Chapter Twenty-Six

The Dark Lord was livid.

Only minutes had he returned before all his plans had unravelled. His desire to eliminate the child which posed a threat – a rare chance finally offered, after months of waiting for the most protected child in the Wizard World to be so exposed and captured – all coming to nothing, due to the incompetence of one of his own, no less.

And, to top it all off, the entire ordeal had led not only to the boy's evasion once more, but also to the Dark Lord's exposure, himself, to the bloody damn Ministry of Magic!

It was a disaster of epic proportions, a failure, and they all felt the brunt of it, even if the blame had been laid entirely at a dead man's feet; Rodolphus Lestrange.

Severus shuddered where he sat, the lingering effects of the Cruciatus making it difficult to remain still, even a day later. He had suffered, just as the rest of them, but, thus far, had received no special attention from his old Master.

Until now.

Lucius, pale and with a slight tremor, himself, had come to him some time before to inform him of it; that the Dark Lord wishes an audience with him, within the hour, and to prepare himself for the interrogation.

Those were not Lucius' exact words, of course, but Severus knew well enough what it was and, with the Dark Lord now in an utterly foul mood, he was quite certain the whole thing would prove to simply be an outlet for that fury, regardless of Severus' attempts at convincing him of his loyalty, believed or not.

Before long, he was stood before him, the first time alone together in the six years since he had fallen.

"Ah. Severus," the Dark Lord said by way of greeting, once Severus had completed the customary kiss of the hem and a kneel.

"My Lord."

"You have certainly done well for yourself, my artful friend."

Severus inclined his head; "Thank you, my Lord. Whatever I must to best serve our interests."

There was a low grumble, almost laughter, as close as it could be; "Our interests, you say."

There was scepticism, but Severus was prepared for that, holding his resolve; "As ever, my Lord."

The Dark Lord regarded him, closely, seeming to weigh him up, as if he weren't entirely convinced either way what he believed yet – thank Merlin for that – before he spoke, in a considering manner; "I must say this simpering is no longer quite so fitting as it once was of you, Severus. You are no longer the eager boy who stood before me, oh-so-keen and willing to kneel."

Severus lowered his head further, in submission; "My Lord, I am as devoted as ever. If not, more so. Living amongst them, lying in wait, it has been trying, to say the least. But it shall prove worth it, in the end, to have gained Dumbledore's trust and the place by his side that I now offer up to your disposal."

The Dark Lord touched a finger to Severus' chin - startling him that he only just managed to stop himself from flinching - and tilted his head upwards so that Severus' eyes met those cold, red slits that were his master's.

"And how about our dear-soft-Regulus, Severus?" he looked at him, carefully, and Severus could feel that lightest flutter of legilliemency and carefully reigned in his barriers; "A traitor, the most offensive of all traitors, who lives and sneers at me behind the walls of his Foundation; you dare align yourself with him once more?"

"My Lord –"

"Crucio!"

The pain was so sudden, so unexpected in that particular moment – though it shouldn't have been! – that Severus couldn't help but cry out, the already Cruciatus-wracked joints and bones and muscles of his body utterly unable to handle it, as he writhed on the ground at his master's feet.

It stopped as abruptly as it started.

Severus felt his breathing coming in pants, as his eyes refocused on the Dark Lord still above him, who simply regarded him as if nothing had even taken place.

Severus pushed himself back to his knees, careful not to look too weak and pathetic as he did so, even if he shuddered under the strain of just moving.

"My Lord," he began, inwardly pleased that his voice still came out with conviction, despite the tremor of his limbs; "I do not align myself with him. Upon learning of your imminent revival, I sought to place myself in the most profitable position available to us; with my role as spy so secured within Dumbledore's ranks, it is only reasonable that I should use that to branch out further. It was not difficult to do so, considering my history with the man."

"Your very close history, Severus."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus conceded, humbly; "There was a friendship."

"The dearest of friends," the Dark Lord sneered; "Cast aside so easily by yourself, Severus."

"A traitor, as you said, to us all. To me. It is unforgivable, my Lord. No sooner could a place within my esteem be lost than by a demonstration of such faithlessness."

"Ah, but Severus, even a man as controlled as yourself is not immune to humanity's burdens; faith, hope, love."

It was sneered, with disdain, as he eyed him.

Severus didn't rise to it, uncertain if the Dark Lord was making jibes at his relationship with Regulus or if it was harking back to his previous desperation as he had pleaded for the life of Lily, another weakness he had so exposed to the dark wizard years before.

Most likely it was both.

"I can only stress the previous assertions that I gave when his deception was first revealed to us, some years ago. I admit that it was…dispiriting to learn of it and I sought to maintain my distance in the aftermath. But now, I see that there is more that can be done with it, if only I cast aside such pitiful deficiency as arises when one allows themselves to be subservient to their emotions. It is a foolish man's weakness."

The Dark Lord eyed him, closely, as Severus went on.

"My previous connection to him has proved beneficial; it was easily to convince him that I could be trusted. My position at Dumbledore's side only fortified this to him. Eyes within the walls of the Foundation, where so many high-ranking members of the Wizard World have connections, it can only be of value to us, my Lord. I will see to that."

There was silence.

And then the Dark Lord's mouth twitched, a twisted smile as his eyes widened; "There really is no end to your wiliness, Severus. It is a lonely life, is it not, when every relationship must be weighed by their value to you."

Severus wasn't sure if he was joking.

"My Lord –"

"I would have it no other way."

Severus pursed his lips together, saying nothing further, and simply waited, as the Dark Lord looked thoughtful, still considering the explanations, the words.

And then the eyes looked at him more closely, voice low; "Look at me."

Severus did so, right at him, without hesitation.

Within a second, his mind was invaded with a legilliemency attack more powerful than any that he had ever experienced that he cried out, once more, and he almost faltered, in that moment, and wondered and, perhaps, even, doubted himself; that he would be able to keep every deep dark secret that dwelled within it from the eyes of the Dark Lord before him.

Severus prayed, with all that was within him, that he could.

"Did you see him?"

Lily shook her head; "No. Just Harry."

Her eyes were not on him, rather gazing thoughtfully at nothing, as if she still hadn't made sense of all that her son had told her. Regulus figured it was rather a bit much, all that had happened, but he was glad to hear it; that Severus was just fine.

Though, to be honest, he never really doubted he would be.

"Well. Severus triumphs again! Though he obviously would."

Lily met his eyes at that, giving him a smile; "It's good that someone was so sure of it."

"Come on, it's Severus," Regulus said, by means of explanation, with a roll of the eyes; "He could smooth talk his way out of anything. This is a good thing. He needs to be there."

"I know."

Lily didn't sound all that convinced, even though he knew she was aware it was the truth. Regulus didn't envy her, having to sit back and wonder if the man she loved would be coming home this time, every time he left her side.

Regulus attempted to be reassuring; "He won't be there long, in any case, Hogwarts is back in session in a couple of weeks," which reminded him of other, less than pleasant developments that had arisen with regards to his son; "Thankfully. The sooner we get our boys back to that place, the better."

He said it but didn't feel it. Sure, Malachi was safe while he was at Hogwarts physically; but there were dangers just a rife, just as sinister, that lurked within those walls, those bloody dungeons, Regulus knew that all too well.

"What about the security measures here?" Lily asked, entirely unaware of his turn of thought; "With Harry back safe with us, Voldemort's going to start looking elsewhere."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, regarding her across the desk, and said, mildly; "You mean towards my demise? Well, I wouldn't worry about that, Dumbledore kindly enacted the same enchantments upon this place as those which guard Hogwarts. Grace will be quite safe here."

Lily got a smile at the direct mention; "Did she have you run riot?"

Regulus grinned and shook his head.

"On the contrary, she's the one who became fed up of me after a time," they chuckled, before he went on; "She's like him, you know. Severus."

Lily's expression warmed, immediately, at the connection.

"I thought I was the only one who noticed."

"Lily, it's very obvious."

That wasn't exactly a good thing, both of them knew that, but Lily didn't seem concerned by his observation. She just shrugged.

"To you. Not to anyone else."

"Hm." Regulus wasn't convinced. That look, the piercing stare, the curious questions; it was endearing, obviously, and Regulus absolutely loved to have seen it. He had known Severus was Grace's father, obviously, but that was the first time he had really seen it and it was quite disarming, in a way, to see his best friend reflected so much in the little girl.

But other than endearing, it was also unnervingly dangerous. There were others in the ranks who knew Severus, not as well as he did, no, but some could notice, some would recognise the expression of annoyance, at the very least.

Lucius, for starts.

Regulus pushed aside the thought because pointing all this out to Lily would only cause unnecessary worry and, frankly, that really wasn't what he and Lily did. Maybe, he'd mention it to Severus, but even that seemed rather unproductive. Severus would have considered all of this.

"Did you see the boys off?" Regulus changed the subject, as his thoughts turned in the direction of his own son, who had been whisked off to muggle London with Lily's werewolf friend.

"They're in the Research Centre," Lily stated, to his surprise.

"Oh. I thought Lupin was taking them for the day?"

Lily got a smile; "Harry said they were being joined by a girl, so they decided to just stay put."

"A girl?" Regulus felt himself becoming uneasy, rather certain who this mysterious 'girl' was.

"Greengrass, I think," Lily said, innocently, confirming his dreaded suspicions; "I remember the name, vaguely, from school."

"Ah. I can't believe they're at that age already."

"I know," Lily's smile widened; "Teenagers."

Regulus only smiled but it was forced because the last person he wanted his boy fooling around with was the daughter of Elijah-bloody-Greengrass; hell, what if he got the girl pregnant or something, he'd end up linked to the bastard for life.

Regulus quashed the ridiculous thought, reminding himself that Malachi was only thirteen, and wouldn't – or damn well better not be – thinking about sex. Though he supposed he better have a word about it, anyway, as he wasn't much older when he started thinking about it.

Lily stood when the silence dragged, stating her intention to return to the Lab, and he nodded, giving her a smile; "Thanks for letting me in on it, anyway."

"Well. I know men like to put up a tough front and all, but I know you and Severus have a bit of a soft spot for one another."

Regulus chuckled, inclining his head in admittance, and she smiled widely, before turning to leave, leaving him with his thoughts.

He had the brief, irrational idea to head on down to the Research Centre and offer to take Malachi away for the day, himself, now that the plans with Lupin had fallen through. He quickly dismissed it. It wasn't like he could stop his son spending time with her, if he had truly taken a fancy to the girl, not without telling him why he didn't want him near her.

But then, the dozen or so Oracle Bulletin journals that had laid scattered at his feet the day before made him wonder if that was necessary and so, getting to his feet and striding from the room, Regulus uttered an excuse to his secretary that he was stepping out for a while.

Within minutes, Regulus was at home.

He really shouldn't do this.

Regulus didn't want to be one of those parents.

The ones who snooped in their children's private bedrooms and stuck their noses in their business and imposed their own opinions on their impressionable minds, under the guise that they 'knew better' and it 'was for their own good'.

But this was.

It damn well was for Malachi's own good.

The better, although far-from-great, explanation for all of this was that his son just wanted to learn more about him, his father, and what he had been and done, and that was why he was reading his articles and associating with the child of his now-despised-high school-best-friend.

The much more worrisome explanation was that Malachi, himself, was following the same path.

Regulus couldn't not intervene, if that was the case.

With a reluctant sigh, he headed in the direction of Malachi's room, not hesitating or stopping in his steps, lest he develop a conscience and stop himself; he walked into it, with purpose, eyes immediately scanning the incredibly-tidy, for a thirteen-year old's, room, and saw nothing suspicious whatsoever. His son didn't even hang his House colours or banners on the walls, as most Hogwarts students did.

Regulus lifted his wand, uttering an incantation to reveal that which was hidden, and it did.

A hiding place; under the mattress of his son's bed.

Regulus drew in a breath, bracing himself, and walked towards it, reaching beneath the mattress, tugging out the hidden items beneath it.

"A spy?" Malachi repeated, dumbly.

"Yeah," Harry said, whisperingly, with a quick glance in the direction of the door, lest Daphne came back; "I mean, I guess it makes sense. We did think Snape was one of them, right?"

"Well, I guess. But that doesn't make him a spy. My dad isn't one," Malachi stated, though maybe that wasn't true. There was so much about his dad he didn't know.

Malachi went on; "Maybe he only helped you because you're…well, you."

"Me?"

"Well, he likes you, don't you think?"

"No," Harry denied it, immediately; "If anything he'd be glad to be rid of me."

Malachi fought a grin; "That's just Severus, Harry. He's a real stiff-upper lip. He's like that with me, too."

"He chopped someone's hand off!" Harry hissed, quietly, repeating the aspect of the ritual that seemed to bother him the most; "He's…I mean, I always thought he was scary but not that scary."

Malachi fought back chuckles; "Are you worried he's going to chop you up and throw you in a potion if you annoy him, now?"

"This isn't funny, Malachi!"

Malachi burst into snickers.

"Don't you find this crazy?" Harry went on, raising his voice only slightly to be heard over Malachi's amusement; "He's a teacher. He's your Godfather. He's a Death Eater!"

"Harry, you didn't care that my dad was a Death Eater."

"Your dad isn't performing crazy-ass rituals to revive bloody Voldemort though, is he," Harry growled, looking agitated.

"If Severus is there I doubt he has a choice."

"He could have just killed him or something. Why bring him back at all?"

"What, you think Snape's evil now?" Malachi asked, looking at Harry, carefully.

Harry was upset, seemingly more about Snape being involved, rather than just the fact he'd had his own blood thrown into the potion and that their worst nightmare had finally been brought back to life.

"No. I…I don't know. I mean, I know he's on our side. But…"

But; Severus was more complicated than he or, even Malachi who knew him, could have imagined, even in their silliest of imaginations. Harry seemed to want to know everything about him, all of a sudden, all of the secrets which no way would Severus reveal. He probably didn't even want Harry to know this.

"Maybe it's better not knowing everything," Malachi remarked, thinking of what he now knew about his dad, and he wondered if it would be better not to know his own father had been a Death Eater.

Harry shifted, agitatedly, but nothing more could be said because Daphne came back into the room then and sat down beside them.

"What are you two gossiping about?" she asked, when they immediately fell silent.

"Nothing," Harry said, immediately, looking annoyed at her presence but he quickly smothered it. He had scowled at Malachi when he'd told him Daphne was coming, that she'd invited herself to the occasion, and accused him of inviting her himself.

He hadn't!

If anything, he'd rather not see Daphne, especially not around Harry, now that his friend was convinced he actually liked her in a way more than a friend would. It was embarrassing.

"Did you get a chance to read those journals?" Daphne asked him, crossing her legs and putting down the pumpkin pasties she had gone to get them on the floor between them.

Harry reached over, lifting his and tucking in, already looking bored with the turn of conversation.

"The Witch Trial ones? Yeah," Malachi nodded.

The more Malachi read about the Statute of Secrecy, the history that had brought it about, the more he wanted to know. There was so much he didn't know, it was crazy, and after spending the summer learning everything that he could get his hands upon – usually with Daphne's help – it was so obvious to him why his dad had joined Voldemort in the first place.

If Voldemort offered to abolish the Statute, and it wasn't advertised that he was actually an insane mass-murderer at the time, then who wouldn't be on board with all that such a world promised.

The Wizarding World finally free from its current situation; forced to conceal its very existence from people, muggles, who were so ignorant of the value of magic, so fearful of it, that they would kill them or lock them up or, even, dissect them to try and learn the secret of it to take it for themselves.

And, because of that, they had to hide; to protect their own lives.

Malachi struggled to see how that was any different to his own, personal circumstances, having to keep his own home concealed, unable to breathe a word of its location – literally, because of the Fidelius – to avoid being killed by Death Eaters and Voldemort, himself.

Everyone having to hide.

Malachi was so sick of hiding.

A knock sounded on the door to the room, before the runner, Shaw, popped his head around it, eyes quickly settling on him; "Mr Black. Your father asks that you come to his office."

"What, now?"

"Immediately, he said."

Malachi frowned, getting to his feet, though his frown became a grin when he noticed the annoyed look Harry shot his way when he realised he was leaving him with Daphne. Malachi gave an innocent shrug, his grin only widening as he did so, before he headed from the Research Centre and down towards his dad's office.

He was there within a few minutes and within seconds of walking through the door, he wished he hadn't. His eyes quickly fell upon everything he had been reading, all he had kept hidden from his father all these months; the Oracle Bulletin journals, Daily Prophet articles, the letter he had torn from its pages with his dad's words at fourteen years old, journals of Elijah Greengrass that detailed the various minutes of their Club meetings, old moving photographs of him and his father together, books about the Statute, about Grindelwald, about the Witch Trials.

It was all there, lying on his father's desk, and said father was sitting in the chair opposite, staring at him with an entirely unreadable expression.

He noticed his dad looked a little paler than usual when he spoke, immediately, after Malachi pulled the door shut behind him; "What is all of this?"

Malachi glowered at the items, not meeting his dad's eyes; "You went into my room?"

"Yes."

Malachi looked at him at the bluntness, feeling his own irritation rise; "Wha…why? Dad, you can't…there's such a thing as privacy, you know!"

"Why?" his dad was on his feet, the unreadable expression suddenly becoming very-readable, furious, even; "You're asking me why? As if all of this –" he jabbed a finger at the scattered pile of journals; "-isn't reason enough?"

"Well, you wouldn't have found it if you hadn't been looking for something," Malachi said, furious in turn, that his dad not only went into his room snooping but that he was also being such a bloody hypocrite about the whole thing. The whole reason Malachi found out about all of this in the first place was because of his dad!

"This is exactly what I was looking for, Son. I told you last Easter, if you had any questions about any of this stuff, you come to me."

Malachi rolled his eyes, looking away; "Like you'd tell me."

"Have I lied to you so far?"

Malachi met his eyes, reluctantly grounding out the answer; "No. Only because I hadn't asked, though. It's not like it's a normal question, is it?"

"Well what do you want to know, then?" his dad lifted a hand, a dramatic gesture to go on, that only irritated Malachi further.

"Nothing. I figured it out for myself. Why you joined them."

"I already told you why."

"Now I get it. Really get it."

His dad shook his head, looking confused and frowning when he did; "What do you mean you 'really' get it; get what? Don't tell me you -"

"It makes so much sense," Malachi stated, figuring there was no point in hiding or denying anything now – his dad would never let up after finding all of this – so he just said it flat out; "We'd be better off if the Statute were gone."

His dad simply stared at him at the statement, seemingly struck dumb by it.

"Malachi –" the fury, the conviction in his dad's voice was suddenly gone, replaced by something that could only be described as brokenness, but there was no going back now.

"What?" Malachi said, though his own tone softened in turn, and he indicated at the Bulletins; "You're the one that wrote all this stuff."

"When I was a boy," his dad ground out, flexing his jaw; "An idiot."

"I don't think you were an idiot. I think you were really smart."

"Well I wasn't!" his dad snapped, eyes flashing furiously once more; "I was spouting out the utter rubbish that my parents imposed on me as a child – the very things I have made sure not to impose upon you."

"It's not rubbish, Dad," Malachi said, far more calmly than his dad was making his arguments; "The Ministry, the Statute, all the crazy laws. It's stifling magic, it'll ruin it soon enough. It's oppressive, it's isolationist, it's wrong!"

"Malachi –" his dad's voice was quiet again, eyebrows drawn together in a distressed frown.

"What, Dad?" Malachi persisted; "You don't believe this anymore? That it's wrong that we have to hide from them? That'd they'd round us up, start killing us again if they knew what we really were?"

"Listen –"

"The only reason they're not killing us is because they don't know."

"That's not –"

"Why should we have to change the way we live for them? Why should we be the ones hiding like cowards? They're the ones that are afraid of us!"

"Just stop."

"And how is this any different from what the Death Eaters are doing to us? To you and me? Making us hide away all the time! They want to kill us to keep us quiet, to keep anyone who threatens them under control. It's the same thing, something we have to fight against."

"No. No. No!" his dad was around the desk in seconds, suddenly right in front of him; "I won't hear this, Malachi, I won't!"

"Why not?" Malachi looked straight back at him, right into his dad's eyes with all the conviction he felt; "Isn't it the truth?"

His dad grabbed a handful of the first things that came to hand, Bulletin journals and Prophet pages scrunched up in his fist that he waved in front of him, between them; "This is nothing. These are just words, platitudes, complete and utter fantasy! There is no way this life could ever be had without chaos and bloodshed."

He threw them back to the desk as he turned away furiously, almost beginning a pace, making the items scatter and things fall to the floor, even as Malachi went on.

"Well maybe that's just how it has to be," Malachi shrugged, that was war, after all; "It's not great, obviously, but anything worth having is worth fighting for, right?"

"Would you listen to yourself!" his dad rounded on him and was, suddenly, right in his face, eyes wild, almost demented in a way that almost made Malachi lose his nerve; "Do you know who you sound like?"

"I'm not stupid, Dad," Malachi bit back, annoyed that his dad had gone from accusing him of being a Statute opposer to Voldemort supporter in the blink of an eye; "I'm not going to turn into some crazy-ass murderer over it!"

"Damn right you're bloody not!" his dad growled.

"You were willing to fight for this," Malachi indicated at the desk, at everything on it; "You believed it all, I know you did. Look at all this stuff! What, suddenly you turn your back on everything you believe in; all your principles?"

His dad stared at him for a second, seeming dumbstruck by the words. Then he straightened, leaning back from him, releasing a low sound, a humourless laugh as he shook his head, in seeming disbelief.

"Don't talk to me about principles, Son. Not when it comes to this," his dad's eyes were dark, haunted – it was frightening to see, the sudden openness, the anguish that Malachi had never, ever been allowed to glimpse.

His dad went on, speaking lowly; "There is no honour in the persecution and slaughter of people whose condition of birth makes them powerless against us. None. Protect the weak, it is the most basic code of humanity, don't you ever forget that. And for all the faults with the Statute, the injustice, the unfairness, the oppressiveness, it does that. It protects them. Because, hell, they need it."

Malachi could do nothing but stare back at him, feeling cowed by the look his father was giving him, the misery behind the eyes that should sparkle brightly at him, as they always did. It was like looking at an entirely different person. Someone Malachi didn't know.

"It only takes one person, Malachi; one. And no son of mine will ever bow down to him, not as long as I live."

Malachi swallowed, digesting the words, the look, the pain, his eyes going to the things that littered his dad's desk and he frowned when he caught sight of the article that he had shown to Harry a few weeks before; the incident that just kept cropping up.

He looked at his dad; "What happened at Anchor Ridge?"

His dad froze.

"What?" It came out hoarse.

Malachi looked at him, carefully; "Anchor Ridge."

His dad stared at him. For a second, all the anguish, all the grief, it was right there but it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, before it was gone and it was replaced with a look so cold that Malachi felt it chill him to the bone.

"Get out."

Malachi frowned, stunned at the reaction; "Dad –"

"Go."

Malachi held his dad's look for only a moment, it was all he possibly could beneath the utter iciness of his father's gaze, and he stepped away, averting his eyes, and he didn't look back at him as he hurried from the room.