Chapter Twenty Two
"Perhaps it is time you inform me of your reasons for interfering with my projects at the Foundation?"
Severus had found it easy to push aside his curiosity regarding Dumbledore's request to Regulus, due to the unexpected turn of events over Christmas. He had assumed the old man would contact him and inform him of his intentions when the time arose; however, now that he had began classes once again at Hogwarts, finding himself in the Dumbledore's company again without so much as an acknowledgement of what had transpired, he decided he would wait no longer; and had made his way to his mentor's office as soon as the opportunity arose after his final class.
"Ah. Then young Regulus has informed you of my request."
"Did you doubt that he would?"
"He appeared sincere when I spoke with him."
"What right do you have to demand that one of my closest friends withhold information from me?"
Dumbledore regarded him without any remorse or shame; instead only offered: "This is a war, Severus. Sometimes it is necessary for secrecy."
"War? Really, Professor? Pardon my bad memory; I have been under the impression that the war ended in 1981."
"You are well aware that the war has not ended; only postponed until Voldemort returns. In the meantime it is essential that we do all we can to prepare ourselves for that eventuality."
"Very well. Though I hardly see why secrecy is necessary in this case; obviously you will need my cooperation in the future regarding this, therefore you may as well bring me into your circle of secrecy," Severus said, raising an expectant eyebrow at him.
Dumbledore smiled slightly at him; "As you wish, my boy. It is regarding information that we need to acquire regarding what happened on October 31st 1981."
Severus hesitated, surprised at the information, before he went on; "You believe we can discover what happened the night the Longbottom's were killed? How? Everyone present that night was killed."
"Not everyone, Severus."
Severus held his look for a moment and then closed his eyes, shaking his head; "Neville Longbottom? You would force a child to re-live the moment his parents died?"
"From the information Regulus has provided me with that will not be necessary. Your project will make it possible to enter his mind and extract the memory."
"With the child's cooperation. Not to mention the Grandmother's. And it is not quite as Regulus explained it, I gather. The child and I would have to search for the memory together. It would be distressing."
"But necessary."
Severus averted his eyes, not entirely comfortable with what the old man was asking him to do. To invade the child's mind, revive his most painful memory, and then take it to use as a simple instrument in the war effort. Even he did not think Dumbledore could be so heartless.
"And for what reason do you wish to view this memory?" Severus asked, though he was certain he could guess the answer.
"It is important that we discover the events that led to Frank and Alice's death. What happened when Neville confronted Voldemort."
"Confronted?"
Dumbledore ignored him, going on; "What we learn will be imperative when the time comes for the boy to face him in the future. As you are well aware, Severus, it is of vital importance that we learn of Voldemort's weaknesses; and an infant has managed to do what none of us had been able to. We must discover how this happened."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose; "Have you attempted legilemency?"
"I was unable to find the memory. It appears the boy is blocking it."
"You asked him if he remembered anything?"
"Of course. He doesn't. These are questions that you already know the answers to."
Severus released a sigh; "Very well. But I will not deal with the boy or his Grandmother; it is your responsibility to ensure their cooperation."
"Of course; of course," Dumbledore smiled, obviously pleased that he had agreed with little argument.
"What does Harry Potter have to do with your plans?"
Dumbledore's smile vanished.
Severus raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing at all, Severus. What would make you think otherwise?"
"You have been interfering with his schooling."
"I have no sinister intentions, Severus; it is only friendly advice for Lily Potter. I grew fond of the family during the war; you are aware the Potters were Order Members."
Severus was uncertain if the old man was being honest. Knowing him, he probably wasn't; but he could tell from his stoic stance that he would receive no information from him regarding his question.
"I was not aware that Mrs Potter and yourself had renewed your acquaintance," Dumbledore went on, enquiringly.
"If you are so close to her that you are offering parenting advice then you must be aware that she is currently completing a Fellowship with the Foundation."
"Ah. Yes, I was aware."
The two of them fell silent.
"And she confides in you, does she?" Dumbledore was fighting a smile now; eyes twinkling.
Severus scowled; "We speak. That is all."
"Now now, Severus no need to be bashful. You forget I know all about –"
"Choose your words wisely, Professor. Do not think that I am the same boy who came crawling to you six years ago."
Dumbledore was smiling fully now; "Of course not. I wouldn't dare. Though I am pleased you have renewed your acquaintance. A confidant will do her good."
"She has friends."
"Apparently you are one of them."
"What of it?" Severus was becoming irritated now, wondering how the old man had managed to turn the conversation around on him. He felt as if he had just walked into a trap. Was this another relationship Dumbledore would use to pester him in the future?
Dumbledore only smiled again, not at all affected by Severus' annoyance; "Nothing at all, Severus. Like I said; I am pleased."
Severus couldn't help but think that the statement sounded like more of a threat.
"Mrs Gillan said I need to get this form signed," Harry stated, handing out a piece of parchment to her.
Lily took it from her son, glancing over it with a frown; "Harry, this is for piano lessons."
"I know."
Lily looked at him apologetically; "Sweetheart, of course if you want to learn piano then you can," she glanced down at the sheet again as she went on; "But these lessons are for people who have already started."
"But I have."
Lily looked at him sharply; "You have? When?"
"Uncle Sirius has been teaching me."
Lily was stunned at the information; "Your Uncle Sirius? Sirius plays the piano?"
"Yeah." Harry gave her a look that seemed to say; don't you know anything, Mum?
And she realised that maybe she didn't. It was the same question she found herself asking herself almost every day when it came to her son. How on Earth had they managed to get this by her?
Lily shook her head, noticing Harry was looking at her expectantly, and walked over to the desk, lifting a quill to sign it; "That's wonderful, Harry. Where has he been teaching you?"
"When we visit Mrs Tonks. She has a piano. Uncle Sirius said their mums and dads forced them to learn when they were little. But it's fun."
"I see. How long have you been learning?"
"Dunno. Ages. When's Uncle Sirius coming home?"
"I'm not sure."
"He still hasn't flooed or anything. How do you know he's okay?"
"I'm sure he's fine, Sweetheart. He's just very busy just now."
"How come I couldn't go with him?"
"Because you have school."
"You know legally I don't have to go to school."
"Who told you that?" Lily looked at him with a frown.
"One of the boys at the Phoenix Centre. Goyle."
Goyle. Lily frowned; wasn't Goyle senior tried for being a Death Eater?
"Well, what he told you isn't true. If you don't go to school then someone needs to come and teach you at home," Lily explained, rolling up the parchment she had signed after ensuring the ink had dried.
"He thought it was weird I went to muggle school. He said real wizards don't do that."
"I went to muggle school," Lily handed the rolled up parchment to him, "And so did Uncle Remus. Don't we seem like real witches and wizards?"
He shrugged, "I guess he was lying."
Lily nodded, suddenly wondering if it was right to send him to a wizarding school. Wasn't he too young to be exposed to the kinds of prejudices that muggleborns and half-bloods were sure to encounter?
"Uncle Sirius could do that."
"Do what?"
"Teach me at home."
"Uncle Sirius isn't here. And he isn't qualified to teach you; you would need a proper tutor."
"Maybe if you flooed and saw him –"
"Harry, your Uncle Sirius will come home when he can."
Harry hadn't stopped talking about Sirius since she had explained that he had left; so many questions, so many innocent suggestions; they were becoming increasingly irritating and her anger that the man responsible grew with each one.
"What about Uncle Remus?"
"What about Uncle Remus?" Lily repeated, as she handed him his cloak.
"Maybe he could become a tutor and teach me; he's always saying he can't find a job."
Lily frowned, kneeling down so she was facing him; "Harry, is there something wrong at the Phoenix Centre? Is someone upsetting you?"
Harry looked confused at the question; "No. Why would they make me upset?"
Relieved at the obvious bafflement that anyone would attempt to hurt him, Lily rose to her feet and swung her cloak around herself; "It is just strange that you are asking to be home schooled. It's not something you've ever been interested in before."
Harry shrugged; "It seems like fun. Ron does it."
"Yes, but then you wouldn't get to see any other children. You wouldn't be able to make friends; or play. Or go on trips."
"Trips?" Harry's eyes brightened and she smiled at his excitement.
"Yes, trips. I believe they're planning one for next month."
"Really?" Harry's excitement grew; "We're doing a play as well, they said. Something for Valentine's Day."
"Oh, yes? Valentine's Day."
She had never liked Valentine's Day. But she disliked it even more now. She had only ever enjoyed one; Valentine's Day 1979; the day James proposed.
It had been a disaster of a meal; her parents had been visiting Petunia and Vernon so he had offered to make dinner for her at her house, burning everything except the raw salad that was to be served as a side dish and the ice cream they were having for desert, setting the smoke alarms off and worrying the neighbours.
The Bee Gees asked them 'how deep is your love?' while he got down on one knee and asked her the same.
"You see; you wouldn't be able to do those things if you were home schooled. It'd just be you."
Harry frowned, obviously not pleased with the idea; "Oh. Well...I guess school's better then."
Lily smiled, pulling the door open, and reaching out a hand to him; "Come on, you, let's go."
Malachi rubbed his hands against his trousers, glancing nervously around the large room. Long strips of parchment hung from the walls, badly done paintings obviously by children covering them and some of them hung off the wall making the place look worn. But everything was bright. Very bright. Colourful toys littered around the room; desks lined up along the middle in three rows; children his age, some maybe a little older, sat at them obviously not at all interested in the books before them.
"Hello Malachi."
He glanced up at the stranger who had addressed him. He didn't like meeting new people. He didn't know why; his parents always made it look so easy; talking. He didn't like it. He never knew what to say and half the time he got the impression that no one was really interested; they would just nod and say things like 'that's nice' or 'aren't you clever' or 'well, that's very interesting'. The only person who ever said anything any different was his mum and, when he was around, his dad.
Miss Quinn was nice too. But now he only got to see her on Saturdays. His dad wanted him to 'socialise'; which really meant he wanted him to go out and talk to these strangers who were now all staring at him curiously from their desks.
"Mrs Potter."
Malachi turned his attention to the woman his dad had spoken to; a smiling woman. And, as if to prove a point, the two began a brief, easy conversation. He glanced at the boy whose shoulder the woman had her hand on. The boy glanced at him briefly before he tugged himself out of the woman's grasp and made his way towards one of the desks.
His dad was still talking. Sometimes he wondered if his dad ever stopped talking. Maybe that's why he was always away; no one could talk as much as him so he had to keep finding new people who would listen. And then they'd get bored and they'd move on. Severus didn't talk much. And he almost never spoke to him. But he would sit and listen to his dad; would say things that he didn't really understand but he guessed he was making fun of his dad because his dad would roll his eyes and laugh.
They were funny sometimes. He would watch them and listen to them. Sometimes they would say such nasty things to each other; things he would never dream of saying to another person; and the other one would just laugh or roll their eyes as if it was joke. As if it was funny. He never spoke to people like that. Maybe that's why he didn't have any friends. Though he had seen someone speak in a similar way to someone in the street once; and the other guy had punched him in the face. That wasn't something he ever wanted to experience.
"Well, I'll see you at the end of the day, Beansprout," his dad said, finally stopping his conversation with the lady with the red hair, and kneeling down in front of him. He ruffled his hair and smiled; "I'll be right down the hall, so you don't have to worry. If you need me, just tell Mrs Gillan here or one of the other teachers, okay?"
Malachi nodded; though he knew better than to disturb his father at work.
He only moved when his dad's hands turned him and urged him in the direction of the other children, most of whom had lost interest in him now and were talking energetically amongst themselves. A paper aeroplane flew across the room and one of the teachers shouted, making him jump.
He quickly sat down at one of the free desks.
"Hi."
Malachi looked sharply at the boy who had spoken to him; his movement so quick that the other boy jumped slightly and then smiled; it was the same boy who he had seen at the door: "I'm Harry."
He forced a smile; "I'm Malachi." And then he didn't know what to say. He looked away, feeling himself reddening beneath Harry's curious gaze.
"How old are you?"
"Five."
"I'm six."
He was silent.
"Was that your dad?"
"Uh huh."
"He looks like my uncle. So do you."
"Who's your uncle?"
"Sirius."
Malachi shrugged apologetically, feeling as if he was disappointing him; "I don't know him."
"Oh."
They were quiet again. He fiddled with the book in front of him; was he supposed to be reading it? He glanced up at the teachers, who were gathered together at the front of the room. Miss Quinn would always tell him what he was supposed to do during her lessons.
"Do you like chocolate frogs?" Harry asked him.
Malachi eyed the sweet the other boy was holding out to him; he bit his lip, "Uh huh."
Harry smiled and shook the hand that was holding out the sweet to him. Malachi smiled and took it from his eagerly; "Thanks."
"No; thank you, Mr Black." The sweet was promptly plucked from his hand by a teacher they hadn't noticed walking by; "There's no eating in the classroom; we wait until break time."
Malachi glared at her back as she retreated and Harry laughed. He looked at the laughing boy with a frown;
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just that you really looked like my Uncle Sirius when you did that."
"Does he get mad a lot?"
"Not with me. He takes me flying."
Malachi's eyes widened; "Flying? Really? On a broom?"
"Uh huh. Haven't you ever been? Doesn't your dad take you?"
"No. My dad's really busy."
"Oh. My dad doesn't do anything with me, either."
"It's not my dad's fault, though," Malachi said, suddenly having the urge to defend his father, and glancing around the room as if he might have heard.
Harry shrugged; "Not mine's either, I guess."
Harry looked sad. Sad like Malachi felt. And he felt himself relax a bit this time, as he turned his attention to his book.
"Alright, everyone," one of the teachers spoke up loudly, as the group of teachers dispersed; "Let's get started, shall we?"
"I have more chocolate frogs," Harry whispered, leaning towards him; "I'll give you some at break."
Malachi smiled shyly; "Thanks," he whispered back.
Malachi's eyes are blue.
Like Evelyn's. Like the pictures of the perfect blue oceans in holiday brochures; blue, blue, blue. And they were haunting; every time he looked into his son's eyes he found himself thinking of her. It was like she was still watching him, through their son's eyes, even though she was gone. She was watching; judging. And Malachi had even had that same disappointed look in his eyes, the exact same as his mother's, when he had told him about the Phoenix Centre.
But the boy never voiced any complaints. It was all in the eyes. Almost as if it wasn't him at all that disapproved; but his mother. Evelyn making her own opinion of the move known.
Malachi had moved into Newton's with him the previous week. Since then he had seen a side to his son that he had rarely, if ever, seen. Almost brooding, which, of course, was expected considering the circumstances. But it was painfully familiar, the expression on his face. The angry, hate the world, look. A look he had seen often as a child.
His son looked exactly like his brother.
He didn't know how hadn't noticed it before. Maybe he was simply imagining it, because Severus had just told him that Sirius had run off with the intention of hunting Pettigrew, and he was on his mind.
But he knew better.
Sometimes when Malachi was deep in thought, he would turn and look directly at him; and it would be like Sirius watching him, disapproving of him; Evelyn's eyes haunting him.
And he couldn't help but wonder if Malachi was sent to him as a complete embodiment of every mistake he had ever made in his life. Some sort of cruel joke sent by the fates.
His son; a reminder of all the sons and fathers he had taken during the war; a reminder of his own failure as a father; the physical image of his brother who had got away; and the eyes of the lover whom he had gotten killed.
These thoughts were only confirmed that evening, as he lay next to his son in bed, attempting to read him to sleep with a book the boy had picked.
"I met a boy today; his name was Harry."
"Harry Potter?"
"I dunno. He didn't tell me his last name. But he said I looked like his uncle."
Harry Potter for sure.
"Ah. I see."
"His name's Sirius," Malachi turned his head so he was looking up, straight at him; "Do you know him?"
Regulus held his son's look for a moment; blue, blue eyes daring him to lie. He cleared his throat and closed the book, letting it rest forgotten on the bed sheets. Malachi pushed himself into a sitting position.
Regulus nodded the affirmative, leaning back; "Yes. Sirius is my brother."
Malachi straightened in surprise; "I didn't know you had a brother."
"We don't see very much of each other. We aren't close."
"Not friends?"
"Nope. Not friends."
"How come?"
"It's complicated."
"Why?" Malachi frowned, with the bewilderment of a child who couldn't possibly begin to comprehend how a relationship with someone could be complicated; simply like or dislike.
"Well, we just don't speak."
"You don't like each other?"
"I suppose we don't." Though that wasn't entirely true. He wasn't sure of Sirius' feelings towards him; but his feelings towards his brother were a bit more complex than that; disappointment, abandonment, resentment, jealousy. There were a number of unpleasant emotions he felt towards his brother; though he'd never really considered dislike, or hate, to be one of them.
"Is it okay for me to speak to Harry? Even though you don't like his uncle?"
"Yeah, sure. Of course it is. You can be friends with whoever you want."
"Did Severus know him?"
"Who? Sirius?"
Malachi nodded.
"Uh...a little."
"Did he not like him either? I don't want him to be mad."
"Severus won't be mad. He won't care," Regulus said, carefully avoiding the first question.
Malachi smiled, pulling out a collection of chocolate frog cards; "Good. Harry gave me five chocolate frogs today –"
"Five? Don't the teachers watch what you're eating?"
Malachi shrugged; "There's so many of us. I don't think there's enough teachers."
"That right?" I'll have to do something about that.
Malachi held the cards out to him with a smile; "He's nice to me."
Regulus took the cards, glancing through them with faux-interest, "That's good. I'm glad you're making friends."
"Will Draco start coming to the centre too?"
Regulus handed the cards back to him, ruffling his hair; "No. Draco gets taught at home."
"Like I used to."
"Yep."
"Wait. If Harry's uncle is your brother...does that mean he's my uncle too?" Malachi was frowning, contemplatively, making the connection.
Regulus hesitated, "Uh...yeah. Yeah, that's right."
"Has he ever seen me? When I was little?"
"No," Regulus shook his head, stroking his son's hair; "We had stopped speaking before that."
"Can I see a picture of him? So I can see if I really look like him?"
"I don't have one."
At his son's disappointed look he found himself adding; "Your Auntie Andie does. You can ask her the next time we see her."
"What about Auntie Cissy? I see her more."
"I...don't think she has a picture of him either."
"Oh," Malachi frowned, glancing down at the cards in his hands.
"Now," Regulus changed the subject and lifted the book from his lap, "Do you want to hear the rest of the story?"
Malachi smiled and nodded.
"Well, get tucked back in," he said, grabbing the covers and shaking them.
"Stop! It's cold!" Malachi laughed in protest, grabbing the edge of the covers and trying to pull them down.
Regulus chuckled, waving his wand to light the fire at the other side of the room.
Severus had noticed it that morning.
It was so faint he wondered if he was seeing things. If his mind was just playing tricks on him. There was no pain; no feeling to indicate that it was there when he had run a finger over it. But it was there; the outline of it.
"Trust Dumbledore to take someone else good intentions and turn it into a question of the ethics of warfare."
Regulus couldn't believe the information Severus had just given him; that Dumbledore wished to use the findings of Project Orion in order to invade the mind of a six year old. He wondered if he had even noticed yet; if he had noticed the tell-tale mark of their mistakes.
"True."
"So you're going to go along with it?"
"What choice is there? If I do not, it could lead to the success of the Dark Lord." Severus raised an eyebrow.
"Ends justifying means, huh?"
"Please, spare me your morality lectures, Regulus." Severus made his way to the drink cabinet, pouring himself a drink once he got there. He was becoming agitated. Uneasy. His hand went to his forearm, briefly; he didn't want to bring it up. As if talking about it made it real.
"Then why did you tell me about it in the first place?"
"Because you asked."
Regulus was silent, clearly unable to counter the statement.
Severus glanced in the direction of the hallway; "How did Malachi enjoy his first day?"
"He met Harry Potter."
Severus could see the amusement in Regulus' expression; he ignored it, though was relieved to see a glimpse of the sparkle that hadn't quite managed to meet his friend's eyes over the past couple of weeks; "I see."
"Getting along pretty well. Apparently the little Potter was attracted to him because he looks like my brother."
"Ah. How wonderful. I haven't noticed the resemblance myself."
"Really?"
"Really."
Regulus looked doubtful, though it was the truth. He hadn't really looked upon Sirius Black properly in years and he hadn't ever looked at Malachi and been reminded of the other Black brother; though after this exchange he was beginning to think he might do now.
"Anyway, the whole incident got Malachi asking questions about Sirius. I told him he was my brother and other bits of information. Just a heads up, in case he comes asking you."
"I'm sure I can handle it."
After all, Sirius Black was nothing; an insignificant weed, compared to what else he would soon have to face, if what he had seen was true; if it had not been a trick of the light; his subconscious playing tricks on him.
"I asked about Dumbledore because you seem distracted," Regulus stated, returning to their earlier subject; "What's up with you?"
Severus met his eyes. He held them a moment; long enough to worry the other, long enough for Regulus to look apprehensive.
He swallowed back any hesitation; any foolish thoughts that ignoring the issue would make it go away. Told himself Regulus could handle it; he was going through so much right now, the timing of this was abysmal, but it was not something that could be ignored. Not something that could be swept aside.
This was something that Regulus couldn't pretend wasn't happening.
"Have you looked at your left forearm recently?"
Regulus paled.
And for a moment a deafly silence fell over them.
Regulus hand was shaking as he reached up, clawed at the sleeve of his robe and ripped back the fabric of his shirt, revealing his arm. Severus stepped closer as the two of them glanced down at it.
And there it was.
Faint. But there.
Just like his.
The Dark Mark was returning.