing, how outrageous, and Lily was simply sharing news of a strange vacation, and he could see them whenever he wanted to - they were still in London, weren't they?

The yearning and the distance tugged at his heartstrings. He wished he could put it all in writing, how he missed them, how scared he truly was, how he wondered what would become of them if he died. Would they be trapped in the muggle world forever?

But he had to control himself.

He always wondered how and why he had survived, when even he did not want to survive, when he knew he was born to be hated. But with Regulus far away and himself between Dumbledore and Voldemort, he knew he was born to be loved, even if only by one person, even if this was all an attempt to be as unlike Sirius as possible, that had gone out of control. His whole life had prepared him for the task that lay ahead and he knew, finally, why he survived.

Regulus's disappearance and disobedience was only the most alarming bit of news Voldemort had to deal with. His spy in the Order - a miserable wretch if there ever was one, possibly second only to the half-blood of Slytherin - told him about the disappearance of James Potter, and of his wife. Only Voldemort knew this, but she had disappeared at the same time as Black. The events were connected, but he could not imagine how.