Chapter Forty-Two

"Harry!"

Harry was hunched over the form of another boy, hands frantically shaking at his shoulder, but he turned quickly at the sound of his voice.

"Uncle Sirius!" he cried, before running and throwing himself onto his lap, into his arms.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against a dizziness and heaviness in his chest he had felt since he'd finally managed to manoeuvre his way into the building. He clutched at the back of Harry's head; "Are you alright?"

"Uh huh." Harry drew back quickly but stayed on his lap, turning to look over his shoulder; "But something's wrong with Malachi!" He jumped down and hurried back over to the boy Sirius now recognised as his nephew.

He used his wand to accelerate the speed of his chair; "What happened? Were you attacked?" As far as Sirius could tell when he arrived in amongst the chaos, whatever had happened had happened on the other side of the building. The only tell-tale signs of what had happened here being the smashed and cracked glass of the windows; some items knocked from their spots.

"No, he was fine!" Harry said, frantically shaking Malachi again; "We were running out with everyone else and then he just fell down."

"Let me see him." Sirius gently moved Harry aside, casting a charm over him that he'd learned during the war; checking for injuries. He frowned; "I...his heart rate's way off. Did he say anything before –"

"Yeah!" Harry conceded; "He said he couldn't breathe right. And that he felt sick."

"Harry!"

Lily's voice startled them both.

Harry was seized and pulled into a hug; "Sweetheart," Lily breathed against his shoulder; "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." Harry's voice was muffled against the fabric of her robes; "But Malachi's sick." Lily drew back, looking down and seeming to notice the little boy for the first time. She gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek and knelt down next to him, pressing a hand to his cheek; "He's ice cold."

Lily scrambled around, suddenly, drawing out her wand and casting various charms and incantations; far more thorough than Sirius was able to do with only basic field-healing training. Harry clutched at his arm, watching as his mother worked.

The air was heavy and Sirius' breaths were coming heavier; his own vision seeming to go in and out of focus. He gave his head a rough shake, willing himself to stay focused, but the motion sent a shooting pain through his skull.

He held back a groan, reaching up to grasp his forehead.

"We have to get him to St Mungo's right away." Lily's voice sounded far away but it didn't conceal the urgency in her tone; "I can't be sure but…there's traces of a curse or –"

Another pain shot through him, more intense and searing, seemingly from his head down to his toes and Sirius couldn't hold back the groan this time; long and low.

"Sirius?" Lily's hand was on his arm, tearing his hand from his face, and the brightness of the lights made him flinch. He caught sight of her wand in front of him; "Harry, when did Sirius come here?"

"Only just now."

Their voices were fading away, drifting. Or he was drifting, he wasn't sure. But, suddenly, his chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe.

"Harry, help…on the floor…quickly…"

Their voices died away, his vision following suit and Sirius felt himself being pulled from the chair; felt the sensation of falling, falling, weightlessness before it all gave way to nothingness.

The curse was rare.

Rare and powerful.

Something Severus had never seen before.

He had read about it; this magic. He had studied over books, furiously, as an adolescent at Hogwarts. When he had been young, curious and eager to learn all he could about the Dark Arts.

It was Blood Magic.

Dangerous. Powerful. Forbidden.

As such, much of the texts had been destroyed or censored, particularly in the aftermath of the war when the Ministry considered barring any and all access to the Dark Arts to be of upmost importance.

Foolishness.

Severus could not believe the complete lack of logic of it all; how were people supposed to fight Dark magic if they had no idea how it worked, where it came from, even what it was they were fighting at all.

Severus could not identify the curse.

He had had some volumes of his own, several that he had gathered up in his youth, that he had managed to conceal from the Ministry during the mass collection and burning of books. Unfortunately, all those had been lost in the house fire the previous year.

So Severus had nothing.

The restricted section in Hogwarts had turned up nothing.

Perhaps if he could get his hands on the artefact, the source of the curse, then he could study it himself. Perhaps then he could identify the components and figure out what curse had been enacted. But the aurors had whisked the offending article away and refused to allow him to even see it.

He needed it.

Severus was almost certain that this curse was something new.

A new curse that had been invented.

But by whom, Severus could not understand.

It was Dark magic and those who had been protesting Regulus' guilt, those who had demanded justice for his crimes, they were surely on the side of light magic. How could they even know how to perform such a ritual.

And yet, it made even less sense that Death Eaters would target Regulus in this way.

Especially now, when the Dark Lord's return was so close. If anything, even if Death Eaters suspected his disloyalty, they would want to keep him around if only to bear the brunt of the Dark Lord's certain fury when he was to resurface.

Regulus would be offered up as a traitor and that would take away the attention from their own shortcomings; the fact that the majority of them, all of them, had simply carried on with their lives and allowed his cause, his proselytization to simply die with their Master.

Oh yes, he was going to be livid.

That was something that did make sense; Death Eaters surfacing and showing face now that the mark had returned.

But attacking a fellow Death Eater was not showing face.

Nor did depriving their Lord of his rightful retaliation.

But, for now, it did no good for him to dwell on the 'who' and 'why'. Only the 'what' mattered.

Severus would find the perpetrator; the intent to find him having soared high up on his current list of priorities.

They would pay.

Until then, he had to focus; figure out what this thing was that had succeeded in latching onto Regulus. That had bound to his blood; grown and spread within his veins and that the Healers and Severus, together, had only barely managed to suppress.

What they knew was that it was Blood Magic; bound, triggered and targeted by Black blood.

Andromeda Tonks had activated the curse in his office.

Regulus had been close enough for it to bind to him.

How had the perpetrator possibly managed to get their hands on the family's blood?

Malachi and Sirius Black had both been in the building; both had been affected though to a far lesser degree. They suffered only from the lingering exposure to the spell but it had not bound to them. Both had regained consciousness within twenty-four hours.

Lucius had sent Narcissa and Draco to relatives in Europe when he learned of it.

"Severus?"

Severus turned from where he stood at Regulus' bedside at the sound of the timid voice at the door.

Malachi stood there, dressed in a gown, peering fearfully at his father where he lay on the bed. Regulus was pale, beads of sweat apparent on his skin, and the sickliness of his complexion was contrasted by the blue of his lips and his eyelids.

Severus cleared his throat, turning away from Regulus and going to Malachi, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder; "It is best you don't see your father this way."

Malachi kept his eyes on the other man regardless, even as he addressed him. His voice was quiet, afraid; "My mum died here."

Severus felt his stomach knot at the statement. He knelt in front of him; "Malachi." He waited until their eyes met; "You mustn't think that way." When Malachi looked away Severus placed his hands on his arms, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner; "I will learn what is causing this."

Malachi's face crumbled and, to Severus' astonishment and complete discomfort, the boy pressed into him and burst into tears.

Severus froze, uncertain what to do.

He cleared his throat and awkwardly patted Malachi's back. Should he say 'there, there' or 'it will be alright' or 'I am here' like in those sappy muggle films Lily had made them watch when they were children?

All options seemed ludicrous.

He chose silence.

Allowed the boy to simply weep.

It was some time later that Lily had come across him, still in Regulus' room. Still studying furiously over the limited texts he had managed to procure, while Malachi lay curled up asleep as his father's side.

She cleared her throat from where she stood at the door, drawing his attention from the pages.

Lily bit her lip, arms crossed as she glanced in Regulus' direction; "How is he?"

Severus shook his head; "No change."

Lily nodded, her eyes still on Regulus; "Sirius said if there's anything he can do – if he needs blood or anything."

Severus only pursed his lips. Though he made a mental note of the offer; the need to save Regulus life prevailed over his animosity with Black.

The two were silent for a moment.

"Do you know what it is?"

Severus put the book aside and stood, making his way over to her; "Not the specifics. It was a curse, I'm sure you're aware?"

"Yes. I could sense it when I was checking over Malachi."

"Blood magic," Severus stated, bluntly; "Created for a specific target. In this case, it seems they were unable to secure Regulus' own blood so they supplemented it with the blood of a Black and created a more...wide-ranging target."

"All of them?"

"Any within the vicinity when it was enacted, yes."

After a moment he added; "Black and Malachi were very lucky. Had they been any closer they would have suffered the same fate."

Lily looked over at them, at Regulus and Malachi where they lay in the bed, before back at him; "Have they found any suspects?"

"None as yet."

"It was the same people as before; those responsible for Malachi's mother."

"I believe so. Though I am bewildered by their ability to cast such a spell; I have yet to even find record of this particular pattern."

It was new, Severus was sure of it. And he was more than a little troubled by how specific the application appeared to be. At how determined those responsible were that Regulus perish, willing to allow others to die in the ensuing destruction so long as the man was killed or cursed or whatever else this magic was yet to do to him.

These people claimed to want justice, to want him to rot and die for being a Death Eater but these people must have known that innocents would also die. That those within in the Foundation walls, those who benefited from what Regulus had done when creating the place, were just like them.

Those who had loved and lost and who were now trying to find their way again in the world, having fought on the side of Dumbledore during the war.

They knew these people would perish alongside him.

Andromeda Tonks was such a person. She had assisted the Order during the war. The light.

"If it would help –" Lily said, breaking him from his thoughts; "We could take Malachi home with us. To give you time…"

Severus met her eyes.

Send the boy home with Sirius Black.

Regulus would not be thrilled by the concept.

And yet, Lily was right. He needed time to focus; to figure out what this thing was before the suppressants became ineffective and the curse spread further.

Regulus Black's survival trumped his hatred of Sirius Black.

Severus swallowed, giving her a nod; "I would be grateful if you could."

Lily gave him a small smile.

He did need time, just as she said.

To figure this out; to break the curse; to save Regulus' life.

However, there was a chill within him, something that told him, yes, time is what he needed. Time was what Regulus needed right now but not for Severus to find a cure. Not for him to stop it.

Without the necessary information, that was impossible.

Regulus needed to survive long enough. Long enough until the event they both had most dreaded for the past several months came to pass.

If those who had created the curse had wanted Regulus dead so badly, Severus had little doubt that no counter-curse had ever been formed.

And without knowing the components, the incantations, the exact science of it all which Severus did not, could not unless he was willing to lift the components he was using to hold it back; Severus could do nothing to fashion one himself.

And only Dark magic stronger than what had created the curse could then lift it.

Severus was not so powerful. He couldn't tap into magic of that strength; it would simply kill him before he had even a slither of the amount needed to save Regulus' life.

No.

He was fairly certain that unless he could discover the precise details of what had happened here, unless by some miracle he could uncover it:

The only person who could lift the curse was the Dark Lord.

Death Eaters retaliated three days later; an attack in Hogsmeade that killed four.

The Foundation shut down.

Flowers lay scattered in the ruins of the East Wing.

The Wizarding World was in uproar.

It was just as it had been before and the Dark Lord hadn't even risen yet.

Darkness was falling and order was crumbling.

Andromeda Tonks' funeral was a week later, on a wet August afternoon and the building was swollen with the numbers of people there paying their respects, so many that they poured out into the grassy field outside; filling the area with ease.

Voices were murmured; tears came easy and frequent; someone stood on a boulder outside and spoke of her; others followed suit as tribute was paid to the woman who had co-founded the Foundation.

The woman who had helped restore hope and meaning to the lives of those so destroyed.

They spoke for hours until the sunset and then the last speaker lit the end of her wand and held it skywards and those in the crowd that had swelled when the building emptied out into the field held up theirs, a sea of light held up in tribute.

And with heavy hearts, the crowd dispelled and people began to speak amongst themselves and share their grief.

"Severus."

He had planned to slip away, not wanting to speak with anyone. He had to come; he had cared for Andromeda. Had respected her as a colleague and a relation of Regulus, had admired her strength and her quiet resolve in her own principles. He had considered her a friend.

But he did not want to speak with those others who had come to mourn her.

For Severus, grief was private.

He gave the person who had spoken a nod; "Cornelia."

Heart gave him a compassionate smile; "How are you doing? How's the boss?"

"There has been no change."

Her expression sunk somewhat, bordering on grief, as if he had just stated outright that Regulus was doomed to die. He drew in a breath; "If you would excuse me."

He made to step past her.

"I wondered if you'd heard?"

Severus paused, glancing at her curiously, a slight frown on his brow; "Heard what?"

Heart looked hesitant, glancing around; "I only just found out tonight. The aurors have identified who signed off the paperwork allowing the artefact into the Foundation."

Severus straightened to attention, quickly picking up on her reluctance; "Who?"

She swallowed, averting her eyes for a second, before meeting his again; "Eugene."

The revelation hit him like a bludger to the stomach.

"There must be some mistake."

Heart lowered her eyes and Severus went on; putting voice to the fact that that was simply impossible.

"Eugene has been with us since the Foundation was founded. He has always been one of Regulus' closest allies." One of my closest allies. A friend.

Heart drew in a breath; "He lost people." He met her eyes, his own having been darting around the crowd as he tried to digest what she had just told him; "During the war. His daughter and two granddaughters. They were murdered."

Severus stared at her.

"By Death Eaters," she added, needlessly.

Hearing no more, Severus stepped away from her without a dismissal, everything suddenly clicking into place.

Eugene Hopkins had approached Regulus and Andromeda in the Summer of 1982, mere weeks after the Aurelius Foundation opened its doors. It had been small then; only the two of them with Severus offering help when he could. He had spent most of that year in Italy when Dumbledore had granted him the time away.

Eugene Hopkins was renowned for his work, previously one of the best Healers in the Wizarding World. Had become one of the top researchers in maladies of the mind. Was connected with influential figures across the globe. Regulus and Andromeda could hardly believe their luck when he had offered them his services; his connections.

He had been accepted into the Foundation with open arms and when Severus had returned in the fall, in time for the commencement of the new term at Hogwarts, the four of them had built the Foundation up from the ground.

He had been one of them; an ally; a friend.

Other things suddenly swam into Severus' mind. Eugene's mentioning of Evelyn at a Foundation function, mere days before her death. How he had noticed her with Regulus.

He remembered Eugene's interest in Lily. How he would always watch them together; grinning and offering unsolicited encouragement to pursue her. Outright implications that she meant more to Severus, that she was important to him.

Things Severus had denied.

Eugene had applied for a leave of absence only days before the attack.

He had fled.

Years of patience finally coming to fruition.

Severus burst into Eugene's office, the remains of it, having apparated to the Foundation as his thoughts began to connect the dots.

It was perfect. Eugene's execution of revenge was flawless.

Gain their trust. Become one of them. Build them up. Observe them. Watch them. Figure out what would hurt them the most.

Take the people they loved.

Evelyn. Malachi.

To outside eyes, Severus had kept Lily at distance, kept his true feelings a secret; thank Merlin.

But did Eugene know what Severus was? What he had been?

He may have suspected, as others surely had, but he had not yet come under the same scrutiny; his previous place in the world as an insignificant, less-than-impressive half-blood drawing little interest from anyone. And he had gone to Italy in the aftermath, the time Dumbledore granted him away giving him the chance to change that; to return as someone else entirely.

By then, the witch hunts, so to speak, were done and dealt with. The trials were over. Dumbledore had put to rest any suspicions that came up and Severus was not even called upon.

Severus pushed aside the rubble, not entirely sure what it was he was seeking, but needing answers. Needing proof.

He found it quickly; a broken frame with a picture inside, lying on the ground.

The moving image wasn't even unfamiliar; Severus had seen it every time he had entered this office for the past five years.

The blonde haired woman and her two young children. They smiled at him; they waved.

Suddenly, Severus felt sick. He pulled the picture from the frame, turning it over. And, on the back, one word was written:

Soon.

The rage and betrayal mixed with something else then, as he turned it back over, looked back at the faces of the three whom Eugene had lost.

The victims.

Severus felt a swell of the same emotions he knew Regulus held onto every day, those he refused to let go of, emotions that Severus had fought away, suppressed with the use of occlumency, as something in his mind hissed; you deserve this.

He should be lying in St Mungo's.

Severus tried to push the thought away; focus on the betrayal.

All this time, Eugene had been watching them. Waiting.

A snake in the grass.

Like you.

The thought hit him hard; a battle on two fronts.

On the side of the light, he was betrayed. He had defected to them. He fought for them now. But, yes, he had killed them first. He had been the enemy.

He had been a Death Eater. He deserved their hatred, their scorn and their revenge.

And then the other, the side of the darkness. The side he had turned from but with whom he would soon have to submerge himself. People who trusted him. Lucius came to mind. A friend. People to whom he had pledged himself when he had been a stupid, angry child.

People who he would soon be watching. Waiting until the right moment. Waiting to betray.

Just like Eugene.

Because he had loved and almost lost.

Severus understood but he hated him; for the betrayal and for the fact that his best friend was lying in a hospital bed, death lingering nearby.

And Severus hated him for the release of the hold he had kept so tight over himself for the past six years; for bringing it back. It was necessary, he had always told himself, it had to be done. For Lily. For Lily. And then, later, that this was what was right; even when Lily was saved, spared, the path was clear. Dumbledore. The Light. The Light.

But the reminder of what he once was, what he had become, a traitor himself came hard and fast. A traitor to them all.

To the Light; to the Dark.

Regulus drowned himself in this.

So could he.

Past mistakes that could not be accounted for; mistakes made in his youth that had gotten people killed. That had destroyed lives. Such things could not be pardoned.

There was no escape. Nothing was enough to atone for it. Nothing could be done to erase it.

Self-loathing swelled within him.

His stomach churned and he retched onto the cold, hard stone of the ground.