Chapter Forty-Eight
Grace tossed the toys that came to hand over her shoulder, making a massive mess her mum would be really mad about when she came into her room, as she dug through her toy chest.
She couldn't find Harry's mirror anywhere!
"Grace, what are you doing?"
Grace kept looking, even though she could see the bottom of her toy box now and she was sure the mirror wasn't in it; "Mummy, have you seen my mirror?"
Her mum came into the room, gathering up some of the toys quickly in her arms and dumping them back into the box as she said; "Sweetheart, we have to go, the party will have already started."
"But I wanted to take my mirror, so I could say Happy New Year to Harry at midnight!"
"Where did you last have it?"
Grace couldn't remember. She had wanted to say good morning to Harry today but, when it wasn't on her bed stand, she thought she'd just left it downstairs and then she forgot to look again when Julia had come over to play for the afternoon.
It must have been the night before but, then, no, because if she'd said goodnight to Harry before bed it would have been in her room on the stand.
The Foundation, then, at the Fete?
Yes. It was at the Fete!
Grace was showing Harry all the things that the Phoenix Centre had put on for them. And then Mrs Malfoy had come over.
Grace opened her mouth, to tell her mum, but her mum spoke first.
"We'll look for it later, Grace. Come on, Julia's waiting."
"But Mummy –"
"Come on," her mum said with a smile, making a shooing motion with her hand and Grace sighed, shoulders dropping.
But, then, she knew where the mirror was now – it was at the Foundation! – and that's where they were going, anyway, so she'd be able to look for it then.
Grace took her mum's hand, as they hurried down the stairs to head off to the party.
"Here you go, Boss," a drink was handed Regulus' way across the bar.
He took it, tilting it in the barman's direction with a smile of thanks, as he glanced out over the festivities taking place.
The Ballroom was filled with chatter and laughter and hooting and hollers, as the band played on and the partygoers spilled on and off the dancefloor, living it up at the New Years' Fundraiser – that had gone ahead despite the clear threat that the event was under of imminent attack – and Regulus couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of self-satisfaction at how everything was turning out.
Everything was in place.
They could not be more ready for this, if the Dark Lord should make his move that night.
Severus had revealed the likely point of entry – a point which he had revealed to the Dark Lord himself – that was so far out of the way of where the festivities were going on, that the place would be totally cleared out before any damage at all could be done. Severus' loyalties and place in the Circle would be secured, what with him providing the valuable information – he could not be blamed that the evacuation procedures were so thoroughly effective, after all – and the Dark Lord would reveal himself to the world, for nothing, with zero casualties to boast of, turning up at a deserted Foundation and it almost made Regulus laugh, at how masterfully he and Severus had played it.
Regulus lifted his chin in greeting, when Severus approached; "How's it looking?"
"All in place. The floo is connected?"
"This afternoon; magically enchanted to activate when the alarm is triggered. They'll dispel any who walk through at various points throughout Hogsmeade."
"And the portkeys?"
Regulus nodded in the direction of the ledges that ran along the sides of all the walls; "The candlesticks."
"And the guests have been briefed?"
"I'm starting to think you haven't been paying attention, Severus."
Severus' lips twitched, and then he glanced at him, allowing a smile; a brief one, of course, but there all the same.
"I have finally had opportunity to relay the details of the circumstances to the Headmaster," he took the glass of firewhiskey that the barman held out to him, having noticed Severus' new presence at Regulus side, before taking a sip and nodding in the direction of the windows; "He has stationed Nymphadora Tonks and Lupin just beyond the boundaries – though I insisted the Security Personnel hired were sufficient – and the Order is ready to convene –" Severus hesitated, ever so slightly in his words, when Regulus noticed him spot Lily and Julia laughing and dancing at the far side of the room; "- should it prove necessary."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Regulus lifted his glass for a drink; "The incident at the Department of Mysteries not withstanding; it's been a good thirteen years since I've been involved in a duel. I don't quite like my chances."
Severus got a ghost of a smile at the remark; "The Order's involvement would prove too small a return, in exchange for pushing the Wizarding World into open warfare."
"And Crouch?"
"Still unaware. Though his Aurors are lined up ready for dispatch; as they have been for weeks. No doubt a number of Death Eaters will be subdued by the Ministry's initial response to the Foundation's defences being breached, prior to their departure; the best outcome we could hope for, under the circumstances."
"And the worst?"
"That the Ministry Aurors will show up to an empty Foundation. Nothing lost; nothing gained."
"Other than the Dark Lord's exposure."
"And his ire, of course."
Severus' eyes were still on Lily.
"Someone taken your fancy?"
Severus did not seem amused.
"I was not aware that she'd be here. Did she bring Grace?"
Regulus nodded, indicating in the direction of the Tonks Facility with a tip of his glass; "At the school. Though they'd have cleared out, by now, for their New Year's Slumber Party at the Farmstead."
"The Farmstead?" Severus repeated; "I thought the Facility had suspended operations for the holidays."
"It has. I had the keepers reconvene for the occasion."
Severus visibly relaxed at the information, the assurance that his daughter was not on the premises. Regulus' eyes sought out Malachi, who was happily chatting away to an older girl in the corner of the room. He rolled his eyes, snickering a little to himself.
"You have only yourself to blame for that," Severus remarked, drawing Regulus' attention back to him, and his friend was smirking as he glanced in the direction of his son.
Regulus lifted his shoulders, in an innocent gesture; "Can't imagine what you mean, Sev."
Severus' smirk became a grin and then his eyes caught something – or, rather, someone – to the side of him and he inclined his head – and Regulus realised he had noticed Julia approaching – before he began to make his departure; "Do not do anything foolish and hang about if our suspicions actually come to fruition."
"Believe me, I have no intention of that," Regulus stated, as Severus headed off to continue his scouting of the defences.
Regulus' smile brightened when Julia reached him; "Hello there."
"Mr Black."
She cast him a returning smile of her own, that he hadn't seen in over a week and he glanced around, carefully, aware of the need for discretion.
"You had me believe you were working this evening."
"On standby," Julia stated, lifting the glass of – what Regulus now realised was – pumpkin juice, as an indication of the fact that she wasn't drinking; "But you know me, I couldn't miss a party."
"Glad to hear it," Regulus said, leaning back against the bar.
Julia glanced in the direction of the dancefloor; "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"
Regulus chuckled; "You're joking."
"You'd know if I were joking, Black," Julia said, with a widening smile, before she raised an eyebrow; "I'm pretty familiar with your moves."
Regulus shook his head, still smiling but it was sincerely apologetic, now, rather than teasing; "I can't dance with you. Not here."
Julia tilted her head to the side; "We've danced here a hundred times before."
"The circumstances are a bit different, this time."
"Oh, I'm aware. That's why I should quite like to."
Regulus drew in a breath, looking at her with all of the affection her felt for her – which, frankly, was risky enough under the current circumstances – and shook his head, stepping towards to make his way by her.
"You know why I can't dance with you this time, Julia," he said, before leaned in closer, risking it for barely a second, his lips close to her ear when he added; "It's obvious."
Before heading into the crowd to join the party.
No one came at the sounds of his screams.
It took a minute for Harry to realise what had happened.
His throat was hoarse, and his head was spinning, and his heart was pounding, and his scar was on fire.
And Grace.
Harry scrambled to all fours where he had collapsed onto the floor, quickly crawling his way across the floor to his school bag and hauling it open. He rummaged in it, frantically, until he felt the cool hard surface of the mirror and yanked it out.
"Grace," he said, his voice rough and sounding nothing at all like himself; "Grace Potter."
Nothing.
"Grace Potter!" he repeated, feeling his stomach and his heart and his whole damn world bloody sinking as his calls went unanswered.
"Grace, please. Grace!"
Nothing but the reflection of his own, desperate face stared back at him.
Harry tossed it aside, onto the bed, and hurried from the dorm room.
Malachi's conversation – conversation, it wasn't flirting – with the pretty blond girl who had been giving him the come-hither eyes all eveninghad come to an abrupt end, when – out of nowhere – her boyfriend had shown up and had seemed pretty keen to teach Malachi a thing or two about moving in on another guy's girl.
Malachi had quickly taken off for his dad's office – for his own bloody protection, mind – shrugging away the concerned warnings from the Security Personnel that he passed, who insisted that he must remain in the Ballroom for the festivities, knowing full well that he was being tailed by his dad's assigned protector, anyway.
It was no great loss.
Malachi enjoyed parties usually in the initial few hours, but they started to drag on, by the end of them, and even the fact that this was New Years and the whole point was a big build up to the 'ultimate celebration' at midnight didn't really make him feel all that enticed to stay.
His dad had been living it up, of course, out on the dancefloor, talking with all the guests, paying particular attention to the women – Malachi had noticed Julia in the crowd, but she wasn't one of the ones who'd gathered his dad's attention, which seemed a bit weird to him – and he was amused, as always, by his dad's antics.
But, still, he was just as happily engaged by the book he'd plucked from his dad's bookshelf before he'd settled down on the on cushioned window seat at the far side of his dad's office.
Malachi didn't know how long he'd been in there, before the door to the office clicked open and Julia Bradbury walked inside.
She didn't notice him where he was sitting.
Malachi watched her, with a frown, wondering what it was she was doing there, in his father's office, without him.
He wasn't left wondering long.
The door opened once more, a minute or so later, and his dad slipped into the room; he didn't notice Malachi sitting in their either, his smile wide and his eyes all for the woman who had obviously been waiting for him.
"You summoned me?" Julia said, with a grin, as his dad enveloped her in his arms.
"Hm. That I did."
"And here was me thinking it was far too risky for you to be seen with me."
"Hence the new surroundings," his dad stated, his smile brighter than Malachi had ever seen it as he looked at her; "I have been careful to ensure that I've been paying attention to a vast number of female guests this night, so as not to draw any particular suspicion upon us if we are spotted together."
"So, I noticed."
"Ah," his dad practically purred, grinning; "Is that jealousy that I'm sensing, Miss Bradbury?"
"All these tactics and yet I still don't get a dance."
"I can dance with you here," his dad declared, before taking a hand of hers in his, his other on her lower back and giving her a dip with a flourish, making Julia laugh and Malachi fight a smirk.
"Oh, but I do so like the music, Mr Black."
"Ah, ah!" his dad lifted a finger, tapping her nose with it once and, when he did, music – obviously by magic – filled the air; "Is that more to your liking?"
It was a lively jig of a tune.
Malachi reached up a hand, covering his mouth to muffle his snickers.
"Hm. It helps," Julia conceded, with an adoring smile in his father's direction that both made Malachi feel incredibly uncomfortable, while at the same time incredibly, well, warmed by the way she seemed to care so much about his dad.
Of course, his dad didn't stop there.
"Perhaps you'd like the music a little softer?" his dad said, teasingly, with a grin and, sure enough a melody filled the air, slower and softer; "Or the lights a little dimmer?"
The lights followed suit.
Candles flickered to life.
Obviously, his dad had put some effort into learning wandless magic for the sole purpose of seduction.
Malachi was going to rip his dad something stupid for this.
The sound of a zipper made Malachi look sharply back in their direction.
His dad was, now, proceeding to snog Julia's face off and Malachi was careful not to look any closer than that, aware that the sound he had heard was a sign that someone might be getting a little underdressed really rather quickly.
That escalated out of nowhere.
His dad certainly didn't waste time.
Malachi rolled his eyes, pushing himself upwards from where he was lounging, figuring he'd better make his presence known before they – all – reached the point of no return. But, before he could, Julia drew back from his dad's embrace and spoke – alarmingly breathlessly – with a glance in the direction of the door; "You think we can lose the gatekeeper?"
"The gatekeeper?" his dad repeated, with a grin, brushing back the hair that had fallen over her shoulder and leaning down to press a kiss there.
Malachi averted his eyes.
"Is that the muggle way of talking dirty?"
Malachi looked back in their direction, sharply; intrigued by the new information that Julia had some sort of connection to the Muggle World. Muggleborn, maybe.
Julia was laughing, shoving his dad off of her; "I'm talking about Bozo standing guard at the door."
His dad was frowning and smiling at the same time; "Bozo? What are you –" he broke off, turning in the direction of the door with a frown before heading over towards it, pulling it open.
He peeked outside it for a second, before he vanished over the other side of the threshold.
Malachi snickered, then, realising that Julia was talking about his assigned security guard who had obviously been waiting on Malachi re-emerging.
His dad walked back into the room a minute later.
His dad's eyes very quickly found him that time.
"Hey Dad!" Malachi called over.
His dad rolled his eyes, casting a look Julia's way; "I believe you know my son?"
Julia didn't seem offended or embarrassed or, even, all that bothered by what he'd obviously seen, composing herself, quickly, and giving a warm smile his way; "Hi, Malachi."
"Hey," Malachi smiled back.
It was easier, this time, in light of seeing how his dad was with her.
"What are you doing here?" his dad asked, as he approached him, his voice lowering; "You could have said something, you know."
"Oh. I wouldn't have wanted to interrupt, Dad."
His dad crossed his arms across his chest, looking a bit reddened and more embarrassed by the whole thing than Julia was. No wonder! Malachi had no idea his dad was so whipped, and he gave a laugh to himself as he pushed himself up to his feet.
Malachi felt his dad's hand on his back – for reassurance, he supposed – when he looked at Julia where she stood. In lieu of smiling, politely, Malachi wasn't really sure what to do or say.
It wasn't like Julia was a stranger but, still.
It was awkward.
She obviously knew his dad really well. A side of him that Malachi didn't even know.
He glanced at his dad, a little uncertainly, and receiving a reassuring smile and that very-familiar twinkle in his dad's eyes and he relaxed, turning back to her.
He brought up the point that had very quickly got his attention about her a few moments ago.
"Did you grow up with muggles?"
Harry ran – he ran – down the stairs to the dungeons.
Took them two at a time, so that he stumbled – threatening to fall and break his bloody neck on the concrete – but there wasn't a minute to waste. He'd seen Grace – Voldemort had Grace! – and it was exactly the way he had seen things in his nightmares – the very same that had revealed the earlier schemes of Peter Pettigrew - and he had to get to Snape, now.
Harry banged on the door to the Potion Master's office, frantically.
There was no answer.
"Snape!"
Harry thudded against the solid wood, calling out his name again, before he reached down, grabbing and twisting and shaking the handle, in a vain attempt to get it open.
"He's not here."
Harry spun around, catching sight of Malfoy standing at entrance of the stairs to the Slytherin dorm rooms.
Harry drew in a breath, attempting to steady himself a bit; "Do you know where he is?"
"The Foundation," Malfoy stated.
Harry frowned; "The Foundation?"
That's where Voldemort had Grace! Did Snape already know? Had he gone to get her already?
Or, wait. Was…was he part of it? Was it all some sort of war strategy or something that was playing out, that Harry didn't know about?
No.
That was crazy.
Harry had seen it – it was pretty damn obvious, now, with what he knew – how protective Snape was over Grace and how even just the slightest mention of her was enough to set him off on one.
He wouldn't risk her. Not ever.
He obviously didn't know.
"Yes. For the Fundraiser. Everyone will be there."
Harry met Malfoy's eyes.
The New Year's Gala. Of course. Harry had known about it; it was one of the events that Mr Black had told him that he'd take him and Malachi to, when he had gone to stay for the holidays.
Harry turned away, hurrying back in the directions of the stairs – running, again – this time in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.
If he'd wanted any confirmation that what he had seen was true, then he certainly had it now. His mum would have taken Grace there; she would have been in the Phoenix Centre. It would have been easy for Voldemort to have gotten to her, there, if he was within the facility, and he would have taken her down to the Lab – right underneath all of their noses – just waiting to strike.
She was obviously bait.
Harry knew that, he wasn't stupid. For him, maybe, but for her 'elusive father', as well, as Voldemort had called him. He was using her to get to Mr Black – Snape had said Voldemort thought it was him – but Harry knew better than to assume that his sister wouldn't be harmed or killed for it.
If anything, that was the whole point.
He remembered everything that Snape had suggested him about Malachi's circumstances – being the son of Regulus Black's – and what it would mean if word were to get out that Snape was her father and, hell, the circumstances were obviously the same if Voldemort thought she was a Black!
He was going to lure Mr Black down there, torture his baby sister right in front of him, kill her to make him suffer – he probably didn't even care about Harry and whether or not he'd show up – and Harry was panting, his heart and mind racing when he finally reached the door to his Uncle Remus' chambers.
"Uncle Remus!" he banged on it with he same frantic urgency that he had done so with Snape's; "Uncle Remus!"
There was no answer.
Remus wasn't there.
Neither him nor Snape were at the Castle.
He wasn't in the Hall for the New Year's Festivities, Harry was sure of it. He'd looked in on the way by, as he'd been running for the dungeons.
Neither was Dumbledore.
He needed to get to one of them; to Remus, to Snape, to Mr Black, even his mum, she was in the Order too. She could alert them or something or even go and save her; she had come for him, after all, when Voldemort had managed to capture him that summer.
Snape would be at the Foundation. Mr Black and his mum, too. He had to get there. To them. To warn them.
"Mr Potter."
Harry spun around at the voice, coming face to face with Professor McGonagall.
"Professor!"
"You seem rather rattled, Mr Potter. Is something the matter?"
"Yes. I mean. No. I have to go to the Aurelius Foundation right now."
His Head of House raised an eyebrow; "Is that right, Mr Potter? It is almost midnight, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Yes. I did notice, Professor. I have to see my mum. She'll be there. She wanted me to come. Please Professor; it's important that I see her. Right now."
Professor McGonagall regarded him, carefully – it was obvious something was wrong – before she gave a single nod and said; "Come with me."
She led him in the direction of her office.
Harry followed – reluctantly – figuring there was going to be a whole bunch of questions and procedures and waiting about, even if McGonagall was willing to get him to his mum. There was no time to be waiting, he had to get to the Foundation. And Harry was reluctant to burst forth with the reasons for it, lest Voldemort catch him revealing it and push forward with his plans for his sister – that he was trying this best not to freak out about – before he or McGonagall actually had the chance to warn the people who could actually do something about this.
Harry was steps from the door when he suddenly remembered it.
The little book that Mr Black had presented him with at the beginning of the holidays. His portkey. The portkey that had been enchanted to take him straight to Mr Black's office at the Foundation.
Harry stopped walking, abruptly.
McGonagall followed suit, turning to face him with a frown; "Mr Potter?"
"Nevermind Professor. I'll just catch her tomorrow."
"Potter –"
"Thanks anyway!" Harry said, backing up; "Happy New Year, Professor." He turned and hurried away from her, ignoring his Head of House's call for him to come back, and ran in the direction of his dorm room.
Severus peered through the large doorway of the barn.
It was a place Severus had never set foot upon – the Farmstead – what with it being acquired in the Foundation's expansion during his absence. It wasn't somewhere he would, in all actuality, ever need to.
Until this night, it seemed, now that he had learned his daughter was to be spending the night there.
Severus has scouted the grounds of it, first, and, only when he was assured of the adequate security measures in place, had he made his presence known. Mrs Gillan, the Headmaster of the Phoenix Centre, had greeted him – with obvious surprise – but had easily swallowed his excuse that 'the boss' had insisted he assess the defences.
He made a show of it, until the tutors no longer took any notice of him – too tied up dealing with the children still awake and running riot, even at this late hour – and he had taken his chance to peer in upon the sleeping ones.
It didn't take long for his eyes to settle upon his daughter.
She was not sleeping, no, but she was settled; lying propped up against the hay between two other girls. One of whom was sleeping, soundly, and the other with whom his daughter was engaged in quiet, but animated, conversation.
Severus knew better than to linger; forcing himself to turn away and make his way back to the Foundation now that his doubts had been put to rest.
Secure in the knowledge that Grace was both content and entirely safe.
"Have you ever flown like them?" Malachi asked, eyes wide; "Like, in an aeroplane?"
Julia smiled, giving a nod; "Sure have."
Malachi sat upon the couch in Regulus' office, entirely enraptured with Julia's answers to the question after question that he had about the muggle world.
Regulus, on the other hand, was not so engaged by the conversation – as much as it both warmed and delighted him, to see the two of them getting along so splendidly – and offered to head on back to the Ballroom to get them some drinks to bring in the New Year come midnight, barely ten minutes away.
He headed on back into the party, the atmosphere abuzz with the anticipation of the New Year's countdown, as people continued to dance and drink and be merry.
Regulus spotted Narcissa up ahead, at the bar – which just so happened to be where he was headed – and he approached, first addressing the barman.
"Daisy Root, firewhiskey and a…" Regulus hesitated, giving a nod; "Make it two firewhiskeys."
"Right on it, Boss."
The barman – Aldrick – set about making up the drinks, while Regulus turned to his cousin with a smile and a nod in the direction of the bar; "You good?"
Narcissa lifted the Champers glass she held.
"Brings you back, doesn't it?" Regulus remarked, eyes going out to the dancefloor.
Narcissa got a small smile, giving a nod but not quite meeting his eyes when he looked at her, going on; "I mean, if there's one thing people can't deny about our family – they sure knew how to throw a party."
Regulus grinned at the recollection of it, leaning against the bar, as his mind wandered back to all those grand occasions that he and his brother and his cousins were dragged along to by their respective parents to the others that happened to be hosting that year. All the mischief and the mayhem that they would wreak upon the other guests. Or, rather, that he and Sirius would wreak upon their older cousins, whenever they could get the chance.
Regulus chuckled, almost lost in the memories of it; "Sometimes I think –"
"Regulus."
He looked at her, sharply, at the urgency in her tone. An urgency that was reflected in her eyes, when he looked at her.
Regulus simply stared back at her – though he had a fair idea of what it was she had to say – as if daring her to do so.
Narcissa shook her head, her voice quiet; "Get out of here."
Regulus lifted his chin, eyeing her.
Narcissa only met his look, squarely, saying no more.
He raised an eyebrow; "Now?"
She nodded. Not looking away.
Regulus drew in a breath, stepping backwards, away from her – knowing, exactly, what it was that she meant – and he turned just as the countdown to New Year began – of course, the Dark Lord would want to make a good show of it – and his eyes sought those of the lead security personnel as the collective voices of the guests rang out.
"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven."
The Security Supervisor's eyes met Regulus' and he made to nod, to give the signal, but it was unnecessary.
As the countdown hit 'three' the room was suddenly filled with the shriek of the sirens; the alerts that the defences had been breached and the fireplaces lining the walls flared up, green, coming to life as per the evacuation procedures, and there were yells and screams and thudding footsteps – despite the briefing of what to do and to remain calm in an event such as this – but Regulus couldn't blame them because even he felt that rush of fear and adrenaline come upon him as everyone began scrambling for the exits, when he had been pretty much expecting this and had spent all week arranging the response.
Guests grabbed the candlesticks lining the ledges – the portkeys – vanishing off to safety, as others headed out through the floo in a slow, steady stream and Regulus was walking, briskly, breaking out into a run from the Ballroom, back in the direction of the offices.
His heart was thudding as he rounded the corner and, there, Julia and Malachi were standing just outside his office – uncertainly, as if they were considering whether or not to head in the direction of the Ballroom – but Regulus gave them a reassuring smile, as he approached, not stopping in his steps.
"Dad, what's going on?"
"Oh; just a little defence breach. Nothing a little portkey won't sort out for us," Regulus ushered them back into his office.
"Regulus?" Julia looked at him, in concern, as he pushed the door shut and hurried over to his desk, for the portkey he had stashed there earlier that week.
"Dad; is it him?"
Regulus met Malachi's eyes, as he lifted the portkey – wrapped in a cloth, so as not to initiate the magic before due time – and headed back to them; "Yes. And we'll be long gone before he gets here." He took out the portkey – his touch triggering the twenty-second countdown he had instated upon it – and held it out to Malachi and Julia.
Both took it.
There was no need to wait the twenty seconds; Regulus opened his mouth to speak the word to enact the magic – jump – but, before he could, there was a stir and then a distinctive thud at the back of the room.
Harry – appearing as if from nowhere – suddenly sprung to his feet from behind his desk.
"Harry!" Malachi was the first to express surprise.
"Harry, get over here!" Regulus burst out, panic very quickly rising within him at the sight of him.
"Mr Black!" Harry hurried over; "Mr Black; it's him, it's Vold – he's here!"
"I know he's here, that's why we have to go," Regulus grabbed Harry by the wrist.
"He's got Grace!"
"What?" Regulus shook his head – that was impossible – pulling Harry closer; "Here, grab the portkey –"
"He's got my sister!"
"We'll get the Order –"
"I can't leave her –"
"He doesn't have her –"
"I saw her! I saw it in my head, just like Pettigrew!"
"Harry –"
"We have to save her –"
"Harry, in a second this place is going to be crawling with Death Eaters! This is the only way out. Now take the portkey!"
"I'm not going without Grace!"
"Harry!"
Regulus felt the beginning pull of the portkey – twenty seconds up – and his eyes met Malachi's for the briefest of moments. And Malachi's face dropped, the realisation there when their eyes met, and Regulus tried to apologise or make his son understand or make him realise why but a millisecond wasn't enough to convey any of that.
Regulus let go.
"Dad!"
Malachi and Julia vanished.
Leaving Harry and Regulus behind.