Chapter Seventy-Four

Harry was a horcrux.

Harry was a horcrux.

Even with the evidence laid plain as day before him, Severus could barely comprehend it. The fact, itself, and what it would mean.

Severus knew little about Regulus' horcrux task – Dumbledore had seen to that, citing the need for a division of knowledge between them, neither to confer upon their individual assignments – but he knew enough, certainly enough to know that in order for the Dark Lord to be defeated, each and every horcrux must first be eliminated.

Or the cycle would simply continue, as it had already done twice before, so long as a horcrux – even just one single horcrux – remained, the Dark Lord would continue to rise and the war would never end.

Severus drew in a breath that trembled, eyes closing, when the reality hit him.

Harry had to die.

Harry – so full of cheek and of brightness and of kindness and of life – had to die or the war – this never-ending war – would continue on and on, indefinitely.

Severus could barely stomach it. The world without Harry. His own life, without that child – one of his own –

Severus dropped his head into his hands, elbows upon his desk, the thought not at all welcome. Not now.

His own child. It was a thought that had warmed him, so often, these past few months. Unsure, exactly, when it had first begun. But he had dared to think it, whenever that infuriatingly cocky smile would turn his way; whenever Harry would bound towards him, fearlessly, entirely at ease in his presence; whenever those green eyes – his mother's eyes – would turn upon him, with that concern or exasperation or amusement; each cheeky comment; each trusting look.

Their time at the house, at the functions, at the wedding. Harry rushing back into his office pleading with him – with him – not to die.

It was all so very close to what he and Lily had dreamed of – their family and their future – he could feel it there, so close within their grasp.

He and Lily and Harry and Grace.

All four of them.

That Harry – that any one of them – should not make it was unthinkable.

Not after everything that they had been through. Everything that they had put themselves through – putting their children put through hell – on the promise that it would all be worth it in the end; that it was a future worth fighting for.

It could not have all been for nothing.

It could not have been a lie.

It could not be.

Severus released a breath.

He snatched at the parchments – the offending parchments Regulus had given to him – how could someone have not seen it sooner; the signs were so glaring, the connection so obvious, that it was ludicrous that they should all have missed it.

But he and Regulus had never conferred.

Regulus was hunted – one of the uppermost wanted – and one of the poorest occlumens in the Order; it would not do for Severus to reveal too much. To reveal anything at all of what was going on behind the scenes with the prophecy child.

And Severus was the spy – he who hung off the arm of the Dark Lord whenever the occasion called for it – it would not do for Regulus to reveal to Severus anything at all about his horcrux hunt. No. What if he should fail; all their secrets along with him.

That would be foolish.

Oh, how they were both fools.

Those were the arguments that demanded their secrecy and their silence from one another; made by someone who, Severus realised with each passing moment, knew exactly what was going on here.

Severus got to his feet, striding from his office, not caring about the hour – for it was well past midnight – and made his way to the Headmaster's office.

He could see the light that glimmered inside as the spiral staircase eventually – finally – dispatched him at entrance and he did not bother knocking – beyond such civilities, by now – and he opened the door and walked inside.

Dumbledore was behind his desk, working late into the night, it seemed, and he greeted Severus with a smile.

"Ah. Severus. What brings you to my office at this late hour?"

"How long have you known?"

Severus surprised himself, that his voice was so calm – it was certainly no reflection on his inner thoughts and feelings, at that moment – the only sign of his inner turmoil the slightest twitch of his lip.

Dumbledore regarded him, calmly, for a moment where he sat, and he quite clearly knew what it was Severus was speaking of – and Severus wondered if he, too, were just as distressed – before he nodded; "I had expected that this discussion would be forthcoming. Please, do take a seat, Severus."

"No."

He stepped closer, so he was standing behind the chair offered, repeating the question; "How long have you known?"

"I have suspected for some time. Indeed, in light of what happened at New Year, my suspicions were more or less confirmed."

"And yet you concealed it from me?"

Dumbledore smiled, regretfully; "I feared in the aftermath of what occurred, it may not have been the best time to share with you my thoughts on the matter."

"Oh, don't give me that!" Severus spat; "Do not – do not – use what happened to Lily to excuse the fact that you have concealed this from me for years – for years – you surely must of known of this prior to what happened at the Foundation. The signs – the signs! – were so obvious it is impossible that you could have missed them!"

"Obvious, Severus; and yet you are only now coming to this conclusion. The first to do so, I might add, other than myself."

"Because you forbid Regulus and I from discussing our assigned tasks. If I were to go to Regulus, this moment, and reveal to him all that has happened – the parseltongue, the nightmares, the possessions – he would have realised instantly and –"

"And you would have learned the truth a few months earlier; to what ends, Severus? The sooner you were to learn of it, the longer it would be a burden for you to bear."

"Oh –" Severus nodded, lips twisting; "Well – thank you, Headmaster, for lessening those burdens of mine."

Severus lifted his chin, feeling his blood start to boil in his veins.

"Then, I am right. He must die. Harry."

"I am afraid it is so. The incident occurred, I believe, quite unintentionally, the night that Sirius Black gave his own life to save the life of his Godson; Voldemort's soul so unstable that it could not withstand the rebound of his own Killing Curse meant for Harry. And when that happened –"

"It bound to the only living being within the room," Severus completed the story, entirely without emotion, having read the text over and over and over, in the hours before he had come here.

Dumbledore inclined his head, at Severus' unspoken order to get on with it.

"So long as Harry lives – the fragment of Voldemort's soul that broke apart from the whole lives on within him – and while it does so, Lord Voldemort cannot die."

Severus' hands gripped the sides of the chair he stood behind – the world, his world, seeming to vanish beneath his feet – as Dumbledore confirmed it. That everything that he and Lily had done, everything they had fought for, all of it had been a lie.

And that in order to end this war – this war that was tearing apart the lives of so many, so many who they held dear, each and every day – their own son was going to have to die. Sacrificed, by them, for a future they had promised him. A future that he would never see.

No.

No.

Dumbledore was still speaking, through the haze of Severus' world shattering:

" – but Voldemort must do it himself, Severus, that is essential; when you reveal the truth to Harry, after you have killed me –"

Severus released a sound, cutting him off – he could hear no more of this – and he raised a shaking hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose; "Stop. Stop."

Dumbledore did.

Simply sat there and regarded Severus with enviable calmness – and compassion – which only served to infuriate him further.

Severus drew in a breath as he lowered his hand, composing himself as much as he could.

"You have used me," Severus ground out; "I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. All under the guise that I was keeping Harry Potter protected – safe – and now you are telling me that it has all been for nothing? That your – our – intended outcome, is to order that boy to his death!"

"For nothing, Severus?" Dumbledore gave him a smile, a sympathetic one, now – as if he, too, shared in his grief – and he nodded; "Indeed, I know how you have come to care for him. I, too, care for Harry; perhaps far too much. So much so, that I challenge anyone who has ever met him to say that they would not question it; that they would not resist the inevitable. But is that a defence, Severus, that we care too much for him? For what do we care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures are to be slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now the child whom we both care for so deeply is alive and well and happy?"

"Nameless – faceless –" Severus whispered, as he shook his head, his eyes closed, before he burst out; "He is my child!"

Both were taken aback by it. By both the statement and the outburst: never had either spoken so openly about it. Nothing more than Severus' occasional slips and Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and winks.

Never had either of them said the words. That Severus had a family – a life – and that Harry was his. Indeed, never before had the statement left Severus' lips.

Harry was his child. His son.

Severus lifted his chin, eyes locked on Dumbledore's when he went on.

"And you have known. You have known what that boy is to me. What his mother is to me. His sister. You have known it all, all this time."

Dumbledore nodded, slowly.

"Yes. And I am so very sorry, Severus."

Severus could see it – that he meant it – and he even conceded that, perhaps, it was never supposed to come to this. He had spied for him long after Lily had been spared, and he had remained, after all, to see it through for Neville Longbottom but such facts did not ease the grief that the truth of what was to come brought upon him and what it meant.

And it did not change the fact that this entire scenario – everything that had taken place since the night Sirius Black died and Harry had been Marked – played so perfectly into Dumbledore's plans.

"No," Severus swallowed, shaking his head; "No."

Dumbledore's eye narrowed, slightly, as Severus went on.

"You have had Regulus hunting Horcruxes for years. You have known it all. You have known about Harry. And you have known about me. You have known about our family. And you allowed it; you…you wished for it. It played so perfectly into your objectives, so much so, that I cannot believe that I did not see it."

Severus straightened where he stood, as it all came back to him.

"Where, before, you were so against Lily and I resuming our acquaintance, all of a sudden, it became a source of mirth. Of encouragement; that we should pursue one another. And in doing so, ensuring that Harry and I would have developed a trust. A kinship between us so that when the time comes, and when I am the one who is to tell him that he has to die – for don't think I haven't noticed how you have kept your distance from him, Albus – he will know that it must be the truth. He whom you have known he trusts; because you think he will not deny me. That he knows I would not ask him – could not – unless it was the only way. And so, Harry would be compelled to walk to his death."

Severus shook his head, eyes closing, sickened at how terribly – how brilliantly – he had been played.

And he clenched his jaw – he would sooner rot in Azkaban – and when he opened his eyes once more, he stepped forward, pointing his finger and speaking with all the certainty he suddenly felt.

"Well I am afraid you are to be disappointed, Headmaster. You have bet it all on the wrong man."

Dumbledore eyebrows lifted, slightly, the only indication of his surprise.

Severus shook his head.

"I will not do it. I will not!" he leaned his palms upon the desk, leaning forward, eyes boring into Dumbledore's as he declared it; "And I…am out."

The two of them held one another's look.

And then Severus turned and strode from the office.

Severus hadn't intended on going to the house.

He had intended on doing nothing other than getting out of Dumbledore's sight and getting as far away from Hogwarts as he could.

But, of course, where else would he go but home.

Even in his state of agitation, he had been as careful as he approached – knowing, even then, when he had just thrown in the towel and dared Dumbledore to do it, to call in the aurors and ship him off to Azkaban, that to let himself and his cover go completely served no one, least of all his family – and, before he knew it, he was standing in the doorway of his daughter's bedroom.

The door was only slightly ajar, just the way Grace liked it.

She liked the security of the light from the hall – of knowing her mother and, once-upon-a-time, her father were just two doors down – but not so wide, that the brightness interfered too much with the shadows on the walls.

Grace enjoyed the shadows; she could look at them and see things, create stories of what each of the shapes were and what they were doing. Her imagination running wild, as always.

Severus smiled, in spite of himself, and touched his forehead to the doorframe: eyes upon her sleeping face.

He was tempted – oh-so-tempted – to just do it. To go to her, lift her into his arms, and carry her into his and Lily's bed and the three of them just curl up together, as they used to.

But – Severus realised with a jolt – Harry would be missing.

And Harry could not be missing.

The thought sickened him, now, that he ever had been. That the three of them had ever been a family without him. They would never be. Could never be.

Severus drew back from the doorway and made his way further down the hall.

His eyes lingered upon the moving pictures on the walls that had always been there, as he passed.

Harry was in all of them – as he should be – each and every one of them. Harry, eight years old, holding his new baby sister in his arms, beaming proudly. Harry, four years old, smiling brightly as he was held aloft by Sirius Black; Lily and Harry and Grace, recent, only two years before, the children wrapped up tight in their mother's arms, smiling widely.

In the past, Severus' eyes were always drawn to Grace – there were just as many pictures lining the walls of his daughter. But, tonight, his eyes were all for Harry. The sparking eyes so like his mothers, and the cheeky smile, and an expression so full of life.

Severus stopped at the door to their bedroom. Where he knew Lily would be inside.

He hesitated only a moment. He doubted Dumbledore would dispatch the Ministry aurors after him that night, if at all – he would, no doubt, attempt to persuade him further, do his best to convince him that one of his own children's lives were entirely worth the sacrifice – but if he did they could come find him here.

With the woman who should be his wife, in the home they shared with their children.

Severus went inside, before he could think any more of it, shrugging out of his robes down to his shirt before he climbed into the bed beside her.

Lily stirred as the mattress dipped, lifting her head with a bleary frown. The fog quickly cleared and her eyes widened; "Severus?"

Severus laid his head upon the pillow – her pillow, so that he was close – saying nothing.

"Wh…what are you doing here?" she whispered.

He had no words for her, he realised it as he looked into her eyes.

She still had hope. She still had that dream. A vision and a reason to fight; for that future, the future they had promised one another; promised Harry and promised Grace. And he could find no words to tell her otherwise.

To tell her it was a life they would never have.

To tell her that her son had to die.

"I slipped away."

Lily frowned – for this was obviously not right, no longer done – and she reached up, her hand cupping his cheek; "Is something wrong?"

Severus' stomach tightened – that sickening feeling returning to him – and, still, he could find no words for her.

Harry has to die.

It whispered in his mind – haunted him – as her green eyes, eyes shared by her son, looked into his own with so much love and concern.

Severus could not bear to speak the words.

Not even to think them.

They had hidden from Harry for years.

They had stripped their daughter of her memories.

They had lied to the world.

They had stayed apart.

And in the end, it all came down to this.

Harry had to die.

Severus touched his forehead back to hers.

"I can't tell you."

It came out hoarse. Grief stricken.

As if Harry were already lost.

He felt Lily's hand on his neck, drawing him close. Her lips pressed to his cheek.

"Oh."

Lily's voice was a whisper: full of understanding. Realising – thinking – it was the war: the secrets he was forced to keep, the lies he was forced to tell, the sights he was forced to witness. Things that could never be spoken.

Which it was. Their life had become this war. So entangled within one another, that they would never escape it. They never could; not now.

Of all the secrets and lies he'd been obliged to bear; of all the horrors he had been compelled to witness; this was the worst of them. This was the one that would break him.

"Lily."

She drew back from him, still holding him, meeting his eyes once more.

Severus reached up, touching her cheek, his voice a murmur, but entirely sincere. Meaning every word spoken with all that he had.

"Whatever it takes for our family to make it through this…for our children…I will do it. I swear it."

Lily's eyes flickered between his, her bewilderment apparent, but she seemed to understand the words spoken were as much for himself, as they were for her.

Lily gave him a small smile, a nod and then she drew him back to her and he went, holding her close.

The words a promise.

A vow.

That, so long as Severus was breathing, no harm would come to any of them.

Not to Lily.

Not to Grace.

And not to Harry.

"Okay, so – stupefy!"

The dummy that Harry had transfigured hit the ground of the astronomy tower.

Daphne got another little laugh – the kind that made him get all warm – as she glanced his way, smiling in delight at her success.

Harry smiled back at her, where he stood at her side.

They'd been there for over an hour now and – thankfully – they'd relaxed and just started to get on with it.

It was actually turning out to be more of a tutoring session – his original thought – than a date.

Harry had been so nervous – so red, his voice almost stuttering – on arrival and finding her there, that he'd immediately suggested they – "get down to it!" – and Daphne had laughed, eyeing him at his statement, and he had blushed even harder – if that were even possible – quickly going about setting up some things – like the dummy – for her to practice on.

"How long have you been doing this?" Daphne asked him, as he went over to stand it back up; "You're far better than everyone else."

"Oh," Harry ducked his head, blushing again at what seemed to be a compliment; "I…since third year. The lessons, anyway. But some stuff happened, earlier than that, I…I guess I've just been – y'know – learning as I go along."

Daphne didn't seem as nervous as he did. So confident that Harry was sure, at first, that she hadn't actually meant this as a date – and perhaps she'd been joking when she'd said it the day before – but, then, sometimes he'd catch a coy little smile, and the way she'd lower her eyes at something he'd said and, he was sure then, that she felt something.

And he hoped it wasn't just that he made her uncomfortable.

But, then, if he made her uncomfortable she surely wouldn't have agreed to come here and spend her Saturday morning with him, entirely alone – no kids had come there looking to make-out, as Daphne had suggested they might – and she seemed in no real rush to leave.

"Okay, so…good," Harry said, giving her a smile – another of many, that he couldn't seem to help around her now; "That – that was – I mean, obviously it worked –" he indicated, vaguely at the dummy he had just straightened back up; "So – okay. Right. You were stunning. The spell was stunning – what it was called -stupefy – Let's do body-binding now."

Harry approached, knowing he was blushing furiously – so red that he felt hot under the collar – and Daphne had her eyes on the ground and he could see she was holding back laughter – little bubbles escaping – as he reached her; "Do you know this one?"

"You might have to put your arm around me, like before," she suggested, seriously – though there was a little twinkle in her eyes; "Just to be sure."

"Oh, okay," Harry immediately did as she said – no hesitation whatsoever – and he wrapped an arm around her, taking her wand hand in his. He liked his a lot, the way she felt standing there, leaning a little bit into him – he could smell her hair and that made his heart flutter, daftly – and he made to speak – "so" – but it came out hoarse and he quickly cleared his throat, before trying again.

"So. Body binding. It's 'Petrificus Totalus'; bit of a mouthful."

"It's a good one," Daphne said, as she turned her head to meet his eyes – she was very close, her face, her lips, millimeters from his – and she gave him a little smile; "Freezing someone exactly where you want 'em."

"Um…" Harry nodded, swallowing nervously; "Yeah."

She was so close and he thought, maybe, that was supposed to be flirty – well, it definitely was, she had that look, again – and he felt so nervous that his hand holding hers was getting sweaty. How gross. Daphne didn't pull her hand back. But he almost did.

And they were still looking at one another.

Daphne licked her bottom lip, catching it between her teeth, and making it shine and he was suddenly struck by something he'd never felt before – something deep in his gut – like a yearning, that he just had to kiss her.

"It's Malachi's favourite spell," he blurted out, instead.

Daphne's eyebrows raised; "Mac?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, using the opportunity of speaking to close his eyes, averting them when he opened them to nod at the dummy; "He's great at it. Body-binding. He's not good at much, really, combat-wise. And, y'know Malachi, he…he wouldn't actually use it on anyone. Especially after what happened with Emma and his dad. His dad was body-binded and forced to watch –"

"I know, he told me," Daphne said, nodding, a little more somber now.

Harry hesitated.

Why had he been talking about Malachi's murdered girlfriend in the middle of his own date?

"It was awful," Daphne went on; "I couldn't believe it when I heard. I mean – yeah. We know Mac. But…just seemed so daring of him, to even speak to a girl. Nevermind actually fall for one. And for that to happen…"

"Oh, I dunno about that," Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes; "Before all of this, he spoke to girls all the time, outside of school. They can't keep away from him. He's…well. He's handsome, right?"

"Oh, yeah."

Daphne laughed, as if that were obvious.

Harry glanced away.

Why was he pointing out that Malachi was handsome to Daphne – although, clearly she had obviously noticed – and he realized, the arm he had around her, holding up her wand, was no longer so high. More just wrapped there, around her, as they talked.

"It was the way everyone else reacted – I mean, what happened was bad enough," Daphne was still thinking about Malachi – because Harry had idiotically brought him up – and she shook her head; "I hated it. I still do. The way people keep going for him. I wish I'd know what you've taught me, now, back then; would've given Zabini a real fright," she giggled, meeting his eyes with a smile.

Harry smiled back.

"He just doesn't deserve it," Daphne shrugged; "He's got the kindest heart; he's probably the sweetest boy in the school."

Harry nodded, feeling stupid now; "Yeah…yeah, Malachi is…he's…"

His best friend. His brother. Someone he loved.

"Do you fancy him?" Harry blurted out.

Daphne looked stunned for a moment and then she laughed; "What?"

"Malachi," Harry cleared his throat, giving a shrug; "Do you fancy him?"

Daphne's eyes dropped from his, down to his arm – that was still wrapped around her – and she glanced away, her eyes widening – as if she couldn't believe what he was asking – and she giggled.

"I mean, the two of you spend a lot of time together. It'd make sense. If you and him started to –"

Harry hated every word that was coming out of his mouth and – for some reason – he felt silly for even saying them, much less thinking them, with the way Daphne looked so astonished with each word spoken, until she silenced him simply by meeting his eyes.

"Malachi, he's –" she gave Harry a smile, shaking her head; "He's far too sweet for me."

The two of them looked at one another.

Daphne effectively putting end to Harry's – unwanted – suspicions.

And when Harry still didn't do anything to express his own wishes – even when Daphne's eyes drifted down a little bit, looking at his lips for a second – she rolled her eyes, still smiling, as she glanced back at the dummy.

She started to speak – obviously to ask a question about defence or something – but Harry quickly went on.

"What about me?"

Daphne looked back at him, sharply, obviously surprised.

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest.

"Am…" he cleared his throat; "Am I sweet, too?"

Daphne got a slow smile, before she lowered her eyes, and when she met his again her look was coy – her bottom lip caught between her teeth – and then she nodded.

"I think you might be just the right amount of sweetness."

Harry stared back at her.

Stunned simply by her words, no spell needed.

He should kiss her, he realized.

Now.

This was their moment! The much-coveted moment that he had heard other kids talk about.

She'd just – basically – told him that she fancied him, after all. She thought he was sweet – not too sweet, like Malachi – but the perfect amount of sweetness! He could be sweet, sure. He could be –

Daphne glanced away.

The moment passed.

No.

No!

Harry wondered if he should just kiss her, anyway, drop her wand hand, take her face in his hands, turn her back to face him and just kiss her, with certainty and grandiose gusto, like he'd seen Malachi's dad do with Julia a ton of times that summer – the only real couple he'd ever had much chance to witness, his mum and Snape's grinding on the kitchen chair notwithstanding – but Harry would never do that.

And he certainly didn't want to be thinking about his mum and Snape when he was kissing Daphne for the first time.

The moment had well and truly passed, if that was where his mind had gone to.

Harry sighed, tightening his hold on her hand; "Alright. So. Body binding."

"Body binding," Daphne had a little smile on her lips, her eyes on the dummy, as she nodded.

Harry resumed the lesson.

No kissing at all happening for the rest of the lesson.

The aurors didn't come, of course.

Severus supposed they were far more likely to come for him here – at the Foundation – for the house was under the Fidelius.

Severus wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was expecting it; that Dumbledore would, actually, withdraw his side of the deal – his vouching for him – should Severus choose to walk away, to no longer do his bidding. Perhaps they were passed that, by now.

He had defied Dumbledore's orders before.

But, then, when he had defied him – ignored Dumbledore's simple statement that Regulus Black may just have to be left to his own devices – to die – when the trace had been triggered at Easter – and Severus had taken it upon himself to alert the Ministry Aurors, Dumbledore had barely even scolded him for it.

Just a passing statement, now and again, that he did not approve. That consequences would be had.

Dumbledore had expected he would lose a spy.

Instead, it had led to Narcissa's death.

Severus had allowed the sun to rise – Lily to open her eyes – and they shared a kiss before he had left that morning, before Grace could stir.

The forbidden truth still unspoken.

Severus glanced impatiently at the timepiece.

He'd been in his office at the Foundation for hours, now, and still the voices were going strong on the other side of the adjourning door that led into Regulus' office.

Just two people.

Who would never shut up.

Except, of course, for obvious reasons but – mercifully – such obvious reasons had not escalated and Severus was growing agitated with each minute that passed – each minute that the horcrux inside Harry remained – until, finally, well after lunchtime, when it seemed as if Regulus and Julia had simply decided to spend the entirety of the day in one another's company, in his office, Severus gave a brisk knock and pulled the door open, striding into the room.

To Severus' astonishment, Regulus was actually working – parchments of necessary documents needing signing for the Department Heads before him – and Julia was perched on the edge of his desk, reading through a newspaper – Elijah Greengrass' newspaper – the two of them laughing and smiling at one another.

And – thank Merlin – both were fully dressed.

Although Severus was beyond caring about that at this point.

Regulus and Julia glanced in his direction, casually, not seeming at all bothered by the interruption.

"Afternoon, Professor," Julia gave him a smile.

Severus nodded, saying nothing.

Regulus picked up on his mood, instantly, getting a frown. He cleared his throat, straightening up, and it was when he did that, that Julia picked up on it, as well, and she glanced between them, before folding up the paper she was reading, saying to Regulus.

"I'll see you at home."

Regulus met her eyes – drawn from where they were focused on Severus, with concern – giving her a smile; "Wait up for me."

Julia got a smile at that – an evident promise – and she gave him a kiss, before she headed from the room – giving Severus another smile and a nod as she passed him – and left the two of them alone.

He and Regulus just looked at one another in silence for a moment.

Severus not quite able to get the words out at first.

Regulus entirely aware that something was wrong.

Severus drew in a breath, averting his eyes for a second, before he looked back at him and just said it.

"Harry is a horcrux."

It was the first time he'd said it aloud.

He was shocked that his voice didn't break upon it, that last word.

Not as shocked, however, as Regulus' expression quickly became, as the words sunk in.

His friend's brow furrowed – the remaining joy that had been present in his eyes effectively snuffed out by the simple statement – and his voice was bewildered, a whisper.

"What?"

Severus nodded, and he swallowed – hard – against the sudden rise of a lump in his throat, before he went on – willing himself to keep himself in check – stating again:

"Harry is a horcrux. I need your help to get it out of him."

Regulus – clearly struggling to comprehend the information – slowly leaned back in his chair.