Tuesday, July 1, 1997

The scenes of carnage in the Great Hall played in Harry's head over and over again, a macabre loop of walls painted red with blood and stunned bodies crumpled on the floor, limbs contorted in unnatural ways. Harry stared down at his hands. He'd scrubbed as much of the blood off them as he could, but the crevices of his fingernails were still stained.

He'd encountered McGonagall during his escape to an abandoned classroom and she'd told him that the only two casualties were Dumbledore and a Death Eater, Gibbon. Harry was grateful that the death toll had not been higher, but there were still people who had received injuries that would not heal easily.

Into the valley of Death

Getting away from Ron and Hermione would have been easier with his Cloak, but Regulus still had it and Harry had no clue where he had gone off to. He didn't really care at the moment, not in the aftermath of a battle. Most of the combatants had been children. They were only children, children fighting an adult's war.

Rode the six hundred

Harry bowed his head, as if the weight of the secrets he held was a physical force pushing him to the ground. He'd assumed that he would have more time with Dumbledore, time in which they could devise a plan to methodically destroy the Horcruxes. Now he was gone and Harry was alone, cut adrift.

Harry was sad, sure, but more pissed off than anything. Dumbledore had always been so sparing with doling out information, so paranoid of it falling into the wrong hands. He may have been justified in his fear of spies, but Harry of all people should have been able to get the whole picture. If Dumbledore had more theories about the Horcruxes, Harry would never know now.

"You're a difficult man to find, Potter."

"I told you it's Harry," Harry said, looking up to find Regulus extricating himself from the Invisibility Cloak. He silently held it out and Harry took it, running his hands along the soft fabric.

"I suppose you can call me Regulus," Regulus said stiffly. He was standing ramrod straight, his face devoid of all emotion. "Is there a more private place we could go to discuss the situation we have found ourselves in?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said, standing up and shoving his wand into his back pocket. Regulus' lips thinned but he remained quiet. "D'you mind if a few of my friends join us?"

"You would trust these friends with the knowledge that we will be speaking of?" Regulus asked in a disbelieving tone. He sounded like he could not fathom trusting someone else to that extent. Harry wondered what had made him so bitter, although he could hazard a good guess.

"They already know what Dumbledore and I were in the cave to retrieve," Harry shrugged. He would trust Ron and Hermione with his life.

"Very well," Regulus acquiesced. "Where shall we meet?"

Harry wanted to laugh at Regulus' overly proper speech, but rightly thought that the other man wouldn't take it well. "Go up to the seventh floor and wait by the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy," he told Regulus, tossing the Cloak back at him. "I'll meet you there in five minutes."

"Five minutes," Regulus agreed, already pulling the Cloak back over his head.

Honour the charge they made

Harry left the room first, making sure that Regulus had exited as well before closing the door behind him. He set off for the Great Hall, the last place he'd seen Ron and Hermione. The clean up had begun, but he could still see pools of blood in his mind's eye. Harry didn't think he would ever forget. This battle had been the first large-scale fight he had fought in and he was sure it wouldn't be the last that he and his friends witnessed.

They that had fought so well

Harry slipped into the Great Hall unobtrusively, scanning the people within. He found Ron and Hermione sitting together at the Slytherin table, the only House table still intact. Still skirting the edges of the wall in hopes of remaining unnoticed, he walked toward them.

Once he was close enough, Harry leaned down between their heads and whispered, "Meet me by the Room in five minutes."

Ron and Hermione both started, looking up at Harry with questions in their eyes. Harry merely nodded at them and turned to leave, confident that they would follow him.

The trio made the walk to the Room in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy came into sight and they halted. Without prompting, Harry paced in front of the room and thought: I need a place to talk without being overheard, I need a place to talk without being overheard, I need a place to talk without being overheard.

Harry faced the wall again and grinned at the sight of the familiar door. He grasped the handle and pulled it open, gesturing for Ron and Hermione to enter. An invisible hand touched Harry's arm and Harry had to stifle a surprised gasp. He waved for Regulus to go ahead and finally entered the room itself, pulling the heavy door closed behind him.

An exact replica of the Gryffindor common room greeted him and Harry was, in a way, relieved. The common room had been, before the discovery of the Room of Requirement, the trio's planning room.

"What's this about, Harry?" Ron asked, flopping down in his favorite chair.

"Like you have to ask, Ronald," Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down primly, facing Harry. "Did you get the Horcrux?"

"Yeah, I got it," Harry said, pulling the locket out of his pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table in between Ron and Hermione. "There's something else though, guys. Someone came out of the lake when I touched the water."

That had the effect of stunning them into silence. Ron had his eyes fixed on the locket with a look of revulsion on his face, but Hermione was looking at Harry with her eyes narrowed.

"Who?" she asked.

Harry waved his hand helplessly, not sure how to proceed from here. "Regulus? I could use some help here," he sighed.

"He's talking about me," Regulus said, taking the Cloak off and causing Ron and Hermione to jump up, wands in hand. To his credit, Regulus didn't waver even with two wands pointed at his face. "It's a pleasure," he said dryly.

"What the hell, Harry?" Ron demanded, wand still leveled between Regulus' eyes.

"Look, just sit down and I'll explain, okay?" Harry said, nudging Regulus toward the main seating area. Regulus shot him a vitriolic glare, but went and sat down on the edge of a chair anyway. "I gave him the Cloak because I thought anyone who'd recognize him would be likely to hex first and ask questions later."

Ron and Hermione slowly sank back into their seats, but kept their wands in hand. Harry supposed that was the best he was going to get, so he went on, "This is Regulus Black, Sirius' brother. To be honest, we didn't get to talk much so I've no clue what he was doing in the lake."

With that, all three of them turned their eyes toward Regulus in hopes of an explanation. Regulus simply raised an eyebrow and crossed his legs, as though he was settling in for a while.

"I'll tell you if I can get a Vow that none of this information will go outside of the four of us. That means no verbal communication, no writing it down, no gestures, nothing. I'll also need your names at some point," Regulus said, his eyes full of iron and steel. Harry privately thought that it was a good deal, but Hermione evidently thought differently.

"Absolutely not," she exploded. "How can we trust you? Sirius told us that you turned to the Death Eaters!"

Harry saw Regulus' minute flinch at the revelation that they knew his brother and jumped in before anyone else could say anything, "Hermione, he didn't try to curse Dumbledore or me. He also stopped me from doing something I probably would have regretted later. You have to remember, Dumbledore's dead now. The four of us in this room are probably the only ones who know what Voldemort did to keep himself alive."

A heavy pall hung over the room at the reminder that their side's single greatest advantage in the war was dead and gone.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron said suddenly, his calculating gaze examining Regulus. Harry was brutally reminded of why Ron won nearly every chess game he played; he was a master of strategy and always thought a dozen steps ahead. Ron had apparently thought through the consequences and come to the conclusion that doing what Regulus proposed couldn't hurt.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"No, think it through, Hermione," Ron retorted, "If we give him the Vow but modify it to say that no information shared by any of us goes outside us four, it protects all of us and not just him. Regulus Black supposedly died back in 1979 and this bloke doesn't look a day over eighteen. I'm willing to bet that whatever he has to say is worth the price of the Vow to know." Ron nodded decisively and put his wand away.

"I hate it when you make sense," Hermione muttered, and Harry audibly snorted. She glared at him, but gave Regulus her name and put her wand away as well.

"Excellent," Regulus brought his hands together and leaned forward. "Now, I was considering the use of a blood pact if that is amenable to the three of you."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in confusion, but Ron spoke up confidently, "I'm willing to do that. What's the forfeit?"

Regulus' mouth quirked up and he responded, "I was thinking of using the more excessive binding iteration, in which we will not physically be able to communicate protected information unless it is under a permitted condition. No forfeit is needed since the breaching of the pact is quite literally impossible."

Ron worried at his mouth, thinking it over while Harry was still completely lost. He'd heard of an Unbreakable Vow for swearing someone to privacy, but swearing to one of those was on pain of death. From the sounds of it, a blood pact was a less severe version of an Unbreakable Vow.

"Acceptable," Ron announced at last. He looked over at Harry and Hermione to check if they agreed, but was met with two blank expressions.

"A blood pact is one step down from an Unbreakable Vow," Ron explained. Harry nodded, he'd figured that much out for himself. Hermione looked intrigued, despite herself. "The advantage of using one is that a Binder is not necessary, and the punishment for breaking it can be decided amongst those who swear to it. No punishment will be needed since we'll be using the most severe form of the binding. We'll be physically incapable of sharing anything with anyone outside of the people present in this room."

"How come I've never heard of this?" Hermione asked.

"The blood pact has fallen out of favor with the general public," Regulus said, "and is now only used among the pureblood nobility to protect sensitive information. There is also the fact that the use of blood magic is almost entirely illegal, unless that has changed in the recent past."

"It hasn't," Ron snorted.

"Fantastic," Regulus leaned forward, "then let us get started."

Without warning, the flames flickering in the fireplace doubled in size as four vials and a basin popped into being and settled into place on the table separating Regulus from Ron and Hermione. The atmosphere of the room, already tense, pressed down on Harry even further as the magnitude of the moment made itself known.

Harry took his place beside Regulus and examined the silver basin. Ridged whorls and curlicues danced around the outer sides of the bowl, drawing attention to the interior's utter plainness. Four knives that Harry assumed were made from the same silver as the basin rested inside.

"Ladies first," Regulus said, plucking one of the knives from the basin. He skillfully flipped it around and offered the hilt to Hermione.

"What do I do?" she asked warily, gingerly gripping the knife.

"Cut a line in your palm, twenty-eight drops of blood go in the vial," Regulus said brusquely, blood already dripping from his hand.

Harry, despite Ron's assurance that this sort of thing was okay, could not help but feel apprehensive about the entire situation. He could feel the adrenaline he'd been running on slowly exiting his system and an impending crash was surely in his future.

"C'mon mate, we're waiting on you."

Startled, Harry looked up from his lap where he had been fiddling with his knife. Sure enough, three bloody vials greeted his eyes and he flushed. Harry hastily slashed a line through his left palm and counted out the needed drops of blood.

"Now that we are all prepared," Regulus said, eyeing each of them in turn, "We must each pour our blood into the basin at the same time. I will be the binder and detail the terms of our agreement, all the three of you must do is agree at the requisite moments. Understood?"

"Understood," came the answer, and Regulus nodded to himself. He held his own vial above the basin and waited for them to follow suit.

Harry didn't know whether it was a trick of the light or if his eyes were finally going on him, but Regulus' hand was shaking ever so slightly. For the first time, Harry felt a flash of sympathy for the man sitting beside him. Regulus had woken up to an army of Inferi and fought his way out, only to be told that he was eighteen years in the future and that Voldemort was still out there, not only terrorizing the wizarding world at large but actively attacking Hogwarts, the last great bastion of the resistance.

"Now."

Harry tilted his vial and watched as four identical streams of blood gathered together in the basin. It was funny, he thought, that blood purity was built on the foundation of the theory that there were differing degrees of "pure" blood, and yet it all looked the same when a half-blood, a muggleborn, and two purebloods willingly bled together.

"We, the signatories to this binding agreement do agree to be bound to the following terms," Regulus spoke, his voice lined with something ancient and cold, "that no information shared verbally, in written form, or otherwise between Ronald Bilius Weasley, Hermione Jean Granger, Harry James Potter, and Regulus Arcturus Black on this, the first of July 1997, shall be communicated to any persons outside of the aforementioned four in any shape or form without the consent of each and every signatory. Should any signatory attempt to breach these terms, they shall be physically and verbally bound until such time as the breacher ceases in their actions. Do the signatories agree?"

"We do," they chorused.

A second flash of light emanated from the gathered blood and Harry's eyes widened as the red liquid rose into the air and coalesced into a shimmering orb. The sphere hung suspended in the air for a moment in which no one dared move, before it quartered itself and four tendrils streamed toward each of them.

Harry's hand tingled weirdly as his blood reentered his palm and he gaped as the cut he'd made healed itself, leaving not even a scar behind.

"Well, who's up first?" Ron asked, relaxing back into his chair.

"If we're going in chronological order, I suppose I shall share my story first," said Regulus, still the picture of a perfect pureblood. Harry was briefly amused at the intentional defiance Ron was showing by slouching and doing everything he could to separate himself from the image that Regulus projected.

Harry had heard Sirius' version of the events that led up to Regulus' supposed death, but Ron and Hermione had not, and so they all unconsciously moved closer together as Regulus began his story.

"I joined the Death Eaters the summer I turned seventeen. With Sirius' escape to the Potters, the spare became the heir and I was expected to live up to what they wanted of me: the immaculate pureblood heir who would unquestioningly serve the Dark Lord," Regulus shared. His expression was stony and his voice carefully controlled, any emotion he might have wished to show was ruthlessly strangled and pushed back down as he continued.

"I had always been told that the House of Black bowed to no one, thus I already had my doubts on the night of my initiation. Still, I thought, any group that championed pureblood rights could not be bad — I was wrong. I was sent on raids and burned muggle village after village to the ground. I failed to see how this wanton violence was helping purebloods at all, and in the midst of my internal conflict the Dark Lord asked me for the use of a house elf. To question him meant death, and so I gave him Kreacher with no hesitation," at the mention of Kreacher, Regulus paused and gathered his thoughts, his lips tugging downward.

The puzzle pieces were beginning to slot into place for Harry, and the picture forming in his mind made a horrible amount of sense. He could see where the story was going and though the proof was sitting right next to him, he wished with all his might for a different outcome.

Of course, the past was already written and Regulus was still unemotionally relating his tale, "Kreacher came back to me pale and weeping. He told me that he had been forced to drink a potion that made him drown in his darkest thoughts in order for the Dark Lord to conceal an artifact that would allow him an expanded lifespan," Regulus wrinkled his nose, a move so utterly at odds with his pureblood persona that Harry had to hold back a snicker.

"I delved into the deepest recesses of the Black Library to figure out what the Dark Lord was doing. It didn't take me long, my ancestors weren't the most pleasant of people. He had made a Horcrux," Regulus gestured toward the locket on the table, "and that knowledge was the final straw. I knew I couldn't support anyone who reveled in violence for violence's sake, and now he had quite literally ripped his soul apart in pursuit of immortality. I had to get my hands on his Horcrux and destroy it."

"And how'd that go for you?" Ron interjected.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed, elbowing Ron with vindictive force. Ron wheezed and threw himself as far away from her elbow as he could get.

"Bloody hell, woman!" complained Ron.

"Continue, Regulus," Hermione said sweetly.

"Right," Regulus deadpanned. "Not well, thank you for asking. I asked Kreacher to take me back to the cave where the locket was hidden. I ordered him to feed me the potion and switch the locket with a fake I had made with help from Kreacher's memories —"

"Wait," Harry interrupted, horror filling every cell of his body, "You mean this is a fake?" he seized the locket he'd retrieved from the cave and shook it in Regulus' face for emphasis.

"That is a fake," Regulus confirmed, unmoved.

"You mean we did that — all of that — for nothing?" Harry was well on his way to shouting. Dumbledore had dragged him there, made him face the Inferi and made him witness Snape murdering Dumbledore, all for nothing? He leapt up and began pacing, unable to reconcile the futility of the night's events with Dumbledore's headstrong insistence that finding the locket would be a turning point in the war.

"Not for nothing," Regulus disagreed, halting Harry in his tracks. "I doubt we'll ever know the full story, but I believe that the contents of the lake, myself included, went into some sort of stasis once all living beings above the surface exited the cave. Once you and Dumbledore entered the cave again and disturbed the water, the stasis was lifted and I was able to escape the Inferi. Now you know where the true Horcrux is, and now we can destroy it and render the Dark Lord mortal once more, if Kreacher has not managed to do so already."

Oh. Regulus didn't know — he didn't know that there were more, that they were not even close to the end. Harry laughed, a terrible, mirthless sound that made Hermione and Ron wince.

"You think that's the only one?" Harry rounded on Regulus, sneering. "Voldemort — oh for Merlin's sake, it's just a name!" he spat, unimpressed with Regulus' flinch at the sound of the Dark Lord's pseudonym.

"Voldemort made six Horcruxes, six. We're two down: I destroyed one and Dumbledore destroyed the second. Kreacher has the third, but there's three more we've got to find before we can even begin to think about killing the man himself. All you've done is lead us on a wild goose chase!" Harry panted. He could just imagine the years ahead, the miserable hunt for the Horcruxes that they had only just begun.

Regulus had paled throughout Harry's rant, to the point that Harry suspected he'd make a fine ghost if he were so inclined. "He made six?" Regulus croaked.

"Six," said Harry, and he dropped to the floor, his anger spent. All that remained was cold ice trawling along his veins.

"I think you had better explain, Harry," Hermione said, glancing uncertainly at Regulus' frozen form.

Harry groaned into the floor before dragging himself upright once more. He knew he was acting horribly childish, but he rather thought he had earned the right to.

"Voldemort was defeated for the first time when I was a year old," Harry started, steeling himself.

And he told Regulus all the sordid details surrounding Voldemort's initial disappearance and how his parents' death had bought the wizarding world fourteen years of peace.

Theirs not to make reply

Then came his first year of schooling, and with it a possessed Defense teacher, the first one in a long line of them that had threatened his life. Voldemort tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, but was thwarted by Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry then told Regulus about the first Horcrux he'd ever encountered, though he hadn't known that's what it was at the time. How it had possessed Ron's little sister and how he'd fought a basilisk to rescue her, then stabbed a basilisk fang through the damned thing. The stuff of fairy tales, truly.

Theirs not to reason why

Harry largely skipped over his third year, nothing Voldemort-related had happened. He did tell Regulus of Sirius' incarceration in Azkaban and his daring escape though, as he felt Regulus was owed that much.

A year's respite was all Harry had been granted from Voldemort, as the Triwizard Tournament was up next. Regulus stared disbelievingly at him as Harry spoke of Peter Pettigrew's treachery and Wormtail's role in Voldemort's resurrection.

Theirs but to do and die

The wooden arm of Regulus' chair groaned as Regulus strangled it, knuckles white as Harry described the battle that had taken place in the bowels of the ministry and Sirius' stupid, foolhardy decision to come rescue his equally stupid godson. Bellatrix had gotten lucky, but one lucky shot was all she had needed, and so Sirius had unceremoniously died there, the second Marauder to join Death's kingdom.

He'd found out about the prophecy that same night, and Harry took a little vindictive pleasure in telling Regulus that he had trashed Dumbledore's office.

Harry was mildly startled as he realized that not much of note had happened over the past year, not until that very night, which Regulus had been present for most of.

Boldly they rode and well

"So now Voldemort's in charge of Hogwarts, Dumbledore's dead, and we've got three Horcruxes to find," Harry summarized dully.

Regulus' mouth opened and closed several times as he searched for something to say. "How are you all alive?" he asked weakly.

"Luck," Harry said cynically, "Luck and Hermione."

Hermione blushed as Ron shot her a grateful smile. It was true, Harry and Ron would've died a dozen times over throughout their school years had she not been there for them.

"So what's the plan now?" Ron asked into the sudden silence.

"Now?" Harry sighed heavily, "Now you two go home, I go find the rest of the Horcruxes, destroy them, and put an end to Voldemort once and for all."

Into the jaws of Death

"Like hell you will!" Hermione snapped, self-righteous fury blazing in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry said sarcastically, "I thought we all wanted Voldemort gone."

"Not that part," Hermione huffed, "The part where you said we're going home. We're coming with you, whether you like it or not. Merlin knows you wouldn't survive a day without us."

Into the mouth of hell

"Oi!" Harry protested. He had not truly stopped to consider that his friends might want to come, they knew how dangerous hunting for Horcruxes would be.

"We're with you all the way, mate," Ron nodded

Harry knew he could not stop them, and if he were honest with himself, he didn't want to. As much as he was loath to admit it, Hermione was right. He wouldn't last a day without her.

"Well, that's alright then. And you?" Harry turned to Regulus, who was staring at the three of them uncomprehendingly.

Regulus shook himself out of his daze, then said, "I suppose I'm coming with you, aren't I? I can hardly go gallivanting around polite society as an ex-Death Eater."

"Then that settles it," Hermione nodded decisively, "We've got a lot of work to do."

The Charge of the Light Brigade