Chapter Twenty-Two: Regret

January 5th

8:23pm

Hogwarts, Scotland

Albus Dumbledore

The headmaster sat in the dark as he awaited his guest. His travels had been more fruitless than fruitful resulting in his glum mood. He had travelled in search of the old orphanage of Tom's but found office buildings in its place. Further, a trip to an old friend on the mainland had come to a disappointing end when the old man could gleam no insight into his troubles. Only the seaside cave Mrs Cole informed him of all those years ago remained, but to move on the cave without knowledge of how many of them there are would be dangerous.

What troubled him most, as usual, was Harry Potter. The boy who had become a man much too soon hadn't attended a class today and hadn't been seen in the castle. The Greengrass girl had been spotted however she looked in poor shape apparently which had Albus drawing concerning conclusions.

'I must hope he hasn't acted recklessly,' Albus thought. It felt odd to him that he had so little influence on Harry after such a long time where that wasn't the case. Harry kept him on his toes however and had reminded him that plans can and will go awry, something he appreciated greatly.

The wards outside his door notified him of the presence of his most trusted confidant. "Enter, Severus," he called out, dispelling the voice activated locking wards. The tall man glided into the room, signature sneer donning his face and sat down in the chair opposite the headmaster.

"Albus," he said tensely, by way of greeting.

Despite nearly always being in a bad mood, Dumbledore sensed something serious that plagued his friend's thoughts. The spy had mastered his facial expressions well, had he not, he would not be teaching "dunderheads" to this day but Albus had discovered tells over the years and Snape was a canvas of them before him.

"Severus," Albus greeted kindly, "how did the holidays treat you?"

Snape grimaced and smoothly replied, "as pleasant as pleasantries are, headmaster, I must insist they be dispensed with."

I Dumbledore was surprised by his pointedness, he didn't show it. Instead, he leaned back and spread his arms out, an invitation for Severus to begin his report.

"Draco has revealed the dark lord's plan to me," Snape began. "The boy has been tasked to kill you before year's end." He neglected to reveal tearing through the boy's meagre shields and finding the plans himself, Bellatrix's instruction wasn't enough to stop him.

Dumbledore stroked his beard calmly with his one good hand. "A punishment then, for his father's failure."

"Precisely," Severus confirmed distastefully. "His mother has desperately tried to ensure that I… facilitate his success." As he said this, he pulled up his right sleeve to reveal the bonds of an unbreakable vow. The headmaster's eyebrows raised into his fez, an unbreakable vow was certainly something he did not expect however Severus wasn't done. "What's more, he is in the process of repairing an old vanishing cabinet to allow a squad of death eaters to infiltrate the castle."

Albus Dumbledore slowly stood and walked over to Fawkes, petting the juvenile firebird, deep in thought. 'Interesting move Tom, a victory no matter the outcome. If only you had applied your brilliant mind more responsibly, a common mistake for those burdened with power.'

"Headmaster," Snape began, "I have more news… news about the Potter child."

Albus felt a chill as his mind turned to the worst scenario. "What news of Harry?"

"You encouraged me to investigate Delores' death," Snape reminded him. "I am pleased to report the culprit has been found… Daphne Greengrass."

"Miss Greengrass, you say?" Dumbledore mused out loud, "it would then be logical to conclude that Harry was indeed also involved. When we consider the reaction of the monitors and the night in question, Harry had more motivation than most." To protect his friends, Dumbledore doubted Harry drew a line anymore, a sorrowful notion.

"I see an opportunity here, an opportunity to bring the boy to heel."

Dumbledore was far too old to be fooling himself anymore and so he considered the idea without regret. 'Could he be brought back in line with the threat of exposing his involvement in Delores' disappearance? The absence of real proof makes this difficult, that is not taking into account that he'd likely be hailed as a hero for it as well.'

"No," Dumbledore decided, "we will not blackmail the potential saviour of the wizarding world."

"Nothing?" Snape scoffed, "we have potentially two murderers under our roof, and you would do nothing with that information?"

"Indeed, I have no desire to distance Harry even further. These are the cards we have been dealt, we must prove ready and able to adapt to the situation." Snape opened his mouth slightly in shock. The plan, Dumbledore's grand design, was that he had dedicated his life to and now, in no uncertain terms, Dumbledore decided it wasn't for him anymore. "However, you will not be idle. Draco's success is paramount to solidifying your position in the inner circle."

"You want Draco to succeed?"

"No," Dumbledore refuted, "I want you to succeed. I am a dying old man Severus, my death by Draco will corrupt the boy beyond repent but–"

"But I am already corrupted..." Snape trailed off disdainfully.

"Yes," the old headmaster said simply. The two stared at each other, Dumbledore a blank canvas and Snape a scorned man. 'Oh how he has hated me, it must be torturous having me as his soul companion,' Dumbledore reflected.

"Will that be all headmaster?" Snape bit out, breaking eye contact and standing from the comfy velvet chair.

"That will be all," the old man dismissed and watched the bat of the dungeons slink out of the office.

Dumbledore collapsed into his chair when his professor was out the door. For a time he sat there, his mind numb and his body unresponsive, the pain in his hand even faded for a brief reprieve. It returned, however, when he decided to look down at it.

When confronted with his mortality he had, admittedly, panicked. Having lived so long, he had grown rather used to it, especially after surviving two major wars. The blackened skin of his right hand was a gruesome reminder of his foolishness. The reason for his accelerated death brought too much regret, regret for past arrogance and mistakes.

Without noticing it himself, his left hand drifted to a draw in his desk and opened it. This was the moment his mind returned, as he looked down into the draw and saw faces of ghosts, children long dead and forgotten. He pulled the picture out of the draw and set it up in front of him, mesmerised by the photo he had refused to look at for decades now.

It was black and white, as most photos were back then but the animation enchantment still held strong. Three young men and a younger girl were smiling at the camera, huddled together in one of the rare times he had succeeded in bringing them together.

He remembered the day well, his eighteenth birthday, the only time he had managed to wrangle all of his loved ones into one room without conflict. Aberforth, his pessimistic younger brother, even before the incident with Ariana, smiled out of obligation rather than joy. Ariana, pure and innocent, hugged his side and smiled vacantly in a direction near the camera, but not entirely focused on it. His youthful love, Gellert, smirked at him, as though he were taunting the older Dumbledore outside of the image. A younger Albus stood in the middle, occasionally glancing at Ariana and Gellert in fondness.

'It was so simple back then. Find the hallows then change the world, all for the greater good.' The old justification brought a scowl to his face. Too many had been trampled under the guise of 'the greater good' in Gellert's bid for power and, as of late, he wondered how many he had indirectly done the same to, simply to maintain the status quo. One hundred and fifteen years and his legacy was one wrapped in betrayal and violence, defeating a dark lord who he once called a friend. The ministry was still corrupt, Hogwarts still harboured students entrenched in darkness and he feared he had accomplished very little in his final decades.

Harry's threat on his legacy seemed all too easy as he thought about it. A moderately talented writer could turn his long life of struggle into a vilifying puff piece in a flash, Merlin knows he's made enough enemies to bad mouth him. A shuffle of parchment and trinkets in the open draw beside him drew his attention to the red leatherbound book with a French inscription at the bottom. Mieux vaut tard que jamais, in English, 'better late than never,' referring to an old inside joke about his tendency to throw himself into his work and fail to document his process. Nicolas Flamel had gifted this book to Albus after their legendary discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood in an attempt to get him to be more thorough. It had sat in whatever desk he had at the time all the way till now, untouched, despite his partner's wishes.

He grabbed the journal with his one good hand, carefully wiping off the dust with his blackened hand. Even though it hadn't seen the light of day in decades, it brought back fond memories. Memories of his academic days, yearning for knowledge no matter the facet and eager to pass it on to the world. The teacher in his heart was disappointed to have given so little of his repository of information to others and he missed the days of a full classroom of students hungry to learn.

'Perhaps those days aren't entirely over,' he mused as he flipped through the blank pages aimlessly, a plan forming in his mind to contribute all a dying man can.

January 6th

7:22pm

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Harry

His senses were assaulted on all fronts, a bright light made sight a painful experience and the pungent smell of medicinal potions wafted into his face. His mouth felt fuzzy and his skin hypersensitive, every little twitch sending sensations throughout his body. The only sense safe was his hearing, the sound of clothes rustling and the occasional seagull was all he needed to know he was in the manor.

His eyes adjusted eventually and the traditional Black family green wallpaper was the first thing he noticed, that and the ceiling because he found that he was lying on his back. He groaned as he tried to push himself up from his prone position, pain shooting up his side and arms.

"Careful there, you don't want to aggravate your wounds any more than necessary," a female said. The owner of the voice came into view and he immediately recognised the heart shaped face.

"Tonks," he croaked as his voice box protested, "what happened to me?"

"You saved us," a deeper voice replied. He heard footsteps and turned his head slowly to the right and saw Remus with his head bandaged up. "In doing so you were impaled with a crystal through the stomach, endured serious muscle spasms, incurred several third degree burns and, to top it all off, a concussion."

The memories rushed back through Remus' explanation causing his head to hurt, the cave, the potion, the inferni. "Your ear…"

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "those freakish things took out a chunk of me. Nothing new I'm afraid."

"You look rugged as ever Remus," Tonks assured him.

He blocked out Remus and Tonks' casual flirting and inspected his body. As Remus had said, a scar on his stomach indicated the entry wound of the crystal and his arms were pink and tender because of the inferno he had summoned. The memory of the hallucinations also returned which he wilfully ignored, having no desire to relive that particular nastiness.

"The horcrux," he interjected, garnering the two's attention, "where is it?"

Remus and Tonks shared a look, debating on who got to tell him the bad news. They were interrupted by the door to his room swinging open and Sirius stepping in. The man didn't look or smell drunk at least and had made an effort to clean up but you could see in his eyes he'd rather be neck deep in a bottle right now.

"Sirius," Harry greeted shortly.

"Harry," he returned, "how are you feeling?"

"Chipper. Nothing like getting impaled."

A tense atmosphere coated them. Sirius stood awkwardly at the doorway and Remus seemed torn about what to say. Harry didn't much care for this conversation at the moment, he was singularly focused on the horcrux. "Remus, where is it?"

Remus pulled out his wand and flicked it casually. The locket whizzed past Sirius' head as it flew into the room thanks to Remus' summoning charm. Remus caught it and chucked it to Harry who winced, forgetting about his burns, as he caught it. The locket was very ornate, with silver carvings and plating to accentuate the green gemstone encrusted letter 's.' The locket certainly fit Salazar's style, needlessly extravagant with snake symbolism. A small latch on the side piqued his interest. When he cracked open the locket, he wasn't assailed by some dark spirit or evil curse, only a folded piece of parchment. He looked at Remus and Tonks, confused. Remus nodded his head downwards, so Harry pulled free the note, unfolded it and read its contents in his head.

' To the Dark Lord,

I know I will be dead long before you read this,

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.

I have stolen the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death with the hope that when you meet your match,

You are mortal once more

R.A.B'

Harry laughed in disbelief, "is this a joke?"

"I'm afraid not," Remus refuted.

Harry carefully brought his legs to the side of the bed and pushed himself up into a sitting position without the aid of pillows. From there he placed his feet on the cold wooden floor and pushed off of the bed with intentions to stand. His leg buckled though and he had to throw his body against one of his bed posts to stay upright.

"Harry I think you should–"

"I'm fine Sirius!" Harry yelled angrily, throwing the fake horcrux, and the note within, at a wall where it bounced off and landed near Sirius' feet.

'All that for more questions,' he irritably thought. 'From one mystery onto the next and this is only for one of them, for all we know he could have hundreds.' He huffed and puffed as he stabilised his broken body, managing to lean somewhat comfortably on a dresser.

"Who even is R.A.B?" Harry asked the room as he calmed down, "do we know?"

"We have our theories," Remus responded first, "an ex death eater probably and pureblood."

"There are only so many people who fit that description and it has only been two days," Tonks continued for her partner. She had been combing old death eater files for hours a day trying to find someone who matched the criteria and felt it was only a matter of time.

"I think I know who wrote this…" Sirius trailed off. The three occupants of the room turned to him with expectant looks. "I'd need to go to Grimmauld to confirm though."

"Go, I'll follow behind shortly."

Sirius, Remus and Tonks all looked at him quizzically before complying. They shut the door behind them and Harry walked over to the walk-in wardrobe to find some clothes to wear. Leaning heavily on the walls or anything else solid, he picked an everyday pair of jeans and his favourite grey t-shirt which was very light material so it wouldn't aggravate his burns.

A pair of underwear and socks later, he struggled back into the bedroom and laid out the clothes on his bed. Getting his shirt over his head was a battle as it stretched out the skin on his stomach wound and irritated his arms but he managed it in the end. He walked over to the full length mirror on the wall and reviewed his injuries. The scar on his belly looked much angrier in the light, an upward curve of mended flesh.

'Another one to add to the list I suppose,' he noncommittally thought. He knew every time he saw it he'd remember that awful evening, potion hallucinations and all, but there was no use worrying over something he couldn't change.

He hobbled over to his bed and got changed into the clean clothes and gathered his belongings from his bedside table. The walk down the hall and out to the apparition platform was a slow affair but the further he went the easier it became and by the time he was preparing to apparat he was able to comfortably stand on his own two feet.

A moment later he appeared outside of an empty park, it was dark out and not many in central London cared to have a nice walk in the moonlight during the freezing winter air. Harry turned around, crossed the street and walked up the steps to twelve Grimmauld Place. He found the front door to be unlocked which he initially found strange but figured there'd be no point locking a fidelius protected house.

'If someone nefarious wanted to get in and got past the extensive ward network over this house then I doubt a locked door will stop them,' he thought as he tiptoed down the hall. It was no use however, the second he got near the base of the staircase he was startled by shrill screaming from upstairs.

"Nasty master won't be ruining good master's room!"

"Kreacher…?" Harry mumbled to himself, confused.

As he bolted up the stairs he heard Sirius' reply, "away Kreacher! You are not wanted here!"

Harry rounded the corner and found Remus and Tonks in the hallway with Siris and Kreacher behind them looking like they wanted to throttle each other. "Sirius!" he called out as he walked as briskly as he could towards the commotion, "what's going on?"

After glaring at Kreacher for a moment more, Siris turned to his godson and gestured to the top of a door frame next to him. "R.A.B or rather Regulus Arcturus Black, my brother."

"Brother?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Aye," Sirius confirmed, "my death eater brother, favoured by my parents for being a pureblood fanatic like the rest of them."

"Master was gooder than mangy blood traitor!" Kreacher cried out and kicked Sirius' shin which brought both of them pain.

"Alright that's it, I'm giving you clothes you unworthy cretin!" Sirius stormed into his old room, presumably to find a sock or something to get rid of Kreacher.

"Sirius!" Remus shouted, trying to stop his friend and when that didn't work he followed him into the room.

Harry watched Kreacher wring his hands which reminded him of Dobby when he was nervous. "Kreacher," Harry addressed him, "what happened to your old master?" Kreacher stared at him with his disproportionate beady eyes, eyes that held a heavy weight behind them. Kreacher's conflict intrigued Harry and so he prodded further. "You said he was good? What did that mean?"

Kreacher seemed more than happy to answer that question and his normal croaky voice had a tone of true happiness in it. "Master Regulus was always kind to Kreacher. Dutiful, respectful, Mistress Walburga even planned to make him the heir!"

"He sounds like a good man," Harry forced out to the surprise of Tonks who he could see make a face in the reflection of a mirror behind a Kreacher. Harry crouched down to Kreacher's height and pushed some more, "so what went wrong?"

Kreacher's lip trembled and he burst into tears, sobbing loudly and wailing incoherently. Harry patted the elf's shoulder and turned to Tonks and gave her a 'kill me now' face to which she responded with a grin and a thumbs up. Kreacher calmed down and clicked his fingers, a handkerchief appearing for him to blow his nose into.

"The Dark Lord -hiccup- needed an elf and the good master volunteered Kreacher." Sirius and Remus re entered the hallway and Harry bid them to be quiet with a look, not wanting to interrupt Kreacher spilling his guts. "Kreacher was honoured to serve master Regulus and so master brought him to the Dark Lord." Kreacher blew his nose again and wiped his eyes before continuing, "the Dark Lord took Kreacher to a cave and told him to drink nasty potion, painful potion that made Kreacher thirsty."

Harry shared a surprised exchange with Remus, there was no doubt that Kreacher had been through much the same as Harry had. "I know this place, Kreacher, I had to drink the potion too, that must have been hard."

Kreacher was surprised with Harry's revelation and his kindness, which seemed to propel his desire to tell his story. "The Dark Lord put something where the potion was, a necklace, and left. Kreacher crawled to the edge of the black lake to drink when… hands, dead hands dragged Kreacher in."

"The inferi got you?" Harry asked in shock, "how did you make it out of the water?"

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back."

"The wards though, how did you escape the wards?" Remus asked.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," came the repeated explanation with more conviction than the first time. Kreacher's loyalty was inspiring to witness, especially from the old grouchy elf whom Harry thought was waiting patiently for death.

"So the good master Regulus called you back?" prompted Harry.

Kreacher nodded, "yes, master Regulus had Kreacher tell him all about the cave. The master looked troubled, spent the next two nights in the library and when he emerged he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave."

"When we were back in the cave, master Regulus drank the nasty potion himself, not before instructing Kreacher to place a locket identical to the one the Dark Lord had in the basin and to destroy the one in the basin when Kreacher returned home. Master Regulus was consumed by the lake, and Kreacher took the locket home."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sirius asked, his voice thick with pain.

Kreacher looked at him disdainfully and replied, "the good master said not to tell anyone in the family. Kreacher is good elf, Kreacher obeyed."

"And the locket? Were you able to destroy it?" Harry questioned insistently. Regulus' death was tragic but there was no time to mourn.

Kreacher bowed his head and before Harry could stop him he was banging his head against the wall whilst screaming. Harry wrenched the flailing elf away from the wall and held him still. "Kreacher!" he shouted over the elf's wailing, "I am the heir to the house of Black you will stop punishing yourself."

Harry's command had a great effect on Kreacher, who, upon remembering Harry's status, calmed down frighteningly fast.

'Lets try this again,' he thought before he spoke. "Alright, without punishing yourself, did you destroy the locket?"

"No, young master," Kreacher replied resolutely. "I tried many things but all of them failed… Kreacher failed."

Harry never thought he'd feel even a hint of pity for the old elf but he never would've guessed something like this. "Kreacher, I need you to bring me this locket." Kreacher wrung his hands, looking around as if searching for an escape before popping away into nothingness.

"Well that didn't pan out, lets search the–"

Sirius' cynicism was interrupted by Kreacher reappearing in the spot he had disappeared, holding something close to his chest. Harry could feel the horcrux before he could see it, the cold waves of rage, the hunger for pain, if Harry didn't know any better, he'd have thought Voldemort was in the room with them. Along with the wave of cold he could almost hear the locket speaking, whispering to him in strange sounds his mind formed into images, then, intentions. He wanted to snatch the locket from the creature before him, rip the precious piece of heritage from the unworthy lifeform. It would be so easy to wring the little bastard's neck and–

"Harry?"

Harry was startled by Remus' concerned question. His eyes focused and he realised he was reaching out with both hands towards Kreacher. The elf looked terrified, clutching the locket tightly to his chest, which added to Harry's confusion.

"Wha- what just happened?" he asked shakily. His mind swirled, incomplete thoughts forming and taking new shapes before he could make sense of them.

"You went out of it for a mo'," Tonks answered wearily, "you alright?"

Harry was not alright, never had he felt so compelled to do anything. The imperius curse didn't even match the power in that locket, but what worried him more was that no one else seemed to be affected. "Did none of you hear it? The whispers from the locket?"

The others looked at each other, all of them hoping that at least someone else heard these elusive whispers but no luck. Harry saw all of the distressed expressions and knew he had been the sole listener.

"Lock it away," Harry ordered with a shaky voice.

"Harry? What are you talking about? Shouldn't we investigate further?" Remus asked. Harry would've been tempted if his mind was entirely his own, and he wasn't prepared to risk anyone else being influenced by the vile heirloom.

"Lock it away, I said," Harry reiterated with more clarity and force. "Lock it away in a place I wouldn't ever look to find it. Make no mistake, that is the real horcrux and I– I can be nowhere near it right now."

Harry walked away, almost in a daze, his head was pounding, and his vision was blurry. He trusted the others to follow his orders when it came to matters such as this. How much of it was the injuries sustained and how much of it was the horcrux, he did not know, but he couldn't stay there in the cramped halls of twelve Grimmauld Old Place. Harry left the ward line and disapparated, hoping a nap would clear his head.

A/N Well well well, long time no see, I know. This chapter was so bloody hard to complete because, at the end of the day, it's a filler. It accomplishes things, sure, but nothing exciting happens and a lot of it was a retelling of canon which sucked.

Snape must be feeling a little insulted right now, dedicating his life to Dumbledore's machination only for them to change at the last minute… that's rough. I'm no Snape apologist though so unluggy bro. This chapter's title probably has been one of the more fitting ones so far. Dumbledore regrets his net accomplishments, Snape regrets letting things slip from his control, Harry regrets the consequences of his orders and Kreacher regrets failing Regulus' last order. You could even go so far as Sirius regretting not being at the cave to help and not helping his brother as much as he could…

I apologise for the canon dump in the last half of the chapter, but we all know how important Regulus' sacrifice was and it contributes to Sirius' arc so trust the process. Harry's reaction to the horcrux will be explained later in ATFS as the potency of its influence changes because of his unique circumstances.

Next chapter we've got moody teenagers and old men… (not as creepy as that sounds)

Hope y'all enjoyed

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